Accident Prone

Yesterday wasn't the only time this week that Mark saved one of our children. Last Sunday he was given the same opportunity.

The worst sound that any parent can hear is the sound of their child shrieking in pain. Thanks to Micah, I've heard this sound two too many times. I don't know if it is because he's my first boy or if it is because he just has a special inclination towards injury, but Micah is able to find danger in what seems to be the most harmless of situations.

At church on Sunday Elena received a coupon for a free donut because it was the Sunday before her birthday. She couldn't wait to claim her gift, so we all decided to go upstairs with her to the cafe. After we picked up Micah and Christina, Elena ran up the stairs to the main floor of the church. The other 5 of us went to take the elevator because Isaiah was in the stroller. Mark had to run to the bathroom and separated from us.

Christina pushed the button for the elevator. I was talking to Isaiah, when I heard the highest-pitched, blood-curdling shriek. I look up, and Micah's fingers were stuck between the door of the elevator and the wall. I guess that he decided to push the door open with his hand and his hand went into the pocket for the door.

The elevator for the church is set away from all of the activity, and we're always the last ones to leave, so there was NO ONE around. (Yes, out of almost 2,000 people there wasn't a soul anywhere within ear shot.) My first instinct was to try and pull Micah's fingers out of the door, but they wouldn't budge. In the meantime, he is screaming at the top of his lungs. Christina was yelling and panicking at the same time. If Elena was with us, I would have had her run for help, but she was upstairs.

I tried to push the door in a bit to give me some more room to pull his little fingers out, but I had no luck. I squeezed into the open part of the door and started pushing the buttons, but the door wouldn't respond. I was about to push the alarm button, when the door all of the sudden opened.

Apparently, Mark was in the bathroom mid-stream when he heard the scream. He finished quickly and ran outside, where Micah is screaming, Christina is panicking and Isaiah is watching the scene half-awake from his stroller. As I was trying to open the elevator from the inside, he tried to pull his fingers gently, but they wouldn't come out. Then he decided to yank them out. He pushed his weight against the elevator and pulled as hard as he could. I guess he's a little bit stronger than I am, because Micah's fingers finally pulled free.

Micah was still screaming at the top of his lungs and staring at his fingers now. We hurried into the elevator and went upstairs to reunite with Elena and get ice from the cafe. The whole time Micah was screaming. His fingers swelled up like little balloons.

I reported the incident at guest services and I was starting to worry that his fingers might be broken. I asked him to bend them and he wouldn't. Then, he saw one of his friends from his Sunday School class. He started playing, all the time nursing his hand. We kept trying to get him to keep his hands in the ice, but he want to play more and more. Finally, we saw him give his sister 5 with the elevator hand. He winced a little, and then switched hands, but he didn't scream. That was when I knew he was going to be okay.

You know, this reminds me of his last trip to the ER. I will have to share that one with you a later time. Oh, and it reminds me of the escalator incident. I'll put that on the list, too. Now, I need to go make sure the boys aren't getting into any MORE trouble.

You did WHAT in the front yard?

I am still relatively new on the raising boys scene. Today I realize that the difference is even bigger than I ever imagined...

My son has been potty trained since right before he turned 2. We taught him to sit on the toilet, because he was too short to effectively pee into it. For him it was easy-he has 2 older sisters. It was also easy to keep the bathroom clean. That was until we started to confuse him.

Micah's confusion began In March when we went to Nebraska to visit my mother-in-law. At one point we drove from Omaha to Columbus to visit some family friends. About 4 blocks from our destination, Micah started to cry and yell about how bad he had to go. Mark stopped and as he was pulling Micah out of the car to pee on the side of the road near a farm, I told him I was pretty sure we were almost there. He wasn't so sure, so he insisted on having Micah pee outside. As he was pulling down the little guy's pants, I was looking across one of the farms, sure that I could see their property from the car. Nevertheless, Micah was getting a lesson in peeing standing up.

Once Mark pulled his pants down, he told Micah to pee. He looked down and the ground for a second, then tried to squat. Mark stood him back up and told him, "Just pee like Daddy." Micah gave him a blank look and tried to squat again.

This time when Mark stood him up, he started to cry again. "I go potty real bad," or something like that came from him mouth. I leaned out of the car and told him, "Just hold him in a sitting position."

"What?" Mark said, but looking at the sadness of his son, he decided to hold him. I swear that kid peed a gallon of liquid. Mark even commented how ridiculous it was that that much liquid could come from someone so little. We threw him back in the car and drove the last 2 blocks to our friend's house. Little did we know that we planted a seed in the back of his head.

Last week I went to my favorite consignment store. They had just marked down their left over winter clothing 75%. I was having a shopping good time buying Gap jeans for $1 and $2 and finding great quality winter coats for $7.50, Well, when I was there Micah had to go to the bathroom. I showed him where the bathroom was and continued to shop. All of the sudden I heard crying coming from the bathroom. The pain kind of cry.

I walked over there and another shopping mom said that he was going to the bathroom with the door wide open (big surprise) and she saw him slam his fingers when he closed the toilet lid. I cuddled him and thought nothing more of it. We bought our stuff and left.

Well, once I arrived home, I realized that we were going to have to return to the store. I had forgotten some of my stuff. It's a little bit of a drive to the store so I returned the next day. Once I got there, I found another rack of clothes to go through and began to shop.

Apparently Micah had to go to the bathroom again, but there was no way that he was going on that finger-crushing toilet again. So, he made for the front of the store. About this time, I started counting heads (something you do frequently when you have a lot of kids). I was missing one. I called up to the owner of the shop (this is a laid back, small shop) and asked her if she could see Micah. There was a lady with her grandchild standing in the front of the store. "What does he look like?"

I described him to her and she began to nod her head and pointed out the window, "I think he's peeing outside."

I stopped, horrified, "What did you say?"

"Well, he just pulled his pants down in the front of the store and he's peeing in that little patch of grass in front of the store,"

I put my shopping bag down and walked to the front of the store. Sure enough, Micah was pulling up his pants and walking back in the door. "Please button?" he asked as he pointed to the button on his jeans. I was speechless. Little did I know that was the beginning.

Since last week he has peed twice in the front yard of the house. I kept telling him to stop. I think Mark, although he would tell him to stop, was secretly glad that his boy was finally able to pee like a man. Today was the worst. Today, he was out taking a leak in the front yard, when he realized that he had to poop as well.

First, let me just interject that there is a reason that I am starting to blog after a long absence. Something about dealing with poop makes me have to release my frustration by writing. Hence the address of my blog: poopyday.blogspot.com. Back to my story...

Anyway, Mark had stopped by to grab something out of the garage when he saw his own flesh and blood squat in the front yard and plop his business right on the front walkway. I heard my name being yelled from the front yard and I stepped outside. Mark, in a state of disbelief, told me, "Our son just pooped on the front walk!"

My first reaction was to look around and make sure that no one was around. Thankfully, there were no neighbors out at the time. Next I made Micah get toilet paper and a bag a clean up the mess. Then.... okay, there is no "then." I am completely at a loss on how to deal with a kid who has no qualms with doing his business on the front walkway. Maybe I'll have to blog again once I have that epiphany...

Babies Never Have Gas During the Day

Sorry I haven't been around, but I was being reminded of law 47 (or so) of Murphy's law: Babies never have gas during the day.

Monday night seemed like a normal night. We watched Chuck with the neighbors. Mark was a little under the weather, so he went to bed at 10:00 while I chatted. I returned to the house at about 10:30 and got ready for bed. At 11:00, just as I was laying down, I heard Isaiah start screaming.

Disappointed that I couldn't go to sleep, but glad that he woke up before I fell asleep, I picked him up. He was NOT happy. He had gas. LOTS of it. After about 45 minutes, I decided that I might as well get comfortable, and I went down to the basement where the nice couch and the TV are. I watched Chuck again with Isaiah screaming, rotating his position during the commercials. At 1:00 Mark showed up.

I went to sleep, but Mark said that after an hour of screaming, at 2:00 he took Isaiah on a scenic drive of the neighborhood. He said that he checked out the new shops in the Highlands Ranch Town Center. He even found a nice new restaurant. By 3:00, he and Isaiah were asleep.

Enter Micah. He decided that he wanted to join the fun. At about 5:00 he had an accident. The first accident he had at night since the first month we potty trained him--of course it is the same night that Isaiah was up. I drug myself in his room, changed his clothes and all of his sheets. I put him back to bed and then dropped into bed--at which point Isaiah woke back up with more gas.


At 5:45ish I fed Isaiah a bottle and helped him relieve some more gas. Exhausted, I climbed back into bed.

At 7:00 the alarm went off. Time to get the girls to school.

Tuesday night we had a similar routine. I totally need a vacation.

My Little Pony needs a shave

My youngest daughter has always sucked her thumb...A LOT. Last year Mark and I told her that if she stopped sucking her thumb for 30 days, she could have a cat. Well, I don't think she had even made it 30 minutes until last week. Micah, my little 3 year old, help me out with a toddler style intervention. Now Christina has been thumb free for 10 days. She already knows what kind of cat she wants. Warning, don't try this at home!

Christina and Micah were playing quietly. (This was my first clue. Remember the poop story?) Apparently My Little Pony was looking a little scruffy and the kids decided to give her a shave. They lathered the pony in shaving cream and proceeded to start shaving. Somehow during the shave, Micah scraped Christina's thumb with one of Mark's razors. I was getting a ton of business paperwork done when all of the sudden Christina runs into my office yelling, "I'm bleeding! I'm bleeding!" I look at her and she was not kidding. There was blood everywhere! I jumped up and grabbed a towel out of the laundry room to stop the bleeding (which didn't stop for long).

I calmed her down and asked what happened. "Micah cut me! Micah did it!" It was at this point that it dawned on me that it was her sucking thumb that was cut. I tried not to be happy, but I realized that this could definitely work out to my advantage. I verified my discovery, "Is that your sucking thumb?" Devastated, she started to nod her head. Way to go Micah!

I then proceeded to make a huge deal out of the thumb. I disinfected it, all the time trying to think of the best way to make sure that she can't possibly suck it. I first looked at it, shaking my head as much as possible. I told her, "Now, you know that you can't suck this thumb or we'll have to go to the hospital. If it gets infected, you're going to need a shot." Her eyes grew big. Then, I put a ton of Neosporin on the thumb. I told her, "You absolutely CANNOT suck this thumb. This stuff will make you really sick and we'll have to take you to the hospital for that, too." She looked at her thumb and her eyes grew even bigger. Then, I put a band-aid around the thumb, and over the top of the thumb. It still looked vaguely suckable, so I dug in the garage for painters' masking tape and started wrapping the thumb with large amounts of blue tape. I swear it was twice as thick. I'm surprised that she didn't have to hold it up with her other hand. I ended the ordeal with a reminder. Christina just sat there, staring at her thumb in horror. I wondered if I went too far...NAH!

Poop

Poop. That's what I deal with every day. I used to create graphics and build Web sites. I used to write and speak fluently in a foreign language. Now, I deal with poop. I wish I could even say that I just deal with just one kind of poop. I have experience with many kinds of poop. I was sitting in my bathroom cleaning up poop and I decided that I needed a life. Then I realized that I can't afford to go out, get a makeover, and get my hair done. I can't afford to stick my children in day care and spend some of that quality "me" time that they talk so idealistically about on the View and on Oprah. I can, however, write a blog to let go of my frustration with cleaning up poop. So, here I am.

Yesterday actually began like any other day. I raced my 2 girls (ages 8 and 5 1/2) to school in the morning, barely making it before they started handing out tardies. I then returned home with my boys (ages 6 months and 3 years). All seemed good. My oldest son has been potty trained for a couple of months. We hadn't had an accident--not even at night-- for a couple of weeks. Then, that changed.

Have you ever as a mom relaxed for a few minutes, then all of the sudden gotten *that* feeling. That feeling that life can't really be this good. That feeling that I shouldn't be able to relax for more than 5 minutes at a time. Something must be wrong. Well, I had that feeling yesterday. Then, my 3 year old son Micah came to give me a hug. Relieved, I went to kiss him on the head. As my lips planted in his hair, I took a whiff. It did not smell good. His hair smelled like poop.

I pulled back and wiped off my lips and asked him, "Did you have an accident." He grabbed my hand and lead me up to the "scene" of the accident. When I walked in the bathroom, the first thing I noticed was that I stepped in poop. You see, apparently my son started going poop in his pants and ran to the bathroom. Mid poop stream, he took off his underwear and as he ran across the room, poop dropped across the carpeted portion of my kid's bathroom floor. He then had proceeded to smear poop across the toilet as he scooted on the toilet and landed the very last nugget in the toilet. Then, he must have realized what a mess he made because then he got out some towels and proceeded to rub poop in the carpet in an attempt to clean up. Sometime during the process he got poop on his hands, and decided to wipe his hands in his hair--the most convenient place to wipe poop off. Yes, I kissed that very same head.

So, as I began to clean him off and stick him in the bathtub, I decided that I needed to find humor in the situation. I found comfort in the thought that there must be someone else in the world that has lived this very same experience. I knew that somewhere else in the world a mom was doing the same thing, poor soul!