More Than One Square

WARNING! Poo Blog!

Look around you.

Look around you.

Look around you.

Have you discovered what we are looking for? That's right. Biological waste.

An experiment was carried out in which a three year old female child was given temporary free reign of the toilet half of the bathroom. What do you think will happen? You can write your hypothesis down in your copy book now.

All right, all right. Enough with the British comedy parody. But we've only just begun talking about Poo. That's right. Poo. I've put great effort into avoiding the subject so far in my blog, but it is time to face cold hard facts. Being a parent often involves being elbows-deep in human excrement. I feel like there are a few misconceptions about this that should be cleared up.

1. Tiny human = tiny waste. WRONG! How important is it for parents to remember the actual formula is [food in] - [energy used] + [some extra gross stuff for smell and volume enhancement] = [waste out]? Case in point: I was carrying Sam on my shoulders one afternoon when we were shopping at Tinker AFB. We had just eaten lunch. It hit her wrong and immediately (she was still in pull-ups at the time). The family bathroom was closed for maintenance so I found myself with a shopping cart holding an infant seat (infant included) and a poo covered toddler tucked in a small, 2-stall bathroom waiting for David to choose and purchase new outfits (including shoes and a purse) for the both of us. I would swear to this day that the volume was more than her weight at the time.

2. Tiny human = tiny smell. WRONG! This doesn't even require explanation. You've met my son. I can't think of a single witness (including myself) that hasn't been expelled from the room by the smell at some point.

3. Tiny human + potty trained = all good. WRONG! This brings us to our blog-inciting event. Should a parent mindlessly inform a toddler that one square is not enough without providing specific information about how much IS enough, said parent should be absolutely positive there is a plunger on hand, because [one entire roll of toilet paper] + [your average household toilet] + [one flush] - [that plunger you thought you had] = BADNESS!

4. Tiny human is MY human, therefor, it is all okay. WRONG! It is still really, really gross. It just is.

I'd like to pretend that I just got all of poo into one blog. Its a delusion I intend to maintain for a while. Now I need a vacation.

The Garbie Crisis

My daughter is playing in the living room with her dolls. She calls them "Garbie" dolls. It was something she started over a year ago and it has just been too cute to correct. She can hate me for it later. I digress.

She is calmly playing with her dolls as I research recipes for this mango she insisted I buy and now refuses to eat. All of the sudden she screams. I know, I know. SURPRISE! So I walk over to her and ask her to use her words to tell me the problem.

Sam: Garbie has to be a princess!

Me: I think she is a beautiful princess.

Sam: Garbie doesn't want to be a princess!

Me: Do you want Garbie to be a princess?

Sam: NO! NO! NO!

Me: Calm down sweetie. What would you like Garbie to be?

Sam: She wants to be Dr. Garbie in the betinary (veterinary) hospital.

Me: What a wonderful idea! I think Garbie will be a great doctor!

Sam: She can't! She can't! SHE CAN'T!

Me: Of course she can, honey. She can be anything you want her to be. Garbie's adventures come from your imagination.

Sam: She can't! She can't! SHE CAN'T!

Me: Samantha, we are girls. Garbie is a girl. A girl can do anything she sets her mind to, no matter what obstacles she faces. It is important for you to empower Garbie to follow her dreams.

Sam: She can't! She can't! SHE CAN'T!

Sam starts to cry. I wrap my arms around her and hold her in my lap on the couch.

Me: Why can't Garbie be a doctor?

Sam: Because all the stuffed animals are locked in the bedroom with sleeping Caius!

**Me, complicate simple situations? NEVAH!**

To My Daughter on Your Third Birthday

Three years! What a fine young lady you are turning into!

Oh, my pokey, daydreaming princess. Time holds no consequences for you right now. You can get distracted for an hour on your way to the refrigerator for a snack. It takes us at least ten minutes to walk from the car, through the parking lot, into the grocery store. Everything fascinates you (or at least captures your attention).

You are an amazing helper. There is almost nothing I can do that you are not tugging at my pant leg begging to "help". You want to learn everything. There is no book you don't have some interest in. (Case in point, right now you are sitting on the kitchen floor reading a cookbook.)

You are so smart. That is the understatement of the year. Your critical thinking skills are developing at a frightening rate. You apply almost everything you learn to multiple scenarios; and more often than not, you do so appropriately. Although you will outsmart us in less than a year, your father and I couldn't be more proud.

You are learning to control your anger. You try very hard to take a deep breath and/or leave the room when you are upset. We're still working on that one.

You are the queen of saying the darnedest things. Most of my facebook friends are only such because of you. Your perspective on the world and the intensity with which you see it and share it far exceeds normal kid antics.

Somewhere between the uncontrollable laughter and the screaming tears lies this perfect moment that we share many times a day. You feel everything so intently. Jokes and games and funnier to you. Insults and injuries hurt you more. When you love, you really love. When you fear, you really fear.

Even though I try not to, I find myself gazing into your future life, and knowing how hard it is going to be. Knowing at times the pain will seem unbearable. But also knowing you will find such joy as most of us never know. You will experience love closer to God than most of us ever feel. You will see beauty in people that most of us fail to notice.

I pray I am able to help you gather the tools you will need to survive the pain and thrive with the love. I pray you will find an insurance that will cover the cost of the therapy required from having been raised by your father and myself. Most of all, I pray I never take for granted even a single moment that God has allowed me to share with the most beautiful person I have ever known.

Slacker Mom

Every time one of my children reach a development milestone I find myself completely overwhelmed and the blogging stops until I've completed my adjustment period. Sam is smarter than me and Caius is almost walking and David is gone for two weeks. This is NOT the blog that gets it all going again. But in the meantime, they are just as sweet and precious as ever. Please excuse me while I go untangle his fist from her hair.

To My Son on Your First Birthday

I wrote you a beautiful (almost poetic) letter for your birthday. When I read it back to myself, I was really impressed with what I had created. Still, it was missing something. For days I have been trying to correct it. I was thinking about it this morning while the sun was coming up through the lens of my camera, and I found it. I found what was missing.

From the day I knew I was going to have you, you have been the most real, most sincere person in my life. Given your propensity for candor, I feel you deserve nothing less from me. So poetic prose will have to step aside. I'll just tell it like it is.

The day you were born was possibly the greatest relief I have ever felt in my life. When mothers say this kind of thing, it is generally an expression of how grateful we are that you are healthy and beautiful and wonderful and sweet and perfect. I am not ungrateful, but my relief came from you finally getting your heels out of my spine.

You are a nocturnal creature. My farmville farm was rockin' the first eight months of your life. I was really sleepy. Often.

You have a talent matched only by your father for creating unfathomable scents with nothing more than your own biology. I left you on the changing table more than once to be relieved of my lunch.

You teach yourself so much. You learn so fast. Your understanding of basics physics far exceeds the average one year old. Your father and I are so proud.

You wrap your arms around my neck every time I pick you up. You always have. You hold me more often than I hold you. You comfort me more often. I miss you every time I set you down. You warm my heart.

Your smile is more sincere than that of any creature I have ever witnessed. Your eyes are open and clear; your love radiates through them.

As I watch you grow, I know in my heart I would never trade you. Not for any person or experience or item that has, could possibly, or will never exist. And its a good thing. The warranty just expired.

Extra Pickles

This past weekend resulted in a LOT of big trash. Unfortunately, big trash day isn't until next week, so the large boxes and packing material will just have to remain stacked by the fence in the back yard. And while it is no secret that large cardboard boxes make the best toys and busting up packing materials can be the most fun (and one of the messiest) activities ever, it is still entertaining as a parent to see exactly what spin your child puts on the game.

Sam is playing outside. I'm watching her through the back door. She reaches into one of the boxes and pulls out a long piece of foam. She breaks the foam into several smaller pieces, and fills her brother's old Easter bucket from the toy chest. I can hear her talking the whole time, but the washer is running and I can't really understand what she is saying. After each piece of the foam is carefully placed in the bucket, she picks it up and opens the back door to come inside.

"Sam, what are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm selling tacos."

"Tacos?"

"Mmm hmm. With extra pickles"

My little entrepreneur.

Clean Up Your Solar System

I'm not the best housekeeper. You all know this about me. But I am working really hard on it. My mother was awesome at making sure our house was clean more often than not. The result was, we feel more comfortable in a clean house than a dirty one. I want my kids to have that too. So sometimes, we have to get creative.

Often, when Sam and Caius and I are going through the house picking up toys and laundry, we make a game out of it. Sometimes we pretend the toys are "animal's in trouble" and we are Diego and Alicia rescuing them. Sometimes we just have a race to see who can pick up the most things the fastest. But I've got to be honest--I'm running out of ideas.

Enter Sam, Queen of Bright Ideas.

Me: Okay, its time to pick up all our toys and clothes!

Sam: A game a game! Lets make a game.

Me: pause......(nothing, I'm stumped).

Sam: I know! Lets be rockets and we can clean our solar system! I'll clean Mars and you can clean Saturn and Baby Caius can clean Jupiter!

Me: Sam that's a great idea!

Sam: Mommy, be sure to collect lots of space rocks to bring back for science.