Last night I finally got up the nerve to tackle my children’s closet. Now, this closet, unlike all of the other reasonably navigable storage spaces in my home, is basically a dumping ground for children’s toys and outgrown clothes that I do not feel like dealing with in the present moment. When I toss things in there, it is usually in a fairly organized manner. The trouble begins when my children decide they want something out, know I’m going to say no, and decide to break into the locked closet using only a Q-tip and their mad MacGyver skills. (I promise you, there is no hyperbole in the aforementioned statement.)
Every time they break in, it is inevitable that the object they want will be located on the top shelf. This means that in order to climb the shelves, it will be necessary for them to knock everything in their way onto the ground. Even after the pile has grown to where I cannot open the closet door, they will continue to climb in, hovering precariously over a heap of stuffed animals and legos as they balance a child-sized horse on top of the train table and do circus clown tricks trying to maneuver a forbidden Risk game off of the top shelf. (Once again- not a speck of hyperbole. I birthed crazy people.)
I enlisted the help of the entire family to get the room sorted. Chris reassembled the train table, I threw toys in the trash and donation box, and Jonas sorted the things I was allowing him to keep. Maggie just flitted from project to project, occasionally making herself useful throwing something away. The closet emptied in layers. The top held dress up clothes and small boxes. The next layer were the bags and bags of outgrown clothes. Finally, toward the bottom I found stuffed animals and all of the little pieces of games, puzzles, old action figure paraphernalia that collect in corners and multiple like rabbits. I also found mouse poop. A lot of mouse poop.
Several months ago I had found just a few tiny droppings in the closet. They were dried and old, and there was absolutely no sign of a rodent anywhere. There is also no other place in our house where I have ever seen even the tiniest sign of a mouse. Ants and spiders by the boatload, yes, but never a rodent. I put the thought out of my mind. Apparently, I shouldn’t have.
As I removed the toys from the floor I began to wonder just how likely it was that there was a live mouse in the closet with me. I began to expect to see something. When I found a pile of stuffed animals in the corner covered in stuffed animal batting and fluff, I realized I had found a nest. I gingerly picked up one animal after another, shaking them each ever so slightly, and then tossed them into the trash. After about three of these, I found it. It was a soft, cuddly stuffed lamb with a huge hole in it. As I moved the lamb, a tiny brown thing streaked to the other side of the closet and then back again. I jumped about three feet in the air, doing a spastic dance trying all at once to keep tabs on the mouse and keep my feet off of the floor. As I was engaged in my panic maneuvers I began to yell out loud to myself, “WHAT AM I DOING? I AM NOT AFRAID OF MICE!”
Chris, who had watched this bizarre choreography commented, “Are you sure? You’re jumping around a lot.”
He was getting a kick out of this. I ran to the kitchen to get a container to capture the mouse. When I returned, I headed into the closet wanting to shut the door and trap the mouse inside, but the light was burned out so I had Chris replace the bulb. Ok, I’m pretty sure I shouted, “IT’S DARK! I NEED LIGHT! I’M NOT SHUTTING MYSELF IN THERE IN THE DARK! Once there was light, I trapped myself in the closet with the mouse, and then ran out again yelling, “I’M NOT DOING THIS WITHOUT SHOES! I NEED SHOES!” Chris just shook his head.
I put on my shoes, grabbed my tupperware mouse catcher and shut myself in the closet. The mouse did laps around the bookshelf, hurdles over the handful of stray toys and shot from one side of the closet to the other, at one point brushing right up against my arm because I was that close. As soon as I figured out his pattern, I crouched, ready to spring and nab him. I knew he had only to finish this lap around the bookshelf and then he would run almost directly into my trap. I hovered, I sprang, and the mouse ran pell mell under the closet door, through the kid’s room and into my scrapbooking room where he may or may not have exited out the garage.
Because I wasn’t sure where the mouse ended up, the entire scraproom got cleaned. If the mouse is still in here- he is under the washer and dryer, and survived the unceremonious poking around of the broomstick. At any rate, I brought in the cat and instructed her that it was now time to earn her keep. She’s dozing on the computer desk, oblivious to all, as I type. I, on the other hand, am hyper aware of the floor and every spot or toy in my peripheral vision is highly suspect. The closet has been sanitized, my hands have been washed multiple times. Hantavirus fantasies abound, and the children were given a big lecture about sneaking food into their room complete with the great visual of the destroyed lamb being used as a threat against their much loved stuffed animals. The closet is being kept open, and I go in every few hours to shake the shelf where the mouse was hiding, just in case.
Posted by Lou on March 19, 2008 @ 10:05 am | 17 Comments
I have never been germaphobic. I will share forks with my children. I won’t do the hover thing over a public toilet unless there is something visibly nasty on the seat. My house is usually fairly clean, but I certainly wouldn’t advise doing anything rash like eating off of the bathroom floor or licking the windowsills. I wash my hands when the occasion calls for it, but I keep hand sanitizer in my purse primarily to entertain my kids during church services (They have clean hands and pure hearts). I believe that the general level of germiness surrounding me will probably help my children to grow up good and healthy since their immune system will have so many opportunities to experience things like cat hair and sneezed on toys. Or at least I did, before Thursday night.
I attended a little lecture on cleanliness, fully expecting the usual “wash your fruits and vegetables, wash your hands, avoid sick people” shtick that is the basis of good hygiene. It was so, so much more. I shall hit the highlights.
I arrived a few minutes late (funny how in the simple trip from the dinner table to the car I can get so distracted that I forget I’m actually leaving the house) and sat down just in time to hear about how disgusting movie theaters are, which I agreed with. After all, sticky floors are kind of icky. People, sticky floors are the least of your worries. Studies of average theaters have found that the theater seats have everything from mucous to hepatitis to vaginal secretions on them. Did you just say ew? Yeah, me too. So, always wear long pants and sleeves to the theater. You never know whose juices you might be sitting in.
Hand washing is the single most beneficial thing a person can do to keep from getting sick or passing on germs. What do I find totally irritating to do? WASH MY HANDS. Oh, I do it, I’m not gross, but I hate having wet hands. I hate the way most soaps make my hands smell, and I hate the time it takes to do it right. I have no idea why I loathe doing this so much. I had a friend once suggest that hand washing was just a moment of me time to focus on giving myself a little hand massage and a quiet moment. When I get the chance, I do try to do this, however, my children have figured out that if Mommy is in the loo the house is theirs for the taking, so I admit that I really rush through this step, and when you rush you don’t do yourself a lot of good. You should be able to sing Happy Birthday TWICE in the time it takes you to properly scrub up.
Another bathroom tip: Always put the lid down to flush because water droplets can splash as far as twenty feet away. Upon hearing this I thought, “Boy am I glad I keep my toothbrush in a drawer!” However, the next thing we covered was toothbrushes and how they really need to air dry and not be stuffed away or they will grow gunk. So you can have fecal flecked toothbrushes or oldie moldy toothbrushes. You cannot win. And now I know why Listerine is so popular.
The one thing that I kept hearing, through all of the talk on cleaning bathrooms and kitchens was that bleach kills all. I know a lot of people don’t like to clean with bleach, and to be sure, there were many other cleaning supply recommendations, but really, when it comes right down to it- you just can’t beat bleach. I went through an odd clean freak phase when I was expecting Jonas and I scrubbed my kitchen daily with straight bleach. I scrubbed my house until my hands cracked and bled, but I was not sick once during those nine months. Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?
I have now gone on a cleaning spree, disinfecting everything in the house, running the dishwasher and washing machine on empty loads with bleach, scrubbing counter tops, and planning full on attacks on my refrigerator in the near future. Everything must be cleansed.
So talk to me, are you germaphobic? What skeeves you out and gives you the germ willies? Do you have a favorite clenaing product or routine?
Posted by Lou on October 16, 2007 @ 4:17 pm | 10 Comments
This morning Jonas kicked me off the potty because he had to go poop NOW. He sat down, sighed in relief and then grimaced and said, “Ow! I hurt my butt on the poop!”
I know my darling boy expected some sympathy, after all, constipation really does hurt, but he’ll have to find it elsewhere since I was too busy laughing out loud at him. Seriously. It’s moments like these that make me cherish the role of mother.
Posted by Lou on February 1, 2007 @ 8:49 am | 9 Comments
I did something yesterday I swore I would never do, and I’m afraid this will significantly up my crunchiness level. I spent all day shopping online for cloth diapers.
Gasp! I know! Cloth! Stone age! Poo everywhere! Mass hysteria and extra laundry!
Now that is out of our systems, I’m going to tell you why, and I’m not even going mention the ecological benefits, because, let’s face it, I’m just as selfish as the majority of the rest of the world, and if it isn’t making my life better right now, I’m unlikely to go green. Pathetic, yes. Honest, yes. Moving on.
My children have really, really scary diaper rash. Jonas, thank heaven, is now potty trained, but Maggie has at least a year to go before we ditch the diapers. Due to her extremely sensitive skin, she has had more than her fair share of diaper rashes. Hers tend to go from nothing to red, raised, bumpy and bleeding in one change. Eczema forms where the edges rub on her thighs. It’s not pretty, and it is clearly very painful, and I can fight a rash for over a month before it subsides, only to return the following week. The medical profession has been useless. Currently, we are entering her fifth week of a rash. She has been gooped with fifteen kinds of goo and allowed to run around naked for days on end. Nothing is working.
So yesterday morning when I went to take off her night time diaper and she arched her back and clenched her cheeks and screamed bloody murder when I tried to clean her up, I saw the blood on the wipe, and her purple, tear-streaked face, and it put me over the edge. This simply cannot go on.
I had seriously considered going cloth before I had Maggie. The only thing that stopped me was a sense of being so hugely overwhelmed with everything else going on that the idea of an extra load of laundry and two in diapers made me stop short. Part of me wonders if I made a mistake there, but the logical part of me says, it simply wasn’t my time. Aside from being economically a better choice, cloth diapered babies rarely get diaper rash. Why this is I’m not entirely certain; I’m sure it has to do with chemicals and breathability. I’ve reached the point where I will try anything to make Maggie feel better. (Have I mentioned that she has head to toe eczema and we are waiting for allergy testing results to determine what she can and can’t eat? Trust me, she’s suffered enough lately.) Because I really had no idea what I was doing I e-mailed Jessica over at Very Mom, who runs a Very Baby, a Very Cool diaper supply shop, and knows lots of interesting diaper factoids, and, most importantly could tell me what I needed to get started, the best places to shop, and help me not get blindsided by really awesome and funky, but ultimately unnecessary distractions.
Cloth diapering has come a long way since I was a baby. Instead of a soggy, leaky, stained rag, we now have some incredibly cute and highly functional (read: no leaks and no jabbing the baby with pins) cloth options available. I am told they are easy to use and very absorbent, and not difficult to care for. I should have a big box of basic stuff, and a small box with two custom made diapers arriving at my house very soon, so I’ll let you know!
Posted by Lou on March 29, 2006 @ 8:06 pm | 21 Comments
I have reached parenting nirvana. Jonas is, for the most part, finished potty learning. It was a long, frustrating road and many times I thought I was going to be changing his poopy diapers well into grade school. For a child who started out so resistant to the idea, the end actually came about quite easily. Potty learning, for Jonas, all relied on one simple principle: Everyone has a price, and once you learn it, they can be bought. Yes, Internet, I bribed him. And it worked.
About two months ago we were locked in a power struggle over poop. I wanted it in the porcelain bowl, he wanted it in his diaper. He refused to even admit that he was having a bowel movement, even when he was obviously straining and making what we call, “The Poop Face”. Each time I would catch him making The Poop Face, I’d haul his butt to the toilet and make him finish there, explaining that poop goes in the toilet. Each time, he would kick and yell and be quite unpleasant about the whole business.
One day we went to the mall where Jonas saw the Disney Store. He wanted everything and I said no in the interest of financial preservation. Upon arriving home and fighting the potty battle, I realized that I had gained a bargaining chip. I told Jonas very clearly and many times that if he pooped in the potty we would run to the Disney Store and he could pick out a toy. After about two days of this he was standing in the dining room when he suddenly yelled, “Pooooot!” and ran for the toilet, where he did, indeed, deposit poot. I immediately threw the kids in the car and went to the store where Jonas got a toy and some new big boy Incredibles underwear.
It was a breakthrough. I knew he was capable of getting himself to the potty, and that he understood a bribe. Within a few weeks I was finished dealing with poop. He reached the point where it felt gross to him to go in his diaper, and now tells his baby sister, “Don’t poot!” every time I change her diaper.
Peeing proved to be a bigger challenge. That, it seemed, could happen anywhere and he just didn’t care. We kept putting him on the toilet and he would usually go, but there was never any drive to get himself there. We were finding puddles everywhere. Once he even peed on Chris while riding on his shoulders. Finally, I had the good sense to revert back to bribery.
Jonas has gotten into the Rescue Heroes phase after being given a few action figures for his birthday, so one day I told him that if he stayed dry all day we would go to the store and he could get a new Rescue Hero. I made sure that I helped him with this goal by taking him to the bathroom a lot. I wanted him to do it in the first try so he knew he could. That night at eight o’clock, right before bed, we ran over to the BX and bought a new guy. Jonas was elated. The next day he stayed dry again and asked to go to the store for a new Rescue Hero. I made him a deal that if he stayed dry three days he could get another one. He met the challenge, and in those three days went from me forcing him onto the potty to him whipping off his diaper and peeing there on his own. We are having very, very few accidents and Jonas is quite proud of himself.
I’m quite proud of him too. When you think about it, it is rather remarkable that we go from being totally unable to control our bowels to being able to control them in our sleep. Learning the different sensations and gaining the ability to ‘hold it’ is a pretty neat thing.
Posted by Lou on July 20, 2005 @ 3:40 pm | 17 Comments
This really funny thing happened to me when I was expecting Maggie. I was about six months along, sitting in my closet folding some clothing when I sneezed and simultaneously wet my pants. It was only a little bit, but still, I just knelt there in shock thinking, “did I really just do that? Did that just happen?” After changing my pants I figured it was just a random thing, perhaps from the extreme strain on my bladder from kneeling down. That theory lasted about two hours until I did it again. I learned very quickly to cross my legs and hold it with all my might every time I felt a sneeze coming. In my hopeful naivete I assumed that this was just another weird but temporary byproduct of pregnancy.
Maggie is almost six months old, and while I can usually hold it when I sneeze or laugh, (ha-ha-ha-squirt!), I do have to exercise a great deal of caution when my bladder is on the full side. My friends with multiple children tell me this is quite common after you’ve had a few kids. They recommend Kegels, which I do, but it doesn’t seem to be helping very much. I am a little concerned that I would pee every time I sneeze if I had a third child. I imagine that a fourth would cause total incontinence, and I’d be doomed to adult diapers before my kids were potty trained. Not an appealing thought. Usually the goal is to not have more than one in diapers at a time right? I think I’d include myself in that count.
I think there is a reason why you only see beautiful women of a certain age advertising adult diapers. It’s because you are not supposed to have that problem unless you are old. It’s like osteoporosis or arthritis; it happens to young people- but it’s not supposed to, and when it does, they hush it all up. It’s an old lady illness, a sign of age. I’m a month older than Britney Spears. I should have rock hard abs and designer boobs, not adult diapers.
Posted by Lou on June 11, 2005 @ 4:17 am | 4 Comments
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