The scariest spider ever

If you know me personally, you may know of my severe arachnophobia. An encounter with a spider = shaking, nausea, inability to concentrate on anything else, and likely nightmares for days. Especially the ginormous ones in the somewhat southern state in which I live. Upon moving into our house, I had signed up for pest control and pledged hundreds of dollars per year via my credit card before the 3rd box was unpacked.

Today while playing with the kids, I happened to glance into a vent in the floor and saw my worst fear. A huge hairy wolf spider just sitting there waiting to terrorize me. Fortunately, my 4 year old son is not afraid of any bugs and usually takes care of them for me. However, I did not want this thing in my kitchen so I would not let him take out the vent. I thought (prayed) it might be dead but to verify, I had him throw baseballs at the vent to see if it moved. This was exciting for him on multiple levels -- not only was he mommy's hero but he was allowed to throw a baseball! In the house?!

It did not move. Okay, must be dead. Now how to dispose of the carcass...

Pest control was already scheduled to come today to deal with the bees outside. (This would have been a much better story if they came out SOLELY to deal with the spider... You'll see why in a minute.) So after the technicican knocked down our nests and sprayed outside, I asked him to come inside, take out our vent, and dispose of the terrifying arachnid giving me an ulcer. So he put his paper shoe covers on and entered my living room. He lifted the vent while I stood 20 feet away in horror.

To my surprise, he said, "The spider must have gone back down the air duct."

What?! It was ALIVE?! I tiptoed closer to peer over his shoulder and saw it! It was right there in front of him!

"That right there! You don't see it?!"

He then proceeded to pick up the "spider", show it to me, and say, "Ma'am, this is a piece of lint."

A familiar road

I began writing this blog when my eldest son was 2 and my daughter was an infant. I was adjusting to life with 2 kids as well as learning how to potty-train a toddler. Thus, many (most) of my posts were pee / poop related. There were just. so. many. stories to tell.

Well that little infant is a full blown 2-year old now in the throws of potty-training herself. (By the way, we DID finally get our son potty-trained. It only took a measly 15 months start to finish.) And we have a new infant in the house -- a 19 lb. 4-month old who loves to be held. A lot.

I don't have as much time to blog as I used to so there are a lot of new potty-training stories that will unfortunately have to be omitted. But this latest one is a real winner so I made myself find time to sit down and write.

My uterus is officially retiring so we are beginning the baby purge as our little (enormous) guy grows out of things and therefore held a baby stuff garage sale. I was outside manning the tables and money; the big kids were playing nicely inside. Not fighting, miraculously. I was thrilled. It was a nice break being outside in the fresh air without them pantsing me, fighting over the last red popsicle, or bringing me bugs. However, after not having any child visitors for a curious amount of time, I popped inside to check on them. They were both laying on the playroom floor -- one on the computer, the other on the LeapPad. I immediately noticed a large circular stain on my daughter's bottom (as she was laying on her stomach). She looked up and said, "I peed." Um, no. The stain was brown. Oh shit. Yes, pun intended.

I whisked her to the bathroom as quickly as possible. It was as a bad as I had prayed it wouldn't be. Worse.
Underwear: garbage.
Shorts: garbage.
After cleaning her up, as well as the floor and well, pretty much the entire bathroom, I headed back to the playroom to check on the status of the carpet in there. Walking through the kitchen, I slipped and almost fell on my butt. What...is....that??!! Yep, some diarrhea poop had fallen out of her clothes onto my kitchen floor, and yep, I just slipped in it.

Flip-flops: garbage.

B.K. vs. A.K.

One of the best and truest quotes I have heard lately is "I was a really great parent before I had kids."

I was very quick to pass naive judgment in my energetic carefree kid-less 20s. 

"I will NEVER have a toddler running around in public with a pacifier in his mouth."

"I will NOT have a kid who only eats 4 things."

"Our kids will NOT play video games."

Blah blah blah.

Well, who has two thumbs and is guilty of letting her kids do all of the above? THIS MOMMY!

I recently stopped in at our local gymnastics facility to sign my daughter up for classes. There was a mother there watching her daughter practice while also trying to keep her other children entertained in the waiting area. She had brought a slew of books, toys, snacks, etc. to keep them occupied. She had 4 kids total (=3 "watching" sister in gymnastics). One of her kids looked to be between 1 1/2 and 2 and had a pacifier in his mouth. I realized while talking to this adorable little guy how much I had changed.

Old me -- B.K. (Before Kids) would have thought: "Oh my goodness. Get that thing out of his mouth so he can talk. Ridiculous. I will NEVER do that."

A.K. (After Kids): "Soldier on, Sister. Soldier on."

1st child vs. 3rd child

It is not that we loved our first child more than the others. In fact, I feel a greater attachment to child #3 as a baby than I did to #1, likely due to the fact that I know what I am doing this time and am not terrified or overwhelmed to the point of tears. Also, I know how cool the future will be -- the other two have grown into such amazing humans that on my worst day with #3, I still find joy in imagining what he will become at 2, 3, and 4 years old.

However, life for this little guy is drastically different from the baby days of #1. There are quite a few major changes in our parenting as we have progressed from #1 to #3.

Feeding: every time I nursed #1 (at least for the first couple of months) I had to sit at my nursing station. I had a specific chair, a glass of water, multiple burp cloths, and of course my trusty Boppy. It was all essential for a successful feeding. Child #3 is usually fed on the Boppy, but gone are the glasses of water and I am usually scrambling for a burp cloth, or I just let him puke right onto my shirt. Also, many times he is NOT nursed on the Boppy, but rather, is fed on the floor of the playroom, at the kitchen table mid-Lego project, or in the car in the midst of multiple errands. Also, I kept a detailed chart of #1's feedings for weeks -- which side, how long, etc. When my pediatrician asked how often and for how long #3 eats, I had no idea. Um.... when he's hungry? Um.... until he's full?

Age: When asked how old child #1 was, I had very detailed answers at the ready: "4 weeks and 2 days." How old is child #3? "Ummm.... 2 months? Ish? When is his birthday.... oh the 25th! Whenever the 25th is, he will turn 3 months."

Music exposure: Child #1 was only exposed to either children's CDs or classical music in the car to stimulate brain development. If Mommy is out and about with only #3, the poor kid gets to rock out to Pit Bull.

Diapers: Child #1 wore the most expensive Pampers Mommy could find, since she whole heartedly believed they held in the poop better. #3 gets the biggest box of Kirkland diapers Costco sells.

Clothing: Child #1 had his clothes changed multiple times per day. Mommy had time to care about him wearing all of his cute clothes at least once. She also was willing to deal with jean overalls, Nikes and other completely impractical clothing items for infants. Child #3 does not wear overalls, shoes, or really anything except onesies and one-piece pj outfits. And he does not get changed unless he needs a bath or pukes or poops all over his clothes. This means that yes, he may wear the same outfit all day, all night, and into the next day. If it does not smell, it does not come off.

Naps: Life revolved around child #1's "nap schedule" even at 2 months old. Stay at a friend's house past 8 pm?! I need to get home to put him to bed! Meet up for coffee at 10 am? Cannot do it. Child #3 is dragged all over town every day, bringing his brother to and from school, running errands, going to play dates, and you better believe Mommy would not think twice about meeting a friend for drinks and letting him sleep in her lap while she has a glass of wine in her hand. "Schedule" for him = sleep when you can sleep, kid. If that means your morning nap is on the living room floor at a play date, or in your car seat at the park, you might as well take it because that is as good as it is going to get.

Laundry: Child #1's clothes were all washed separately in Dreft. Child #3's clothes are thrown in with his siblings', Mom's and Dad's and it all gets washed in Costco brand detergent.

Bedroom: #1's room was all set up weeks before his arrival. Crib set up, complete with fancy $200 bed set (matching sheets, bumper, curtains, wall hangings, and diaper hanging thing we never used). #3 is over 2 months old. He is sleeping in his own room. The crib is set up and the walls are painted. And that is about it. There is no matching bed set. He is getting hand-me-down sheets. The curtain has not been hung up and the walls are bare of any decoration.

Journals, albums, and picture frames: I kept a detailed pregnancy journal for #1 and all of his ultrasound pictures are in an album, which we brought to a family picnic while pregnant. We forced all of our family members to swoon over those alien-like ultrasound pictures that really show nothing of what the child will look like. We also spent hundreds of dollars on a 4-D ultrasound (did not even know there was a 4th "D") and framed the color photo. It is still on my dresser. #3's ultrasound pics are.... somewhere in this house. There was no pregnancy journal. There was no money spent on any D ultrasound -- only the freebies from insurance!

Don't worry kid -- we love you to pieces. You are going to be a better kid this way -- less high maintenance and more understanding that sometimes things around here are... well, mediocre at best.

When the car is quiet...

This is going to be my most serious post to date. There will probably not be one joke. It is taking quite a bit of courage for me to write this and include my own confessions, but having had these experiences compels me to share them and to help my fellow mommy and daddy friends learn about this problem and how to avoid it.

Years ago I saw an Oprah episode that included an interview with a mother who had forgotten that her daughter was in the car. She drove to work and got out of her car, leaving her daughter there asleep in her seat. Her daughter tragically died that day. It was horrific. How on earth does that happen, I wondered. The mother explained that it occurs too often when there is a break in routine. She almost never drove her daughter to day care in the morning -- her husband always did -- but he had a dentist appointment that day so it was her job. Despite the fact that she had loaded her daughter into her seat minutes earlier, she quickly forgot about her and drove straight to work as was her normal routine. It was impossible for me (on that day) to imagine that this could ever happen. And it didn't happen with my first child. 

There was no "routine" to break with baby #1. I was a typical first time parent -- my every thought, every breath was consumed with my new son. I would never forget he was in the car, even when he was sound asleep, as my "routine" was to coexist with a baby, whether it was in the car, house, etc. 

Two years later I had forgotten about this Oprah episode and now found myself with a chatty 2-year old and a newborn. It had been 2 years since I had driven around with a sleepy baby in the car. One day I was out doing errands with only the baby and had left my toddler at home with Daddy. This was a break in my "routine" as my car was never quiet anymore. I came home and entered the house, leaving her asleep in the car. I FORGOT she was in the car. After about 20 seconds of chatting with my husband in the kitchen, he asked if I was going to get her. My heart dropped into my stomach. What if I had forgotten while we were at the store? Thank goodness -- no THANK GOD -- I didn't. And THANK GOD it was winter and she would not have baked in the heat. And THANK GOD my husband was home, not out somewhere with our son, or when would I have realized? I believe I would have remembered within seconds, but I will never know.

That day shook me to my core. I left her alone in the car for no more than 20 seconds, in our garage. The point was that I had forgotten she was in the car. I was so used to a 2-year old voice and a 2-year old face looking back at me through the rearview mirror that without him there, the car seemed empty. I vowed to never forget again and I believed at the time that I never would.

Now that little girl is a talkative 2-year old herself and my son is 4. I now have 2 faces looking back at me through the mirror and 2 voices chatting my ear off in the car. And we have another newborn. Last week I went to a doctor's appointment with him and left the big kids home with Grandpa. On the way there, I recalled this exact incident and said to myself, "Of course I won't forget. I am heading to the OB -- the doctor who delivered him, whose office is in the same building as the hospital where was born." But not a few minutes later, my mind was onto other things and by the time I pulled in the parking lot, I had forgotten. Again. I took about 5 steps away from my car before remembering he was still in it. I frantically looked around as I turned around to go back for him -- was anyone watching this horrible unfit mother who FORGOT her kid go back to retrieve him? I could not believe it had happened again.

Again, the whole incident was seconds long. And thankfully I remembered on my own. But it could have been so much worse. I truly thank God for both of these minor but also terrifying incidents. I believe they are both gifts sent down to teach me a valuable lesson. It truly can happen to anyone.

To the handful of parents who I know are reading this, especially if you are having your second or third child and are used to loud kids in the car, KNOW your routine. KNOW how tired you can get, how distracted your mind can become thinking of a 100 things. I have taken a pledge to myself and to my kids. EVERY TIME I am driving alone with the baby, I am going to put my purse in the back with him. I would never leave my car without my purse, so this will force me to look for it and remember he is back there. I have also heard the suggestion of keeping a teddy bear in the front seat to remind the driver. There are already teddy bears and dolls all over my car, so this probably would not help me much. But find something that works for you. 

I feel sick telling this story but I am also incredibly grateful for the opportunity to share. If that mother, who accidentally caused the death of her daughter had the courage to go on national television and tell her story in order to educate others, I can at least share mine. Summer is coming and it is 106 degrees for 3 straight months where I live. It takes only a couple of minutes for a baby to die from the heat inside a parked car in the summer. 

I pledge to never text and drive.

And I pledge to keep my purse in the back when I am alone with the baby in the car.

What do you pledge?

"Fun Mommy" pledge: Day 1

If you read yesterday's post, you know of my pledge to be more fun with my kids. Today, on a dreary, rainy day, despite sleeping about 18 minutes last night, I decided to kick off Fun Mommy Day 1 by... making cookies! I checked the pantry and figured out that I did have all the ingredients for basic oatmeal raisin cookies (basic being the operative word because this momma is NOT a baker).

This endeavor fell somewhere between "not very successful" and "epic failure" due to a variety of factors:

1. My 6-week old son, who has been constipated for days, decided to start pooping again today-- like every 12 minutes all morning long (and cry through all of it).

2. My older 2 kids had no interest in helping bake. This is because:
--My son never has interest in helping with any kitchen activity (or really any activity non-Lego-related these days)
--My daughter wants to do everything my son does.

So, despite the lack of enthusiasm, I remained optimistic. That's okay! Mommy will start the process, they will want to jump in and help, and we will all have fun! The baby will cooperate and let me put him down and the cookies will be delicious! Or at least edible!

Wrong. On all accounts.

Cookies burned. Even my 4-year old, who will eat anything in cookie or muffin form, gnawed through half of one and finally said, "I will finish this later, mom." Batch #2 was not quite burned, but is still dry and tasteless.

Well, as our gal-pal Scarlet O'Hara once said, "Tomorrow is another day!"

The curse of the un-fun parent

Last night while giving my older two kids their baths, my son started kicking and splashing water everywhere. I, of course, flipped out on him, as splashing and making a mess everywhere is not allowed! I permit a very controlled "splash" at the end of bath, as the water is draining, with the curtain closed. They know the rules. And there are a lot of them. Because I am not very fun.

As my voice escalated and my head snapped around in my typical disciplinary fashion, my 4-year old son asked, despondently, "Can we play with Daddy when he gets home?" (Daddy is, in fact, quite fun. He is the anti-mommy in our household.)

Lately, as I am adjusting to life with 3 kids (my youngest is 6 weeks old), I am realizing more and more just how little fun I have with my kids. My days are spent doing laundry, washing dishes, feeding baby, cooking for the rest of us, cleaning, doing more laundry... feeding baby again... etc. And my brain is consumed with: Did they all take their vitamins? Which day am I signed up to bring snack to school? Did I send in the check to register our son for soccer? When is their next pediatrician appointment? Did I remember to make the pediatrician appointment? And the dentist appointment? And the eye doctor appointment? Did we do enough academic activities today? Is anyone developmentally behind on anything? Is everyone hitting their milestones? Did I put lotion on our daughter's rash? When did he/she poop last? Did he/she have enough fruit? Too much cheese? Do I have anything for dinner?... etc...etc...

And all day long, the words out of my mouth are one of the following two phrases:
1. "No! Stop doing that."
2. "In a minute. I will get it for you / be right there after I ______ (fill in blank)."

I fear that my kids hear "no" and "wait a minute" from Mommy ALL DAY LONG.

This is why, when I asked my son to put his socks and shoes on the other day (and we were obviously running late for something) and he instead made sock puppets, I was angry rather than amused. And he was sad. He had been excited to show me something funny and clever and I snapped at him rather than laughed with him.

The look on my son's face in bath last night almost brought me to tears. Why can't I be more fun like Daddy? Because too often "fun" for my kids = more work for Mommy. Who cleans up the water all over the bathroom after the splashing? Mommy. And Mommy is already so busy and her head is so full of serious stuff that there does not seem to be room or time for a whole lot of fun.

Well with my husband's 3 week long work trip looming in the near future, I am reflecting on the life I am providing for my kids. I am vowing to myself and to them to be more fun. They deserve laughter and giggles and the right to make messes and with Daddy gone, Mommy needs to buck up and allow a little splashing now and then. Even if it makes more work. Someday far too soon they won't be here all day to make sock puppets and play pirate ship in the bathtub.