"That's Not Food!"

If Andy is struggling while I try to change his diaper, I have a secret special tactic that I employ which will instantly change his demeanor.  I smell his feet.  I grab his feet, wrinkle my nose, take an exaggerated whiff, and then react as if I've smelled raw, hot sewage bubbling up from the city grates.  "Oh my God, Andy," I gasp, crossing my eyes and gagging.  "You have the stinkiest feet in all the world!"  Andy rewards me with a full on belly laugh and then will often ask, "More!"  Or, lately, "Two!" which is his request for me to smell both feet at once and act TWICE as sick to my stomach.  "UGH," I'll dry heave.  "Ugh!  Oh man, I had my mouth open that time.  Gross!"  And as Andy laughs harder, I change his diaper quickly, and we are off to enjoy another two hours of playing "Elmo takes a nap" with his Sesame Street play set.  See Andy?  Even Elmo likes to nap!  Good job, Elmo! I chalk this up to ju...

There are three other parents at Andy's preschool who have babies aside from their toddlers.  These are the three people that I've aligned myself with during drop off and pick off times.  We're the Sleepless Four (as I refer to ourselves silently) and today I learned that all of us are having our kids share a room.  I'm one of those people who need to know that other people are just like me in order to feel secure.  This goes back to my childhood, when I was the only girl in kindergarten who wore pants on the first day of school and felt so very alone.  If only my mother had put me in a damn dress.  Or if only, if only, one of those other girls had had the kind of mother who thought jeans, a stained t-shirt, and uncombed hair was an appropriate first day of school outfit for a budding young outcast.  Me and that mystery girl, we would have been best friends forever.  Or until we moved to Tinley.  Where, I might add, I also had to share a bedr...

Alex is thirteen weeks old!  If I were returning to work, my maternity leave would have ended last week, and I'd be there right now, staring at my computer and blinking back tears as I wondered if my baby was missing me. Returning to work after Andy was born was beyond heartwrenching, and I'd break into sobs whenever anybody asked me about him.  Granted, this time around, it would probably have been a little easier since I'd gone through it once before, but I know it still would have been rough, and I'm glad that I don't have to do it. Staying at home is not all smiles and giggles, either.  Not being at work means that I miss out on a lot of "me" time that I don't otherwise get.  Even a brutal commute can be a relaxing venture when you have coffee, Pandora, and a backseat that is empty of screaming children.  There's no leisurely bathroom breaks or lunch hours filled with joyously greasy fast food.  My lunch hour now is standing over the sink stu...

Yesterday, Alex pooped himself to the tenth degree.  I forgot about the kind of poops that ooze both down the legs and up the back.  I must have been visibly frazzled as I cleaned him up because Andy approached me, cocked his head, and asked, "You okay?" "I'm okay, Andy," I replied, smiling at his concern. Andy cocked his head further, furrowed his brow, and asked, "Poo poo?" "Yes, Andy, Alex made a lot of poo poo," I replied. Andy nodded in sympathy.  Here it was, yet another one of our conversations initiated by Andy and demonstrative of his understanding of the world around him. You okay? Poo poo? I get the feeling Andy will be repeating those two inquiries quite a bit in the coming months. **** Andy was the mayor of Target yesterday, walking alongside the cart and saying "Hello!" to every person we happened upon during our journey down the aisles.  "Hello!  Hi!  Hello!"  He waved at everyone, and it w...

I take the boys to the park at least two mornings per week.  There are two parks in my neighborhood, but there are never any kids at either one.  I can't take Andy to a park without children; then I get roped into actually having to interact him as opposed to just sitting on a bench with the baby, which is the vision I'd constructed for myself when I first dreamed up the life of Stay At Home Mom. The vision of Stay At Home Mom involved me doing lots of sitting, and I have to say I'm disappointed in the actual amount of sitting I get to do, because the numbers aren't exactly adding up in my favor.  So, if there are no kids around, I have to go down the slide, crawl through the tunnels, and assist in batting away all the bees.  I can tell you, I'm not interested in doing any of this.  Plus, I really am no fun, and Andy grows tired of me after a short time.  He squints off into the sun and asks forlornly, "Friends?" To solve this problem, I found two parks ...