What's the Poop?

I could tell the usual stories about how frustrating it is when babies whom you've been toileting for a long time poop in their pants in the morning (or at the dinner table, as the case may be) when they're sick. But I'll refrain, as that's just entirely boring and we shouldn't speak of such things.

Instead I will tell you what's happening right now in the room adjacent to mine.

Mas just yelled, "COME OUT, POOP!!!!!!" He didn't really yell it so much as exclaim it. This reminds me of the time I took him to a public restroom, and he smacked his own butt cheek while sitting on the seat and said, "GET OUT, POOP!" Hilarious! His first exclamation was followed by a very matter-of-fact "I'm yelling at my poop." We were also just instructed to yell at his poop to get out. And we think he just called the poop Momo. I'm sure she'd be insulted if she knew.

So even as poop has been the bane of my existence and the cause of all things angry and frustrating the past few days, this is a good reminder that I still think poop is funny and that it can still bring me great joy.

For your comfort, he's not a kid who deals with constipation. He was just sent to try to poop because he was sitting on my lap and lifted himself up a little to toot. He was sitting on my lap! He's also not a rude kid--just innocently unashamed of all of his bodily functions.

For your information, the word poop has been used nine, now ten, times in this post.

Here's a video of Mas jamming in his usual manner.

Not-yet-1, Going-on-13

I was leaving for work today. I was holding Swiss Miss (Shaifali's old nickname) and said, "can I have a hug?" She's been quite cute lately putting her head on our shoulder saying, "huuuuuugck."

"No," in a cute little angel voice.

"Oh really!" Then the lean to get out of my arms and to the ground. So I set her down.

"Bye-eeeee," again in the little angelic noodle voice.

We'd better raise this girl right! Or 13 will look entirely scary!

What's in a Year?

What happened in 2010?

We added a daughter/sister to our family.

Mas turned 2 and started attending the most wonderful school ever.

I screamed more than I have since my sister and I were little.

Mas furthered his love of music by adding the guitar and talk of jazz, trumpets, flutes, and saxophones to his drum and piano mix.

Shaifali pooped consistently in the toilet . . . and then didn't . . . and does . . . and sometimes doesn't.

Momo pooped in the house for the first time in a very long time in her doggy life. She didn't want to feel left out of the Mama-poop anger.

My heart spilled over with love for my family.

Disappointment made itself known over and over--both in others and myself.

Bananas had accidents--where they broke, which broke a heart, then broke some more, which led a little not-quite-3-year-old boy to cry and scream and squish said banana into a pile of mush frustration on his plate.

We Montessoried our house even more (helping them to happy independence--a wonderful answer to the I-can-do-it-myself phase) as an inexpensive Christmas gift to our kids. 2011 is now being ushered in by a boy who spends much of his time serving others fruit and water and by a girl who likes to enjoy this fruit and to demand more of it from her brother.

I questioned whether or not this supermom is too imperfect to have this job.

We continued to raise the most wonderful, polite, funny, dazzling kids (and continued to hope that we have something to do with those characteristics).

We laughed:

We cried. And then cried some more. And then laughed again. Then cried again.

I lost 22.5 pounds. Technically I lost 47.5 pounds or something, but almost ten of that came out all at once in the form of a baby followed by other baby-related weight loss.

One of us suddenly fell out of love with heavy machinery . . . though they remain good friends.

One of us started talking freakishly early, saying sentences such as, "Daddy, bring that back" and "Don't take that away."

I gave birth in a way that made me want to give birth again immediately. I became a serious homebirth freak and encourage anyone who might have a baby in the future to look into it. Not crazy or scary as some would have you believe, but a really wonderful, beautiful, dare I say relaxed, experience.

Mas wrote songs--the best of which has the following lyrics:

My favorite song ever.

My bushes. My bushes.

Blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries.

They're ripe! They're ripe!

They're ready to eat!

Of course, an artist has many versions before the final product is ready.

We traveled to CA all together, and Shaifali and I took girls-only trips to Chicago and again to CA; this found us surrounded by amazing loved ones.

In addition to the most wonderful school, we lucked out and found the most wonderful babysitter, who loves our kids so much. Just today, Mas told her repeatedly, "I love you, Kenzie." Shaifali beams at her and has even said her name.

We worked. I even got a waitressing job. It's only once or twice a week, and I love it.

What I wish for and will work for in 2011:

More patience

Nothing but nice talking from all the members of my family--myself included

Love

Happiness, happiness, happiness for all

And now a random funny/annoying/horrifying story from the week before Christmas:

Mas pushed me OVER the edge. The details are irrelevant. Ok, maybe they're not; afterall, I do write to make other people feel better about their imperfect parenting experiences. I started this because so many times, I just end up saying, "oh great, look at you with your perfect house and your perfect kid and your perfect parenting and your perfect . . .," which leaves me feeling amusedly hostile. Back to the original story.

My sister and I had gone into the store while Superdad and the kids waited in the car. Two minutes before we were going to check out, we got a call that Mas needed to use the bathroom. I should have been able to call his bluff, as he had just gone before we left. I should have known it was his golden ticket into the store. Bear in mind that we had offered that he could come with us, and he politely declined. Fast forward to the bathroom where he says "no thank you" to the toilet. Now this kid is totally fine with toileting. He doesn't have accidents. He doesn't even pee in the night. But I'm--shall we say--miffed that he has made us go to the car to get him to take him in and now isn't even pulling off the charade all the way. He could have just peed a couple drops, and all would have been well. Fast forward again to me basically running through the store to the exit with Mas screaming at me . . . all the way across the parking lot, people staring, people judging. Then, for the first time in days, I went to the screaming place. We got to my parents' house, and I was still livid. I wanted no part of anything and contemplated the meaning of cliffs.

I said that I did NOT want to go in to witness him being super sweet and happy to eat with Grandma and Jichan when I loathed him.

After my recovery, I heard that he walked into their house and said super sweetly (I knew it!), "Happy holidays, Grandma! Oh! Your table looks niiiiiiiice!" (IknewitIknewitIknewit!!!!!!!!!)

I wish you all a wonderful New Year. Here's to each year of our lives being better than the last. This year has been a wild ride, and it's both, at times, shaken me to my core and rewarded me immensely. I hope you'll join me in continuing to move toward superness in all aspects of your life while embracing your imperfections.

Love, Imperfect Supermom

Since You've Been Gone

Since I've been gone, really . . .

I've done some things right.

I made a gnome costume for Mas! We also successfully avoided his having any candy. He traded it in for a blueberry scone and a basket of grape tomatoes from the farmers market in addition to grapes, a kiwi, and two fruit leathers from the store.

I somewhat recently nursed Shaifali while she was on the toilet because she was crying and crying during what may have been a painful poop. How silly and uncomfortable did I feel crouched in the corner of a half bathroom with my breast out while my medium-sized infant sat on the toilet?!

After an awful night last night, I managed to get through the day with everyone's sanity and happiness more or less intact. It is only 4:30 pm, so I suppose there's still room (and I'm probably jinxing myself), but instead of having a big ol' power struggle about Mas' getting back to sleep after a too-short nap, I told him that quiet time was necessary even if he didn't sleep. He's been reading books and playing with toys quietly since. He did detour two minutes ago to come in here to tell me that he wanted to give me a hug and a kiss, followed by, "I love you so, so much." That's one distraction I will for sure allow. If there were video cameras in the house last night, you'd see why this is such a big deal, but thank goodness there aren't.

I borrowed our friends' two-kid stroller so that we could take a long walk a few days ago. This was a day when I was going crazy/to the bad place they were just keeping each other awake during nap, Shaifali saying "brah, brah" (brother) and Mas being easily led into silly shenanigans. I decided to cut my losses and take them on a nice walk so that they would be tired enough for a nice nap when we got home, even if it was later than usual. Plus, it helped me a ton.

I've done some things wrong.

I screamed again. (Insert long, dramatic, shameful pause.) And I swore at Mas for the first time since he was too young to even pay attention to me. I hardly ever ever swear around him, let alone at him. It was a new low.

I've been reduced to a pile of sobbing person on the floor of the closet.

I've let my anger get the best of me.

I've slipped on my calorie counting, thus stalling my work toward health.

I've so far failed at my week-long quest to quit the tele. We don't even have a tv, but we watch things online. I realize that I am addicted and am wasting my life, even if I'm watching the best quality shows (with some guilty pleasures thrown in). How is it that I have so very little time but manage to watch so much? Tips on quitting are welcome.

I've learned some things too.

If you're ever in need of a therapy session and are in a pinch as far as time and/or ability to get out of the house are concerned, there is a pretty awesome resource.

This too shall pass. It's not the first time I've learned this. And it won't be the last.

Sometimes, even after you've given up on them, people come back or come through. I had a wonderful soul mate kind of friend who I met now almost eight years ago. I hadn't heard from her in over three years! I had pretty much given up hope as I had left messages and not heard back, and she had left her job where she received her mail and email. Let me paint just how meant to be this friendship was: we met filling out applications for a serving position in Boston. I must have liked her energy and started talking to her. Over the next several weeks of job-hunting, I kept wishing that I had gotten her contact info because I really felt we were meant to be friends. I really disliked Boston and needed the few jewels I could find. "Oh well," I thought. "Next time." When I started the first day of training at a new job (probably a month after we had met), the trainers were saying, "Lorna won't be here until tomorrow." No way could it be her, though it was a huge coincidence with a name like that. I walked into the second day of training to see her sitting across the table from me. We just jumped right into excited conversation and had both had the same feeling after meeting each other. Long story short, she called me at 12:30 am her time the other night! I couldn't believe it! She said she has been thinking about me so much, and I've been in her dreams, and she never stopped loving me, even though she dropped off the face of the planet. Old friends reemerging is one of my happiest happenings.

Lastly, even though I do things wrong sometimes, my kids are going to be ok. I love my kids to pieces and try really hard to help them become the best, happiest, most loving and fulfilled people they can be. Again, it's a lesson sure to be learned repeatedly, but it's a good one. Until next time, friends . . .

Half Imperfect, Half Supermom

Imperfect: I turned back into Mommy Dearest last week when child of the corn #1 couldn't/wouldn't/didn't want to/refused to take his nap (seen left wearing his self-made Moby Wrap). No napping for #1 led to a waking up of #2, which doesn't fly in my world. I even flew around the house taking away all of his toys, books, and drums. They stayed gone for a few days even. Not my proudest moment, but oh boy.

Supermom: I found a solution that is (knock on wood) working so far. More darkening curtains on top of existing darkening curtains and a rearrangement of the room. Happy naps lead to happy afternoons for everyone.

Imperfect: I tried to sneak a nap in Minerva Maybelle Meriweather Minivan when we returned from a trip today. Superbaby was sleeping and Supertoddler was happily reading a book, and it was quiet save for the exclamations and questions about the book. I stole Mas's sweatshirt and used it as a pillow and reclined the driver's seat. This was after I leaned my head on the steering wheel. Mas told me I couldn't sleep on the steering wheel and laughed at me. I swear I got five minutes of nap, and no one was upset--even if Mas judged me and told me that we don't sleep in carseats, we sleep in beds.

Supermom: I took my kids to the library for Chinese storytime, thus enlarging their brains and making them more cultured. (Right?)

Imperfect: My dog pooped on the rug (and probably because she hardly gets her needs met), and I yelled at her. She's now back on spa vacation at my parents' house.

Supermom: I had the great idea for the whole family to take dinner (already made by Superdad last night) to the park. We played on the playground and had a really nice dinner together at a picnic table. It was a really sparkley moment.

Imperfect: We took photos with stuff (greens and berries from our smoothies) in my and Mas's teeth (at right).

Supermom: I helped Mas pee outside in the park under a tree because the bathroom was locked. I really didn't want to remove all the clothes from the lower half of his body, as the grass seemed a little wet and it was extremely cold, so I only took off one shoe and one pant leg and pulled the pants to one side, then placed the foot back in the shoe--all of which allowed him to squat effectively. I was proud.

Imperfect: Poor Superbaby was really sad on the way home because it was so cold.

Supermom: I thought to bring the Ergo so the toddler could ride on my back. We gave off the appearance of being a perfect little family. Baby in stroller, kid on back, laughing, singing. Well there was the matter of crying too because of cold. And if we were really perfect, we would have had the Momo there with us instead of having sent her away.

Dinner Tonight (featuring Mas' new gibberish language)

Priceless (yeah, I'm going there): brother and sister playing in the tub together on their tummies and laughing and laughing.

Tonight felt like what life with family is "supposed" to feel like. It was downright harmonious. It was a beautiful, still walkable fall day with a chill in the air. There was contagious laughter and hugs and food. No one was yelling or disgruntled. Everyone was enjoying each other's company. It's moments like these that keep me here and grounded.

This photo was taken while we were at the park tonight.

Ghost Baby (spoooooooky) and more

I'm smiling. And that's amazing.

I've abandoned my kids. And that's misleading.

We have a ghost baby in our house. And that's (not quite) true.

I bet you're most concerned about the second statement, so I'll start there. My kids are in their room, and I'm in our room. After #1 would not nap as much as he truly, truly needed in order to be happy and well rested . . . and after he didn't let #2 go down for a nap . . . oh let me back up. I picked Mas up at school today, and he had unusual behavior in that he threw a mini-fit for me on the floor while whining. He is pretty darn perfect at school (though not at home, obviously), so this is strange. I realized that he needed to go to bed as soon as he got home, and I made sure that happened. Well where he needed to sleep all afternoon, he took an even shorter nap than usual. I made several attempts to soothe him back into sleep. No luck, still stuck. (That is from the book One Duck Stuck. You know it's bad when you're quoting books that have less than 50 words in them.)

Then I put #2 down. She cried for a minute then quieted. Silly me for thinking that was because she had gone to sleep.

As everyone who knows him knows, Mas is quite intrigued (fascinated, obsessed) with all things construction machinery. They are making (leveling, paving) a street behind our house, so he gets to watch exciting things like shovels, forklifts, and bulldozers every day. In the past two days, he has been fortunate enough to see (and clearly identify for his uneducated parents) a motor grader and a cold planer. [See Mas with motor grader on left.] Pretty amazing. Well I looked out our window to see cement mixers pouring cement and some kind of machine following behind shaping it into the curb. I thought I would be nice and get Mas out while Shaifali was sleeping to show him. I went in, and there were all the blankets from the sides of her pack n play piled on the floor with all the sheets and blankets from his bed. She was smiling at him as he was talking to her and being silly on the outside. Oy.

So I did not tell him what was out there, nor did I permit him to come out. I simply closed the

door and walked away. Eventually I went back in to turn on the light, turn off the white noise machine, make sure Shaifali hadn't been piled on top of with toys, and just to play good parent for a minute. I also gave Shaifali a few toys so that she would be entertained. I told Mas that it was his job to play with his tractor and to make sure Shaifali was happy. Then I left again. [Poor Baby That One, a nickname that we have given her, has done nothing wrong.]

I started writing this and watching an episode of 16 and Pregnant. Don't you judge me!* Superdad is now home, so his shift has begun. I am still locked away.

The fact that I went and talked nicely and then walked away smiling is astounding, and I'm very proud of myself.

Now for Ghost Baby, whom I was planning to write about earlier today. You either know or can imagine how hard it is to feel rested when a baby wakes you up all night. Angel Puff--another name we sometimes call her--is an excellent sleeper and now wakes between 0 and 2 times per night to nurse and to be changed. She always goes right back to sleep too. But last night a baby woke us all night--it wasn't even our baby! If you watch Modern Family, you're familiar with baby monitors sharing frequencies so you hear people in your neighborhood. Well Ghost Baby must live somewhere around here. Ghost Baby woke us up all night!!!! Darn you, Ghost Baby! Go to sleep! What a wasted night and an "interesting" day.

*My love for all things on-screen involving teen pregnancy began when I was very young. When I was in fifth grade and wanted to watch For Keeps starring Molly Ringwald for my birthday sleepover, my parents let us. I like them for it. The parents in this uppity conservative family then labeled my parents as bad parents, not that they said it to their faces. Meanwhile, their poor daughter didn't know what a period was, and we were 10!!!!!!!! I educated her while we worked in the ball room (checking balls out to other kids to play with at recess). I think that her parents thought I was a floozy. Ha! Hello Robertson family!

Additionally: I feel that I have drifted far from poop. When was the last time I mentioned it? Well let me mention it now: Shaifali successfully poops in the toilet all the time now. We haven't changed a poopy diaper in a week and a half or so. When we put her on the toilet to pee, she poops if she needs to. Wooooohooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!

Even later addition: Mas continues his reign of terror, so I have resigned my position for the night. Superdad is close to resigning as well. If only there were a third, fourth, and fifth adult to pass the responsibility on to. Volunteers?

The beauty in . . .

a locked bathroom door.

This morning, I could have gotten away without locking it, as wonderful Superdad and wonderful Supermother-in-law are downstairs with the kids.

I locked it anyway.

It's a simple thing really. But for those of you who don't know how wonderful it is, let me extol its brilliance. Whether I am actually using le toilette, taking two minutes (if I'm lucky) to brush my teeth, or doing some miscellaneous activity that I can't even think of right now, it's just quite lovely to have some privacy. Bear in mind that Supertoddler is only 2.5, so I think that the need for a locked door will only increase over the next year. Then there's Superbaby, who will someday want to come in too. Supertoddler is actually quite good with the bathroom door for most people. He now knocks and says, "can I come in?!"

But that little twist of metal is comforting.

We all need some time to ourselves, and sometimes that bathroom break is the only time we get. I know that going to the bathroom was a downright luxury when I worked as a server in a restaurant. Last time I worked in an office, I worked pretty much alone, but I wonder: do people use the bathroom at the office the same way? A moment to collect themselves and just be away from everyone? Hmmm . . .

I keep a book in the bathroom. Many people keep magazines. It's not because I have a digestive problem. (Cue mom saying that the mere mention of bathroom-goings-on is uncouth.) I keep it because I like to read a paragraph or so of this book every time I'm in there. Frankly, it's the only novel that I am reading right now. And I'll have you know that I'm on page 85. So there! Reading novels is, sadly, kind of on hold until the kids are older or life gets calmer. Right now, my non-family-time energy goes *zing* to cleaning or dishes, *zoom* to maintaining my business, or *zam* to music or friends. There are other things, but reading just doesn't make it to the top of the list. So I love my paragraph at a time book.

Meanwhile, the kidlets are excellent readers and both completed their summer reading programs. Mas needs no encouragement to read, as it's just one of the things he finds it necessary to do in the day. Shaifali has loved books from an even younger age than Mas. So I guess I get my reading in every day--it's just about dumptrucks and animals in the water and baby haikus. I hope that the conversations I have, articles I read, and podcasts I listen to will keep my brain alive until I have time to read more again.

I was watching a friend yesterday as she was trying to talk to me. One kid came whining about being hungry. Another came up and just playfully hit her on the arm several times. And she just kept talking. A sister of this same friends said a few weeks ago how she, as Auntie, scolded the kids to leave their mama alone while she was in the bathroom trying to take a shower! And her kids are much older than mine.

Forget what they say about finding an hour to meditate each day. Well, don't forget it, just don't feel bad if all you can afford is 1.5 minutes in the bathroom by yourself. Whether you have kids or not, or if your kids are 2 or 20, keep finding your little piece of joyful solitude.

Shaifali finds her serenity with a rose at the Rose Garden