She Says… The Big Boy Room

If you’ve kept up on the news about what went down in Boston last week, you know that Friday was a crazy end to an already crazy week. Though life felt relatively normal for us (we were not part of the lockdown or police searches), behind the “normal” exterior, everything was different. Owen’s school was closed on Friday while we were encouraged to stay in our house during the manhunt for the second bomber, and I struggled to catch headlines and stay up-to-date via my phone so Owen wasn’t hearing/seeing the coverage.

It was stressful. And exhausting. And the second Owen went to bed I was glued to the television. We were so relieved to hear the news of the bomber’s capture late Friday night, and I spent the rest of the weekend almost completely unplugged from all news/social media/email in a sort of backlash against the time I had spent pouring over media during the week.

On a MUCH lighter note, the switch to the big boy bed that I have written/obsessed about far too much happened last Thursday, amidst the craziness. The bed was delivered and assembled while he was at school. It worked out really well because we were able to get everything set up and have a “big reveal” when he got home. I knew it would either be a huge success or a total failure.

The verdict? Huge success.

So far (we’re on night 5 tonight), he has stayed in bed and called for me in the morning. A few early wakeups, mostly due to being excited about the bed and also the fact that my mom was visiting this weekend and he wanted to see her as soon as he woke up. I’m considering that a huge success since I was scared he’d be out of the bed on night 1 and not sleeping at all. So… big boy bed for the win!

The transition also meant that we moved the changing table and the crib into the new baby’s room, and it has gotten me REALLY excited that we’re actually going to have a little person to put into that room very soon. My mom helped me get out all of the boxes of tiny baby clothes and clean out things like swings and baby seats that have been in our attic/basement since we moved. It’s making our NEXT big transition feel a whole lot more real!

Fingers crossed that the big boy bed maintains its allure and Owen continues to believe he really can’t get out on his own. So far, so good.

She Says… Poopy Mouth

Poop.

Why is poop so darn funny?

Given that I will eventually have two (or more?) sons, I guess I’d better get on board. Poop is, apparently, hilarious.

At the ripe old age of 2 3/4, Owen caught on to the fact that talking about poop elicits giggles and smirks, no matter who he’s talking to, adult or child. I do my best to keep a straight face (nearly impossible sometimes), and even attempted a valiant effort of firmly responding, “We don’t talk about poop unless we’re ACTUALLY talking about going poop” every time it came out of his mouth for a while. I know another mom who says you can only say the word poop if you are IN the bathroom.

To no avail. The poop talk is here to stay.

I thought I had more time before this lovely milestone hit, because I know from experience it doesn’t go away until, like… 12 years old? 21 years old? Ummm, never, for some dudes?

As I said, originally I actually thought I could control/contain/discourage this behavior by not laughing and setting boundaries around when we actually CAN talk about poop. WRONG! Everything is poop. Poopy face. Poopy girl. Poop. Poop brown. Poop, poop, poop. Peepee once in a while, though that is far less funny. If he doesn’t know the answer to a question? It’s poop. What do you want for dinner tonight? Poop. Did you have a nice sleep last night? Poop. And then cue the giggles.

Benjamin recently pointed out that my tactic of discouraging this kind of talk was likely making it worse (“Oh, this BOTHERS you, Mom? I will do it some more! POOP POOP POOP!”). So I tried a new tactic. Just let it be. Give the word poop no more power than any other word. Deal with it, but don’t encourage it. I thought maybe Benjamin was right.

Alas, that doesn’t seem to have helped either. Or the damage is already done.

We had a playdate over the weekend and that little boy tempted fate by saying “butt” and looking at his mom like, “Is she going to punish me?”. Clearly these little guys are just testing limits. And I don’t think this is a battle I’m going to fight very hard. There are bigger fish to fry. But someone please tell me this poop talk thing is a stage?

Does your kid talk about poop (or some other inappropriate but totally normal topic that makes non-parents in the grocery store roll their eyes at you)? What do you do about it, if anything?

She Says… The Hollow Leg

We’re in the middle of one of those crazy voracious toddler eating phases. The last few days, it feels like Owen is eating us out of house and home. What am I going to do when he’s a teenager? Or with TWO teenage boys in the house?! Sigh.

Each breakfast lasted nearly an hour this past weekend, because Owen just kept saying, “I’m still hungry!”. On Sunday he started with his usual:

• Milk (plus an extra half cup upon his request)
• Protein (a hard-boiled egg)
• Carb/starch (a pancake with ground flax)
• Fruit (a clementine)

Still hungry.

• Cheese stick
• Fruit/veggie/almond milk smoothie that Benjamin and I were having
• Dry cereal

Still hungry.

• Handful of pistachios

And then I cut him off. I thought maybe he was just front-loading his food, like I often do (I eat a huge breakfast, smaller lunch, and eventually need a smaller dinner… so I don’t sweat it or starve myself if I’m super hungry in the morning, since it usually evens out). But then at lunch the same thing happened (despite doing my best to fill his belly with black beans, a hummus wrap, pear slices and green and red peppers). And I’m pretty sure he had his usual two snacks a day, also.

By dinner I thought he would have had enough, but no.

• Salmon
• Rice made with coconut milk
• Broccoli
• Milk

Then he was ready for his “treat”, since he gobbled his dinner.

• Easter marshmallow

Still hungry.

• Applesauce
• Dry cereal

Still hungry.

• Almonds

The kid is a vacuum. Thankfully he pretty much says “Ummmm… yes!” to whatever I offer when he grins and says, “I’m still hungry”, so at least he’s eating whatever I put in front of him.

Growth spurt, much?!

She Says… The April Fool’s Joke That Wasn’t

In general, I think most blog/website April Fool’s Day jokes are kind of lame. Once in a long time there’s one that makes me laugh out loud (this YouTube one was pretty funny), but usually they are so ridiculous that no one gets fooled, but instead are left rolling their eyes.

And, clearly, in my case, the classic “I’m pregnant!” farce is not funny… ’cause it’s true.

However, I giggled a little when Benjamin told me about an idea he had. You know how I’ve been shocked at how big I am already with this pregnancy as compared to how I was with Owen (which was still very big for a 1st baby bump)? He thought I could tell you all that we finally found out why: That I’m having twins!

Kinda funny, right?

…Bueller?

Ok, maybe not.

In other news, I have been quietly avoiding the topic of switching Owen into a big boy bed since introducing the idea back in February, but that is about to change. I’m resisting this transition for many reasons, but Owen not being ready for it is not one of them (they’re all MY issues, not his).

• I’m worried about losing the control that I have when he is in his crib
• I’m stressed about upsetting/changing our peaceful and happy routine that has been the same since he was about 4 months old
• And although I love the person he is growing into, I don’t want to admit that he’s not a baby anymore

Still, if we ARE going to make this transition before Baby #2 comes, I’ve heard from many sources that we should do so at least 3 months before the baby arrives so that Owen doesn’t feel pushed out or like the baby “stole” the crib from him. Given that he’s already totally jazzed about the big boy bed and has been asking for it for weeks (months?), I don’t think we’re going to have that problem. In any case, it seems like now is about the right time, a little over 3 months before baby brother arrives.

Benjamin is gently encouraging me to just bite the freaking bullet and move on.

So… the bed is ordered. It’s being delivered on April 18th. I have 2 weeks to get over my reservations so Owen doesn’t sense my doubt (the kid senses everything). On the bright side, that also means I have 2 weeks to pick out the fun stuff like sheets and comforters to turn his nursery into a real, live big boy room.

I’m 99.9% sure this is going to be a total non-issue, despite my incessant blogging about it.

Fingers are crossed.

She Says… The Easter Bunny Came!

Eggs were dyed…

and eaten.

The Easter basket was hidden (in the bathtub!)…

… found,

… and immediately dug through.

Bellies were filled. Well, mine with a big, active baby (and a few Peeps and peanut butter eggs) and Owen’s with more chocolate and sugar than his little body has ever experienced.

I regulated the treats well at home (only put 2 Peeps and 2 marshmallows in the basket, allowed him to choose ONE to have when he opened his basket, and then put the rest away as special treats to be awarded after eating good dinners).

But I restrained myself from controlling him while we let him go wild on an Easter egg hunt at his Grammy and Grampy’s. I’m working on loosening my grip on stuff like this. Though they only put treats in a few of the eggs, Owen promptly stuffed his face with waaaaay more chocolate than he’d ever eaten in a day and didn’t eat a bite of dinner that night.

On the ride home Owen started whining that he was hungry… then that he had to poop… then that he was going to be sick. Clearly his “dinner” of sugar didn’t sit very well.

But in the end we made it home without any bodily fluid accidents and he slept like a rock, despite no dinner, a late bedtime and no bath (which may be the first time we’ve ever skipped bath since he was 4 months old).

Easter WIN.

She Says… The Tale of the Broken Penis

The Scene: I was in Penn Station last Friday a few minutes away from boarding the train back to Boston after being in New York for work for a few days. My phone rang.

My friend (also a parent of a kid in Owen’s class at school): I have a hilarious story to tell you. I don’t even know how to tell it with a straight face.
Me: What happened?
Friend: J came home from school yesterday and said to me, “Something. Is wrong. With. My. Penis.”. Super serious.
Me: Oh God. What was it?!
Friend: I kept asking him questions, but he didn’t want me to look. Then he said everything was fine, and I didn’t want to freak him out, so I told my husband to take a look at bathtime.
Me: WHAT WAS IT?!
Friend: Nothing. Everything looked totally normal. When I asked him about it more, he said “My penis is BROKEN. It’s BAD.” It was too strange for me to overlook, so I asked the teachers about it this morning at school. They explained (very embarrassed), that one of the other kids in class had been talking about how his Daddy’s penis was broken, and J must have heard it and repeated it.

At this point I nearly died of trying to stifle my laughter. I KNEW WHO “THAT KID” WAS. I had heard this story before.

Friend: Apparently the teachers were hoping none of the other kids had heard him and tried not to make a big deal of it. But “that kid” who said it was a fairly outspoken child.

I’ll say it again. I KNOW “THAT OUTSPOKEN CHILD”.

Tears of laughter were pouring from my eyes and I was probably cackling loud enough for everyone at the train station to hear when I told my friend that I knew exactly where her kid had heard that story. It was from my kid. My kid, who apparently told his whole class and his teachers that his Daddy’s penis got broken.

…

Let me explain. Quickly. Before you think something awful happened to my husband.

As I’ve mentioned many times, we’re potty training. Owen’s doing an awesome job with going in the potty, and some of that I attribute to our “open door” policy and not being shy about using the bathroom in front of him. He asks tons of questions and we’re always happy to talk about the answers with him. He’s also shown quite an interest in “stand up peeing” (like Daddy), so we’ve been working on that as well. And by working on that, I mean Benjamin has been demonstrating while Owen takes notes. And Owen notices EVERYTHING. He often says, “Daddy, you’re going to break your penis!”. We’ve laughed it off and told him no, no, he’s not going to break his penis. And left it at that.

Ever since he could talk, Owen’s outgoing personality has put us in hilarious situations where he tells complete strangers about what we did last weekend or what he had for breakfast. Remember the time he asked the grocery store clerk about his penis? We haven’t done much coaching on when NOT to talk about private parts because we’re doing our best to keep our discussions open, honest and without stigma.

Pretty sure it’s time to revamp that philosophy when your kid starts telling his teachers that his Daddy broke his penis.

Over the weekend I was pushing Owen on the tire swing with two other little girls who we had just met (6 1/2 and 3 1/2) and chatting with their mother. The kids were giggling and talking to each other too, and all of a sudden my ears tuned into their conversation to hear Owen sharing, “My Daddy had a boo boo on his knee and when Mommy ripped his bandaid off he yelled Ouch! really loud, and he also has a broken pe-”.

I cut him off mid-word because I KNEW where this story was going. The girls did too, and they started to giggle. The mom blushed and I said something like, “Excuse us, we’re in the oversharing stage right now” (probably leaving her to wonder if my husband really did have some awful penis accident). On the ride home, I tried to bring it up casually by saying, “We shouldn’t really talk about penises to anyone other than Mommy and Daddy. Ok? And Daddy didn’t really break his penis so it’s not ok to tell stories like that. It’s not funny to make things up.”

To which he replied, “No, it IS funny!” and started giggling away.

What can I say? He’s right. It IS funny. The kid knows how to get a laugh.

She Says… Cheap Date

I bet I can get a resounding “Amen” from other parents when I say, “All hail the Target Dollar Bins”.

Seriously. I used to walk by that little section and think, “Ugh, stupid crap that no one needs. Yes it’s only a dollar, but why waste your money?”. That is, I said that before I had a toddler. These days I always take a spin through there whether Owen is with me or not. And I can not even count how many treasures I have found. $1 can buy you a LOT when you are 2.

Here’s the thing. The stuff IS cheap. It’s usually made in China and made with ingredients I wouldn’t normally choose and it’s always crap you don’t really NEED and it’s not going to last very long. But here’s what I’ve learned. Sometimes that dollar spent can get you far, far more than the most expensive wooden, educational thingamabob made with recycled materials and plant-based ink.

It’s FUN. It’s SILLY. It’s the kind of thing my mother NEVER would have let me buy as a kid, and now I kind of get a thrill from tossing it in my cart.

We had a bit of a rough weekend. The stomach bug last Thursday left a cranky, whiny kid without much of an appetite in its wake. The bug itself (temp, etc.) was pretty mild and very short-lived, but the aftermath seemed to linger. Owen was healthy, but not himself. I’m not even sure if it was illness-related, but something was bothering him for the last few days and he was NOT acting like his sweet little self. In any case, today, on our 5th straight day of being at home when we’re used to being out and about all the time, I had to whip out one of my Target Dollar Bin goodies. (Yes, I buy them and save them for a rainy day.)

And, to my surprise, we got over an hour of entertainment from that $1 toy.

Remind me of this next time I scoff at the cheap crap.

It was these little things called “Grow Capsules”. They are like little pill-shaped capsules that you put in a cup of warm water. The capsule part melts away and these little animal-shaped sponges slowly emerge.

The anticipation of what animal it was going to be was astonishing. Owen was enthralled. FOR AN HOUR.

12 times, we repeated the “experiment” and it never lost its luster. I wish I had bought 100 more.

Now we have these 12 little animal-shaped sponges that Owen has been counting and sorting by color and lining up and stacking and squishing and putting in water and drying off. He adores them. He makes them walk around together and give each other kisses. I’m amazed.

I’m thinking we might try to sponge paint/stamp with them at another time (when he’s done loving them like his own next-of-kin).

Now THAT’S a lot of entertainment from $1.

Have you ventured into the cheapo Target section or a dollar store for $1 entertainment? What treasures have you found? Our favorites are window gels for various holidays/seasons (ALWAYS at least a few hours of peeling/sticking them, moving them around, and then eventually ripping them and throwing them in the trash a few weeks later), a tube with an alligator head that makes a weird noise when you turn it upside down, and a 4-page Sesame Street board book about the seasons that for some inexplicable reason has held Owen’s attention for over a year. Treasures, I tell you.

 

She Says… Stomach Bug

Owen woke up in the middle of the night last night screaming for me, which he rarely does anymore (aside from his night-terror-like nap wakeups, which still happen every once in a while, but seem to be disappearing). I ran in and he was sitting up pointing to a dark blob about the size of a quarter on his sheet.

“What is that, Mommy?”, he whimpered. Instinctively I touched it, since I didn’t have my glasses on and he only has a very dim night light in his room. It was slimy and wet. Definitely something from his body. Ew.

I turned up the light a little so I could examine more closely. I wiped it up with a baby wipe and after further inspection deduced that it was a weirdly undigested piece of green pepper from dinner. I couldn’t really tell if it had been stuck on the roof of his mouth, or actually came up from his stomach. “Did it come out while you were sleeping? Or did you cough and throw this up?”. Strange questions, but surprisingly clear answers. Owen was certain it came out while he was sleeping. His tummy felt ok. He didn’t feel warm and was otherwise fine (as were his sheets), so I rubbed his back for a minute and went back to bed.

A few hours later I heard that scream again. I went back in and he said, “It happened again”.

Stomach bug, y’all.

 

She Says… Gifts, Gifts and More Gifts

It seems like everyone I know is having a baby, and everyone Owen knows is turning 3. The number of baby shower gifts and toddler birthday presents we have had to buy in the last few months (and the next few) is mind-boggling. Every time I get an invitation, I think, “Oh yay! A fun party! But WHAT do I get for a present…”.

BABY GIFTS
In general, baby gifts are easy because I usually go for a medium-sized gift from the parents-to-be’s registry (because, really, it’s annoying when everyone gets you a receiving blanket and you still don’t have things like sheets that you really NEED), and then supplement with something little that I loved when Owen was tiny. Or, if I can carve out the time, a homemade item (I’m teaching myself to sew… very much a beginner) like burp cloths made from cute fabric or a baby quilt. Ok, I’ll be honest… I only gave a baby quilt once, and it took me the entire 9 months that I knew one of my dear friends was pregnant to make it. So that was kind of an exception. But still, homemade things are a favorite when I can swing it. But lately? Not so much.

My top 3 little “somethings” to add to my registry gift:

This “Baby Banana” teether/toothbrush makes me giggle. And Owen ADORED his.

These black and white flashcards are mesmerizing for babies.

This CD is my favorite. Owen and I listened to it every single night for his bedtime routine since he was 12 weeks old. I never switched it up because it was too perfect. I know it’s getting a little passe to give a CD, but whatevs.

And, if the friend is someone who I know well and I think would appreciate a book to read, I will often lend/give one of my two all-time favorite new baby books: Happiest Baby on the Block and Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. I found them both to be immensely helpful. But in general I think parenting books are something the parents-to-be should choose for themselves.

KID BIRTHDAY PRESENTS
For some reason, I find toddler birthday gifts to be much harder to pick out. It’s hard to know what the kid already has at home (easier if you can spy on their toys at a playdate), or what kinds of activities they enjoy. I should be good at this… I see my kid playing every day. But this one always kind of stumps me.

Recent favorites have been:

Automoblox. These little cars that you take apart like a puzzle. Owen loves making “mixed up cars” and “limousines” by putting them back together in funny ways.

I Spy books. Owen could play I Spy forever… either with the book or just looking out the window. He’s remarkably good at remembering where things are. Way better than I am. And it’s been a good tool to practice taking turns at home for us.

Any Melissa & Doug wooden puzzles, really. But this one is a particular favorite at our house. Owen can do all four of the puzzles all by himself (though he prefers to have someone sitting with him so he can talk about it the whole time).

So here’s where I ask for help. What are your favorite go-to new baby and kid birthday gifts? I need some fresh ideas.

She Says… And the prize goes to…

After the Christmas rush and the gift guides and the Christmas lists, I like to make a mental note of what really got that huge smile on Christmas morning, and, even better, what has continued to provide entertainment since the box was opened.

Hands down, the #1 winner for “entertaining Owen the most since Christmas” (aka “the toy that has given me the most quiet time”) goes to the marble run. I kid you not, every single night since Christmas (give or take a few), Benjamin and Owen have dragged that monstrosity into our kitchen and played with it on the floor while I made dinner.

And every night when I call out, “Dinner time!”, Owen whines, “I’m not finished playin’, Mommy!”.

They’ve built it and re-built it several times, and for some reason rolling marbles down the tracks is completely mesmerizing.

So, a hot tip for those of you who have an active preschooler to wrangle while you make dinner!