A cycle in the washing machine? Anyone ever washed their phone? I am guessing it’s a lost cause since there was so much water in the oversize load that I just washed. UGH! Why was I washing a super-size load this morning? Because my little bundle of joy released a super-size load of baby poop all over herself, my bed, my clothes, the carpet, the hallway and anything else in her path.

Now at just 4 weeks old, sweet Sarah usually has pretty innocuous poops, a little here and there. But it had been two days so I knew a major blowout was on its way. I was helping Allison in the kitchen with her yogurt, while Sarah chilled in the living room in her bouncy seat. All of the sudden I heard a loud pop! Like someone had just popped a very expensive bottle of champagne. I knew it was going to be ugly when I reached Sarah. I picked her up and notice that the blanket wrapped around her was soaking wet. At first I thought she just peed a lot when the poop unloaded. Boy was I ever wrong. There was poop literally from her chest to her shoulder blades.

I knew by the wetness of the blanket that my shirt was now covered in poop also, what I didn’t know was that I was leaving a poopy trail as I went from the living room to the bedroom to change her. It was one of those diapers where really the only thing to be done was put the child in the tub. So as she is screaming her head off, I am trying to get the poopy onesie off of her little body without spreading the poop all over her face and hair. Meanwhile, Allison wants to know what is going on so she is climbing up the changing table saying, “poopy, poopy, poopy.” Oh the joys!

So I get Sarah bathed and in clean clothes and go to survey the poop spread. I removed my clothes and gathered up the blanket, onesie, two piddle pads, changing table cover and my comforter {I’m not sure how it ended up on the bed!} and head towards the washer. I encounter my dad holding a now crying Allison in the living room. He’s shaking his head, saying, “I can’t do it, I can’t do. I’m sorry I just can’t handle it.” I was thinking what is wrong with him and then I see the floor. There are little drops of poopy wetness all over the floor. It’s now that I realized that I left a trail of poop. So in my haste to clean the floor before my dad starts puking I threw all of the clothing, etc in the washer and start it before I realized that my cell phone was in my pants pocket.

I clean up the floor, get Sarah to sleep and turn Barney on for Allison so that I can take a shower. Feeling nice and clean and pretty good for handling the poopiness without major trauma, I transfer the now clean clothes and blankets to the dryer only to discover my beloved pink Razr sitting there looking pitiful in the bottom of the washer.

Now defeated, I guess we are in for a trip to the Verizon store to beg for mercy and a new phone. Fun, fun, fun!

ETA: The funniest part of this whole story – so I’ve been told by friends – is my dad’s reaction… why is his reaction so funny? Because the man just retired after a 21-year career at the medical examiner’s office {yes my dad is a coroner and can’t handle a little baby poop!}

So everything that I’ve read says that breastfeeding is a great way to help new moms lose some of that baby weight. I think the research shows that breastfeeding moms burn an average of 500 extra calories per day.

I’m not sure the science behind it, but personally I think the reason that breastfeeding moms lose the weight faster than those who don’t is because they have no time to eat. It has absolutely nothing to do with calories burned, rather it has to do with being attached (literally) to your new baby for approximately 18 hours per day. And Lord help you if you have a toddler (as I do) that you also have to care for.

I used to think that it was tough to find time to eat a decent meal while entertaining an almost two-year-old all day. I got used to eating cold meals and left over chicken dinosaurs. Now with a newborn to also care for, I am realizing what a luxury chicken dinosaurs really are.

Now back to the breastfeeding dilemma. The lactation consultant that I met with earlier this week suggested that I nurse for 15 minutes on each side and then pump for 15 minutes. That means each feeding will take approximately 45 minutes, well actually it’s closer to an hour by the time you get situated, feed the baby, burp the baby, put her somewhere so that you can pump. Then you have to get the pump ready and keep your toddler entertained during the entire process. By the time it’s finished you have less than an hour before the whole process is supposed to start again. During that brief respite, you go to the bathroom, play with your toddler so she doesn’t feel completely left out, start the laundry, empty the dishwasher, clean up the dog poop so that your toddler can play in the back yard during the next feeding session, clean up the toys so that the aforementioned dogs don’t steal the toys and bury them in the backyard, and if you are lucky you get a chance to brush your teeth.

Now reading that did you see where mom has time to eat or take a shower? Nope, you didn’t because that time doesn’t exist! So next time someone tells you how wonderful breastfeeding is lean in real close so that they can get a good whiff of you while listening to your stomach growl as loud as the biggest, meanest grizzly bear and tell them that you’d gladly change places with them for just 24 hours. Of course once that 24 hours is over, you might smell good and have a full tummy but you’ll be so eager to get back to your baby that forget about all the hunger and stinkiness and pop out your boob to start the process again.

Whoever invented those goofy shopping carts shaped like race cars and space shuttles should be shot. There is no nice way of putting it. The person should be shot and those that continue to manufacture them should be right there with them on the front lines.

For many folks, those cute little carts are probably a Godsend that keep their little ones entertained, contained and happy for the duration of a grocery trip. For us they are evil! We have a little girl who is completely obsessed and over the moon for cars and trucks. So the first few times we put her in the car-shaped cart she was thrilled. She would turn the wheel and make “vroom, vroom” noises as we cruised the commissary aisles. Everything was fine a fabulous until the shopping trip ended. Then the screaming fest would begin.

Allison would literally scream like her toenails were being systematically ripped off as we peeled her out of the car carts. She would throw full-size toddler tantrums, kicking, screaming, back arched, arms flailing as we tried to exit the store.

So now we know that we have to avoid the cars at all costs so that we don’t have a huge scene when we are done shopping.

So yesterday we went to the Exchange to see Santa. Unfortunately for us the Exchange is one of those places that has these carts. Daddy was able to usher her into the store and past the carts with relative ease. While we cruised the aisles waiting for Santa to arrive, Allison suddenly started crying and pointing. We thought maybe she saw Santa and was scared. Oh, if only it were that simple. No instead, some other wonderful caring parent had put their child in the car cart and was heading straight for us. What were we going to do?

Well we did what any other sane parent would do. We began playing a game of hide and seek with the stupid cart. We were literally acting like spies incognito trying to determine the carts next move and trying even more desperately to keep the cart out of view from Allison. Jason would run to the end of one aisle and check both ways to see where they were headed next. Then I would take the next aisle.

UGH! These people were killing us. They were zig-zagging all over the garden area. Why couldn’t they shop like any other logical person out there (the way I shop!) – – up one aisle, and down the next aisle, that way there is no backtracking for forgotten or missed items. For 20 minutes we dodged the stupid shopping cart all the while making it seem like a game to Allison. I’m sure the folks manning the security cameras were just about to tackle us figuring we were up to no good when finally the offenders picked out a fake tree and left the area.

And then the first encounter with Santa began. Allison did relatively well. She didn’t scream, but she didn’t get too close either. The beautiful thing is, Santa will be in the same spot for the next two Saturdays, so guess where we will be next Saturday. Although this time I may stand at the door and offer cash to anyone who opts for a regular cart instead of the car carts!

So Allison is now 18 months old and started exhibiting some signs that she is becoming more aware of wet and stinky diapers and what causes them. A few weeks ago she started grabbing her diaper and whining at about the same time each night. After a few days I finally figured it out and asked her if she needed to go potty. Sure enough she would tottle into the bathroom and stand next to the toilet and wait. I would take her diaper off and hold her on the toilet. Nothing ever resulted, but at least we seemed to be heading in the right direction.

Then last week we had a little trauma. Our routine started off pretty much the same, she grabbed her diaper, I asked her the million dollar question and she scuttled off to the bathroom. I placed her on the toilet and nothing happened. So there we were just chatting in the bathroom. I was sitting on the floor next to the toilet, she was standing next to me butt naked. All of the sudden the pee started flowing. In a great and oh-so-calm mommy moment I panicked, grabbed her and tried to hoist her on to the toilet to do her thing.

Obviously the trickle of pee combined with me grabbing her quickly and ushering her toward the toilet scared poor little Allison. She tightened every muscle in her body and became rigid as a board. My attempt to get her sitting on the toilet were in vain, the only part of her body that got close to the toilet were her feet that we now in the toilet bowl. Meanwhile her thighs were clinched so tightly together that the pee was making a perfect arch and spraying all over me. I continued in my attempts to get her to bend at the hips and sit on the toilet and she continued to pee all over me. Of course at this point I am screaming,, “No! WAIT! SIT!!,” anything to get her to cooperate.

Unfortunately at this point she is also screaming and scared to death that she’d done something wrong. UGH! So when the longest pee in the history of 18-month-olds ends I am soaked in pee and she is screaming in fear, running butt naked through the house to the safety of daddy.

Of course daddy is not so supportive and tells me that that was not the proper way to handle the situation {DUH! Thanks, Captain Obvious!}

So now we are trying to determine how to proceed. Unfortunately, she is, I think, scarred for life about the potty. Now in the evening when she grabs her diaper and I ask her if she needs to go potty, she whines, shakes her head vehemently and runs in the opposite direction of me. Sounds like it’s daddy’s turn to take over potty training duty and show me how it’s supposed to be done, right?

Allison has taken to picking out her own clothes each day. It’s gotten to the point where if I pick out clothes and wrestle them on her, she will literally scream and cry while pulling at them to get them off. Once the offending article of clothing is removed she’s happy as a clam.

The other day I was drying my hair when Allison came in holding a pair of purple pants. I asked her if that’s what she wanted to wear. She proceeded to lie down on the bathroom floor and wait for me to put the pants on. So I told her we needed to find a shirt. Figuring she just randomly picked the purple pants to wear, I assumed selecting a shirt would be just as easy. That’s when I noticed that she had pulled out about eight pairs of pants in order to get to the purple ones. I knew then that it was going to be a tough sell to find just the right shirt.

So I opened the shirt drawer and offered at least 15 different shirts, none of which were acceptable. I knew that it was supposed to be close to 80 degrees on this particular day so when Allison repeatedly selected onesies with long-sleeves and turtle necks I systematically put them back in the drawer. Finally I opted for the drawer with all the short-sleeved onesies and shorts. I pulled out a few onesies and actually found ONE that was acceptable. As I removed the purple pants to snap the onesie I was dreading what I knew would happen next…

Allison is becoming a pro at identifying her body parts. The problem is when she hears the word “tummy” she insists on showing hers off. So the fight began with the onesie and the will to show off her tummy. How long do you think the onesie lasted that day?

We need “screaming child” lanes instead. Oh my goodness, after two trying days in Niagara Falls, we headed home on Tuesday afternoon. Allison had slept for 13 hours the previous night so we figured that she might be crabby but she should be fairly content on our eight-hour journey home from the falls. Boy were we wrong!

Right about the time we hit Cleveland (about 3 hours into our drive) Allison started screaming. Not just fussing a little, full-on throwing a fit screaming. I tried in vain to calm her down with toys, pacifiers, water, crackers and cereal. She wouldn’t have any of it, she wanted out of the car at that very moment. Unfortunately we were dead stopped in rush hour traffic. That’s when it hit me, car pool lanes are not the best solution instead we need lanes specifically for parents with screaming children in the cars. Seriously I think it would significantly cut down the number of road rage incidents. Have you ever sat in stop and go traffic with a screaming toddler? It’s enough to make Mother Theresa stress out.

As if sitting in traffic is not bad enough imagine the high pitched screams of your child being multiplied ten fold because you don’t even have the benefit of “road noise” to help mitigate it. You may as well be trapped in a tiny closet with your screaming child’s voice echoing off each and every wall.

To top off the adventure, we seemed to be surrounded by morons who somehow thought they were above sitting in traffic. You know the type, the ones who drive along all the stopped traffic only to inch their way in right before the off ramp. I hate those people and when Allison is screaming it makes me absolutely livid. We discovered I was not the only one frustrated with it, after about four cars and one 18-wheeler who did it the semi that was two cars behind us moved over ever so slightly to block the lane next to us and prevent the morons from cutting over in front of the rest of us.

We sat in traffic for 45 minutes with Allison screaming. Once we finally started moving she was happy as a clam … for about 15 minutes and then the screaming stared again!

Allison’s new favorite game is the gravity game. When she wakes up, we have to play the gravity game for several minutes before she will agree to leave the confines of her crib.

What exactly is the gravity game? Well, let me tell you about it. We take everything that is in our crib (and not tied down) and we drop it on the floor. This includes a stuffed doggie, a bear/blanket and typically two pacifiers. The best part of the game is when mommy pretends to catch the items as they fall down (she always misses). Allison laughs hysterically each time an item hits the floor. Now when mommy is trying to catch the items she sometimes bobbles them in the air a few times before they hit the ground. And on the rare occasion that mommy is too exuberant in her bobbling and the item hits the ceiling fan, WHOA! This causes falling down, rolling around on the mattress laughing fits as the bear goes shooting across the room. I know it’s not the safest game in the world, but the pacifiers (projectiles) never get near the ceiling fan.

The bad thing about this game is that on some days it is the game that never ends. As long as mommy retrieves the items, gravity will always take hold and they always hit the floor. For some reason this never gets old. I know you are thinking just stop picking up the items, right? Well, you’ve never seen the wrath of my child. Just as the ceiling fan shooting items across the floor causes laughing fits, mommy not retrieving the items causes fits of a whole other kind (although, both involve falling down and rolling on the mattress). One is accompanied by sweet giggles, while the other consists of shrieks that cause the dog to run for cover.

The amazing thing about the gravity game is that Allison can easily be entertained for 20-30 minutes with this game. So my question is why can’t we find a different game outside the crib where she can entertain herself for 90 seconds while I go to the bathroom?

This was my hubby’s plea a few days ago. Unfortunately for him I was outside chatting with a neighbor when the desperate call came in. What was it that my 32-year-old hubby couldn’t handle by himself? A humongous world-class toddler poop explosion! *hee hee*.

Allison had just woken up from a nap. He went upstairs to get her while I walked our neighbor who had been visiting outside. Unbeknownst to my dear hubby, Allison’s little tummy must’ve been upset because everything that she had eaten in the last day or so was spilling out of her diaper down her legs onto her sheets and everywhere else imaginable. To see how he deals with bodily functions, read this.

He thought I was ignoring his plea for help and this did not help his mood at all in dealing with the diaper explosion. So when I entered the house to hear the bath running, I cautiously headed up the stairs to see what happened. The sight of Allison lying on the changing pad and her daddy precariously holding both of her legs up in the air trying desperately to not get the poop on any other body parts was enough to cause me to laugh hysterically. Again, I was not helping his mood at all. In his defense the stench was pretty bad and the sight of the poop smashed all over her legs, butt, shorts, shirt and changing pad was pretty bad. But it’s just poop and it happens so you gotta deal with it.

So just like the vomit explosion of a few weeks earlier, he took Allison to the bathtub while I changed her crib sheets, all the time trying to convince him that I truly was not ignoring his plea for help.

Whether he believes that or not doesn’t matter. I know he feels avenged because whatever upset Allison’s tummy continued to wreak havoc on her system for the next five days. And when I pleaded for, “ a little help please,” he was at work so I was all on my own.

Allison has discovered the belly laugh. I think even at this age, she realizes the healthy benefits of a good laughing fit. The bonus for mom and dad is that her giggles are contagious and typically send us into fits of laughter too. I started tracking the things that set Allison off and it’s a bit frightening what she finds funny!!

• Mommy running through the Wal*Mart parking lot in the pouring rain while carrying three bags of stuff, a diaper bag and of course Allison. Did I mention I was also wearing flip-flops and apparently parked in an area prone to flooding. As I was trying to get Allison in the car, the puddle of water came up over the top of my feet leaving me utterly drenched while Allison continued to laugh hysterically in her car seat.
• Daddy or mommy attempting to do abdominal crunches on the living room floor. I don’t know if it’s the red-faced grunting or the simple act of our heads appearing and disappearing over our knees that Allison finds hysterical. Of course we also become the ultimate playground for her to crawl all over when we are in the crunch position.
• I can’t for the life of me figure out why this one is so funny, but for Allison it’s a riot when I clean my glasses. I think it’s me breathing on them that makes her laugh, but who knows. It could be the memories of her grabbing them with her sticky little hands and getting the prints all over them in the first place that makes her laugh.
• Allison loves her Maxwell-doggy. She is totally enamored by him and when he catches a ball, she falls over laughing.
• One of the great joys of having a staircase in the house is having a banister attached to said staircase. The base of the banister is where Allison’s toys are stored (against the wall along the banister). So when mommy is putting toys away and not paying attention she sometimes stubs her toes on the solid wood banister (probably the only thing in this house that’s solid wood). Anyway, the act of me writhing in pain and hopping on one foot with tears streaming down my face is one of the funniest things in the world to Allison.
• Now that Allison is walking all over the place, she is learning new ways to torture Max. When she really gets going she’ll chase after Max with her walking toys. Most of these toys already make noise (which Max does not enjoy) and when you add Allison Chasing him with the noise-making toys. He is not amused, but Allison sure is.

This is getting long, I’ll save some for another time!