Defying Logic

1. We have a blow up kiddie pool. I had the idea to blow it up and leave it on the deck, (oh yeah, we got a deck and a fence- it was a nightmare, but it’s all over now) so Pman could go swimming whenever the mood strikes him. We came home today and the pool was....melted? The sides were all caved in and the water was trickling out. I searched and there are no holes. Melting is the only thing I can think of.


2. When Josh and I were picking out everything for our house we opted for standard carpet with upgraded padding. What we got was standard carpet and sub-par padding. The flooring people said they would replace all the padding. Meaning, they would pull up all the carpet- in our basement and all 4 upstairs bedrooms (and closets) and replace the padding.

Is it just me or does that NOT sound like a solution?

I told them I was ok with changing the padding in the basement because it is still fairly empty and their being in my basement will not disrupt my life as much and them being in our bedrooms. My other thought was the basement will, over time, get more foot traffic than our bedrooms. I told them I wanted to be reimbursed for the poor bedroom padding.

Within the next few days I should be getting a reimbursement check. When the guy called to find out exactly who to address the check to and where to send it, he ended to conversation by saying, in a surly tone I might add, “Are you happy now, Mrs. Phillips?”

Yes. I am. So there.

3. I have been running a lot and while the numbers on the scale aren't changing all that much, my clothes tell a different story. Things that used to fit are a bit too baggy after a couple hours of wear. Pants that were too tight, are no longer. This makes me happy, but my Pham is on a budget which does not allow for a new wardrobe for mommy. Unless...mommy wants to push back baby #2 by about 4 or 5 years, which she doesn't want to do.

I'm not the thinnest I've ever been, but I'm happy with how healthy I am and how I look and that self-contentment feels good, especially after my body took a bit of a hiatus after having Pman.

4. I officially am the mother of a 2 year old boy who will be starting school very soon, 2 days a week 9a -4p. He is ready. I am (mostly) ready. He has a Batman backpack that lights up and a lunchbox. I have little Tupperware containers that I will fill with lunch-like food stuffs and place in his lunchbox. He will sit with his new friends, not me, and eat his lunch. He will learn and grow and develop a world outside of Josh and me. I am (mostly) ready.

Josh and I are activity discussing baby #2. But how can that be when baby #1 is still a baby?

A friend, a mother of 2 boys who are two and a half years apart, told me today she can see that I am ready, but nervous. I think she was being kind.

Happy 2nd Birthday

Dear Parker,

I'm the luckiest mommy around because I get to watch you do your Pman thing everyday.  You are so amazing now, but I know it is just going to keep getting better.

When I was pregnant with you I used to always sing this Tom Petty song "Wildflowers."  Everything in the song is what I want for you and your life.  I swear you still respond to it when I play the song in the car.  It will forever remind me of when I found out I was pregnant and with a BOY!.  After you were born, I sang the song in my head when the silence in the room and the beeping of the machines at Hopkins became unbearable.  It is my soundtrack to all things you.

Happy 2nd Birthday Parker!

Love Love Love you
Mommy

OR
(click Happy Birthday to see video)
Happy Birthday

Simple

In Pman's world, all colors are blue, all numbers are two and every dog's name is Abby.


However, we are on the cusp of the threshold of something I've heard is very complicated.

Potty training.

He will tell me when he has to poop or that he just pooped, it's a toss-up really whether the declaration comes before or after the actual act. He will pat the -to be pooped in or already pooped in portion of his diaper enthusiastically as he informs me of the goings on in there.

Recently, he has taken to brushing his teeth, post bath, in the nude. Before this new development he would allow me to wrap a towel around him in an attempt to contain any errant Pman trickles while he brushes.

This is no longer acceptable to him. In the words of some of my guy friends in high school, Pman like to free ball it.

A few nights ago as P handed me his toothbrush, signaling he was done with the brushing business for the evening, he raced into the hall. This portion of our house overlooks the down stairs foyer. I usually use this feature of my house as a great way to drop things from the top floor to the bottom floor and vice versa, so that I do have to carry them- all- the- way- downstairs.

Well, Pman went over to the railing and tried to pee in between the rungs into the downstairs foyer. His aim is not quite what it could be, or rather it is not what he was hoping it would be. Instead of an arching stream, it was more of a trickle and puddle.

He looked at me. Pointed to his little puddle and said, "I PEEE!"

I'm taking this all to mean he is gearing up for potty training. My parents got him a potty as an early birthday present. So far he sat on it for 15 minutes while we read books. Nothing happened, so I put his diaper back on and he pooped. Like right away.

And then this happened:

You've heard of bird poop facials? Presenting Toddler Poo Pedicures! Coming to a pedicure spa near you! 

Also, the seat can be a fun hat.

This potty training thing may take a while...

Teaser: Parker's second Birthday is Thursday.  I have big things planned for my blog post that day!

Bliss (?)

Blink. Blink. Yaaaaawnn. Stretch. Yaaaawn.

Ahh it's 8:30a.m., not 7:30.

I did not wake up thinking, "I have 5 minutes to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth before he gets up."

No one woke me up in the middle of the night with bad dreams frights, teething issues or just because they damn well felt like it.

I did not have to change anyone's pee soaked diaper and then wrestle that certain someone into an outfit for the day, or at least until he spilled his breakfast on it.

Inside, I allowed myself to lay in bed a bit and wake up slow. Then I went into the bathroom inspected my face, flossed and brushed my teeth. I headed into the closet to figure out what to wear for my morning run.

I ran outside. Without pushing a stroller full of bored, whining toddler. I did not have to stop because shoes needed to be removed, then out back on, then removed again. No one begged to be released from the grip of the stroller so they might be able to play in the sand or the water or the sand and water.

Today Josh and I will run errands, eat lunch and go to a 30th birthday party of one of my best friends without a second thought. No diapers to change. No nap to schedule around. No sitter to debrief before we depart.

Parker is lucky enough to have grandparents who love him TREMENDOUSLY.

He is at their house now, so Josh and I could get some stuff done around here and go to a party tonight. Pman has spent time at their house many times before. He does great when he is there. J and I enjoy the quiet, but we miss our Parker.

No Parker also means I did not wake up to the happy giggles from his crib that I usually hear as I open his door in the morning. I also missed hearing him say, "Mommy!" with sheer delight.

We did not sit on the couch together this morning with our standard issued milk (him) and coffee (me) and watch Blue Clue's.

I ate a Fiber One bar and drank a hurried glass of water, in silence, before my run. This replaced my normal routine of Fruit Loops (him) and Mini Wheats (me) at the table while we listen to Toddler Tunes on the TV.

The toys are put away nicely, not scattered around haphazardly.

This is nice, but tomorrow, when I am back with Parker in his world of laughter, chaos, crushed cookie and sticky lollipops, the world will be right again.


Until then, one last good sttttrrreeeetttch!

How Does Their Garden Grow?

Confession: I cannot and do not garden. I'm ok with it.  I have other talents like lounging on the beach with Pman, sitting quietly while getting a pedicure and laughing without abandon at all thing The Soup. In my fantasy life Joel McHale and I are BFF's.

I do have an aloe plant that has been in my family for a long time. I know that sounds weird. My dad had cancer for the first time when I was about 10.  One of his treatments involved radiation. My mom grew an aloe plant and when my dad would come home from the treatments, she would cut off a spiky stem, slice it long-ways and rub it on his chest, letting the soothing goo comfort him.

My sisters and I all have little off shoots of this plant.


Truth be told keeping an aloe plant alive is very easy. It's like a cactus. A little water, a lot of sun and you are good to go.

Other than that, I am terrible at keeping plants alive. I hear hydrangeas are easy, but I killed them. Pansies? Yep, dead too.

In our house Josh does the gardening. He has several potted plants in our front yard. Every day when he comes home from work, he grabs Pman and they go check the plants together. This is one of my favorite things and I have nothing to do with it.

Tonight, we will dine on green beans that my guys grew for us. THAT, is love.

                             

How does MY garden grow?

I'm not sure, but it is happening very fast.

Questionable Confidence

So.

It's 2p.m. on a Saturday and my self confidence is diminishing- quickly.

I did not have an opportunity to work out on Thursday or Friday, so my plan was to run run run on Saturday morning and then go about my day all revived and full of energy and down a few calories.

Without getting too into the details, my stomach has been hurting lately, so my work out was not what I had hoped. I could only manage 10 minutes on the treadmill.

Then I took Party-P to a birthday party. The party was great. However, the gift I brought for the little two year old boy was lacking a bit (read: a lot). As P was playing with the birthday boy's toys I realized the boy already had the gift I bought for him. As we were heading home I peaked in the goody bag- it was leaps and bounds better than the actual gift I gave him.

In my defense I am generally a great gift giver.

When I know a gift giving occasion is approaching, I really pay attention to the person and what is going on in their lives. I put thought into gifts I give. I research- yes research- the best gifts. I am not a last minute shopper when it comes to gifts. Well, gifts for the non-toddler lot.

Upon returning home from the party, I realized the recent painting project I took on this past week, looked streaky in places. I have no energy to fix it.

So instead, I ate the mini Kit Kat out of P’s amazing goody bag. Like stealing candy from a toddler. A sleeping toddler.

At this point I will blame the shoddy, streaky look on the cheap paint from Ace, although someone had to put it on the wall. That someone was me, so I guess I'm at least partially responsible.

Finally, and perhaps the most sad of all, I think I want to see the new Tom Cruise movie. This is something I would have admitted freely in Tom's pre-couch pouncing days. Now? I'm slightly ashamed. Yes, I saw Tropic Thunder. No I did not like it. Yes, I know I am in the minority.

I wonder if P's goody bag has any mini Reese's Peanut butter cups...

Bears Repeating

Confession: This is an unoriginal, but entertaining, blog topic.

I would not classify Parker as a picky eater. He does not like chicken as a general rule (weird, I know, but not picky there are plenty non-chicken related foods. I admit chicken nuggets/tenders are popular among the kid population and if he liked them things may be a bit easier, but Pman says no to nuggets.)

He can handle food that is a little spicy, but if something is too spicy he makes a hurty face and tries to scratch the hot off his tongue.

Psizzle will not eat the same thing two days in a row, unless that thing is fruit loops, in which case there is never enough.

Dips of any variety are right up his alley, but ONLY if you let him do the dipping. He has no interest in you dipping his food for him in an effort to keep things sanitary. He wants to do it his own darn self, so back off.

Broccoli is fine, but only if it is plain. No and I mean no cheese sauce. And NO peas ever. Don’t try to put them in soup or pasta. He will find them and pick them out. Sort of ironic, no?

He likes fruit.

Well. He likes fruit while we weave in and out of the produce section at our local Giant. Once those goodies are in the car they begin to lose their appeal (ha! get it? a peal?). By the time they have made it all the way to our fridge they are downright vile and don't you dare even cut up an apple and put it on his plate in the morning!

Today at the store, he reached, stretched and whined in the general direction of the strawberries. I search through to find the least moldy plastic container and put it in the cart.

More stretching, reaching and louder whining from Pfunk.

I pulled out a large steriodberry from the container and gave it to him. I wipe it on my sweaty gym shirt first. That means it's clean and sanitary, right?

An old lady, who I otherwise would have instantly liked because she sort of reminded me of my Magraw, said, "He shouldn’t eat that. You really should wash it first."

I muttered back, "Well you do what you do and I'll do what I do."

Harsh I know, but I mean really. I see people do dumb stuff on a daily basis. I hear people at the gym exchange a series of untruths and falsehoods disguised as a conversation, and do I correct them?

Nay.

I figure they are either dumb and not worth my time, or maybe they are just trying to get through a workout and get home for a nice glass of wine.

I know the fruit is not as clean in the store as it will be after I get it home and wash it (and then let it rot in my fridge for a week).

My son wants a strawberry over a cookie, so I'm taking this opportunity and running with it. It's healthy and will keep him quiet. Yes, I know he is trying to digest the green stemmy part, I am ok with it and I promise to not call you with a report when he inevitably poops it out.

Finally, P will be 2 in about 15 days. He loves to "cook". Just today when we got home from the beach and were de-sanded as best we could be, he looked at me and said, "cook?!"

Sure thing. Happy to oblige my little Pmeister.

My sister got P a kitchen for his birthday. When she went shopping at Toys R Us for the kitchen, somehow the salesMAN found out this kitchen was for a boy. He commented that my sister and mother were in the wrong aisle as that they were looking at kitchens which were, of course, a girls toy.

My mom said something about Gordon Ramsey being able to kick the salesman's ass and that was that.

I mean really. A girl toy?!