The Technique

Yes, that is right, today was the day of the one hour timeout. I was strong. I almost caved, but then realized that if I had, it would have been time, crying, and emotion wasted. I decided to try out the Super Nanny technique of timeout. Give a warning, then to timeout, tell them why they are in timeout and how long they will be there. "Two minutes for not listening," which is a regular thing for us recently. After that, when they get up, you say nothing and put them back on the naughty spot. I am so tired of him pretending as if he doesn't hear me. Even when I say, "did you hear me? Did you hear me? Hello? McFLY?! Stop, stop that right now, quit it, stop it, one more time and you go to timeout," and then never following completely through. Yes, I put him in timeout, but he eventually inches his way out and I give in. Well, NOT THIS TIME. It's one strike and your out, baby.

His newest thing is also telling us "No." I have had enough of this. This was NEVER allowed in my parents house, and it shouldn't be allowed in mine. With the emotional and physical stress of the new baby and our lack of sleep, we have been letting our parenting slip. If we don't nip it in the bud now, we are going to be in big trouble later. This is one thing that is no longer getting a warning.

I put him in timeout and at first he thought it was a joke. Got up, of course, and came down the hall. I put him back. He gets up, I put him back. He whines, gets up, and I put him back. He screams and gets up. I put him back. This is when the uncontrollable 'I want my way' crying starts. This went on for about a half an hour (about ever 15 seconds or so, with the getting up) before he took to trying to negotiate. He would sit on the other side of the hallway for timeout, but not on his spot. I think not. I would put him back on the naughty spot. This continued for another 15 minutes until he was so tired from crying he was begging for a nap and his milk. After an hour of trying to get his own way, many a tear and lots of screaming - a battle of the wills - I broke him. He sat on the two minute timeout.

I prevailed. I am Mommy, hear me roar.

The New Room

Well, I am back by popular demand. Actually, I am back because my computer is now out of rehab thanks to a friend. So much has happened and I have been unable to share due to my computers drug usage, or what appeared to be. The screen was on some whacked-out-crack and was so blurry that I couldn't even read the words I was typing. It was to the point that when I needed to go to my banking site I would have to copy and paste the balances into word pad and change them to a size 72. This is no joke, folks. At any rate, it is fixed now and I can see just fine..thank goodness, because if I didn't get a Bejeweled Blitz fix soon, I may not have made it. More on this later.

We have been enjoying the end of our Summer...oh wait, Summer? Was there one? We have been enjoying the end of Spring and are now ready for Fall. I always know it's here when football starts. And then I pray for a soon coming end. To the football, that is. Only because it takes up about 90% of my husbands free time of which he has little.

On the kid front, both are well. Elaina is getting a little personality and has taken to screaming as though she is hurt when she sees Zachary coming. I can't say I blame her. I am sure the fear is real. I know that I would be scared if someone three times my size was running around my very fragile head, zooming airplanes left and right at full speed, and I could not be sure when next tractor attack would happen. It really takes it out of her.

Zachary got a big boy room the other day. We came to the conclusion that it would not be safe for them to share a room. With normal children, yes, but with Zachary, I think not. We knew that he would be climbing into the crib with her and trying to kick her out, and succeeding. That, or piling toys on top of her. It just seemed like a better idea to give him his own room than to spend $200.00 on a video monitor and have them both in a room the size of a dog house. Perfect for a nursery, not so perfect for the two of them.

He loves his room. He got to choose between an airplane room and a tractor room. He was torn, but ultimately chose the planes and "heli-doctors" as he calls them. It worked out well because Tim was able to find some old Air Force posters with sweet airplanes on them. We got Air Force fabric with airplanes on it as well, and I sewed him some curtains. He was excited. Especially about the fact that he now has a queen sized bed (because we used to use this room for a guest room). He told us "Big bed! It's a big one. Heavy one. I pick it up," and then he tried to lift it. Lucky for us, we caught it all on tape.

Well, he is currently helping Elaina get maximum height in the baby swing by laying under it and pushing as hard as he can, so I'd better go. More later! Sorry it's been so long.

The Lingo

Well, I thought I would make a post to let everyone know what some of the terms I use mean. Let's start with dirt-dog.

My mom had a little dog, otherwise known to some as Charlie/Chuck/Charles, and he was impossible to house train. He would leave little presents all over the house. It was like finding a prize every time you came home. When we would go to my mom's house, Zachary would point and say "dirt..." and my mom would say, "No, that is from the dog," and in turn he would say "dirt dog," and point to the poo. This lasted until my mom found a new home for Charles. The next time we visited, Zachary was looking and pointing everywhere, but could not seem to find a dirt dog. He kept asking us, "Dirt dog? Dirt dog?" and my mom would tell him that no, there will be no more dirt dogs because Charlie had found a new home. Everything he would find he would ask if it was a dirt dog. Leaves, pieces of actual dirt, marks on the carpet and other miscellaneous pieces of lint and such that collect on the floor. He even started calling his own poop dirt dogs and now we have to ask him, since we are potty training, "Do you need to do a dirt dog on the potty?"

Mimi and Papa - Mimi and papa are my mom and dad. This is what Zachary lovingly refers to them as. Mimi is something that is used more in the south as a term that means 'grandma' or 'nana'. They also use Meemaw and Peepaw, or PawPaw, but we stuck with Papa because that is what we called my dad's dad.

Beebit - Beebit is what Zachary used to call his blanket. So that is what we would call it, and although he can now say blanket, he still says beebit. He has one special beebit that Mimi made for him at Christmas, and he can't travel more than about two inches without it. Shall I mention this is not a blankie...this is a BLANKET, same size as a throw you would use for your couch, made of fleece - double thick. Not great for traveling, which we do a lot of.

The Naynster - This is what we call Elaina because Zachary coined the name "Nayna" because he can't say Elaina. We now even call her Nayna and I think it might stick.

Mow-mer-bite - Oh yes, this is the ever loved motor-bike or motorcycle as most of us know it as. He loves them, but we don't let him play with the matchbox ones because he promptly rips the wheels and the handlebars off, tells us it is "boke" and throws it away. If we try to pick them out of the trash, he gets very angry and informs us that it is boke, it is nu-night and to put it back immediately.

These are just some of his terms that I have used in previous blogs and I thought you may enjoy hearing the stories behind them. Two blogs in a row, you might say? Well, thanks to Kelly I actually got a breather today because he is over playing with Lacey.

Other than that, not much to report other than the fact that he thinks he needs to eat three yogurts for breakfast and two in the afternoons. More on this later.

The Maestro

I apologize that this is my first update for the week. I know you may find it hard to believe that I have been busy, right?

It has been a crazy house this week. Especially Tuesday. I normally take Zachary to day-care to get a 'day off' once a week. I have a lady who does it for $2/hour and doesn't make me reserve a spot. I started doing this when I first found out I was pregnant so that I could go to my appointments and catch up on my much needed sleep without a little person constantly tugging at my jeans and trying to be my boss. At this point, there is no catching up on sleep. I now use these days to get done what I can't with Zachary with me. i.e. grocery shopping.

Tuesday started out with me dropping Zachary off at 9:15 and then taking Elaina in for her two month appointment a la shots. However, we were having some insurance issues because my husband waited until the last possible second (literally) to enroll her. (I know this may come as a SHOCK - insert eye rolling here.) Either way, we got it figured out (or shall I say that I got it figured out) and she was able to go to her appointment. Not that I am bitter about this.

Afterward, we stopped at the mall so I could get some much needed new bras from Victoria's Secret. She was very good despite the fact that she had just had three shots. She slept the whole time. Then we went home where I fed her, put her down for a quickie nap and made my grocery list. Then we packed up the car and went to the store for our bi-weekly shopping excursion. I had gotten about five items when she decided to explode in her pants. It wouldn't have been such a big deal other than the fact that she got it all over the only blanket we had with us...and GOD FORBID one of my children be without a beebit (or blanket) at any given moment. She got to screaming so loudly that I actually had to go and open a blanket, give it to her and just pay for it when we checked out. The checker was none to pleased about this, but I am sure she was much more pleased than she would have been if she had listened to a screaming child for the past hour. Either way, we were off.

We came home, brought in the groceries, put them all away and sat down for 2.2 seconds to catch my breath. Then back into the car to pick up Zachary. When we got home he acted as though someone had given him three liters of mountain do and 14 candy bars. He was bouncing off the walls and thought he was very helpful and funny. With me wrestling Elaina who wasn't feeling well and food flying through the kitchen from me trying to get dinner ready since Zachary was SURE that he would starve to DEATH if he didn't eat RIGHT THIS MINUTE, Tim calls and tells me that he will be late.

AM I ON CANDID CAMERA?!

At this point I am thinking Zachary - you are getting no bath and going STRAIGHT to bed at 7pm, or I will surely kill one or the other of us. To which he replied, in so many ways, don't worry Mommy, just put me in my room and I will scream for you underneath my door for an hour or so SO loudly that Elaina can't relax and will respond by crying. Don't worry, Mommy, you will be the maestro and conduct the orchestra that the two of us are about to create JUST FOR YOU in honor of the fact that Daddy is coming home late! YES!

And yet I survived this day. Surprisingly enough, I am here to tell about it. Just barely, but I am.

The Independant One

Yours truly, Zachary. As if you couldn't have guessed. We've been battling with this recently, although I guess it's not necessarily a bad thing. One this is for sure - he will not let anyone walk all over him - and for that, I am thankful. However, it does often times end up in a tantrum. For instance, we have already battled it out this morning over eating the bologna (huge surprise there as I am sure you can see a trend), pouring the milk, stir-stirring the coffee (as he says) and flushing the potty.

It started with the fact that he was hungry and since Elaina was in a rage to get her bottle, I decided (stupidly) to feed her first thinking that he would just play with his toys. Not so. It's like they know that when you are busy, you are unable to act on your words. "Zachary, no bologna. Zachary, only one bologna. Zachary, this is the last bologna. No Zachary, you've already had three bolognas, no more! Put it back!" To which he replied "No, Mommy..." More on that later.

After three bolognas, a yogurt that he found God knows where since I thought he had eaten them all last week in his attempt to down three a day, and some milk that he barely let me help pour (or put the lid on, for that matter) he was settled. He must still be hungry though because he just brought me a huge package of sting cheese and told me "all those" and "Mommy help you with that cheese, Mommy help you with that cheese." He is still trying to figure out the you vs me situation.

The stirring the coffee is quite a to-do every morning. It's like that kid can hear a spoon in a coffee mug three miles away. It's such a scene each day that sometimes I try to do it quickly without him hearing but it never seems to work. "STIR, STIR! STIR, STIR!" he screams and stops what he is doing and runs to the kitchen. He wants to scoop the sugar, pour the cream (which we all know he is so good at) and then stir. If you even so much as put the spoon in the cup before letting him stir, there is a fit. If you have already put in the sugar, you know there is bound to be a screaming, kicking, throwing himself on the floor show right before your very eyes. My response? Walk away.

We are trying to use the flushing the potty against him to get him to poop. He does pretty well with the peeing as long as he is naked. If he has anything on, he will pee it, and he doesn't care. His poop he will just hold until we put a diaper on him for bed time. He loves to flush the potty, even if he goes in the potty chair, but I have been telling him he can only flush if he does a dirt-dog in the potty. More on the dirt dog in another blog. (It is otherwise known to the normal human as a turd.)

Well, two screaming kids - one who wants to sleep, and one who is screaming, "NEED THAT!" and pointing to the Aquaphor ointment sitting next to the computer in dire need of rubbing it on his legs like lotion - and it's time to go. I need to get ready anyway for my dentist appointment and the trip to Papa and Mimi's for a "big tractor ride." If he doesn't get to go soon he just might not make it...and neither will I.

The Coffee Creamer

Figuring out Motherhood. It's been a difficult one. Mostly I just fly by the seat of my pants and hope for the best. It seems to work surprisingly well with Zachary because he is so unpredictable. The coffee creamer for instance...

One morning while checking my e-mail I heard the refrigerator open. (Did I mention that I am looking for a fridge lock for a top and bottom fridge?) "Close it," I said. He did, and I figured all was well other than a possible stolen piece of bologna at 9am. Choose your battles, right? No more than a minute later, I turn around to find 32 ounces of French Vanilla coffee creamer poured into the carpet. Well, maybe only about 30 ounces since about two ounces was standing in the pig trough for the Little People barn. I guess he thought the animals were thirsty.

I clean up the mess the best that I can, soaking it up, then pouring hot water, soaking that up and repeating. I had good intentions to steam-clean the carpet myself by borrowing my mom's machine, but due to my love for procrastinating and the fact that my dad had gone on a lock-installing-rampage right before they left for England (thinking he was quite crafty) and had not given me a key to the house, it didn't happen.

I figured it would be fine. It only took about three days to really start stinking. We had no other choice but to have someone come in and do it. First I called Stanley Steemer and found out that they have an $89 minimum. Great. I decided to call some other people that Google had listed. The first one I called (which I will not name) told me they could do it for $39.95 and they could come out THAT DAY. Sign me UP! They said they would be here between 7:00 and 7:30 and sounded very legit.

Now, I don't know about you, but when I picture people coming to clean my carpet, I picture a couple guys pulling up in a big van with shirts on sporting the company name, pulling out their giant hoses, coming in and cleaning the carpet with an industrial machine. No. Not even close.

They finally arrive in a green CAR (yes - I said CAR) with duct tape holding up one of the windows, and out walk a woman and a teenage girl with floor length jean skirt on. Now, no offense to anyone, but they looked like they were about to give me some religious reading material other than the fact that they were carrying lots of mops and buckets and a bottle of cleaner. (Yes, you read that correctly...I did not write MACHINE.) I was scared, but luckily I had already enjoyed one glass of wine so I was going with the flow. I figured I would wait until after I saw the "procedure" to say "are you freaking kidding me?" Luckily, after evaluating my carpet, they said they would go and get their machine. Now how they fit that thing into the back of their car I will NEVER know, but they did, no less. They asked if they could use my water and I of course let them, they cleaned the carpet, and then asked if they could dump the grossness into my toilet...weird, right? I said yes, of course, but knew at this point that I was getting what I was paying for.

After we paid and they left, I waited a few hours and walked to where the spill was. The carpet still STUNK. I was livid for two reasons. First of all it was not a job well done, and secondly this meant that this woman was going to return to redo it (if I had anything to say about it). Luckily I called and she offered to come and make it right. I will say that it is much better after the second treatment. Lucky for us, we had friends here for their return and they were lucky enough to enjoy the ghetto carpet operation with us.

The Update

Wow! I've really dropped the ball on the whole "blogging thing." I feel that I can safely say that since I glanced at my last post and saw that the date read "2007." Let's get up to speed, shall we?

So much to talk about. At this point, we have Zachary who is now 2 1/2 and Elaina who was born on July 14th of this year (now 8 weeks). I can't believe we skipped so much on Zachary and my entire second pregnancy! With good reason, I suppose, since the last update on him continues to sum him up and we all know how much I love to be pregnant. If you don't recall the mess, see the blog labeled poop-fest. I had honestly forgotten about this incident until I re-read it just moments ago and enjoyed a good laugh myself, however, that is just dust in the wind at this point. There are much bigger fish to fry than a little ole poop smear on the carpet. Especially with two.

Having two children is more amazing than I ever imagined. And more work. I thought having one baby was so hard...? Ha. Haha. Hahaha. That is me laughing in my own face, in case you didn't catch that. I think two is probably our limit.

Although the days are rough some times...many a time....okay, who am I kidding? All the time...it is so worth it and I figured that you could enjoy the moments with me. Especially since we are so far from most of you. I don't want you to miss out on the poop-smearing, fruit snack loving, coffee creamer spilling, bologna eating, tractor riding, juice pouring, screaming at the top of his lungs while throwing a mowmer-bite (otherwise known as a motorbike) at the check-out lady, loving boy. And I know that you don't want to miss out either. It's only fair that you get a good laugh out of my - most of the time - misforture, since I usually do.

Tomorrow I shall update you on the coffee creamer spilling as we have had a scene over the past two days. I know that you are just waiting with bated breath to hear about the operation that I hired in for half the price of Stanley Steemer. It's one for the books. Until then, good night.