The Potty Diary

I've never claimed to be really good at anything related to parenting...but one area where I'd surely be considered "slow" is in the potty training department. I suck. No really. I'm awful. I have no idea what I'm doing and I usually resort to doing all of the things that they tell you never, under any circumstances, to do.

So, with all that we have going on, I should have been thrilled when Sawyer went pee pee on the potty for the first time at school last week. Actually, I was thrilled. Was I really going to get away with not having anything to do with {screwing up} potty training? Was this why I was paying Sawyer's preschool enough money to put him through one year at private university? I've always said that I would pay big bucks to have someone come to our house and potty train my kids. I even googled it. This person doesn't exist.

So here we are, one week later, Sawyer only wants to wear underwear...he's peed on the potty numerous times. So I should be celebrating, right? I'm not. You know why? Because I'm on 24-hour poop watch.

See, with Rylan, she knew not to poop in her pants. I don't blame her. It's truly disgusting if you think about it {though I suppose going in a diaper is only slightly less repulsive}. Ry would just hold out long enough until we put her diaper on before nap or bed time. Genius! As a result, I never had to stalk her and play poo poo police...aka, give her a massive complex about pooping on the potty or in her pants.

And then there's Sawyer. Sweet #2 has a problem with, well, going #2. Actually, the problem is that he'll go anywhere but the potty. I don't get it. If you can sit and pee, what's so scary about sitting and pooping? And it's precisely the reason I {and by I, I mean, his teachers at school} didn't train him to pee standing up. I thought that would just further confuse the situation. If he pees standing up, will he poop standing up too? I've clearly given this a ton of thought.

We've known his "signs" now for a while. When he has to "go"...he hides. He's so certain of the "feeling" that now he just says "mommy, I'm hiding." So, this should be an easy transition, right? Wrong.

So we set out on mission. 1. Buy new underwear {the ones that I'd bought him a year ago for Christmas were so tight around his legs, they were cutting off the circulation. Wishful thinking that he'd be potty trained last Christmas I guess.} 2. Buy a "poo poo present." 3. And then come home, poop on the potty and sing kumbaya. Yeah, not so much.

Here's what actually happened. We picked out the underwear {Spiderman and Lightning McQueen, in case you're wondering.} Picked out the "poo poo present" {Buzz Lightyear gun}. Came home. Put the present on the shelf and waited. About 20 minutes later {and once I was in the middle of breast feeding Saxon and completely tied down} I heard, "Mommy, I'm gonna hide." {Fuuuuuuck!} I immediately de-latch #3, jump over the couch and make a bee-line for Sawyer. He immediately screamed in fear of mommy running full-force towards him and proceeded to run away from me, crying and literally shitting his pants in fear. Meanwhile, the baby is screaming and about to roll off the couch. Sawyer is crying and hiding on the other side of the dining room table and I'm yelling, "No, Sawyer, don't poop!" I'm pretty sure I did everything they tell you NOT to do in the "Everybody Poops" parent handbook.

After I settled him down, I was shocked that he actually had managed to hold it. So we sat back down. I started feeding the baby again and watched as Sawyer sat there in agony. Now I was concerned because, not only was he going to poop his pants, he was going to poop his pants on my couch. As I begged and pleaded for him to "just try and sit on the potty," he insisted that he no longer had to go. Yeah, ok. Sure buddy.

About five minutes later, he made a run for it. But not to the potty. He ran to the closet. I ran after him. Both of us screaming, I scooped him up and ran into the bathroom. It was too late. The Spiderman underwear were ruined after only 30 minutes of wear. Sawyer was crying. Saxon was crying. Mommy was crying. He sat on the potty devastated. I sat there with the tub of wipes and antibacterial hand soap and explained that accidents happen and that it was ok.

Sawyer called Eric on the phone and told him what happened and how he wasn't going to get the "poo poo present." Just as we were hanging up, I heard the slightest "plop." Sawyer's face lit up. "Mommy! poo poo came out." We looked. He was right. The smallest poop you'd ever seen had gone in the toilet.

"Dammit," I thought. Now I have to give him the damn present for a fluke poop. He was thrilled.

Fast forward to now and he's actually gone a few times, though, not every time. I'm still living in a constant state of poop anxiety. I need to let it go. It's freaking everyone out. And between hoping that Sawyer DOESN'T poop and making sure that Saxon DOES, it's all I'm freaking doing these days.

He did go at school and now school has deemed him "potty trained" so we save $50 a month on tuition. I guess I really was paying a potty training guru and just didn't know it. Now who can I pay to come clean it up when he has an accident?

Baby, 1. Mommy, 0.

It would be fair to say that I've been on the front lines of newborn baby war these last three weeks. Don't get me wrong, I knew what I was getting into since I've done it before...but holy baby Batman! It's just taking me a while to find my newborn mojo, I suppose.

I've literally sat down to blog about the current state of our house {insanity} dozens of times but have found that I only have about two minutes between breastfeeding, crying {me, included} and someone asking for "more juice" {Eric, included} that all my thoughts are cut short.

So, in honor of these two free minutes, I thought a "you know you have a newborn" Top 10 list would be appropriate:

You know you have a newborn when:

10. You pour the breast milk into the bottle without the drop-in and are totally unfazed by the puddle of milk at your feet {thanks Dede}

9. In a contest between you and Pamela Anderson on who has the most ridiculous boobs, you win in a landslide.

8. You don't leave your bedroom {let alone your house} without sunglasses on.

7. You'd welcome a trip to the dentist or OBGYN for just 30 minutes of "alone" time

6. You'd risk a cell phone ticket for talking while driving because the car is now the only place where the baby will sleep and you can chat for longer than 2 minutes

5. You want to marry your Keurig

4. You unload baby and stroller from the car, lock the doors, head into the market, finish shopping and leave the store to find that you left the passenger door wide open.

3. You wake up at 3 am mid-walk to the nursery and wonder if you're coming or going

2. You just remembered that you had to pee this morning...but it's now 5pm

1. You blog one-handed

PS. To all my friends who have checked in on me to make sure I haven't drowned myself in the bathtub, thank you. This too shall pass. Big hugs.

The Saxon{ater}

We did it! He's here. Well, actually, he arrived on March 25, 2011. So he's been here for 12 days. And that's how long it took me to get my shit together to sit down and write about it. Phew. Switching to zone defense, NOW!

So here's how it went down. On Thursday afternoon we went to El Torito to watch the SDSU NCAA Tourney game {aka, witness my bracket go down the toilet.} I ordered what I thought would be the most "mild" thing on the menu. Taquitos. To my surprise, these bad boys came smothered in hot sauce. Oh well. Down the hatch. At this point, I was eating everything in sight. I figured maybe my effort to order something less-spicy would pay off. It didn't. In fact, I'm pretty sure it had something to do with putting me in to labor.

At about 3:30 am on March 25, I woke up with strong-enough-to-make-your-eyes-bleed heartburn. Standard, at this point. I expected it. What I didn't expect were the contractions I started having about 5 minutes later. And then they didn't stop. So I started timing them and, sure enough, they were regular. Every 5-7 minutes. So we got the bag packed. Got the kids dressed. Called the doc. She said to head to L&D since it was my 3rd baby and she was going to induce me the next day anyway {see Ricki, it all worked out.}

Then we hopped in the car and Eric did what any super-cool-under-pressure husband would do...he drove like a complete jackass. Taking speed bumps at 20 miles an hour. Weaving in and out of traffic. The kids thought they were at Disneyland. "Weeee!" Mind you, both of their schools are literally about 2 blocks away. I think Eric envisioned delivering the baby in the Yukon and since we have a very strict never-look-below-the-knees-while-wife-is-in-labor policy he was determined to get me to the hospital asap.

We got to Hoag. Got hooked up to the monitors. Nurse checked me. I'm still 2 cm. {FML} For those of you with no idea how this whole watermelon vs lemon thing works, you have to be 10 cm dilated to push the baby out. 2 cm is nothing. In fact, my guess is that most women with multiple children walk around for the rest of their lives 2 cm dilated. Really. Sneeze and be 2 cm dilated. Shit.

So Eric and I did what we do best. We started making the nurse laugh. There was no way we were getting sent home. We turned on the charm and Megan the nurse ate it up. An hour later when I was 2.5 cm dilated {FML, again} she came in to tell me that my doc said "go ahead and break her water." Yes! Amazing. Love my doc. So they did. And about an hour after that I was 4 cm. Ok, getting somewhere.

Then they hooked up the pitocin. And the contractions started coming on strong. For about 3 hours I laid there until I had to tell Eric to stop playing inappropriate You Tube clips because laughing with gnarly contractions wasn't working for me. I begged for my epidural. And then lost my spot in line because the woman next door was 6 cm and I was, just guess...still a 4. Bitch. {FML, cubed.}

45 minutes later. Epidural in. And I'm ready to rock and roll. They upped my pitocin dosage to a-freaking-lot and at 4pm I was ready to push. But I didn't. My doctor was stuck in traffic. So I sat there. My nurse actually told me not to move for fear the baby would come out. {Lovely visual, I know.} Finally, at 4:30 the doc arrived and after 5 pushes, he was out. All 8lbs, 4oz of him...and a week early too. Biggest baby yet. Rylan was 6.13 and Sawyer was 6.7.

Saxon Cash Beach. He's just been an awesome kid thus far {but since I put it in writing, I'm sure he'll make me take it back at some point.} In the hospital we actually had to ask the nurse if he was ok because he was sleeping so much. I know, right? Crazy. He spends his days eating, sleeping and, well, pooping. Typical.

Here he is. Someday, I'll invest in a camera that doesn't take blurry pictures.

Saxon Cash Beach. 3.25.11

And, in case you're wondering, I 100% brushed my hair and put on make-up after I delivered and before I took pics. I was tired of having hospital pics of myself where I looked like I was just beaten over the head with a baby. So, yeah, bring on the smoke and mirrors.

"Beach Party of 5, please don't come to our restaurant for a couple of years"

I mean, come on with the cuteness!

Heading home. Me: "Do we have to?"

Let the real fun begin!

Getting Down to "Business"

Somewhere early on in this pregnancy I became obsessed with Ricki Lake. I know. Weird, right? Let me explain. Ricki Lake recently produced a documentary called "The Business of Being Born." In short, she sells the idea that hospitals and doctors are more concerned with making a quick buck by inducing pregnant women before their body is actually "ready" to give birth...which in many cases results in an emergency c-section, which, in turn, results in more money for the doctor etc, etc. Sounds nothing like me, right? I'm a planner. Induction fits perfectly with my personality. Strangely, I decided after already giving birth to two children that I would make a point this last time to do some research. Sorry #1 and #2. Hope you turn out alright. Catch ya on the flip side!
So I ordered "Business" on Netflix just to see what all the fuss was about. Ricki thinks, as do many other midwifes/Douala's/women who go bra-less and don't shave their armpits {oops, inadvertent stereotyping}, that when the baby is ready to come, it will come. In her documentary, which I begged Eric to watch with me to no avail, she focuses on drug-free home births using midwifes, water births, standing births, birthing ball births...basically every birth plan I swore I'd never do.

After watching the film, I re-confirmed for myself- Hoag Hospital or Bust. Surprised? What, I don't strike you as the deliver-my-baby-in-a-bathtub-like-Shamu type? The truth is, I grew up 5 minutes from Sea World and remember watching the news of a birth at the park when I was younger. I just can't get passed the God-awful visual it ingrained in my brain. And while we're on the subject, who wants to sit in the bathtub after the delivery anyway? I won't even take the baby from the doctor until it's been cleaned off. No judgements, thanks. We have the rest of our lives to cuddle. And don't get me wrong. By no means am I judging the au-naturale moms. More power to ya!

Still, after watching the documentary and deciding I was right all along, I can't get Ricki out of my head. She has been sitting on my ever-widening shoulder, whispering sweet Bradley-method nothings, convincing me that I'm going to screw up my kid by speeding up the labor process with induction and drugs. I've become torn {ew, awful word to use with just 10 days left. My apologies}

If you know me at all, it will come as no shock to you that I called the hospital months ago to make sure that they had enough epidurals on hand. God forbid they run out. I've also spent the last 9 months counting all the pregnant women I know. I even went so far as to create a list, in chronological order by due date, of all the preggos. This had nothing to do with my OCD {well maybe a little OCD}, but rather, I felt like if the majority of pregnant women I know were due at a different time than me, I had a better shot of delivering my child in an ocean-view suite at Hoag versus the Hoag hallway on a gurney. Yes, I actually have anxiety that we'll have a "no room at the Inn" situation. And seriously, I want {need} as much medical intervention as possible. Morphine for the pain? Absolutely. Pitocin? Bring it on. Epidural? Make it a double.

So Tuesday when I went for my weekly doc appointment {38.5 weeks} and my doctor mentioned induction next week what's the first thing I did? Check my calendar? Nope. Call Eric? No way. Call my mom? Uh-uh. Immediately get a vision of Ricki Lake sitting naked in a bathtub, groaning like a cow, birthing her second born? You guessed it. Ugh! Dammit Ricki. Get out of my head! Two nights ago I had a dream that a member of the Wiggle's delivered my baby in the cockpit of an airplane! I have crippling heartburn that could grow hair on your chest. The last thing I need right now is a Ricki mind-fuck.

I thought about it for a minute. I called Eric 2 times and got no answer. Awesome. Because if you know my husband, you know that he answers EVERY phone call. So yeah, that's ok babe, I'm just 10 months pregnant...water could have broken...could be 10 cm and ready to push {hee hee hoo}...and you're just not answering your phone. Whatever.

So I decided that Ricki could suck it.

March 28, 2011 is going to be a great birthday for #3. That's right. I said it, Ricki. You can take your bathtub birth and shove it. I'll be showered. Hair done. Legs shaved. You name it. I'll be ready. Induce the hell out of me. Let's make it happen. Bring on the pitocin, epidural and medical intervention. 5 days to go. Oh, it's so on...

Mamma's Got a Brand New...Blog

Someone got a mommy makeover. What!? Can you blame me? I do live in the OC...and a little nip/tuck is perfectly normal around these parts. Do you like? Leslie at Sweetie Baby's did a fab job on the re-design.

I have yet to decide what to "do" with my blog...I mean, other then to use it as my own personal parental catharsis and an outlet to put my foul mouth to good use...but it's like I always say, "even when you have zero clue what you are doing, you can at least look good and fake it." So I'm faking it.

In honor of the face lift, I invite you to follow me! Check out the link to the right {----->}...otherwise you're kind of just a stalker and it could get a little creepy.

And here's the first sign that Sawyer might not be that open to having a sibling. This is what he did when we said "Lookout Sawyer, Daddy's taking a picture of the baby." {Crap}

38 Weeks

Babies "R" U{suck}s

I've spent the last hour searching "woman goes freaking ballistic on babies r us employee" on You Tube. So far, no hits so I'm fairly sure the employee decided against uploading the store's security footage to the site. Phew, it got ugly...real quick.

A while ago, I mentioned that Babies "R" Us was basically a warehouse full of worthless employees all wearing purple shirts who have zero knowledge of any of the products they are selling and zero desire to be working there or provide an ounce of customer service. A friend of mine mentioned it sounded similar to an SEIU rally. If you've worked in state government in Sacramento, you're likely familiar with SEIU rallies. Basically, on any given day, you can find a group of public employee union members wearing purple shirts marching around the capitol chanting "Si se puede" Translation: "Yes, we can" or "Yes, it can be done." I quickly pointed out to my friend that if the Babies R Us employees chanted, they'd be saying "No, we can't" or "No it's not possible." Really.

So today when I set out to my local Babies R Us, I had a couple of objectives.


1. Pick up some Baby Talk magazines because these free publications that are available at BRU contain golden $10 off Baby Store purchases at Amazon.com.
2. Get some questions answered about what type of video monitor I should get this time around
3. Buy a few of the necessities that I know I'm going to need for the first 1-2 weeks after baby arrives. You know, bottles, pacis, etc.


Here's how it all went to shit real fast.


First stop: Registry desk.


Me: "Hi, can you show me where your Baby Talk magazines are located?"
Her {Puzzled and slightly cross-eyed}: "Um, why do you want Baby Talk magazines?"
Me: "Well, my friends mentioned that they are usually sitting on a free rack at BRU and contain some valuable amazon.com coupons."
Her {Slightly nervous and twitchy}: "Yes, they do. However, we stopped leaving them out because it creates too much competition with our store. So now we keep them behind the desk."
Me: {Slightly irritated}: "Ok, so...do you not give them to people that ask or...?"
Her: "...sure. Here's one."
Me: "One. Really!? Just one. Thanks so much for ONE magazine. Did you ever think that maybe if you lowered your prices on diapers, people wouldn't come to your store to ask for coupons to use at someone else's store?"
Her: {Silence}


Ok, maybe I shouldn't have gone that far but I couldn't help it and my smart ass comment did guilt her in to giving me 4 more magazines. Point is, BRU has gone so far as to realize that they're losing sales to Amazon.com baby store but instead of offering great deals/discounts and coupons to be competitive, they just decided to hide the amazon.com coupons under the desk. Fabulous sales tactics. Not to mention, why is my BRU the only store that hides the coupons behind the desk and makes you threaten the employees for them? At all the other stores, supposedly, they are just sitting there just waiting to be pillaged. Figures.


Second stop: Baby Monitors

As I'm waiting in the Baby Monitors section, hoping someone will recognize my confusion and ask me if I need help, I overhear this:

"So, can anyone tell me what their sales goal is going to be this week?"

I turn around and to my total shock and disbelief, I see literally 20 purple-shirt-wearing BRU employees sitting around, nodding off in the middle of a sales meeting.

I walk up and interject: "I have an idea. How about you save your genius and obviously ineffective sales meetings for times when the store isn't full of customers who require, I don't know, customer service?"

Ok, so maybe this last part only happened in my head. But seriously. What company holds sales meetings during store hours with every single available employee on the floor in the meeting? I'm beyond annoyed. Contractions are commencing.

Third stop: Bottles and Pacifiers

I spend about 20 minutes trying to figure out which bottles I want to use this time. Not sure why I've decided that I need to switch brands, but I know I'd like to get new ones since the last set of bottles has been used by two kids for longer than a kid should probably use a bottle. I'm sure I've reached some statute of limitations on these bottles so it's time for some new ones. While browsing, 4 purple shirts walk by. "No, thanks. I've got this. No help needed here. Thanks for asking." Oh wait...Anyway, I decide on the Tommee Tippee bottles where the nipple literally looks like a boob. Throw them in my basket and head towards checkout.

By now, I've been at BRU for about an hour. I get to the front of the line. The cashier rings me up. I hand her my gift card to pay for a portion of the balance and she says "your card has a zero balance." I tell her this is impossible because I just got it as a gift and haven't used it yet. She gives me the now standard BRU blank stare and basically says "sorry, can't help you. call the 1-800 number."

At this point, I'm done. I start to lose it. I head over to customer service and meltdown. I manage to get out "This place is un-freaking..." and then I burst into tears. Since I've left my items in the only open checkout lane, and the clerk can't void the order without a manager, the clerk and the 5 people in line behind me are now watching me at the customer service desk and are witnessing the meltdown. Can't blame them. I'd be staring at me too.

Now bawling, I proceed to tell the asst manager that BRU sucks ass. That all the employees are miserable, unhelpful human beings and that the only reason I am even in the store is because I have a gift card that I now have been told has been given to me with zero dollars on it. I spend 5 more minutes telling her how angry I am and how I'm literally about to go into labor in her store- which would be awful since no one there knows wtf they're doing or what a baby even is. All the while, she's standing there staring at me. Finally, I walk out, call my mom and have a meltdown in my car in the parking lot. Like hyperventilating-can't get a breath-gonna freaking kill someone-meltdown.

Eventually, I stopped crying...about 30 minutes later. And not before I realized how pissed I was that I didn't just pay full price for the items that I actually needed. Shit! I really needed that stuff and now I can't go back and show my face after bitching out that asst manager.

24 days to go...just. breathe.

The Things People {Idiots} Say

I learned at a very young age NEVER to ask a woman if she was pregnant. It was one of the great lessons I learned from my mom...that, and if you have the choice between flats and heels, sometimes pain is beauty.

Unfortunately for my mom, she enforced this rule so strictly upon me because of her own misstep. Years ago, she ran into an old friend in the supermarket and happily exclaimed, "Oh my gosh, I didn't know you were expecting again." The woman frowned and abruptly stated, "I'm not." The way my mom tells it is that the woman {although, not sure she used that exact word} was wearing the same maternity mu mu that she had been wearing a year ago when she WAS expecting. Who does that!?

As a result, I never wear maternity unless I'm pregnant AND I never ask a woman if she's pregnant unless I'm in the delivery room and the baby is crowning. Seriously. My question is, how come I'm the only person that was actually taught this lesson? I mean, this is an important one folks.

I mention all this because I'm about 36 weeks pregnant, though I feel as though I'm 40. I'm uncomfortable. I cannot walk without waddling. Just standing hurts. And some days I feel like TLC is going to show up with a camera crew and film an episode of that show where the person is too large to make it out of their front door without a crane and they've been living in their lazy boy for 7 years.  I can't put on my own shoes so I opt for flip flops or flats {sorry mom}. I've started getting those looks like "Oh my God, she's gonna blow any second." It's these last 4 weeks where people completely lose their filter {or ability to use their brain} and engage in what I like to call "verbal diarrhea."

So, in honor of my discomfort, I've compiled a list for you of what NOT to say to a preggo...I've also taken the liberty to explain why these questions are inappropriate...in case you were never taught by your mother. Free of charge. Life lessons here folks.

1. "OMG, you must be due ANY day!?"
-See here's why this is rude. I'm not due any day. I actually have 4 long, disgusting and uncomfortable weeks to go. Really not close at all. AND chances are that I will get bigger than I am now. So, yeah, don't ask this.
2. {As a follow up to question 1} "Are you sure?"
-Really!? You're going to argue with me on this? I have more hormones in the tip of my pinky finger than you will ever know or feel in your entire life. Do not push me to my already-teetering-on-crazy limit.
3. "Are you having twins?"
-Just don't. There's no point in insinuating that a woman is so large she might actually be carrying two fetuses instead of one. Let her offer this piece of information if she'd like to explain why she's huge, but no need to inquire.
4. "Oh honey, you look so uncomfortable"
-Thanks. I hadn't noticed. But now that you pointed it out. I realize that, yes, I have a watermelon inside my ever-expanding uterus. I actually have a foot inside my ribcage. There are things happening in my nether-regions that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. So, yeah, I'm a little uncomfortable. But you don't need to point it out. I know.
5. "Whoa"
-I have actually walked by people and heard them say this under their breath. Next time it happens, I swear I'm going to say "I'm pregnant, what's your excuse?" Would you ever in a million years say "whoa" when a non-pregnant woman walks by? No. So why now?
6. {And my personal favorite} "When are you due?"
-Now let me explain, because I get this one a lot and it actually doesn't bother me...now. When it does bother me, though, is when I've already HAD my baby and am standing there with the infant. It would be impossible for me to have an 8 week old and be pregnant and showing. Now, yes, I could still be carrying some old {son of bitch, bastard} baby weight but this is when you have to show some restraint and use that other lump, 3 feet above your ass. I'm not pregnant. I just had a freaking baby and am just, well, fat. Deal with it.

On a side note, #6 inevitably will happen at the nail salon. Getting a pedicure is one of the worst things you can do for your self-esteem after you've had a baby. Those women are just plain mean. The nail ladies manage to combine life lessons 1-6 into one question and then when you answer in a completely bitchy response, they talk about you in their native tongue. I've gotten off track. We'll save the nail ladies for another day. Give them another "shout out" when the time is right.

For now, here's to 250 days down, 30 to go...

35.5 weeks..."whoa!"