Bathroom humor is not funny...

Fuss' fascination with the bathroom makes me suspect that he may be ready to start potty training. I am not sure why the interest in the toilet comes and goes every couple of months, but i am sad to announce that after a short absence of toilet bowl playing the interest is back. Just yesterday I was in my room and Fuss was playing in my closet when I had a feeling that I should to see what he was up to. I quickly turned around to see Fuss leaning over the toilet with the lid and seat lifted in one hand and his head and other hand well into the bowl. I screamed (and I do mean screamed) at him to get up. As he lifted his head I was overcome with relief that it was not wet--not even a drop! In my "I am upset" voice I asked him, "Just what do you think you are doing?!" His expression turned to one of intrigue as he lifted his hand out of the toilet with his wet binki in it and said, "Uh oh." Uh oh is right!! I have considered getting some of those safety locks for the toilet so that Fuss can't open it, but I am afraid that I will have some sort of emergency and not be able to open the toilet in time for myself. I mean, I do drink a lot of water and I no longer have a gallbladder (for those of you that don't have a gallbladder you know what I mean, and for those of you that still have yours be grateful and hope you never have to find out what I mean)...

Today, Fuss' potty playtime continued. However, he was more fascinated with flushing the toilet than actually putting things (like his head) inside of it. I would much rather he play with the flushing handle than any other part of the throne. The only problem is that the plunger is sitting in the corner behind the toilet (for easy emergency access) and the cleaning brush is hanging from the tank on the same side. These items seem to be too hard to resist for little hands, and I am frequently washing Fuss' hands after I pull them off the plunger. I keep thinking that I should just Lysol the plunger, but who Lysols their plunger so that their kid can play with it??

I did have one more bathroom episode this morning regarding my little man that is totally appropriate to share considering the topic of this post... I was sitting in my recliner, checking my email, totally minding my own business when Fuss ran up to me to be picked up to my lap, which of course I happily did. During the lifting process, my nose got a little too close to his bottom and I knew that he had created a mess for me to clean up. I told him, "You stink! We need to change your bum and get you a new diaper." I didn't know that my almost 18-month old was going to take me literally and take it upon himself to do the job. He climbed off the chair, and I really didn't think much about it because he rarely sits still for long anyway. The next thing I knew (and it is kind of a blur because of my franticness) I heard the sound of velcro diaper tabs being pulled from their secure spot on my sons abdomen. I turned around just in time to see the dirty diaper drop to the floor. In one swift movement I put my laptop down and was out of the chair and running toward the bathroom (at least it was on the tile) in a motion so fast I don't really remember the individual movements. As I was rushing to the bathroom, Fuss' little poop covered bum was running away from me. He giggled as if this were a really fun game for both of us. He stopped at the toilet, but by this point the toilet was truly pointless. I grabbed the wipes, cleaned him up, and told him that I don't know why he was running away. In this circumstance it wasn't like I was about to spank him by any means! 

I'm so popular...

I totally got tagged again. (Sorry Missy I know it was a couple of weeks ago, but I kinda got behind on my reading). Anyway, I am supposed to list 6 quirky things about myself....only six!

1. I am a little obsessive compulsive about a few things: Making sure that the doors are locked and tightly shut all the time. Making sure our alarm is set all the time. Checking on Fuss while he is sleeping. D giving me a kiss when he leaves in the morning, comes home at night, and before we go to bed. Laundry being put in the hamper when it is dirty. Washing hands constantly and consistently throughout the day--and making sure that the boys do too. Straightening the knick knacks and picture frames in my house. Just to name a couple...

2. When D and I have differing opinions and I really feel strongly about wanting mine to be the one we follow, I pout to get my own way. I know I sound like a 2 year old, but he knows that it is not real and still gives into me...can that really be called my fault? It works, and Fuss knows it so I am reaping the consequences of it. I still plan on using it though. 

3. Like Missy, If I am eating candy that has some sort of variety to the mix, I separate it by color or flavor. I then eat the random extras so that all the piles are the same size. Then I eat them one by one in a circle starting with my least favorite working my way up to my very favorite. If it is something like Skittles, I eat my favorite flavor (lemon) last, but if it is something like M&Ms, I eat my favorite color (green) last. I even do this with the little mini Hershey's bars. Plain Hersheys, Special Dark, Krackle, and then Mr. Goodbar. It is a sad reality, but you have to save the best for last.

4. I have to know what everyone else at the table is ordering in a restaurant before I can decide what I am getting. I especially have to know what D is getting, and I never get the same thing as him. If he wants what I want I either change my mind or talk him into something else, because that way we can share and try two different things. It is so bad that one time I ordered an entree that had mushrooms in it (which I love), and D turned to me and said, "You know I don't like mushrooms." 

5.  After I shower, I have to put my terry cloth robe on and I leave it on until I am done with my makeup and my hair is dry. I can't stand putting clothes on if I am even slightly damp. I have to be entirely dry...entirely! I have to put deodorant on as soon as I take my robe off, but before I put anything else on. 

6. I am a competitive person except about things that I should be competitive with. When I play games, whether it be card games, board games, or kickball, I prefer to lose instead of win. I mean, I do love winning, but if I lose it is not a big deal to me at all. I feel like there is way less pressure to do good or "hold on to the title" if you lose than if you win. When it comes to something intellectual though, or something that I think I should be really good at, which are usually things that you never know how you rank, I like to be the best. I actually get a bit of anxiety about it when I don't know how I rank. 

So, there you go...I am OCD, 2 years old, a save the best for last, more OCD, loser...and I am happy with no plans on changing. If D can live with my quirks then so can the rest of you!

Now, I tag Theresa, KD, Rebecca, Eskimo Bob, Julie, and Kimberli.

They're listening...

I know Fuss listens to me, because as I have mentioned he copies me and makes me all too aware of what I say and do. I also know that he is not the only child that does this to his parents. Children grow up way too fast and start to say things that make you have to take a double take to make sure it is still a toddler that you are talking to. 

For instance, in an attempt to teach Fuss what different objects in the world are, I often tell him things like, "That is a door. Can you shut the door?" to over emphasize what "the door" is. He is totally catching on, and let's face it he would have to be a pretty deaf little boy to not catch on to what I tell him over and over and over again. I love it when I get the chance to enjoy hearing his understanding. Like last week when he was playing in his room. I was in my room making the bed when I heard Fuss' bedroom door slam shut. 

Since shutting doors is the recent favorite activity in our house lately, I knew that Fuss was now trapped in his room. He can reach the doorknobs now, but he isn't quite tall enough to turn them. A few seconds later I heard Fuss yelling from his room...

"Moooooom"

"What, Fussy?"

"Da door!"

"Ok, I'm coming." When I got to his door, I decided to knock on it because Fuss also enjoys knocking on people's doors when we visit. 

He immediately responded with, "Is it?" I can totally understand this question considering he was trapped in his room and he wouldn't have known if someone else besides he and I were here. 

As I was telling this story to my I cousin who has two children, ages 4 and almost 2, we were discussing how fun it isn't that our children imitating us. During this conversation she was explaining that she was concerned that her 4 year old had recently began worrying about his weight declaring that he was "getting fat." As she expressed her concern to her husband, he expressed his thought that their son had gotten that habit from copying his mom. Shananigan immediately contradicted her husband with, "I don't say that I am getting fat! I say that I am already fat! There is a difference!" I agree with Shananigan, we mothers can't be held responsible for everything our children say, sometimes they must hear it somewhere else!

Happy helper...

Fuss is to that age where he wants to not only say everything I do, but he wants to do everything I do too. I have actually encouraged this behavior with compliments like, "What a bigger helper you are! You are such a good boy!" This is said in my high pitched mommy voice. He usually smiles his proudest smile and claps his hands in excitement. It really didn't take long for him to catch on to liking compliments. Now, he helps me in whatever I do. My suggestion for those parent's whose toddlers are not "big helpers" is don't worry about it. Be grateful that they don't have the desire to "help" you with every task you have throughout the day.

Yesterday, Fuss dropped his freshly poured sippy of Sunny-D on the tile floor of the kitchen.  At the moment that bright orange fluid was creating a small reservoir on my tile, I was wishing that I hadn't filled the cup so full. I thought that if I filled the cup to capacity, I would have a longer break from getting drinks than if I were to give him just a small cup or not filled the larger one. Either way, there was a huge mess that was getting bigger by the second. I immediately grabbed 2 dishcloths out of the drawer and began mopping it up. It was a 2 towel job! As I was doing this, Fuss grabbed himself 2 dishcloths out of the drawer and decided to help me mop. He threw them on the ground and stepped on them and dragged the cloths over the mess with his foot. Yes, I am lazy enough to mop up the drink with a towel and my foot, and I am teaching my son to be too. Then he used his hands to finish up the job until everything was nice and dry. Actually, I had dried the floor, he just made sure it was truly dry. Not a big deal that I now had to wash 4 dishcloths instead of just 2 more, until later last night. As I was cooking dinner I turned around to find Fuss kneeling on the floor wiping up messes with a dishcloth in each hand. There was also a pile of previously used towels that he had also used to "mop" my kitchen floor. So, now instead of only 4 dishcloths, I have a whole basket full to wash! At least I have a full load to do so they won't be sitting in the basket for too long!

Fuss also likes to "help" me pick up his books, toys, snacks, sippy cups, etc. He picks things up and throws them in the bathtub. Everything goes in the bathtub at our house. If ever there is something that I can't find where it belongs, I go to the tub (or the side of D's bed now that I know that one). 

The latest of Fuss' helping moments that I find oh so helpful came this morning. I was minding my own business and using the restroom. Fuss had been happily playing until he saw me on the pot. He came running towards me just as I was finishing up. I leaned down and grabbed my underwear from my ankles and pulled it up. Fuss immediately leaned over and grabbed the top of my sweats and started to yank them up. I took the waistband thinking he would let me finish the job, but he didn't let go until they were snugly sitting on my hips. I started laughing at this attempt to help me do everything, and I really do think that pulling up my pants for me completes the list of everything. Fuss looked up at me with his proudest grin and said, "Doo boy!" Then clapped his hands in satisfaction. How can I refuse help like that?

The sacrifice we make...

Here I sit at 20 minutes to 7 am typing in the dark. D and Fuss are sleeping in my room, and I am sure that the older boys are just waking up at their mom's house for school. I have been awake for the last 2 hours and 42 minutes. Why? Because as a mother, I am willing to sacrifice my sleep to be able to stay home and be the one that gets to raise my son. Due to circumstances beyond our control (child support payments), I don't have the choice to be a non-working mother unless I want D to work multiple jobs, which I don't. I am very blessed though to have been able to find a career that I enjoy that enables me to work from home. I am a medical transcriptionist, and although the starting pay isn't all that great, it is a sacrifice I am happily making to be with my baby. And the faster and better I get at it, the higher the pay will be. Luckily, I am a quick learner! My day now starts at 4:00 am, my work day that is. To start at 4:00 am requires me to wake up at 3:45 am, which requires that I go to bed by 9:00 pm--talk about sacrifice. I have to read the evening news the next morning on the internet. Then I have to tell D everything I read because he now goes to bed with me. I thought that this new arrangement would be so easy for D. Go to bed early, sleep until the normal time he wakes up (7:15 am), and then go through his normal day. So far, it hasn't worked out that way at all. 

This morning Fuss woke up at 4:45. I sat in my office wondering if D was going to hear him, or if Fuss would just fall back asleep. Neither of those things happened. So, I stopped working, poured Fuss a sippy full of milk, found a binki (knowing that the one he went to bed with could be anywhere in his room), and went to Fuss' room, picked him up, and took him in to D. All the while I was thinking that Fuss would lay down, cuddle up to his dad, and go back to sleep. Instead, he coughed so hard from the stupid cold he is getting that he threw up on my side of the bed, on the sheets that I just washed yesterday! He needed his diaper changed, and he wanted to play. He cried for his mommy a bit, which broke my heart as I sat in my office with the door closed, knowing that if he saw the light he would come to find me. The sacrifice that I gave up this morning was to cuddle my child when he wanted me. I could do it because I knew his dad was there, and that I would get to spend the rest of my day with him. Fuss was finally starting to go back to sleep when I hit a button on the computer that messed up what I was typing. After several attempts to fix it myself, I had to go get my computer genius husband to fix it for me. Of course, Fuss wasn't going to let daddy go to mommy's office without coming himself! After fixing my faux pas, D turned to me and said, "I may as well have woken up at 4:00 myself!" All I can say is, " Touche, my love! Touche! We all have to make sacrifices for me to work from home..."

My little copycat...

Everything I do is imitated by a 1 year old. I think that it is just the curse of being a parent, but it is almost like having a little parrot following behind you all day every day. For example, Fuss picked up one of his many baseball caps today and placed it on his head. I said, "You got your hat?" (I know, great English right!) He replied with a nod of his head and said, "Hat." Then he continued to repeat the word over and over and over and over until he found a new object to be obsessed with. It is so fun to have my baby talking and being able to understand more of what he is saying. He has been blabbering on like we know what he is talking about for months, so to actually be able to understand a few words is incredibly exciting. (I know again, my life is so mundane that this really is the most exciting thing in it!) 

Anyway, I started to notice more of his repeating what he sees and hears last week while he was in the bathtub. As I have mentioned before, Fuss is a climber. When I see him on a counter or table that he shouldn't be on, instead of scolding him so that he stops, I play a game with him which I am sure just encourages him to climb even more. I really need to think about things before I do them. Regardless, when I find Fuss on top of something he shouldn't be on, I stick my arms out in front of me and say, "1, 2, 3, Jump!" and he falls into my arms. So, the other day Fuss was sitting in the bathtub and I was standing by the counter watching him. He placed his rubber duck on the edge of the tub, then said (for the first time ever) "1, 2, 3, Jump!" at which time he pushed the duck from the edge of the tub into the water and shouted, "Yeah!" It honestly was one of the funniest things to see. And I am sure something that everyone reading this is thinking, "So what" about, but most of you are mothers, aunts, or big sisters so you can understand. The greatest part is that now I can tell everyone that my 1 year old can count to 3! Who cares if it is always followed by the word "jump?" Jump could be a number in some language somewhere, I guess...

The other newest trick of my little Fuss that I am sure he had to have learned by mimicking someone else, is whispering. I have no idea how or when he learned this, but he totally has the concept down! It was about 4 a.m. on Sunday morning. Fuss had been crying in his crib and refused to settle down and go back to sleep. So, I had picked him up and brought him in to lay with D and I in our bed. He had been there just a few minutes when he cuddled up to me and in his normal volumed voice said, "Mom." I immediately put my arms around him and said, "Shhh, Daddy is sleeping." To which he responded by whispering, "Mom." I was so caught off guard by his response that I started laughing, which only brought on another half hour of my name being whispered over and over again. 

The scary thing is that I am so seeing myself and my actions in him. Even when he throws a fit, he reminds me of me when I am angry...not a great thing to have to recognize. There is some good coming from his repetition of others though. When someone is crying, he immediately wants to hug them. When we pray he folds his arms and bows his head. When it is time for bed he has to hug and kiss everyone before he goes to sleep. When people are leaving he has to hug them and stand on the porch and wave (or on the couch and wave through the window on cold mornings when Daddy is leaving for work). And when we read stories that have touch and feel pages, he grabs my hand and makes me feel everything on each page just like I used to do to him before he got the concept. I am thinking that tomorrow I will see if he can copy me in taking out the trash. It really would be nice for that to be his job!

That's where they go...

My mom once read an article about how people perceive if your house is clean upon entering it. Then she told me about it...I am not sure how I should take that piece of friendly advice...Anyway, the list (as close as I can remember) goes something like this.

People perceive your home to be clean if the following items are followed: 

1. There is no mail piled on the counter. There is a very good reason that I pile all the mail in the office and then shut the door....just don't ask to see my office.

2. The beds are made. I pretty much make my bed every day during the week. The weekends not so much. However, the only reason my bed usually gets made is because as I go through the house looking for Fuss' binki, at some point I have to tear my bed apart to see if it is hiding in the mess of sheets and blankets. While I am doing this it just seems easier to make the bed since I am already pulling at the sheets anyway.

3. I think this one was something like if there are no dishes in the sink. Anyone who has come into my house knows that this is a rarity. Every time I get the sink completely dish free, either someone wants a drink, or I find a random dish in a room other that shouldn't have been there in the first place. 

4. I think this one was something like: The house smells fresh and clean. There is no disturbing odor. All I can say with 5 men/boys living in this house, THANK GOODNESS for Glade candles and Febreeze spray!

5. I really don't remember the last one either, but if I were to make it up it would be: There are not random items shoved in random places that don't even make sense. This stems from the fact that while cleaning my house on Saturday in an attempt to make it presentable for Skater's birthday party on Sunday, I came upon a pile of laundry shoved between the night stand and the hamper in mine and D's room. When I asked D why the pile of laundry was sitting next to the hamper his response was, "Those are things that I am going to use again." Really? So, the concept that he is presenting to me is that if we are going to use an item again then we should pile it in a small and conspicuous place in the house. When I brought to D's attention that we rarely use things in our home only once, and that if we followed this rule with everything, he would not be able to get in to bed because the floor on his side of the bed would be overrun with things we were going to use again...aka everything, he just shrugged his shoulders to let me know he didn't really follow my logic. 

All I can say is it is a good thing I am a stay at home mom instead of D being a stay at home dad...otherwise my home might never be clean!

Battle wounds...

I think that Fuss is at that point in his young life that he will always have some sort of bump or bruise. Yesterday he refused to walk on his foot and any time he would put any weight on it he would whimper and cry. Now, my child bumps and falls and scratches and all sorts of things all the time without crying. The only time he really cries is when he is really hurting. So, of course I was worried. I called Angel to see if she could come watch him limp around to see what her opinion was. I needed a second opinion on whether or not his unseen injury was doctor worthy. I had pushed and squeezed and poked his entire foot and leg. Instead of whimpering in pain when I hit the spot that was hurting him, he laughed the entire time. Unfortunately, Angel wasn't home, but suggested that I walk next door to her house to see if he would run around like he was in charge of the place like he does every time we go over there. As soon as her daughter opened the door, I tried to set Fuss on the floor. He cried and lifted his feet and refused to be put down. Angels daughter asked immediately if there was something wrong with his foot and if I was taking him to the doctor. If a 12 year old notices, then it is probably doctor worthy. Since I knew he wasn't faking it, because how would a 1-year-old know how to fake limp, I decided the doctor was the only choice. So, our monthly visit to the after hours Kids Care began. Fuss immediately began hobbling around the waiting room, the consultation desk, the exam room, the x-ray room, and then the exam room again. Following the x-rays the doctor told us that there was swelling around his ankle and that he had a sprained ankle. Great! How does a 1-year-old sprain his ankle? I have no idea! How does a mom not know that her 1-year-old has sprained his ankle? For the rest of the night and all day today, Fuss has hobbled around walking only on the toes of his right foot with the tiniest Ace bandage I have ever seen wrapped around his little foot. He whimpers when he slides down the bed and lands on it, but other than that it hasn't slowed him down one bit! 

Tonight, D and I went out to dinner. When we returned to D's parents' house to pick up Fuss, he was crying. He had fallen off one of the kitchen chairs and hit his head, but no one knew where. As apologies were flying towards me and Fuss, I had to point out the big bruise in the middle of his forehead from falling Halloween morning, the red mark next to it from hitting his head on the corner of my laptop screen today, the purple toe nail from dropping a can of hairspray on it last week, his purple fingernail from slamming his finger in a drawer last month, the scratch on his chin from falling on our neighbors porch Halloween night, the scratch down his arm from me picking him up with a broken fingernail that I was unaware of, the 2 scabs on the other elbow from mosquito bites, the red mark on his cheek that I think maybe a zit, but I don't know, and the sprained ankle...all of which happened while he was in my care. I can't really be judgmental about a fall from a chair. One thing is for sure...Fuss inherited my lack of coordination!