Saturday, November 20, 2010

Poop, Crap, #2, and Rubber Gloves

We (barely) survived the week, but here we are. And, after changing approximately 60 poopy diapers this week, I am ready for my friend's birthday dinner this evening. And, kudos to her, it's girls only! Trust me, I wasn't sad when I realized I would have a few hours to myself after this week I fondly refer to as "The Diarrhea Wars" wherein I pretty much got my butt kicked by a pooping toddler. (Yes, I have to say toddler, because Gage is walking all the time now.)

Last weekend we went to my niece's First birthday party. Gage pooped while we were there. And, little did I know, that was only the beginning. Sunday and Monday he was pooping nearly every hour and I couldn't get him to eat much of anything. He got horrible diaper rash that turned into a yeast infection on his bottom region. (this is one of those posts that he'll hate me for when he can read). It wasn't exactly on his bottom, more on his man parts.

First of all, who the hell knew boys got yeast infections? All it needs is a warm wet a diaper. It made sense, but sort off defied what I believed to be scientific truth. Secondly, I personally felt like it was my fault for wiping his bottom sooo much. Maybe I could've given more rinse off baths and less friction to his bottom would've helped the situation. I remember when I was changing him, I wiped him, and I saw a spot start bleeding. I freaked out and we put Neosporin on that place. (by "we" I mean "ME" - more on this later)

Here I am with all my creams and what not. I have Maalox (the first thing suggested to me by a couple of friends for the diaper rash) that I am blotting on with a cotton ball, letting it dry (by blowing on it. yes, I blew on my kids butt o help the medicine dry. you do what you have to), and applying diaper cream, and then Vaseline
(Curtis's and another friends' suggestion) to protect it.

By the time Wednesday rolled around, his butt wasn't getting any better (and neither was his tummy) so we went to the doctor. That boo boo had turned into the yeast infection, as well as another spotty area was infected. And, the cure? Lotrimin. Athlete's Foot Cream. It's an antifungal.

So, I am applying foot cream, diaper cream, and Vaseline to my kids ass all week. And, guess what? Tonight, it's Curtis's turn. He's hoping Gage doesn't poop after I leave. I am secretly hoping he will. Because, I am such an awesome wife that I haven't made Curtis change any drippy diarrhea diapers. I have asked him to help me when Gage needs to be rinsed off, but I didn't make him apply cream to Gage's little baby boy nuts or penis. I know Curtis will have the reigns when Gage is potty training, and has to have help aiming his pee into the toilet.

Curtis and I were both sick for one day each. And, the awesome new dinner I made this week...well, I won't be making broccoli chicken again for a long time. Throwing it up wasn't much of a treat. Curtis still ate McDonald's, even after he threw up that. Ugh. I STILL won't eat Sun Chips because I threw them up when I was in the 7th grade. And, after I turned 21, I didn't drink for a month because of all the puking I did on my birthday. (alcohol, I can get over. But, Sun Chips, NOT A CHANCE)

I'm just glad it's mostly over. I've been feeding Gage the BART diet (thanks Melinda and Chris!) and I gave him some acidophilus supplement. He's been acting a little less energetic this week, but no fever, and no real issues outside of crapping himself into a yeast infection. The only positive thing about this: he's been more cuddly and calm to sit with. Of course, that's not the price I wanted him to pay for him to cuddle with me.

I DID buy Curtis some rubber doctor style gloves in case Gage has a crazy blow out while I am gone. I mean, I can understand not wanting to touch poo with your bare hands. It's not something I enjoy at all, but it's just part of our life for as long as we have kids in diapers. Shit Happens.

On the topic of poop, have you ever had a "poop stand off" in a public bathroom? You know, where you're waiting for the other person to leave their stall and exit the bathroom so you can poop in private, and it turns out they're doing the same thing? So, you're just sitting there, waiting it out, wondering who will break first. You'll either leave and wait a bit and come back, or just say "forget it" and go on with your business with an audience who can hear the ploop! and splash!. Personally, when I was working and I was pregnant, my poop schedule coincided with another girl's schedule. If I walked in and she was after me, she would usually just wash her hands, look in the mirror, and I guess come back in a little while. When you're pregnant, pooping turns into a luxury and you can't skip the chance to go.

I am not really a shy pooper anymore. Something about Gage screaming and peeking under the bathroom door if I close it to poop makes it more difficult to concentrate on the task. So, I just leave the door open and ignore him trying to see under my bottom and flushing the toilet for fun. Curtis still locks the door - like I'm going to barge in and have a heart to heart while he's taking care of business...

And, just a nod to MOPS this week. Turns out spitting on a price tag stuck to the bottom of a glass vase helps it come right off. Thanks, Christina for the hint!

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Gage - Eleven Months Old

Dear Crusty Booger Nose,

I will warn you in advance that I am using your 11 month letter to catch up on everything else that's been going on as well. Of course, that all includes you and your life, so deal with it. The world revolves around no one single person. Ok, I'm done being THAT mom. You're the whole world to me and your dad and we love you so much that we ask each other randomly "How much do you love Tank (or Big Head, or a number of other things we call you both to your face and behind your back)?"

It's been a month since I've written anything on here, and I can sum all of it up pretty easily. Ah bin bizzy! (I've been busy, my friends who can't read that out loud to themselves and get it.)

Let's back it up from the ending because that's probably the only way I can accomplish the task of processing it. The past two weeks I have been watching a friend of mine's kids because she went back to work. I remember seeing on a series of her Facebook statuses that she had an interview, got the job, looked for a daycare, interviewed some private daycare givers, and was pretty much S.O.L. (shit outta luck, people. I won't break anything else down for you tonight. Hehe!)

I had been thinking and praying and discussing with my husband on the day she seemed at the point of not taking the job, and I sent her a message and asked her to call me if she was interested in talking to me about watching her little ones. A few conversations and carseats in my car later, we got it all nailed down, and I have been watching Hannah and Noah for the past two weeks. They're awesome kids. Noah is the same age as Tank (they're 4 days apart) so it's kind of like raising twins since they're going through the same things at the same time. In fact, they've both been teething, and Gage's tooth finally broke through over this weekend. I am hoping poor Noah (who looks like he's getting THREE) has had some successful teething this weekend too. Hannah is like a built in helper. She's obviously use to her brother, so she's automatically use to Gage. Except Gage is a bit heavier and more rough than Noah. And Gage is obsessed with Hannah, especially the other day when she wore pink tights. He grabbed her leg on the couch and was trying to figure out what the heck was going on. But, she makes them both laugh, and she's such a sweetheart.

Gage, you now have SIX teeth. Four on top, two on bottom. And, you've only bitten me like seven or twelve times now. Thanks, kid. I appreciate that a lot.

You are, oh it pains me to say it...walking. Like full on waddling through the house, on the porch, in the yard. You're walking and crawling even amounts, I would say. But, you only crawl when you're in a hurry (like you have anything to do in a rush. You pee in your pants, so it's not like a mad dash to the bathroom after too many drinks.) Or when you're butt naked in the middle of a diaper change and you want to get away from me.

You're eating more and more people food. Because, let's be real, that crap called "baby food" is NASTY! You want to eat what we have, of course. You crack me up, throwing fits if we don't share. It's really not that cute, but we ignore you and let you do your thing. I don't want to stunt your emotions. Feel them, let them out, but act like a nutzo and you won't earn our attention. The other day I was eating some fruit snacks, and I didn't realize you had seen me, and when I crumpled up the empty wrapper you threw yourself on the floor and I thought you were hurt because I didn't see any reason for you to be acting like that. And, then I realized you were expecting me to share and thought I ignored you. So, we got another package and I gave you all the orange ones, because they're my least favorite...what? Like I am not allowed to be selfish with my fruit snacks and save the red and purple for myself? Whatever. You're lucky I gave you candy at all. You sat in my lap, being very sweet for about 3 minutes. Which brings me to my complaint for this month...

YOU DON'T WANT TO CUDDLE WITH ME. You're a very very sweet boy, giving kisses and patting the dogs and stuff. But, you won't sit and cuddle. You don't want to be rocked or snuggled or loved on too much. Your independence is getting old. I want a cuddly baby. You're going to make me have another baby soon just so I can have a cuddler. You must STOP getting big. Your great grandma even suggested laying down with you on the floor with a blanket to take a nap, and when I tried it, wanna know what you did? You crawled over to me, gave me a kiss, laid your head on me for a second and then got up and crawled away giggling. Man, you're adorable.

Oh, here's where I embarrass you. So, last night we went to your Uncle Scott & Aunt Miranda's new house. At one point, we had been outside, and you had on your little zip up hoodie, with the hood up. I changed your diaper, and in the middle of it, you crawled off and proceeded to roll around their living room with your legs open and closed laughing and showing off your butt and other goods. And, you KNEW you were being cute and ornery. You're such a little cute hamburglar. Yep, daddy calls you that too. Since you're so quick to grab stuff you shouldn't. So, there you are, looking like a bare-assed mini Unabomber, and we're all laughing at your antics.

I think you're getting sick. Well, you probably already are. Your nose is nasty and crusty. And it's getting sorta green. So, Tuesday you're going to the Doctor to see why you're so gross. But, we still love you.

You had your first Halloween this past month. You were a lion and everyone said how adorable you were. Which of course, is true. Because you're the cutest kid on the planet. We've let you eat SOME candy, and you got to ride a pony and a little train, play in a ball pit, and go down a big blow up slide (on my lap of course). And we let you get two tattoos of dinosaurs.

You're just getting so big that it's almost painful for me. You're not going to be a baby for very much longer. You're walking, eating and drinking by yourself, and repeating words we say. They may not sound exactly clear, but you're definitely trying out new sounds. You've repeated down, boo boo, snack, outside, daddy, and I swear you were saying "I want a bite" for a while, but you've stopped. You clap your hands and wave at people. Sometimes you say "yeah!" and sometimes you say "na na na na na" really fast because I say "nononononononono" to you about things. You've finally learned what yucky and danger mean. I base that on the fact that you won't put something in your mouth if I say it's yucky, and you stop what you're reaching for if I say "danger".

You know what "no" means, but you're totally into testing us. You'll slowly reach for something after we say no to you and see if we still say no. And, you smile about it. That's because you're OUR kid. And karma sucks like that.

You're quickly approaching your first birthday, and it makes me want to throw up. Where did the time go? Life speeds up with you in it. We can't pause time, but I sometimes wish I could. I won't get all depressing this month, but it's an inevitable growing up. Right about now, I wish I could stop it.

You're my little man. You're our whole world. I love everything about you and your innocence and wonderment with the world around you. Everything is a joy to you, and you're a complete joy to me.

I love you when you're messy, I love you when you stink. I love your white blonde hair and how you've got your daddy's two front teeth. I love your chubby fingers, and how you still hold on to our fingers tight. I love hearing you growl when you wake up in the morning and babble to yourself til you fall asleep at night. You've captured our hearts and re-ordered our life. I've learned to prioritize what really matters and grown up right along with you at times.

Happy Eleven Months of Life, Baby Gage!

Love, Mommy