We have an uninvited house guest. We have quite a few of them actually, and I normally enjoy co-existing, but not when my guest is using my utensil drawer as a bathroom! It started in June, 2008. I reach into the drawer half asleep for a spoon for my son's breakfast, and I barely notice them... little mouse poos. Never had mice before, but then again, I have also never lived without a cat before. I'm not a big dramatic reacter to these things. I don't really mind sharing my space with critters. Most of them are either helpful or stay out of my way, and that's fine. But it didn't take me long to become aggravated with the extra cleaning my little furry friend was causing. Those who know me know that cleaning just isn't my thing. I have learned over the years to sort of meet my neat freak husband halfway, (OK to me it feels like three/quarters), but I take no pride or joy in cleanliness. I know, its very unmotherly of me. I just don't care.
But even before I became aggravated with the extra cleaning... something else joined the party. Yes, my little furry friend came with his or her own set of unwanted visitors. I am referring to the fleas that leaped from poor fuzzy mousie to my couch, and then nipped at my ankles for three days. Now fleas I can recognize. Its been a while since I've had a cat, but one never really forgets what that battle is like. Luckily, there was nothing really hairy enough to keep them here, but it added to the issue.
My point really, is that my furry little visitor has taught me some unexpected things. The most striking is that, while I recognize that my husband and I do not often agree on what I think are some pretty important issues, I hadn't realized how fundamentally differently we view life in general... that is, until now. When I finally came to the conclusion that I must find my little friend a new home, I went searching for some catch and release type contraptions, and loaded one each with pumpkin seed butter and soy nut butter, (we don't have peanut butter in the house and I wasn't sure what my little mousie might like best). I'm also not really sure how many mice there are. Anyway, my husband tripped them, not knowing what they were, so I showed him. He asked why I didn't just get the old fashioned snappy trappy kind of thing, to which I responded, "Well I'm not going to kill them just for being mice!" This thought had never occurred to him, and for the first time in a long time he was quiet... thoughtful. I didn't understand how differently we thought about life, and the world, until this moment. He had never thought of it that way, and I had never thought of it any other way. Its kind of presumptuous and cruel of me to kill the little guy just for following his instincts and looking out for himself. I would just prefer she didn't poo in my utensil drawer, so I will find her someplace else to live. My husband, on the other hand, views this much more territorially. My house. My food. Grunt! Hunt! Kill! I think I got through to him, and I think I caught a mouse tonight, so I better get on to finding that perfect little rodent sanctuary...
Update: 9 months later, I have relocated 14 furry little friends to a farm a good distance away, and sealed two holes in the basement. I hope I am finished, but there are a lot of cracks in this 108 year old house. It may go on forever... and ever... and ever...
PS: Mice do not seem to care whether they eat pumpkin seed butter or soy nut butter, so I now offer them the cheap stuff.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Poo-Mergency ala Amusement Park
Some people call it crazy. Some might say... "adventurous", (in an attempt to avoid any offense). I think crazy is probably right on the money, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I am referring to our big trip to Dorney Park and Wildwater Kingdom this weekend. Now I'll remind you, my children are 12 months and 2.5 years. What could possibly posses a person two take two diaper-clad-but-also-able-to-run-opposite-directions children to such a place? How about a spouses company sponsored event, complete with free tickets, free parking, and the all important free food, (at least 5 hours worth anyway)?
Of course, I had my husband to help me, complicated by the shadow of a possibility that I might loose my cool with my children, (or my husband, as is often the case), in front of EVERYONE he works with and then some. All in all, I would do it again in a heartbeat, although I will likely have to wait until next year.
This trip has shown me a lot of wonderful things, and I think I really needed to see them. Most important to me was seeing my children enjoy themselves. The awe and amazement that this kind of experience inspires really makes all the hassle seem totally insignificant. I'm mostly referring to the cloud I always feel just over my shoulder because of some pretty significant food allergies that we just can't seem to shake. I came prepared with a wide variety of food, all packed up and preserved, ready to fight for my son's right to eat with everyone else should we be searched on the way in. In the end, there was no battle over the eats. I was even brave enough to offer him some chicken that I had not cooked myself, and all went well. I must say, I was really impressed with the kind of information they listed on their website about foods and possible contaminations.
Another important lesson I learned this weekend was one of my own ability to handle whatever is blown my way. We had a little poo emergency during our second trip to the wave pool. In the aftermath, I realized, I can probably handle anything. It went a little something like this...
In an attempt to save my daughter's skin and the earth a few tons of ever-present garbage, I have converted my children to cloth and earth friendly gdiapers. This was our first time out and about in a place like this, all day long, and I came prepared. I had my new wetbag, which I just LOVE, to contain the messies. I had inserts and wipies and spare covers and liners and nondisposable swim diapers and all kinds of helpful things at my disposal. Then I found myself listening to my son beg me to take him back to the wave pool in my good ear, while watching my husband chat away to some important work people, with my daughter sleeping peacefully in the stroller. What a great chance for me to have some fun with RF, just the two of us. So off we go. No shoes. No towels. None of that helpful equipment. Just me and my son, wearing his life vest, his swim diaper, his bathing suit and his way-too-big-but-all-we-could-find-UV-protecting-swim-shirt. Oh what a joy to flop around in the wave pool playing ring around the rosie with a two year old, not a care in the world! We all fell down... SPLAT! We all jump up... SPLASH! So many people interrupting to tell me how cute he is, and I see it too. Then I felt it. A big wet hug, with a big lump in the diaper. Hmmmmm... No wipies. No dipies. No help.
It's almost akin to a flight or fight response. I've got no idea how many of my husbands work people abound, but I do know they can recognize us. So off we toddle to find a potty room, in search of some paper towels. It turns out, amusement parks tend towards the blow your hands dry with hot air type of facility. So off we toddle, at first, to see if we can find Daddy and our gear. Daddy's probably about a 10 minute toddle away, which I quickly realize is an ETERNITY when your two year old son has a waterfall of smelly brown stuff streaming down the backs of his legs. Not too surprising after a rousing game of ring around the rosie. Panicking inside, but scanning for MacGuyver like options, we hurriedly toddle over to the dipping dots stand and ask, politely but not at all hiding the panic from my voice, for paper towels. Mrs Dipping Dots has definitely potty trained someone in her life, because she was not slow or shy about handing me a wad of paper. One stealthy wipe of my sons legs later, off we toddle back to the potty room. The line is, of course, around the corner. "Coming through, toddler can't hold it!" and I muscled my way through, found a little shower, and went to work.
At this point, RF is scared. Its dark, its wet, and he's never had a shower in his life. He starts crying, and I do my best to comfort him without announcing to the long line of people hanging around that I am washing the poo off my child. I get his diaper off easily, because it has these great little snaps, and it falls out. Hysteria ensued. I realize he thinks a part of his body has fallen away. He's hysterical, screaming "Mommy what was THAT?!?!?!" and in his attempt the get away from it all, he stepped smack in it. Lovely. Now I turn to the shower. It has a manual push button that you have to hold in in order to get misted by what little water comes out. Great. I'm all for water conservation, but I would have given my hair for a nice healthy hands free stream. Imagine, if you will, me balancing my extra large sized two year old, all nearly 40 pounds of him kicking and clutching, upside down on my right shoulder so that I could hold the stupid on button in and then try to wipe with my button holding hand before the mist cut off, and not drop RF on his head. Enough said there. Once we and our suits were clean, and we toddled out into the sunlight, I had to take my son aside to talk to him about what was frightening him. Once he learned that it was his poopies and that it was SUPPOSED to fall out and splat onto the ground in this particular situation, he was fine, and we were back in the wave pool, ringing and rosying our hearts out, confident that another poopie was at least another hour away.
Of course, I had my husband to help me, complicated by the shadow of a possibility that I might loose my cool with my children, (or my husband, as is often the case), in front of EVERYONE he works with and then some. All in all, I would do it again in a heartbeat, although I will likely have to wait until next year.
This trip has shown me a lot of wonderful things, and I think I really needed to see them. Most important to me was seeing my children enjoy themselves. The awe and amazement that this kind of experience inspires really makes all the hassle seem totally insignificant. I'm mostly referring to the cloud I always feel just over my shoulder because of some pretty significant food allergies that we just can't seem to shake. I came prepared with a wide variety of food, all packed up and preserved, ready to fight for my son's right to eat with everyone else should we be searched on the way in. In the end, there was no battle over the eats. I was even brave enough to offer him some chicken that I had not cooked myself, and all went well. I must say, I was really impressed with the kind of information they listed on their website about foods and possible contaminations.
Another important lesson I learned this weekend was one of my own ability to handle whatever is blown my way. We had a little poo emergency during our second trip to the wave pool. In the aftermath, I realized, I can probably handle anything. It went a little something like this...
In an attempt to save my daughter's skin and the earth a few tons of ever-present garbage, I have converted my children to cloth and earth friendly gdiapers. This was our first time out and about in a place like this, all day long, and I came prepared. I had my new wetbag, which I just LOVE, to contain the messies. I had inserts and wipies and spare covers and liners and nondisposable swim diapers and all kinds of helpful things at my disposal. Then I found myself listening to my son beg me to take him back to the wave pool in my good ear, while watching my husband chat away to some important work people, with my daughter sleeping peacefully in the stroller. What a great chance for me to have some fun with RF, just the two of us. So off we go. No shoes. No towels. None of that helpful equipment. Just me and my son, wearing his life vest, his swim diaper, his bathing suit and his way-too-big-but-all-we-could-find-UV-protecting-swim-shirt. Oh what a joy to flop around in the wave pool playing ring around the rosie with a two year old, not a care in the world! We all fell down... SPLAT! We all jump up... SPLASH! So many people interrupting to tell me how cute he is, and I see it too. Then I felt it. A big wet hug, with a big lump in the diaper. Hmmmmm... No wipies. No dipies. No help.
It's almost akin to a flight or fight response. I've got no idea how many of my husbands work people abound, but I do know they can recognize us. So off we toddle to find a potty room, in search of some paper towels. It turns out, amusement parks tend towards the blow your hands dry with hot air type of facility. So off we toddle, at first, to see if we can find Daddy and our gear. Daddy's probably about a 10 minute toddle away, which I quickly realize is an ETERNITY when your two year old son has a waterfall of smelly brown stuff streaming down the backs of his legs. Not too surprising after a rousing game of ring around the rosie. Panicking inside, but scanning for MacGuyver like options, we hurriedly toddle over to the dipping dots stand and ask, politely but not at all hiding the panic from my voice, for paper towels. Mrs Dipping Dots has definitely potty trained someone in her life, because she was not slow or shy about handing me a wad of paper. One stealthy wipe of my sons legs later, off we toddle back to the potty room. The line is, of course, around the corner. "Coming through, toddler can't hold it!" and I muscled my way through, found a little shower, and went to work.
At this point, RF is scared. Its dark, its wet, and he's never had a shower in his life. He starts crying, and I do my best to comfort him without announcing to the long line of people hanging around that I am washing the poo off my child. I get his diaper off easily, because it has these great little snaps, and it falls out. Hysteria ensued. I realize he thinks a part of his body has fallen away. He's hysterical, screaming "Mommy what was THAT?!?!?!" and in his attempt the get away from it all, he stepped smack in it. Lovely. Now I turn to the shower. It has a manual push button that you have to hold in in order to get misted by what little water comes out. Great. I'm all for water conservation, but I would have given my hair for a nice healthy hands free stream. Imagine, if you will, me balancing my extra large sized two year old, all nearly 40 pounds of him kicking and clutching, upside down on my right shoulder so that I could hold the stupid on button in and then try to wipe with my button holding hand before the mist cut off, and not drop RF on his head. Enough said there. Once we and our suits were clean, and we toddled out into the sunlight, I had to take my son aside to talk to him about what was frightening him. Once he learned that it was his poopies and that it was SUPPOSED to fall out and splat onto the ground in this particular situation, he was fine, and we were back in the wave pool, ringing and rosying our hearts out, confident that another poopie was at least another hour away.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
If a baby poops under the table, and you can't see it, does it make a smell?
(WARNING: The following post is a discussion of baby poo)
Yes. Yes yes YES! It most definitely smells. Someone please explain to me why oh why is it that as soon as I get that little girl's diaper off for a little let's-air-out-that-rashy-raw-butt time that she behaves as though she's "just going to crawl around, mom. No need to watch me. Just getting some air while I cut my teeth on this here rattle thingy..." Well that's not what she was doing at all! No no no... she waits until my attention is diverted and then clandestinely plops one out under the dining room table!!! Well I could smell it, but finding it was a bit more difficult.
In fact, it was mostly amusing. But that was just the beginning. Without getting too graphic lets just say that since then, she has made a habit of leaving puddles all over the place, and I do not want to get into what happens when she decides to sit on and then crawl through her messies.
My son never had such a sensitive bum at this stage of the game, so I never had this issue. Of course, he had his own brand of ickies. I got really good at wiping breastfed-baby-liquid-poo out of the crevasses of his little armpits. That boy could shoot poo faster than a speeding commuter, clear across the room! Must have been all that cool air...
I dunno. I think it's probably best to make sure that you are not a Poo-A-Phobe before having kids
Yes. Yes yes YES! It most definitely smells. Someone please explain to me why oh why is it that as soon as I get that little girl's diaper off for a little let's-air-out-that-rashy-raw-butt time that she behaves as though she's "just going to crawl around, mom. No need to watch me. Just getting some air while I cut my teeth on this here rattle thingy..." Well that's not what she was doing at all! No no no... she waits until my attention is diverted and then clandestinely plops one out under the dining room table!!! Well I could smell it, but finding it was a bit more difficult.
In fact, it was mostly amusing. But that was just the beginning. Without getting too graphic lets just say that since then, she has made a habit of leaving puddles all over the place, and I do not want to get into what happens when she decides to sit on and then crawl through her messies.
My son never had such a sensitive bum at this stage of the game, so I never had this issue. Of course, he had his own brand of ickies. I got really good at wiping breastfed-baby-liquid-poo out of the crevasses of his little armpits. That boy could shoot poo faster than a speeding commuter, clear across the room! Must have been all that cool air...
I dunno. I think it's probably best to make sure that you are not a Poo-A-Phobe before having kids
Sunday, April 20, 2008
What do you want out of life? Eco-Friendly-Ness
Late last year, I came across an exercise often performed by the "highly successful" and it seemed like a good idea to go ahead and do it myself. Its a handy little list, worked in reverse chronology, to help you get to the end you seek. So I started with 3 things that I wanted out of life before I die. (Of course, my list assumes I will live a nice long and healthy life, and I am pretty sure I am not that lucky, but I'll go with it, just in case.) Then I repeated it for different time points. It helps break down major life goals into smaller, more manageable pieces. For me, it also helped me delineate what was most important to me, rather than those things I am working towards because it is most important to someone else.
One of the items on my list was to improve my family's "green" factor. I have always been more crunchy than people would think, and this is a part of my life that has fallen to the wayside during all the upheaval of the past few years, (more on THAT some other day). I finally decided to go for it. Here's how I have begun.
Diapering:
I have two kids in diapers. We were spending about 3 dollars a day on disposables. Then there's the wipes. And the fact that those poopy bombs will be festering away on this planet for generations to come. It bothers me, but I am also very much "have babies will travel". We do not spend much time just sitting around. I needed an alternative to plastics, but was not prepared to go fully cloth, (although sometimes I still dream about this very idea. I will admit, in my dreams, no one ever poops on the floor and then crawls through it before I can get to them. No one ever poops in public as a matter of fact, among other totally unrealistic notions.) Anyway, I stumbled across a HYBRID diaper. I just LOVE this concept. No one was ready for the electric car, but we have accepted hybrids into our driveways, why not do the same for our babies bottoms? They are called g-Diapers, ( http://www.gdiapers.com/ ), and not only are they biodegradable and compostable, (maybe not so much the poopy ones), but you can FLUSH then down the toilet. Now that's where the poop belongs! I converted both the little stinkers and I am just so pleased. Now, I am still experimenting with cloth diapering and considering EC'ing, (not quite ready to try that one, what with my poop all day long babies), but I just love having this option up and running in my house. Its just so easy, and PORTABLE, and environmentally friendly. I am pleased as punch, to use an expression I don't really understand at all. Besides all of that, the diapers are adorable, and my son just LOVES his orange diaper, (and he reminds me of that every day). And cost-wise, once you have all the reusable bits, the "flushie", (that's the part that you toss), is not really anymore expensive than your regular, brand name disposable diaper. Of course, we were using no-name-buy-one-get-one-free diapers, but the difference in cost is minimal compared to the lesson I am teaching my children. Or at least that's how it works inside my head.
One of the items on my list was to improve my family's "green" factor. I have always been more crunchy than people would think, and this is a part of my life that has fallen to the wayside during all the upheaval of the past few years, (more on THAT some other day). I finally decided to go for it. Here's how I have begun.
Diapering:
I have two kids in diapers. We were spending about 3 dollars a day on disposables. Then there's the wipes. And the fact that those poopy bombs will be festering away on this planet for generations to come. It bothers me, but I am also very much "have babies will travel". We do not spend much time just sitting around. I needed an alternative to plastics, but was not prepared to go fully cloth, (although sometimes I still dream about this very idea. I will admit, in my dreams, no one ever poops on the floor and then crawls through it before I can get to them. No one ever poops in public as a matter of fact, among other totally unrealistic notions.) Anyway, I stumbled across a HYBRID diaper. I just LOVE this concept. No one was ready for the electric car, but we have accepted hybrids into our driveways, why not do the same for our babies bottoms? They are called g-Diapers, ( http://www.gdiapers.com/ ), and not only are they biodegradable and compostable, (maybe not so much the poopy ones), but you can FLUSH then down the toilet. Now that's where the poop belongs! I converted both the little stinkers and I am just so pleased. Now, I am still experimenting with cloth diapering and considering EC'ing, (not quite ready to try that one, what with my poop all day long babies), but I just love having this option up and running in my house. Its just so easy, and PORTABLE, and environmentally friendly. I am pleased as punch, to use an expression I don't really understand at all. Besides all of that, the diapers are adorable, and my son just LOVES his orange diaper, (and he reminds me of that every day). And cost-wise, once you have all the reusable bits, the "flushie", (that's the part that you toss), is not really anymore expensive than your regular, brand name disposable diaper. Of course, we were using no-name-buy-one-get-one-free diapers, but the difference in cost is minimal compared to the lesson I am teaching my children. Or at least that's how it works inside my head.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
