Potty Time

This weekend has sucked.  I mean, really, really sucked.  The kind of weekend where the world doesn't make a whole hell of a lot of sense, and you find yourself asking questions that you know you'll never get an answer to.  I hate to see people I love suffer and not be able to do anything about it.  I really do wish it had been me-not for altruistic reasons, but for selfish ones.  Because I can deal with my own pain better than I can sit there and watch someone else's.  Not going into detail because it's not my place and not my business to, but suffice to say, getting out of bed has been a challenge these past few days.  If Henry didn't need me, I doubt I would have gotten up at all.  And like I said, I didn't get the worst of it.  Some broken hearts.

And Ben hasn't been around, he's dealing with some family health issues of his own, so I decided to throw my energy into some potty training.  Henry's shown increasing interest in his potty and ours, and he's started to take his diaper off, which is super fun.  Depending on when you catch that, you either have to go hunting for puddles or change some crib sheets. Thankful for mattress pads.  He needs to not sleep in a pee-soaked crib, and I needed a distraction and a way to ward off coming in and seeing that he's done worse in his crib than peed (and then, according to my kid-having friends, most likely fingerprinted with it).

With that in mind, I set out with the old-fashioned method in mind-outright bribery.  We went to the store and picked out "potty candy" and I've been letting Henry run around naked a lot.  He's got his dad's attitude about nudity-and if you've ever been around Ben at a raging party, particularly if it's his birthday, then you know what that is.  Not me.  I hate being naked and am probably a step away from wearing denim cutoffs a la Tobias in Arrested Development.  Never nude!

We've also strategically placed the potty in front of the TV, so he can just sit and relax on it while he watches TV.  He's got a real obsession with the Muppets, so we watch that almost daily (well, parts of it.)  I figure it could be worse.  I'm a big Muppets fan, so it's not too much of a hardship, and I figure if they ever do a remake I have all the songs and dance steps down at this point.  So today has been a lot of basic conversation, which is about all I can handle.

HIM:  Potty?
ME:  Yes, potty.  Pee pee in the potty.
HIM:  Pee pee?
ME:  Yes.  If you pee pee you get candy.
HIM:  Candy candy candy candy candy candy?
ME:  Only if you go pee pee in here (me pointing to potty).
HIM:  (swaying back and forth to Rainbow Connection).

Jealous?  I thought you would be.  Remember this when you're out with friends discussing art and wine.

So anyway, he sat on the potty naked for basically the entire Muppets movie (the only time you can do this in your life without the judgment of others).  Then he got up and said "All done!" and handed me an empty potty.  I sighed and went to get a diaper, but he went to the bathroom door, pointed, and said "Potty!"  I figured, what the hell, so I took him in there and put him on the toilet.

And he peed.  Any parent knows that much celebration occurred then.  I've been excited before, but I don't know that I'm a good enough writer to describe the excitement that comes with knowing that sometime in the near future diapers may not be part of your life.  I wasn't this excited when I got my grades back my last semester of college and realized that despite majoring in alcohol and bad decisions I was going to graduate.

I know it's a work in progress, but a step in the right direction.  I called Ben to tell him the whole story, and after I was done, he said "Well, isn't that just like him."

That it is.

Hi, Megan!

The title of this post references the fact that my son has started to address me by my first name.  I'm trying to not be pissed about it.  It evolved naturally.  Henry mimics EVERYTHING his dad does.  He wants me when he's sick or hungry or tired, but the line has been drawn and Dad is on the fun side.  I'm not terribly surprised.  I have worrywart tendencies and am decidedly risk-averse.  Ben flew in planes with his Navy pilot grandfather when he was a toddler-once the door on Ben's side even fell open.  Apparently his grandfather very calmly reached across him and shut it, mid-air.  Beat that, Sully!

So Ben walks around yelling for me with his Mini-Ben following closely, so I hear "MEGAN!  MEGAN!" followed by "MENAN!  MENAN!"  (Gs are hard, apparently.).  It's a bit much to explain to a 22 month old, and the other alternative is having Ben call me Mommy, and I won't go into all the reasons that I say NO THANK YOU to that option.

So Menan I am.  For now.

Easter is approaching, and that meant the big party at day care and the eggs we have to put together, and the cupcakes I had to make because I decided to not be lazy and just sign up to bring paper plates, which is what I normally do.  I'd love to be one of those crafty people who makes art and can whip up dinner from scratch based on greens found in the yard and a rabbit that was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but alas, I am not.  I did pull together some nice cupcakes with strawberries on top.  Ben commented that "this is some Martha Stewart shit" as he ate several.  I gave one to my darling child, who decided to reward my hard work by throwing the cupcake on the ground and then spitting on it.

I suppose this is preparing me for his teen years.

So we'll be off to catch up with both sets of grandparents, and to let them stuff candy in this kid til he's up til all hours singing in his crib and closer to diabetes than we'd like him to be, but hey, isn't that what Jesus would have wanted?

Don't ask me.  Lapsed Catholic.

Life

Things are going in some interesting directions of late.  I finally realized I was chasing all the wrong things in life, and put a halt to what I could.  And so I write this as your average mom/grad school dropout.  I've been in grad school for what feels like a billion years.  I got one master's degree, and graduated right when the market crashed and I had no hope of finding a job, and getting in shape and stripping was going to be more of a time commitment than school, so I just went back.  I was taking business classes, and almost at my post-grad certificate, when something in me just...broke.  I couldn't make myself go to class.  I couldn't make myself care about anything I was studying.  I missed my kid, and my husband, and my life.

So I quit.

Anyone who thinks this is not a big deal wasn't raised in my family.  In our family, you don't quit.  You keep plugging away at whatever you're doing and YOU BE GOOD AT IT or ELSE.  I never quite figured out what the or ELSE was, but my mom scared me enough that I didn't want to find out.  So I ended up doing a lot of things I really hated, and becoming deathly afraid of failure.

Which is kind of stupid.  I mean, everyone who was a success was a failure at some point.  Einstein, Bill Gates....there's lots.  Google that shit if you're interested.  I'm not making a list for you, my research days are OVER.  Quitting grad school was a good move for me.  I don't feel like a failure and my life didn't end.  I spend more time with my kid and I"m restructuring what I want to do with my life.

That whole "figuring it out" thing isn't going so well.  I took the good job with the good money and the good insurance, and I'm not leaving anytime soon because, you know, insurance is nice.  But I don't see myself there for life (which I think my boss realizes).  But what do I want to be when I grow up?

Really, a humor writer.  With a kickass job at a nonprofit on the side, saving the bay or local food or women's uteruses.  I want a job that lets me be the social miscreant I am at heart.  My next door neighbor is a stay at home mom, and she was just saying that she felt like staying at home was causing her to regress in her adulthood.  I told her not to worry, I go to work every day and I think I'm regressing, too.  I'm trying to remember what made me excited when I was young and stupid and idealistic, and to think about what I might actually be good at.  It's a scary thing to even put that out there, because there's such a small chance that I'd ever make it as a writer.  But you never know.

Now if only I'd figured out all of this and that money isn't what's important before I bought a lot of stuff I now have to work to pay for....

And we're puking.

Had a few entertaining things to post on facebook today and realized I needed to update this thing.  Had gotten the kiddo to bed and was actually getting ready to type a new post, and I heard...that coughing.  You moms know what I mean.  That "Hmm, that doesn't sound like a cold cough, it sounds like he's going to...." and then you just run to the bedroom and try to get the kid to the bathroom before he unloads everything he's eaten for three days.

Today we actually made it.  Ben was impressed.  He asked me how I knew he was going to throw up.  I guess you just get used to these things.  And as usual, after the barfing and a bath, Henry was in pretty good spirits, so we'll just hope that it was an isolated incident and that it's not contagious.

All parents are laughing right now because of course it's not an isolated incident and of course it's contagious.  I'll be up all night and chances are I'll be barfing by morning.  It might not be the worst thing.  I've been eating like a 15 year old boy lately (it's Girl Scout cookie season) and could probably use a cleanse.  Maybe I'll even market it-I mean, if people will drink nothing but lemon juice and cayenne pepper for two weeks to lose weight, maybe they'll pay me to come over and have my kid cough on them!  Same results, but with less wear and tear on your asshole.  I haven't read too much on those lemon/pepper cleanses but I can't imagine the exit of those substances can be any easier than ingesting them.

Other than this fun event, these past few months have been action-packed.  Ben's contracting business is taking off, my new job and school are taking up a ton of time, and this kid...this kid is changing by the day.  We've got tons of words, a dinosaur fixation, much more relateability and empathy.  It's just a really fun time in parenting.  Today Henry threw his penguin down (he calls it his "baby") because he was mad at me and throwing a fit.  When he calmed down, I said "You threw your baby and that wasn't nice." and he picked his penguin up, hugged it, and said "Sorry.  Thank you."

How could that not melt your heart?

But all this development definitely brings a new sense of independence and a new sense of defiance.  Henry's perfected the go-limp-and-cry method of resisting my attempts to corral him in public.  Yesterday we got to see one of my uncles, who was in Virginia to take his son to play soccer.  As we stood on the sidelines, with many spectators, Henry decided to pull the immobile protest because I wouldn't let him lay down in a puddle.  As he laid face down in the dirt and cried, and other people looked on, I said "Hey, Uncle Larry, remember that time I was fifteen and I came home sloppy drunk and it was my dad's birthday?  This is what I get for that."  He laughed.

But I will try to post more, not only because my tens of readers would like me to, but also because I'm getting out and talking to more moms and running into the same kinds of issues and problems and fun stories.  So we'll all share in the cute things our kids are doing, as well as the meltdown they had in the grocery store, or the tube of eye cream they shoplifted from Target.  Not that Henry has done either of those things recently.

Not MY angel.

Reasons I am Getting Old, And the Ways It's Being Pointed Out To Me.

1.  I have a real job, with a real career track.
2.  The "buddy" assigned to help me learn my way around the office graduated college well after I did.
3.  I am officially in the "people with young kids" group at said new job.  While some groups talk about travel and bars and the softball league and how wasted they're getting this weekend, we talk about....Legos.  And how much we miss sleep.
4.  The other day, teenagers were blocking the road where I was driving and I snapped "What, you're too cool to get out of the street, like you're too cool TO WEAR A JACKET WHEN IT'S FORTY DEGREES OUT???"
5.  We have date night.
6.  Chances are 50/50 we'll fall asleep before the naked part of "date night".
7.  I said having two glasses of wine was "probably too much".  To someone who knew me when I was 23, and two glasses of wine was "breakfast".


Yeah, it's catching up with me.  Not necessarily a bad thing-my thirties have already beat my twenties all to hell, and I'm only two years in.  Getting a healthier start, working out, have a running buddy, doing yoga.  But, as always, I got sick my first week of my new job.  At least we've got the four day weekend for me to get over the cold-oh, and also to learn everything there is to know about auditing.

I guess number 8 would be that I'm going to be spending a four day weekend reading about auditing and wiping boogers off of myself and a 19 month old who acts like me wiping said boogers off his face is as painful as removing his skin.

At least I won't have a hangover.

Whee, that's fun. NOW STOP THAT.

I was thinking today about how confusing life must be for toddlers.  As a parent, I spend half my time encouraging my son to play with stuff and throw stuff and eat stuff, and the other half trying to get him to not play with stuff or throw stuff or eat stuff.  How much can an 18 month old really understand about that?  This cookie is delicious, but no to the unidentifiable thing I found on the carpet?  Yes, let's play catch with this ball, but no, I can't chuck around rocks from the driveway?  Yes to this fun blinky toy but no to Mom's much more fun blinky iPhone?

I concluded at times he must just think I'm a colossal asshole.  But he's getting to the point where he can communicate, and that has been pretty fun.  I always try not to rush development, ever since I kept saying "When is he going to crawl?"  and then he did and I've spent the time since then chasing him and remembering fondly when he was immobile.

But the language thing is good, because he can finally tell me what he wants.  Generally it's a snack.  Sometimes it's Dad.  Sometimes it's a long string of things that I can't really understand.  But he's sitting there playing with his toys and having a conversation that he certainly understands, and I am kind of anxious to find out what it's all about.

He also busted out his first curse word, which I was less proud of, though he used it appropriately.  He turned too quickly and tripped over the dog, and said "DAMMIT" in a tone identical to his father.  (Seriously the delivery was identical, he can't even try to blame me).  I glared at Ben, who made a credible attempt to blend into the couch like a chameleon.  Such a proud moment.

I'm also about to be an aunt again, which is really exciting, and from hearing my brother talk, one more little one won't be too far away.  My mom and I had to laugh when he said they were going to "start trying" in the spring.  In my family, there really isn't any "try".  For the most part, that's one medical problem we don't run into.  We have high cholesterol, high blood pressure, migraines, and premature gray hair on our genetically unavoidable giant domes, but fertility is not an issue.  Pretty much as soon as you say "we're going to try" and then get within two feet of your partner's genitals, congratulations, in forty weeks you're going to be a parent.  My ladyparts are completely scarred and broken and it still only took us one try, my dad is one of nine and I'm sure that number would have been higher, but my grandfather died.

So it looks to be an exciting new year.  I will continue with the resolutions I've already started-healthier living to try to avoid the above-mentioned genetic problems so I can be around to laugh when Henry's kids say dammit for the first time.  Happy New Year to all-I hope this is a great one.

Secrets to a Happy Marriage

WARNING-this post also contains stuff about sex, so don't read it if you're under 18 or related to me END WARNING.

I've figured it out.  After five and a half years, some of them difficult, some of them great, I have worked out what makes life easier and marital relations run smoothly, 99% of the time.

And it's having lots of sex.

That seems to be the first thing to go when you get too busy and you're working and/or have kids or just have a lot of stress in your life.  In my brief surveys on the topic, I find that women are more likely to hold back than men are.  This may be because women need to feel some emotional connection, and that needs to be a good emotion.  Men don't seem to have that need as much.  You could probably cut off your partner's toe, admit that you did it on purpose, then say "So, you want to go at it?" and he'd say "Sure, let me cauterize this thing and get my pants off."

I guess I can give credit to (or blame) these Dan Savage podcasts for my change in thinking.  He made me realize how important that connection with your partner is.  I mean, if you're not having sex you might as well just be roommates.  And lack of it makes people crabby.  Unless you're in one of those crazy swinging non-monogamous relationships (and good luck with that if you are, but hell if I'M shaving my legs for more than one guy) then it's something you share exclusively with your partner, and you need to remember how special it is.

So even if you don't really feel like it, get in there.  I've found that it doesn't take long to change your mind, even if your thought right now is "He hasn't done dishes or bathed the kids in three weeks, he can go fuck himself, and so can you, for giving me this advice."

But here's the secret-a guy getting a lot of sex will do ANYTHING to keep getting a lot of sex.  So if your sex life has been kind of slow, and it picks back up in a major way, you will both be in a better mood, and he will start doing the dishes.  He will start doing anything you want just to keep that door open.  The secret has been in our pants this whole time!

And I won't get too graphic here but ever since I embarked on this plan, I have a happier husband, a happier me, I've had dishes done, and the other day when I was heading downstairs with a basket full of laundry, he said "Allow me, my lady" and took it down and started it for me.  You get to enjoy yourself, AND chores get done!  (If you don't enjoy sex with your partner, I'm not really qualified to advise you on that.  Come to think of it, I'm not really qualified to advise you on anything.)

So give it a shot and see if it doesn't work.  And guys, if your wife/girlfriend reads this and you reap the benefits, I DO have an amazon wishlist if you want to thank me.