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Everybody Toots: Part 1

29 Oct

I cannot promise the laughter of yesterday or the same level of ickiness. But I can assure you that by the end of this post, my husband will be embarrassed. Sorry babe.

Day Two of parent/teacher conferences I show up to the school right around 4pm. Today it’s just Tricia (Amanda’s mom) who was there to witness what happened. Thankfully Tricia also has an almost 4 yo little girl, Amanda, and gets that kids say, well, whatever is on their mind. So we’re standing there chatting and Ava farts.

On a side note…when your kid farts in public, which is often, it’s embarrassing. I know it’s a normal bodily function but still they don’t do the silent ones…they are loud and command attention. So she farts and starts laughing hysterically and says, “I farted!”

Me: Ava, what do you say?
Ava: Excuse me.
Me: Thank you.
Ava: (to Tricia) My daddy likes to fart. He farts alot. He farts in my bed!
Me: Ummm….well, he doesn’t really fart in your bed Ava. He just says it when you’re taking too long to get into bed so you’ll hurry up.
Amanda: My daddy likes to fart too!

Thankfully at this point Tricia is laughing. I’m embarrassed…what kind of parents tell their kid they are going to fart in their bed if they don’t hurry up and get into it? So now, not only does my kid play with her poop, invite friends to play with her poop, but she also has parents who threaten to fart in her bed as a motivation. If anyone is giving out parent of the year awards, I’ll be the mom who’s hiding her face in her hands giggling…because….well…frankly…in our house the majority rules that farting is funny.

(And for all you gasping about it being funny…it is…but it’s also something we try to teach her she should excuse herself for…we do believe in manners most days)

I Lost Ava

23 Aug

I think every parent’s biggest fear is that something will happen to their child. Yesterday we went to a concert in the park and it was crowded. Very crowded. We were getting ready to leave and we were packing up and Mike and I both turned to put something in the cooler and Ava was right there. Except that when we turned back around, she wasn’t.

I immediately say, “Where’s Ava?” And I should note that sometimes Mike jokes around too much so I wasn’t sure if he was serious when he said, “I don’t know.” I quickly realized he looked panicked. We start looking left to right, up and down but we don’t see her anywhere. I started panicking. There were so many people and she’s so cute and I just thought, “Oh my God…someone has taken her.” We start frantically searching and still don’t see her. I start asking people, “Have you seen my daughter. She’s wearing a purple dress.” You guys…I NEVER want to have to describe what my child is wearing to a complete stranger again. It makes me sick to my stomach. About that time I see her running down a hill that was behind where we had been sitting. I should have known to look there…she had asked three times if she could run down that hill and I’d said, “Not right now.”

When I saw her, I started laughing. I’m not sure if that was an appropriate response but I think it was relief…it was manic. I don’t really know. Then I just hugged her and I wouldn’t let go. I was afraid to let go. I actually carried her almost all the way to the car and cried the whole time. Of course I talked to her and told her why she shouldn’t run off like that. She said she was sorry and she cried too. But I couldn’t shake it…and I still can’t shake it.

I was getting her dressed for bed last night and started crying all over again. And I’m not just talking watering eyes…I’m talking can barely breathe crying. It made me realize how quickly something can happen. You hear people say all the time, “It just takes a second.” I’m so fortunate and happy that my story has a happy ending. We are and have always been pretty protective and watchful of her. We both just turned around at the same time and she disappeared just like that, but I still can’t help but feel guilty. I can’t help but feel I kind of failed yesterday as a parent. It’s my job to protect her.

Feel free to share your story of how you “misplaced” your child so you can make me feel better.

The Expected Meltdown

28 Jul

I have been a bitch the past two weeks. There’s no way to sugar coat that. My fuse has been short and my temper easily flared. I have not been easy to deal with. I know this. I have been dealing with so much. Anyone who has bought a house can understand the amount of work that goes into getting this transaction to the end stages. My day consists of reading emails, printing attachments, signing attachments, scanning, emailing back. Then there’s the whole setting up utilities, carpet install appointments, mold remediation estimates. Meeting people, talking to people, fighting with people. I feel like Gumby right now. I’m pulled in a million different directions all day. I’m an excellent multi-tasker but this takes multi-tasking to a whole new level.

I work a full-time job, have a 3 1/2 yo at home who never stops talking and a husband who calls me a lot. So this buying a house business has just tipped my balancing act right over. I had a meltdown of epic proportions this morning. I’m stressed. I am. Did I mention Mike is out-of-town for work and we are closing on our house this week? Oh dear God. So I’m a single parent right now. My emotions are frayed and my brain hurts.

SOOOOOOO….this morning. I actually get Ava and I out the door on time. That should have been my first clue that the morning was going to unravel. We are leaving for Napa on Friday morning and I decide that since I have a few minutes, I’ll clean all the boxes out of my trunk to make room for luggage. It’s not 7:20 am so I’m still doing okay on time. I get in the car, Mike calls…I answer. I’m still happy. Then I turn the car on and a light comes on. It’s a triangle with an exclamation point in the middle. WTF is this??? It can’t be good. I open the owner’s manual for the car and learn that it’s a tire pressure warning light. What???? My car has that???? So cool! Wait…shit…that means something is wrong with my tires.

So I get out of the car. Mike is still on the phone. And sure enough my front tire is low on air. Argghhhh! Here is what happens next:

Mike: Just go to the gas station and put some air in it.

Janice: How much air do I put in it?

Mike: It should say on the tire.

Janice: I can’t find it. (Frustration now mounting)

Mike: Just take my truck.

Janice: But what about my tire! What if when I get home tonight it’s flat!!!! Is the car seat in your truck? I’ll just go put air in my tire. I’m gonna be late for work now.

Mike: Just take my truck. What if you take your car to work and it goes flat in the parking garage.

Janice: I really can’t handle anymore. I’m so stressed out.

Mike: I don’t know what you want me to do.

Janice: I want you to be here. I’m handling all this by myself and it sucks.

There were some more words exchanged…it ended with us both being pissed off and saying “I’ll talk to you later.” Then the tears came. Big, fat, I can’t handle all of this I want my mommy tears! And I couldn’t stop them. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop crying. And I was crying for no big reason, just a bunch of little ones. I was crying because I’m now late for work. Once I get to work I have to tell my boss that I know I showed up late, and I know I’m leaving early but now I also need a 1/2 hour to run to the bank and wire money so that I can close escrow on a house. And I hate that.

I think at some point I looked towards the heavens and said, “Really? A flat tire? Today? Not cool, God, not cool.” Mike called back and said he just felt bad. And I did too…he’s been awesome through all of my moodiness and short temperament. He said it best when I said, “I’m a guy and guys want to fix things. His “fix” was for me to take his truck since he couldn’t be here to change my tire. And it makes sense…guys are like that. They don’t understand emotional, crying women sometimes. They just want to stop the tears and most of the time, there’s not a whole lot that can be done to stop them…sometimes the tears just need to fall out. Damn woman hormones.

What was the last thing you cried about?

Everybody Poops

18 Jul

I’m about to share some not so dinner friendly conversation about one of the joys of parenting. Consider yourself warned. I’ll start by saying everybody poops. Yes. Even you. We don’t need to talk about it normally but I have a child who has suddenly decided she’s scared of pooping. I recently spent the weekend in Vegas and I get a call from Mike and this is how that goes:

Mike: How do you get her to poop?
Me: I just hold her hands and give her hugs and tell her to just push. (lovely, huh?)
Mike: She won’t go. Maybe I should just give her a suppository. (at which point Ava starts screaming bloody murder)
Me: I dunno what to tell you. Try and get her to go. If that doesn’t work, then go the suppository route.

Well, he ended up having to give her a suppository. Fast forward to today. She tells me she has to go poop and then starts crying. She’s holding it in and saying, “I need to go away.” She physically thought she could run away from pooping. At which point all I can think of is that Southwest slogan “Need to get away?” Because apparently Ava needs a vacation from bodily functions.

So I sit in the bathroom with her trying to coax her to go. No luck. So then I grab my laptop and put on the “Everybody Poops” song. Here I am sitting on the bathroom floor playing a poop song on my laptop. You know you wish you were me! Not one of my favorite parenting moments. So here’s where it gets fun. I finally decide I have to give her a suppository. I will not go into the gory details but it’s horrible having to do this. She hates it. I hate it. It takes two of us to hold her down and that part just breaks my heart. She’s screaming bloody murder and yells, “Get your finger out of my butt!” I’m pretty sure my neighbors are going to call CPS on me.

P.S. And my finger was NOT in her butt. I feel like I have to point that out. The suppository was in her butt.

July 8th is now officially declared "No Bad Shit Can Happen Today" Day

9 Jul

July 8th is now officially declared “No Bad Shit Can Happen Today” Day. So put it on your calendars. Right. Now. The first bad thing that happened on July 8th was my best friend getting diagnosed with breast cancer. This was 7 years ago. She has now kicked it’s ass, so we thought we were good with July 8th. July 8th also happens to be Mike’s birthday, which, to clarify, isn’t a bad thing.

Yesterday was Mike’s 40th birthday. On top of forgetting his birthday cards at work (I’m a jerk), I also did not make him an awesome dinner (bad wife). We find out yesterday that Mike has to work a 24 hour shift on Friday starting at 10:00 a.m.

So Ava has had this horrible cough for a month now. We took her to the doctor two weeks ago and she said, “Come back if it isn’t gone in two weeks.” Last night…July 8th…husband’s 40th birthday…needs sleep because he has to work 24 hours straight. Still with me? Ava starts hacking. I mean it’s horrible. I give her some benadryl hoping it will help. It doesn’t. At 11:30 p.m. she starts throwing up. If you’ve had a child throw up when they’re half-asleep in your bed, you know how fun this is. I finally get her all changed and get us all back in bed. At this point Mike decides he’s going to sleep upstairs because he NEEDS sleep. So he goes upstairs. Ava and I are in my bed and all of the sudden she starts twitching. And by twitch I mean I think she’s having a seizure. I sit up, stare and her, check her breathing, she seems fine. I try to lay back down and she starts doing it again. I get up and decide that it’s time to take her to the ER.

I load her up and we get to the ER, which is packed!!! WTF???? It’s 1:00 a.m., how are all these people here? So I get inside, tell the nurses what’s wrong and proceed to wait and wait some more. I’m observing the people in the ER and it’s a weird place the ER. Everyone is sick. Everyone is pissed because they have to wait and EVERYONE is over-exaggerating their symptoms in hopes to be seen quicker. Don’t worry, I have an example. This guy is there with his wife and kid. I’m assuming they’re there for the kid. He’s laughing and talking with his wife and gets up, goes to the registration window and asks for an ice pack. They give him one and he puts in on his shoulder and I hear the nurse ask him, “On a scale of 1-10, where’s your pain level.” Dude says, “A nine.”

Clearly, this man does not understand the question, because if you’re pain is a 9, you are not smiling. You are not laughing. You are barely able to function at a 9 pain. Trust me. I know. I had a baby. And I would still only put my pain at a 6 or 7 before the epidural. And that was “OMG, I’m going to crawl out the car window, with the car moving to escape this pain, pain.” True story…I actually tried to climb into the back seat on the way to the hospital because I wanted to get away from the pain. Pain like that makes you not able to think straight. Seriously…how in the hell would I get away from the pain in the back seat? He was NOT a NINE! NOT EVEN CLOSE!!! Sissy!!!!

Anyway, so then an ambulance arrives and brings in a dying man. Ava is awake and alert and here’s this man on a stretcher (he was really old) and he’s making the sounds that only dying people make. And Ava’s all, “What’s wrong with that man?” I had to think quick so I just said, “Oh, he’s having a bad dream honey.” She was cool with that.

Anyway, they finally took her back, took her vitals, told me her oxygen levels were good and that she was probably twitching because of all the coughing, her body was tightening before she coughed so they said it was probably in response to stomach muscles, etc. But that if I wanted to confirm the diagnosis with a doctor I could wait three hours. At this point it’s 2 a.m. There is no way in hell I’m waiting here until 5 to see a doctor. So I left and will take Ava to her pediatrician on Monday. Let’s hope the rest of the weekend runs smoother.

Ava’s Creative and Flirtatious

17 Oct

Ava loves fingerpainting and at Mimi’s 2nd birthday party Casie brought out the paint. Ava is not a dainty painter as you can see below.

Don’t you just love the handprint on the side of her head?
And what’s a party if there’s not a little bit of making out involved? Come here my love…
The hand on the shoulder just cracks me up! And Anthony’s face…he’s like, “Ummm, okay I guess we can kiss.”

As you can see from the pictures, Ava is a very affectionate little girl. That is one of the things I love most about her. She loves to cuddle or snuggle-bug as we call it, hug and give kisses to just about anyone who will take them.

Proud Mama

17 Sep

There are certain moments that make me so proud to be Ava’s mommy. A lovely example of a shining moment in our household is when SHE farts. She’ll look at me or Mike, wave her hand in front of her nose and she’ll say one of two things:

  1. “Fart. Pee-woo (instead of pee-eww) Daddy.”
  2. “Fart. Stinky Daddy.”

Who taught her that, you ask? Her proud mama did!

Little Vixen

30 Oct

So we took Ava to her friend Dylan’s 1st birthday party. I had no idea she was such a little flirt…okay…who am I kidding? I knew this. What I didn’t know was that she has learned how to make out with boys already. Where does she get this stuff? So first we get there and a little boy Andrew catches her eye. So they’re playing and he’s being a little shy. He reaches over and touches Ava’s arm and that was all she needed.

She goes in for kiss #1

Can we talk about how pleased she is with herself?

Next up is a little boy whose name we didn’t catch. Apparently it doesn’t matter if she knows their name, they just have to be cute and pay her a little bit of attention.

Their eyes lock…

She goes in for kiss #2

After all this making out, I decide it’s probably time to head home since I’m sure she’s probably caught a cold from someone. If you’ve ever been to a kid’s 1st birthday party, you know it’s a giant petri dish. So we go to say goodbye to the birthday boy. I swear I saw a moment between them. It may have been that they were both so shocked to see that someone beside themselves still didn’t have hair by the age of 1.

She goes in for kiss #3 (might I add there were tongues involved!!!)

I find this all very humorous as I know Mike is cleaning his gun as we speak.