Toot!!!

So B and I are in the bathroom this morning, and I’m in a bathrobe brushing my teeth and B is on the floor playing with toys, when all of the sudden my neighbor blows his nose quite loudly: “Brrrrrrrrrrrttt” (yes, when you live in the city, you can hear your neighbors blow their noses, you get used to it and eventually find it charming, I swear.) Anyway, B hears this noise, looks up, and says, “Toot!” and proceeds to giggle. And I explained to him that it wasn’t a fart, it was just someone blowing their nose. He gives me a coy, “suuuuure, mom” look and repeats: “Toot! Mama! Toot!” and points at me. “Me??? NU-UH! I didn’t fart!!!” I tell him. But he remains unconvinced and proceeds to lift my robe up, points my butt and repeats “Tooooot!!” and then he collapses in a fit of giggles. !!!!! Sigh. This kid.

Beginning Of The End?

Yesterday morning - B's 18 month birthday* - B nursed and half way through stopped, said "no" and rolled away and went off to play. Today, he didn't nurse at all. So is this the beginning of the end of our nursing relationship? 18 months feels "about right" for us so I suppose I'm ok with it if it is, in fact, the beginning of the end. But still, sigh. It has been such a sweet, wonderful, thing. I will miss it.

*Holy Crap! Eighteen Months!!?!? How did that happen?

Yum...

So guess what I found under my couch last night... a sippy cup filled with milk. From a week (or so??) ago. So, technically, it wasn't really milk anymore. It was more like a strange congealed substance that I would classify as being half way between a failed science project and really fancy cheese. Delicious. I have no idea how it got there* but the stench that accompanied its disposal was enough to knock me on my butt.

*This is a lie. Upon further brain racking I remember EXACTLY how it got there. Barrett was doing his "I'm done with dinner now!!! Time to wildly throw everything off my tray!!!" thing. (Precious, no?) He's like one of those tennis ball launching machines except he throws food and utensils and sippy cups. And sometimes some of those projectiles end up under my couch and I don't immediately retrieve them because I'm busy wiping spaghetti off my face... and often off the cats. (Have I mentioned lately how much the cats LOOOVE Barrett?) But I distinctly remember seeing this particular sippy cup fly through the air and roll under the couch. And I remember thinking, "Oh man, I REALLY need to remember to pick that up before it dies a horrible death under there." And then I promptly forgot all about it. :\ Man, I am SO GOOD at this parenting business.

Well, It Was Bound To Happen Sooner Or Later

Barrett and I have a morning routine. It's good to have a routine. Following a routine helps with the auto-pilot I so often have to run on because motherhood = chronic sleep deprivation. So anyway, our routine. Our routine is I pick up my purse, my lunch, B's day bag and whatever else I need to schlep that day. I get them all balanced on my body and then I pick up B. Then I walk, loaded down with 40+ lb, to my car, which is often parked a block or two away. Upon arriving at the car, I open the back door and put B down on the back seat so he can scramble into his car seat. (I used to try to actually PUT him in the car seat, but that led to much yelling and flailing of arms and gnashing of teeth... and B didn't much care for it either. So we worked out a deal: I allow him to get into the car seat on his own and he makes sure the screaming is kept to a minimum. It's a good deal.) While B scrambles, I unload all my crap into the front seat. One time B scrambled right out of the car and tried to run down the street, so now I close the back door after dropping him off in there.

So anyway the process is basically this:
1. Unlock car
2. Open back door
3. Place baby inside car
4. Close back door
5. Open front door
6. Place crap inside car
7. Close front door
8. Re-open back door and buckle baby in his seat
9. Get on with rest of day

Unfortunately today we hit a small snag somewhere after step 7...

B has recently developed a love affair with mommy's keys. If he sees them, he NEEEEEEEDS them. Like "RightThisSecondOhMyGoodnessIfIDon'tGetThemNOWLifeAsIKnowItWillEnd!!!" :\ When it comes to parenthood, I'm a big fan of choosing my battles . I'll lay down the law when he gives me the "Mommy I NEED to stick my fingers in this electrical outlet" whine, or when he tries to climb on the kitchen counters to reach the knives, or when he's pretty sure his pacifier would taste better if I would JUST let him dunk it in the toilet. So, having fought all those battles already today, when he grasped desperately for my keys as I placed him in the back seat this morning I thought, "Fine. Take them. Have a ball."

With my car keys in his happy little hands, B started scrambling into his car seat. Step 3: check. So I moved on to steps 4 through 7. Close back door, open front door, place crap, close front door... and then I heard it: *Click* ... the sound of my car doors locking in response to my son pushing the lock button on my key fob. Worst. Sound. Ever.

The window of time that my son had to push that lock button (between me closing the front door and reopening the back door) was exceedingly small. We're talking 2 seconds, max. But toddlers are exceedingly good at doing the wrong thing at EXACTLY the wrong time. It's a special gift they have.

So now my child, my keys, and all my stuff (including my purse) are locked in the car. And I'm standing outside like a moron waving my arms and tapping on the window trying to convince B to push one of the other buttons on the key fob he so desperately loves. Except now he's realized that he's alone in the car and suddenly the keys just aren't that interesting anymore. So he shakes them around and launches them into the front seat. And then he realizes that he's not strapped in yet... so he stands up in his car seat, and he jumps up and down in his car seat, and he climbs over the back of his car seat (which is still rear facing) and nose dives into the center console in the front seat. !!! I was certain he'd come up with a bloody nose... or at least crying. But no. He popped his head up with the biggest smile ever on his face. Apparently trapped in the car is AWESOME when you are 1 1/2. Weeeeee! dive into the back seat. Weeee!!! dive into the front seat... lovely.

So I'm on the phone with AAA, (THANK GOODNESS my phone was in my pocket and not in my purse!!!) and they're asking for my member number - which of course I don't have because it's LOCKED IN MY CAR ALONG WITH MY BABY!!!!! And the lady is making my spell my last name like 10 million times while I'm knocking on the windows trying to tell B to at least dive carefully between the front and back seats. I finally told her to just send someone, NOW! and so she put in a call to the fire department. Mind you the fire department is around the corner from my house. Had I yelled loudly enough, I probably could have put the call in myself. But whatever. So AAA called the fire department and I hung up the phone with them.

2 minutes later, a GIANT fire truck pulls up and no less than FIVE MEN jump out. (I cannot believe they drove their GIANT TRUCK literally a block and a half. The drive was so short they didn't even get a full cycle of their siren out. It was like :::ruuuuuuummm::: <--- start the engine... :::rrrrr::: <---- siren wind up.... "Alright we're here!!!" Oh well.)

So giant truck, 5 dudes, baby running a muck in the car, and me. Apparently I was their first call of the day (at 9:15 am?? What a bunch of slackers the folks in my city are!) so I got a rose. Neat!! Luckily I had my wits about me so I could snap some pics:

B discovers mommy's stuff on the front seat.


Awesome firemen attempt to jimmy open my car


My rose!



So the firemen try and try and but they cannot, for the life of them, get my door open. They hit the unlock button with their coat hanger thing-ee but nothing happens, they get their coat hanger thing-ee around the door handle and pull, but that just sets off the alarm... Apparently Toyota has spent a lot of time and effort making their cars un-break-in-able. Which normally would be a good thing... except when your baby is locked inside. :\

So I call AAA again and have them send a locksmith. He gets there about 15 minutes later. Meanwhile B continued to enjoy his unchecked rampage around my car.

Here he is eating my eyeliner.


Here he is pretending to drive. (Much better picture when I press the phone against the window)


At one point, B found a nickle in the car and we all thought FOR SURE he was going to eat it and the guys were going to have to break a window and rescue him from chocking. They even got the tape out (to keep the glass from shattering) and debated which window would be best to break. B put the nickle in his mouth and we were all like, "No no no no no no! Don't eat it! Don't eat the nickle!!!" and he smiled and took it out of his mouth and we all cheered! And then he put it back in his mouth and we all freaked out again... and then he took it back out and we all cheered. We must have looked so strange to folks walking by.

We also tried (in vain) to convince B to push the unlock button on the door. We succeeded in convincing him to push all the radio buttons and to jerk the turning indicator and windshield wiper levers wildly but apparently door buttons hold no allure for babies.

At another point, B found his beloved keys in the front seat and we tried to get him to hook the keys onto the glorified coat hanger (so we could pull them out of the car through the pried open door). But all he did was grab the coat hanger and try to eat it. 17 month olds, it turns out, are pretty worthless when it comes to breaking into (or I guess out of) cars.

So finally the locksmith shows up and he tries all the coat hanger tricks without luck. I resign myself to the fact that my baby will be locked in my car forever.




Just then, the locksmith tries the "double door handle pull" trick. Which is to say, use the coat hanger to pull on the door handle, the car alarm sounds... then, pull the door handle AGAIN (within in 3 seconds.... which p.s. is NOT easy to do with a coat hanger!) VIOLA!!!! The door opened.

Oh thank goodness!!!!!!!

The whole ordeal took over an hour. But we all survived. And B didn't panic or complain once. He rules. I thanked everyone about a million times. (I considered hugging them, but 6 people is a lot of people to hug and I was afraid it would be awkward...) Then I belted B in and proceeded to step 9: Get on with rest of day.

The End.


(And yes, I know his shoulder strap is all wonky here... don't worry, I fixed it before driving off.)

My First Mother's Day

B is crying, wanting an afternoon nurse session and I'm trying desperately to finish the lunch that we had to take to-go because B was having a meltdown in the restaurant.

Me: Ugh. I think he's still hungry. I wish you had boobs so you could feed him and I could eat in peace for once.
Kyle: oh come on, you wouldn't like me very much ...if I had boobs.
Me: ha ha, now I'm picturing you with boobs.
Kyle: Lovely.
Me: Saggy, floppy boobs!
Kyle: Gah! Why would you give me saggy floppy boobs!?!?
Me: Because that's what happens when you have a baby. Get used to it. When we all done having kids, you can get a boob lift.
Kyle: Thanks?

In other news - I successfully nursed B without a cover in a cafe this afternoon! Happy Mother's Day to me! :) It's amazing to me how much easier breastfeeding has gotten over the past 8 1/2 months. B and I are seasoned pros now. It's awesome and I love it. I always knew that I wanted to breastfeed my children, but I don't think I was fully prepared to love it as much as I do. It's pretty much the best thing ever and one of the few motherly things I feel like I'm actually "good" at.

And speaking of eating - Barrett, Kyle and I had our first official "family dinner" last night where we all sat down at the same time and ate the same thing: pork chops, peas, and steamed potatoes. Yum! B-man is a HUGE fan of pork chops. His eyes totally lit up when I gave him his first bite. And I am continually impressed by his ability to gum pretty much anything I give him. Who needs teeth?? (I'm pretty sure the two he's sporting on bottom serve only an aesthetic purpose.)

Anyway, it's pretty awesome to have a whole holiday dedicated just to me (and all the other mommies out there)... I never fully appreciated Mother's Day before I had a kid of my own. But I guess that true of a lot of things.

Barrett Discoveres Gravity

Sooooo.... B is WAY too big for his swing, we can't even come close to buckling the straps after we put him in the thing. (And I'm sure he's like 10 lb over the weight limit.) But he still likes to lay in it sometimes and sort of relax/zone out before we put him to bed, and who am I to deprive him of some much needed chill time, right?

Well, last night he was in there all dreamy eyed while Kyle and I ate dinner. Just as I was about to finish my stir-fry, B decides to do a BIG STRETCH and ROLL OVER.... and then he went *splat*, face first onto the hardwood floor. :( :( He was obviously fine (swing is only about a foot off the ground) but of course he cried like he lost an eyeball or something. I swooped him up and made sure he was ok and then... once I was sure he was fine.... I totally laughed at him.

::hangs head in shame::

He just looked like a total cartoon character all splatted out on the floor. :\

Me = worst mom ever.

Toes

Little man discovered his toes today and is now entirely too captivated by them to sleep. It is equal parts absolutely adorable and terribly frustrating.

Pool!!!!

Kyle has been dying to "torpedo" Barrett pretty much since the day he was born. (I think he's looking for some sort of cosmic revenge or something for his parents "torpedo-ing" HIM when he was just a wee little baby.) What is torpedo-ing you ask? Well, it's when one parent takes the baby in the pool, yells "Torpedo!!!", dunks the child, and then fires him at the other parent like an underwater torpedo. I have to be honest... this sounds like borderline child abuse to me. But Kyle's parents are generally great people, and Kyle doesn't seem to have suffered much for all his being torpedoed, so I guess it's ok. I guess.

A friend of ours told us about a really nice, indoor pool not far from our house, so we decided to check it out today. We schlepped ourselves and B and all our crap over to the pool, parked, walked (in the rain) for 2 1/2 blocks, and then paid our $5 to enter the pool. It was supposed to be $11, but they only took cash, and they didn't have any change, so they let us in for $5. ($11 seemed a bit steep to me.... I was sorta glad we only had 5 singles on us) Anyway, we got B all dressed up in his swim diaper (which was just one of his regular pocket diapers without the insert - p.s. have I mentioned we use cloth diapers?? Remind me to write a post about them later. They rule!) ANYway - B got all swim-diapered up, and Kyle and I donned our bathing suits (and I added a tank top, because "the girls" are still WAY TOO big to be flaunted about in pulic (thankyouverymuch breastfeeding... ) and my belly is just plain yuck. So we got all ready and then we went out to the pool and we had SUCH high hopes of traumatizing, errrr, I mean torpedoing our dear son... and we got in the water. And... well. It was darn cold. :\ Too cold, really. B was NOT a fan. Cold water, lots of other (older) kids splashing about, people WHOOSHING into the pool on the waterslide. (p.s. I can't believe they have a waterslide!) Frankly, it was all a bit too much for him. He lasted about 2 minutes and then started crying. :( I actually didn't even realy get in the water. (Was too busy snapping pics.) We decided that maybe we had traumatized the B-man enough for one day, so we got out and got dressed again, and schlepped back home. Oh well. Torpedoing will have to wait.

When we got home we gave B a nice warm bath. He kicked and splashed and seemed to appreciate it a little bit extra. So there's that. :)


Ready to swim! (Good gracious, look at those chunky legs!!! Gah!)


"Nevermind! Get me out of here!!"


"Uhhhh, you're not going to send me down that slide, are you???"

Operation Sweet Potato

We did it!!! Sweet Potato Success!! Well, sort of. He really liked the spoon. And he seemed to think the sweet potato was interesting enough (good for smooshing his hands in!) But he could not for the life of him understand WHY we would soil a perfectly good spoon with the sweet potato. And the whole business of doing anything more than just licking the sweet potato off his fingers seemed like way too much effort. I don't think he really gets the concept of swallowing yet. Oh well. All and all it was messy and fun. Yay!