Category Archives: Toddlers

Dear World; I have to Poop!


Babies are not born feeling embarrassment, which given their utter nude, slightly slimy, sometimes mucky appearance upon entering the world is probably a good thing. Embarrassment is something that we learn through self-awareness and exposure, it begins in the wonderful world of toddlerhood, think terrible twos and terrifying threes. I mean let’s be honest, that nonsense about terrible twos is just a myth fed to us by parents who are too kind to tell us that three can be even worse. So in the middle of all of this self-awareness, which can be the cause for those terrible and terrifying times, toddlers are learning a bundle of emotions: embarrassment, guilt, pride, shame, confidence, anger, fear, etc. and how to control all of these feelings. I can assure you, as the mother of a toddler and preschooler, what they don’t immediately learn is how their actions may or may not embarrass you. I feel like I should start writing all of this down for when they are teenagers and everything I do is embarrassing and I can be all like “Yeah well let’s talk about the two years you made it a public service announcement that you had to poop!”.

At first we want our kids to tell us when they have to go potty, it’s job #1 when potty training, communication, communication and more communication. You feel like your world revolves around pee and poop, literally and conversationally. But then there are you two years later, hiding behind a rack in the local Target because your son or daughter has just yelled for the millionth time “I have to Poop” and really to no one in particular. They do it at home, at Grandmas, at the library, the park, a restaurant, every. where. It doesn’t matter if they are perfectly able to walk their happy little self into a nearby restroom or their own bathroom and do their business by them self or with minimal help, they still provide an ear-splitting public declaration, that today, at this moment, I’m going to take a poop. It doesn’t bother them, not one bit, that you may not need or even want to know this information or that an entire restaurant has gone quiet at this loud declaration. In fact, if you ever want to silence a room to make an important announcement, stop yelling quiet, people ignore that, just loudly yell that you’re going to poop. Instant silence, the kind where you could hear a pin drop.

Perhaps this is what helicopter moms are creating, if you’re going to stalk me everywhere else I go, I’m going to tell you all my business, proud and out loud, on a bench on a church pew, wearing red or wearing blue, on the slide or by your side. In the meantime, I guess we’ll just keep trying to remind ’em that their preschool classmates probably don’t need this specific bit o’ information, that they can just use the restroom during potty breaks and let their teacher, not their classroom, know as needed. And Dear World, in case you were wondering, No I don’t have to Poop right now and I would be a-ok not knowing every time my son or daughter did.

Know You’re a Mommy When; Superhuman Thermostat



End of a Breastfeeding Era


I know, you’re probably thinking that based on my sporadic posting that I’m going to tell you I’ve decided to stop blogging. Sorry, you’re not off the hook that easily, I have to have someone to share my awesomeness gibberish with. Today marks one week of not breastfeeding. I left last Thursday for Chicago and then Georgia and was gone almost 5 days during which there was no frozen milk supply or any alternate to whole milk. Granted she’s 19 months old, so it’s not really a problem except she loves to nurse. Apparently not enough lately though, because unlike in January where I couldn’t make it without pumping while we were in Vegas, I had absolutely no problem in Savannah. Simply because there was no milk.

How do you explain this to a 19 month old who clings to you and yells “eat eat eat”?  I thought each day would get better, but it seems each day is a little worse. It tears at your heart, I want to give in to the fact that I know she just appreciates the sheer comfort of it, but at the same time I know I’m just postponing the inevitable. So I redirect, offer attractive snacks at times and in amounts never before heard of, how about marshmallows, disgusting chemical filth I would probably not normally give you, sure you can have fistfuls, how about a sucker or cookie or here just lick the sugar from the bag. Anything to make you happy, since this is breaking my heart just a little bit. It’s made worse by knowing she’s probably going to be the baby forever and you want everything to last forever with the baby, really you just want to stop time and keep them little forever.

Except we can’t. From the minute they are born they are growing away from us, first they roll away, crawl away, walk away, eventually they make new friends and want to play with them, next they are off at school and we become less and less important until finally the day comes when they go out into the world on their own, away from us. Yet no matter where they go, there is a part of them that are always secure in our hearts and it aches a little as if a piece of us is missing, each time they grow away.

Now after all of the complaining about the challenges of nursing a breastfeeding toddler, I should celebrate. I mean really let’s review, I can drink more than an occasional glass of wine, take allergy medicine again, and I’ll never have to pull out that dreaded breast pump again. I should be pouring margaritas and toasting to the end of this era. Yet instead, I just feel sad.


The Angry Face

Who wouldn’t want to give that face, whatever she desires!

On Being Milked Like a Cow


Grab. Squeeze. Pull Down. In very simple terms, that is how you hand milk a cow. It is also Pippa’s newest technique for either attempting to get more milk while nursing or purely for the entertainment value. I mean really she has to have something to do while she’s hanging out, doesn’t she? Don’t answer that! Perhaps it is the farming blood coming out in her, I’m not really sure. All I know is I used to complain about how pumping made me feel like I had more than I ever wanted in common with the popular milk breed, but this new little quirk of hers has that beat hands down. As if nursing a toddler that won’t wean doesn’t have its own particular set of challenges, see past complaints regarding gymnastics and circular kicks to the face, I’m now subjected to her not so pleasant grab and squeeze. Why does this bring me back to bad memories from college?If eventually I stop writing and start mooing, please stop me.

We’ve also hit that stage where you can tell people think it’s weird that we’re still nursing. If they were to ask, which no one does, the reasons are multiple. In fact I’ll tell you, maybe I’ll get a few less strange looks. They include the fact that she doesn’t sleep through the night and if I want her to sleep past 3 a.m. it’s a must, she’s pretty small for her age and not particularly fond of whole milk, so we’d like her to drink something, and if you were to get over your cultural biases it’s actually totally freaking normal, just not particularly convenient. This last point, combined with the fact that not everyone can nurse, is what I attribute to this country’s viewpoint on breastfeeding. We’re selfish as a country, we like ourselves and our freedoms and Mama’s who breastfeed give up even more of their time (think pumping, planning, nursing time) than those who use formula, time which is can be very valuable when you have little ones. This along with the fact that there is some strange stigma about a baby nursing as compared to someones boob hanging out of their dress, that makes us just nonsensical as a nation. Not that it keeps the creepers from staring at you in public, even when you’re covered up.

So the next time you see a Mama nursing, don’t stare or gawk, just know she’s doing it for reasons that must be pretty important to her and leave her the heck alone, and if the nursing one is a toddler then she really must have her reasons because I assure you no one nurses a toddler for funsies!


An Honest Thank You! (Times a Million)


Ironically, last Thursday, I received an Honest Thank You from the Honest Company as they celebrated their one year anniversary. On Friday, however, I owed them a HUGE thank you, the kind I can never express enough, if I could hug them all I would. We tried the Honest Co. healing balm last summer after learning it worked well as butt paste for cloth diapers. It did and I was hooked. I signed up for the Honest Essentials pack and slowly began to switch out as many of cleaning/household products as I could each month. We’ve always tried to use non-toxic cleaners because of the littles but we had continued to use mainstream dishwasher detergent because the less toxic options we had found in the big box stores were either too ridiculously expensive or completely ineffective that it just didn’t work out. The Honest Company has dishwasher pods that we receive as part of our essentials pack each month and a few months ago we started to use these. THANK FREAKING GOD.

As a parent, or perhaps as a neurotic parent like me, you’re frequently running through paranoid situations in your head, anticipating all the horrible dangers in the world your children can get into. On Friday, one of these paranoid predictions came true. I was in the bathroom and putting some items way in the living room and had left Pippa(15m) in the playroom. She wasn’t gated in or anything, our house is small enough and loud enough you can generally hear the kids move around. However, I had the television on and it must have muffled her out. I found her sitting in the middle of the kitchen with the bag of dishwasher pods, a half eaten pod dangling from her mouth, with dishwashing powder everywhere. I PANICKED. I grabbed her and rushed to the sink, she promptly threw up a disturbing stream of soapy/powdery vomit and I frantically rinsed everything I could from her mouth and then her shirt. I then grabbed the dishwasher soap bag and read. It said if ingested drink water and call your physician. I grabbed a sippy and a straw since I knew the straw would entice her to drink, fed her as much water as I could and then tossed her into her high chair, buckled her in and grabbed the phone. All this felt like an eternity but probably took 2 minutes. After another 5 I got ahold of a nurse who gave me poison controls number and said she would check on us in a bit. I called poison control who took all of our information and put us on hold while she researched the product.

When she got back on the line, she said those wonderfully magic words that will stay with me for life, this product has low toxicity so she should be just fine! Visions of running to the emergency room, having her tiny stomach pumped were suddenly released and I could breathe. We had to monitor her for an hour to ensure she didn’t develop any sores on her mouth or vomit again but after that we could resume all normal activities. Both poison control and the nurse from our doctor’s office checked back with us to see how she was doing (which was fine, a million times better than myself). Relief felt, lesson learned. So THANK YOU, Honest Company for making a product that is safe for use on my dishes and not so bad if ingested, albeit I wouldn’t recommend it. But that’s what kids do, they get into stuff when we’re not looking (and in this case when we forget to lock the baby cabinet lock). It makes me all the more determined to continue to try to use products that are not only better for our bodies but safer in general should little hands find them. Have your little ones every ingested anything they shouldn’t have? What did you do?


What? Did I do something I wasn’t supposed to??????

Holiday Whining-30 days til Christmas


To the tune of the 12 Days of Christmas

On the 30th day til’ Christmas, Santa gave me:

30 more days too many

29 reasons to research toddler discipline

28 million tears shed (not mine)

27 nose blows

26 ways to attempt to corral a tantrum throwing two-year old

25 reasons to want to beat my head against the wall

24 plus times I’ve said No!

23 emails read

22 emails deleted

21 toddler threats made ( I no like that Mama)

20 hits thrown by angry toddler leaving the library

19 hairs probably turning gray

18 more years until everyone has graduated

17 minutes of quiet, does this mean they’re finally sleeping

16 times I’ve reminded him to say please

15 minutes of corralling at the chiropractor

14 mismatched socks

13 crumbs spilled

12 million reasons to quit this song

11 toys strewn about

10 minutes of sanity wanted

9 articles of clothing they’ve already worn/dirtied 

8 more hours in this day

7 more months until warm weather

6 hours of sleep tops

5 more hours until bedtime

4 annoying animals to care for 

3 time’s I’ve reminded him it’s nap time

2 whiny, crying, naughty children AND 

1 uselesssssssss elf on ..theeeee… shelf!

BAHHHH HUMBUG When will it be July?



War on Stuffed Animals; Want to be on my side?

English: Stuffed animals.

English: Stuffed animals. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I love toys, I love buying my kids toys. Perhaps I didn’t have enough toys as a child. Perhaps I never really grew up. All of the above? What I hate is (a) cleaning the playroom; (b) selecting some of these toys to get rid of; and (3) stuffed animals. They are cute and cuddly, well some of them, some are downright creepy and except for the 1 out of 50 that my child latches on to as his sleeping mate, 28 months into this whole gig I’m still trying to figure out their purpose. There’s just something about stuffed animals that makes people want to buy them for babies and toddlers. Maybe they think they’re a safe bet, like they can’t grow out of them and what are the chances someone else will get the same one. Before you buy someone a stuffed animal, it’s important to ask yourself this, when will the child play with this? In what situation would they play with this? If you’re inquiring about my child the answer is NONE. Perhaps he will go through a stuffed animal stage at some point or maybe his baby sister will, if they’re lucky I will not have purged them all beforehand. They are not small toys, they take up mountains of space and aren’t particularly easy to arrange in attractive displays. Further, they are one of the first things to be destroyed by the tiny humans, diving through the lot of them, throwing them everywhere, then never touching them again until my OCD kicks in and I have to fix them into something mildly attractive only for the whole nasty cycle to repeat itself. Also they should never be passed down, used stuffed animals, that’s just gross, I can’t even begin to imagine what germy nasty things grow in stuffed animals. All that cotton, kids chewing on them, spilling stuff, coughing, sneezing, I’m feeling a bit nauseous just think about it. Do people routinely wash their stuffed animals? I sure don’t. Perhaps if I lobby the CDC they will declare them unsafe for our health and well-being and require an immediate evacuation of all stuffed animals from the Country?

For all of the above reasons, I’d like to declare a war against stuffed animals and their manufacturers.  We could deliver the world’s stuffed animals back to the facilities they came from, no refund required. Surely there’s enough that such a large delivery of stuffed animals, which may or may not be disease ridden plush, would cease operations if not destroy the place with their loads of cotton filled cuteness  (gag) and equal parts Ebola until they could come up with something better to manufacture. I mean it’s just an idea, I’m open to other suggestions.


In the meantime, think how clean our playrooms would look, briefly  momentarily for about a second.