Yes, it's been quite a sh*tty day. And that's okay. You know what? It's more than okay. It's good. It's great. It's awesome!
Call it whatever you will. Sh*t. Crap. POOP. We've got it.
It just all depends on where you've got it. When the sh*t hits the fan, well... you know. But when the sh*t hits the toilet... that's a whole other story.
And that's where we've got it. Yep. It's official. There's poop in the potty. POOP!
Leave it to me to write a whole story about the stinky stuff, but here goes:
It was bedtime. As part of the bedtime routine, Billy has to use the potty. We've been successful so far. When I ask him to go, that is. We're not so successful with him knowing when he needs to go. So, off to the potty.
We achieved the standard pee. I told me he was going for poop this time. There's a promised chocolate cookie if he can make poop in the potty. So far, no success. He scrunched up his face in the "poop face" and made his best poop grunt.
Sad face. "No poop, Mommy."
But then he stood up. And... voile! POOP!
He was so excited that he did a little poop dance. He got to flush it away with more cheers. (Flushing is his favorite part).
"More poop, Mommy!" So he sat back down and popped out another. This required more flushing. We repeated the process so that in the matter of 10 minutes the toilet had been flushed 8 times. Well, the price of success.
We did have a little accident on the floor in all the excitement, but can you blame him? There were high fives and chocolate rocks and chocolate cookies all around. All because of poop.
He announced to me that, "Mommy, now Billy big boy. I poop potty." It's all about the poop.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
November 8, 2012 ~ First Trip to the Dentist
Okay, so actually he went to the dentist on Wednesday, but that's the Drawn In post, so here's the story from the dentist...
We picked a dentist just for kids. I wasn't sure about this. I go to a dentist in an old house with living room furniture from some grandmother's house in the waiting room. It's typical to hear the sounds of drills wafting into the waiting room from the back. No screaming. Just drills. And it's eerily quiet.Too quiet. Helps get that blood pressure up to be just an extra bit nervous about having all of your teeth ripped from your head. You know, the typical trip to the dentist.
So we walk in and they have a two story castle built into the waiting room, with activity tables, books, monitors with Nintendo games, and TVs mounted up onto the walls playing Stuart Little. Awe. Some. Is Billy impressed? YES.
Then we go into another play room for the initial consult. Here's where the hygienist asks me questions about his dental health. And he gets to watch more of Stuart Little (playing simul-cast throughout the multiple rooms of the office) and play with toys.
Next, it's sticker time!
Wait...what? Where are the sounds of drills and the smell of anesthesia? Stickers? Too friendly. Elmo stickers? Ooh, breaking out the big guns.
Then it's time for the actual examination.
Billy gets to sit in my lap on a chair and lay back so his head is in the hygienist's lap. First she shows off her extra special "tissue" that goes over her face because she's "sneezy". Then she shows him her pink gloves that reek of strawberries. Apparently, they are flavored too. I'm too chicken to lick them to find out.
Billy's not fooled. He knows gloves and he knows masks. These people are silly. They've been playing in the costume bin. (Yep. We've got one of those at home).
Still, no sounds of drills. This is getting out of hand.
Then she brushes his teeth, singing. He's nervous there in my lap and holds onto my hands. But he doesn't cry, doesn't make a sound, and sits perfectly still.
He's rewarded for his effort with five more stickers. Okay. Where's the fear? The high blood pressure? I think we've walked into the wrong office. Clearly, this is not a dentist's office.
Now it's time for the dentist to come over. She too has been digging in the costume bin, but she has come up with purple gloves that smell and taste like grapes. Let's not forget that mask.
She sings the special dentist song while poking at his teeth with the dental pick- you know that standard instrument of torture. No pain here. No screams of horror. Just a gentle check of his teeth. Billy sits calmly while she goes over his mouth, checks him out, and then polishes up those pearly whites.
As a reward the dentist gives him a giant sticker and two dinosaurs- that he got to pick out himself from the bucket 'o' toys. He also got his little bag to take home with a toothbrush and flossing sticks.
He liked the stickers and the dinosaurs (who wouldn't?) but the sparkly green toothbrush put it over the top. That's his favorite thing from the dentist.
Whoa! What... Was this visit- dare I say it- pleasant? How is that possible?
There has to be a catch somewhere. Yep. Here it comes. The dentist slaps a giant "super mom" sticker on me. Apparently, I did a good job getting Billy comfortable and interested in dental hygiene. Normally (according to the dentist) the first visit involves tears, tantrums, and ear-splitting screams. Not Billy.
Nope. His was a pleasant visit. This might be a first ever in the history of dentistry. Could be. Just saying. (My how dentistry has changed.)
We picked a dentist just for kids. I wasn't sure about this. I go to a dentist in an old house with living room furniture from some grandmother's house in the waiting room. It's typical to hear the sounds of drills wafting into the waiting room from the back. No screaming. Just drills. And it's eerily quiet.Too quiet. Helps get that blood pressure up to be just an extra bit nervous about having all of your teeth ripped from your head. You know, the typical trip to the dentist.
So we walk in and they have a two story castle built into the waiting room, with activity tables, books, monitors with Nintendo games, and TVs mounted up onto the walls playing Stuart Little. Awe. Some. Is Billy impressed? YES.
Then we go into another play room for the initial consult. Here's where the hygienist asks me questions about his dental health. And he gets to watch more of Stuart Little (playing simul-cast throughout the multiple rooms of the office) and play with toys.
Next, it's sticker time!
Wait...what? Where are the sounds of drills and the smell of anesthesia? Stickers? Too friendly. Elmo stickers? Ooh, breaking out the big guns.
Then it's time for the actual examination.
Billy gets to sit in my lap on a chair and lay back so his head is in the hygienist's lap. First she shows off her extra special "tissue" that goes over her face because she's "sneezy". Then she shows him her pink gloves that reek of strawberries. Apparently, they are flavored too. I'm too chicken to lick them to find out.
Billy's not fooled. He knows gloves and he knows masks. These people are silly. They've been playing in the costume bin. (Yep. We've got one of those at home).
Still, no sounds of drills. This is getting out of hand.
Then she brushes his teeth, singing. He's nervous there in my lap and holds onto my hands. But he doesn't cry, doesn't make a sound, and sits perfectly still.
He's rewarded for his effort with five more stickers. Okay. Where's the fear? The high blood pressure? I think we've walked into the wrong office. Clearly, this is not a dentist's office.
Now it's time for the dentist to come over. She too has been digging in the costume bin, but she has come up with purple gloves that smell and taste like grapes. Let's not forget that mask.
She sings the special dentist song while poking at his teeth with the dental pick- you know that standard instrument of torture. No pain here. No screams of horror. Just a gentle check of his teeth. Billy sits calmly while she goes over his mouth, checks him out, and then polishes up those pearly whites.
As a reward the dentist gives him a giant sticker and two dinosaurs- that he got to pick out himself from the bucket 'o' toys. He also got his little bag to take home with a toothbrush and flossing sticks.
He liked the stickers and the dinosaurs (who wouldn't?) but the sparkly green toothbrush put it over the top. That's his favorite thing from the dentist.
Whoa! What... Was this visit- dare I say it- pleasant? How is that possible?
There has to be a catch somewhere. Yep. Here it comes. The dentist slaps a giant "super mom" sticker on me. Apparently, I did a good job getting Billy comfortable and interested in dental hygiene. Normally (according to the dentist) the first visit involves tears, tantrums, and ear-splitting screams. Not Billy.
Nope. His was a pleasant visit. This might be a first ever in the history of dentistry. Could be. Just saying. (My how dentistry has changed.)
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
November 6, 2012 ~ Everyone's Doing It...Voting!
Everyone's doing it...voting!
And Billy voted too. Well, he helped Mommy. We went up to our local polling place with Daddy first thing this morning and stood in line for our opportunity to participate in democracy.
I tried to explain to Billy about how we're going to pick between two men to be our next leader. Then Daddy told him we were picking between Elmo and Mickey Mouse. Which did he prefer? Billy chose to remain silent on that question. It's a tough choice, and neither one is wrong, it's just a matter of preference.
He was very patient waiting. It was a big day- a big opportunity. And there were lions. Roar! Yep. The lobby of the polling place was decorated with lions. That helped with the boredom.
It's never too early to take an interest in politics. In fact, this isn't Billy's first time voting. He voted two years ago. I have proof:
(Billy, voting, at 4 weeks old)
And here's the proof from today:
And now it's like Christmas Eve, waiting to find out what we'll unwrap tomorrow. Billy won't care, but at least he gets participation points!
And Billy voted too. Well, he helped Mommy. We went up to our local polling place with Daddy first thing this morning and stood in line for our opportunity to participate in democracy.
I tried to explain to Billy about how we're going to pick between two men to be our next leader. Then Daddy told him we were picking between Elmo and Mickey Mouse. Which did he prefer? Billy chose to remain silent on that question. It's a tough choice, and neither one is wrong, it's just a matter of preference.
He was very patient waiting. It was a big day- a big opportunity. And there were lions. Roar! Yep. The lobby of the polling place was decorated with lions. That helped with the boredom.
It's never too early to take an interest in politics. In fact, this isn't Billy's first time voting. He voted two years ago. I have proof:
And here's the proof from today:
And now it's like Christmas Eve, waiting to find out what we'll unwrap tomorrow. Billy won't care, but at least he gets participation points!
Monday, November 5, 2012
November 5, 2012 ~ Why I bought an iphone
First, I've gotten a lot of comments about yesterday's post and about pulling Billy from daycare. We absolutely love our daycare, except for this one class. Keeping in mind that he will likely be bumped in 4 months, we're going to first go to the director about this, before moving to another school.
The iphone- it's not for me. Nope. I hardly use it, except to play sudoku (bit of a numbers junkie over here). Nope. Not me. "Is Billy's phone!" he tells me.
"Mommy, Gandpa tv?" That would be him asking for me to face time with Grandpop. Which I get asked- a lot.
"Mommy, picture Billy?" That would be him asking me to take pictures of him. He's a ham, what can I say?
"Mommy, Lolli? Ba Ba?"
Ah, yes. The newest obsession.
I made the mistake of introducing Billy to youtube. First, there was the video if the Chordettes singing Lollipop. That's the Lolli song. Then we moved on to the Beach Boys and Barbara Ann. That would be Ba Ba. And today, having listened to Lollipop for the 1,397,574,392,999 time this week (and counting) I introduced him to the Byrds.
We were playing with his musical instruments and I picked up the tambourine. This, of course, called for me singing (loudly and off-key) "Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, lala lala I forget the words, la la la la...!" Wait, there's a jingle-jangle in there somewhere, right? Let's ask youtube!
So, I pulled up a video (black and white of course) of the Byrds singing Tambourine Man. As Grandma pointed out, all of these black and white videos of bands performing famous songs are probably from the Ed Sullivan Show. Sure, Grandma... little before my time. But I'll run with it.
Now Billy loves the Tambourine Man and banged along with the Byrds on his little tambourine. "More, tamba Mommy!" He wanted the video to show more of the guy playing the tambourine.
But inevitably, he grew bored of that song and asked for, "Lolli, Mommy?"
Not again!
The iphone- it's not for me. Nope. I hardly use it, except to play sudoku (bit of a numbers junkie over here). Nope. Not me. "Is Billy's phone!" he tells me.
"Mommy, Gandpa tv?" That would be him asking for me to face time with Grandpop. Which I get asked- a lot.
"Mommy, picture Billy?" That would be him asking me to take pictures of him. He's a ham, what can I say?
"Mommy, Lolli? Ba Ba?"
Ah, yes. The newest obsession.
I made the mistake of introducing Billy to youtube. First, there was the video if the Chordettes singing Lollipop. That's the Lolli song. Then we moved on to the Beach Boys and Barbara Ann. That would be Ba Ba. And today, having listened to Lollipop for the 1,397,574,392,999 time this week (and counting) I introduced him to the Byrds.
We were playing with his musical instruments and I picked up the tambourine. This, of course, called for me singing (loudly and off-key) "Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, lala lala I forget the words, la la la la...!" Wait, there's a jingle-jangle in there somewhere, right? Let's ask youtube!
So, I pulled up a video (black and white of course) of the Byrds singing Tambourine Man. As Grandma pointed out, all of these black and white videos of bands performing famous songs are probably from the Ed Sullivan Show. Sure, Grandma... little before my time. But I'll run with it.
Now Billy loves the Tambourine Man and banged along with the Byrds on his little tambourine. "More, tamba Mommy!" He wanted the video to show more of the guy playing the tambourine.
But inevitably, he grew bored of that song and asked for, "Lolli, Mommy?"
Not again!
November 4, 2012 ~ Daycare Tribulations
Friday morning I took Billy into daycare and the teacher says to me. "You
know, your son has a real problem with hitting people in the face."
I know this. He was in time out in the parking lot for that very reason. It's his favorite way of letting me he's unhappy about not getting his way. I don't like it. He goes in time out.
Then she says (and I quote), "None of the other children in my class have EVER seen that. He's clearly learning it at home."
Wait. What? Did she just accuse me of violence at home. Is she accusing me of hitting my child? And she just dropped this bomb in front of ALL 12 kids sitting around the table eating breakfast, including my own? And they were all quiet, so they all heard it. And you're going to tell me that no child in your class has ever, EVER smacked another in the face. Really?
If there hadn't been a captive audience of children I might have had some choice words. But I said (which is the truth) we don't hit at home and I don't know where he learned it.
What I do know is it started about a week after he started in her class. And that before they moved him up to this room he loved school. But now it's a fight to go to school. He kicks and screams and begs me not to take him. They moved him up too early and he's the youngest kid in the room. He's not ready to be in there, but always getting in trouble for things like not listening and not sitting still. I have LOVED all of the other teachers at this school. They are awesome. I don't like this one though. She sends home snarky notes every week to me and finds ways to criticize Billy to me in front of him every week as well. It's downright mean.
And yes, I'll be addressing this issue with the director.
I know this. He was in time out in the parking lot for that very reason. It's his favorite way of letting me he's unhappy about not getting his way. I don't like it. He goes in time out.
Then she says (and I quote), "None of the other children in my class have EVER seen that. He's clearly learning it at home."
Wait. What? Did she just accuse me of violence at home. Is she accusing me of hitting my child? And she just dropped this bomb in front of ALL 12 kids sitting around the table eating breakfast, including my own? And they were all quiet, so they all heard it. And you're going to tell me that no child in your class has ever, EVER smacked another in the face. Really?
If there hadn't been a captive audience of children I might have had some choice words. But I said (which is the truth) we don't hit at home and I don't know where he learned it.
What I do know is it started about a week after he started in her class. And that before they moved him up to this room he loved school. But now it's a fight to go to school. He kicks and screams and begs me not to take him. They moved him up too early and he's the youngest kid in the room. He's not ready to be in there, but always getting in trouble for things like not listening and not sitting still. I have LOVED all of the other teachers at this school. They are awesome. I don't like this one though. She sends home snarky notes every week to me and finds ways to criticize Billy to me in front of him every week as well. It's downright mean.
And yes, I'll be addressing this issue with the director.
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