The kids graduated to glass drinking cups years ago, I don’t know why I didn’t think of the environmentally-friendly move to glass for food storage too. Oh yes I do, they may be environmentally-friendly, but they are not kid friendly. The kids (and clumsy adults like me) can drop them on the floor and they do not shatter.
My obsession with plastic (not credit cards) may have started when a friend told me how dangerous it was to reuse my standard plastic water bottles so many times. We wash and refill each one several times with filtered tap water.
That concern prompted us to discuss the shelf life of plastic food storage containers.
Those handy containers and their lids hard to keep up with. We do a lot of freezer meals and we also pack lunches, so you can just imagine how many we have. I think some of them may actually belong to my mother in law. Sorry.
When the daughter washes dishes she continually complains about having to match up those containers with the correct lids so that we can quickly grab one complete set when needed.
I’m fairly certain my house smells like poop. It’s not entirely my fault. I flush the toilet after each use, and I generally avoid gassy foods.
I blame the odor on the large volume of human waste produced within the four walls of my humble home. The stench seems to peak in the late morning. It usually begins in the upstairs bedrooms with my two sons. My 3-year-old son wears a diaper during naps and overnight. This is also the time he generally loosens his bowels.
The result is a pungent odor that fills the room while he sleeps. By the time the morning comes, the bouquet is strong enough to gag a maggot.
His 20-month-old brother goes No. 2 whenever he feels like it. Though, he too generally prefers the morning hours. He’s been eating solid foods for a while now, meaning his diapers carry the same stench as anything you or I would produce.
I admit to contributing to the problem. I generally sneak into the bathroom shortly after feeding the boys breakfast. I run the exhaust fan and try to keep my time brief. But it doesn’t seem to help much.
The result of these multiple B.M.s is that by 10:30 a.m. my house smells like a dog kennel on a humid day. I generally don’t entertain guests at that time of the morning. I can only imagine what someone would think walking into our house around mid-morning. I wouldn’t be surprised if they pulled their shirt collar over their nose to keep from heaving.
I’m fairly certain the smell dissipates by the early afternoon. However, I’m always nervous that the odor actually lingers. Am I just too accustomed to the stink to be able to detect it? Are visitors just being nice by not telling me my house reeks?
To quell my nerves, I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on scented candles, sprays and plug-in devices that promise to alleviate odors. As I write this blog post, I wonder if I’m suffering from a mental disorder or if other parents have similar fears.
So I’m asking, am I the only parent worried that their house smells like an outhouse?
It’s not often that I have a moment of genius. Last week, I had an idea that was both simple and brilliant. Here’s the situation:
Problem - My 3-year-old son is rarely interested in food these days. He largely exists on yogurt and waffles. Getting him to eat anything else is a struggle.
Observation - Bubba is much more interested in other things that commonly appeal to little boys. Star Wars, baseball and dinosaurs top the list. He’s also prefers the color blue. Hence, blue Lightsabers, blue baseball bats and blue T-Rex figurines are his favorite things in the world.
Solution - I made BLUE PANCAKES for dinner last week! Bubba scarfed them up like a starving lumberjack.
Had the blue food coloring not been enough of a gimmick, I was also prepared to use some dinosaur-shaped cookie cutters to make Jurassic pancakes. However blue pancakes did the trick all by themselves.
I think there’s something about the color blue and kids of Bubba’s age. Earlier this month, we went to another 3-year-old’s birthday party. She had a blue cake.
Her mother asked her what sort of cake she wanted, the little girl simply replied, “blue.” When pressed for a flavor, topping or type of icing, she simply repeated, “blue.”
It’s funny. Kids can be so difficult to please sometimes. Other times, all it takes is a couple drops of food coloring and they are happy as hounds.
Although it has been almost two weeks since I heard it, I can’t help but dwell on my 15-year-old nephew’s comment about how he has his cell phone set to turn off at 1 a.m. and turn on at 10 a.m.
I asked him why he chose those times and he replied that is what time he went to bed and woke up each day.
“Is that something to boast about?,” I asked him. He could not come up with a reply to the question and then changed the subject.
It reminded me of the importance of keeping some kind of structure, routine or schedule even during the summer months.
Kind of like training a puppy, the more you can stick to the schedule, the more successful your training efforts will be.
The schedule of 1 a.m. to 10 a.m. certainly gives him enough time to sleep, but isn’t doing much to get him ready for a successful school year.
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I had the house to myself for a few hours this week. The Wife was at work, and I sent my two sons to a babysitter’s place for three hours of respite. I returned to a silent house. It was wonderful!
I’ve spoken to a few stay-at-home moms about this, and we seem to be in agreement. Our theory: few things better than a quiet, empty house.
I’m sure if I lived alone, I’d feel differently. While silence can be comforting to some, it can be maddening to others. The sound of an empty house can be a very lonely.
But in small doses, a silent house is amazing. My house is rarely silent. Even when everyone is sleeping, the static hum of baby monitors pollutes the air. I live with a chatty 3-year-old boy and a babbling 19-month-old tot. Even when they are not talking, they are playing with noisy toys or watching television shows full of pop, bam, boom sound-effects.
I love the sounds of my kids’ voices, and I love to hear them play. But boys don’t come with a mute button. Sometimes, I just want to be alone, surrounded by quiet. That might sound selfish. In fact, I feel a bit guilty for even admitting it. But, I can’t help it. It’s true.
One of my neighbors actually had the audacity to make this request on Mother’s Day. She didn’t want some fancy brunch or a new robe. Instead, she asked her husband to take their two children and leave for the day. She wanted nothing more than to sit in her house alone… in silence.
This is not what most people think of when considering a Mother’s Day itinerary. However, that’s exactly what this woman wanted. She wanted a break from all the mothering.
As I settled into my empty house, I could actually feel my pulse slow down. I read the paper without being interrupted by a question like, “Daddy, do you know Darth Maul?” I ate my lunch without having to share a bite with my bird-boys who sit with their mouths open until they are given a taste. I even laid down and closed my eyes without keeping one ear open for the sound of someone crying into a baby monitor.
I’m sure someday, I’ll miss all small noises, loud cries and silly questions. I’ll be an old man. Sitting in an empty house. Surrounded by silence and trying to remember what it was like to have a house so full of activity.
When the press release first showed up in my e-mail inbox, it caught my attention with the words “essay competition.”
The kids needed a goal like this to work on this summer, so I kept reading to check into this contest and the next headline said “Students offered chance to ride in a Blue Angel (the U.S. Navy’s historic aircraft), board an aircraft carrier or step inside a nuclear submarine.”
Wow. I can only imagine how thrilled our 11-year-old would be with any one of those opportunities.
The writers of this clever press release kept saying students, so my attention stayed on the fact that this would be a possibility for our kids.
I was wrong.
Right there near the end of the press release, I learn the “students” must be 18 years old or older.
Sure glad I had not explained the contest to the kids.
Our “students” aren’t old enough to participate, but perhaps yours are.
Even adult professionals in the area of engineering who are also members of the Society of Hispanic Professional Engineers may participate.
It gets worse (I mean better).
Since that initial notification of this contest, another release came a few days later that added more to the competition — the chance to sky-dive with the Army’s Golden Knights. Wow.
These would all be great opportunities.
Click here to find out more.
Within the past six months, my wife and I — along with my relatives — have talked about how it was time for my daughter, Zion, to become potty-trained.
And we’ve had our reasons.
She is now 2 1/2, and is as smart as a whip. Zion will soon be in preschool, where she could be expected to use the potty. And of course, we hate paying for extra diapers (our 1 1/2-year-old son, Jayden, is still in diapers, too).
Several months ago, Zion started growing weary of diapers herself as we’d catch her trying to pull them off. Yet, she wasn’t eager to use a cute, little potty that my mother bought for her last year. Even though, a recorded voice within the tiny make-believe toilet shouts, “It’s toilet paper time!” and sings songs about how cool it is to use the bathroom.
After major encouragement, Zion began using that pot and started wearing Pampers Easy Ups potty-training pants. Ya know, the ones that feel like diapers, but resemble grown-up underwear to kids?
Thank God, those training pants had “Dora the Explorer” designs on them, or she wouldn’t have wanted to give them a try. But since Zion graduated to cloth “Dora” training pants, the frustration began. Not for her, for me.
Weeks ago, Zion started “going” at times and in places that we wouldn’t expect. Even though we told her to tell us when she had to “go” so her clothes could stay dry.
Fortunately, my big girl has passed that stage. But now, I’m trying to get used to Zion saying she has to “go” about every 10 minutes. I often have to stop doing homework, or find energy after a hard day’s work to constantly take her to the bathroom.
Then, I have to make sure Zion is not playing in the bathroom. We’ve caught her putting loads of tissue in the toilet. She often wants to go even when she hasn’t drank anything. (We often can’t tell if Zion is crying wolf or if it’s the real thing. Either way, we don’t want to take a chance.)
And already, Zion has to have her privacy.
“Go away. Let me do it,” she says with a chuckle.
Or if she’s having a difficult time, Zion says, “It’s not working.”
I crack up each time I hear both of those quips.
I’m proud that Zion is now excited about potty-training and getting the hang of it. But I’m not looking forward to going through this with Jayden. Is it really true that boys have an even more difficult time with potty-training?
I received an iPhone for Father’s Day. My flip phone was dying. Towards the end, I could only communicate via speakerphone. So on June 21st, I upgraded to the iPhone.
I didn’t get the fancy, new iPhone that plays and records video. That’s OK, I don’t need those features anyhow. Instead, I got the original iPhone, which went on sale for $99 once the iPhone 3G S debuted. I also had to switch carriers and sign a two-year contract with AT&T. I wasn’t thrilled about this. But if you want an iPhone, AT&T is your only option.
The Wife ordered the new phone and changed our service plan online. The iPhone arrived in the mail on a Thursday. For three days, I don’t think I put down the touch-screen phone. I’m fairly certain we ate take-out food during this stretch, as I was too consumed with the new gizmos on the iPhone to cook dinner.
After setting up my email accounts, uploading my music and photos and arranging my phone numbers and other contact info, I turned to the iPhone’s App Store.
Short for applications, these “Apps” enable your iPhone to do all sorts of useful (and sometimes useless) things. You may have seen some of these Apps advertised on television. There’s the App that calculates an appropriate restaurant tip and an App that can identify the name of a song and artist by simply holding the receiver up to a speaker.
One of the first Apps I downloaded turns your iPhone into a Lightsaber… sort of. The free App places an image of the Star Wars weapon on your phone (pictured here). As you move your phone from side to side, it makes the signature Lightsaber sound effect - wooovvv, wooovvvv.
Move it abruptly and you hear the crash of a Lightsaber striking another object. You can change the color of the Lightsaber and even accompany your Jedi movements with Star Wars music. It’s the sort of nerdy/cool thing I really enjoy.
My 3-year-old son also loves the Lightsaber App. In fact, he loves it so much it has become a reward for good behavior. The reward is most often given when he uses the potty. After successfully using the facilities, he’s allowed to play with the iPhone’s Lightsaber App for a few minutes.
The motivation has been so strong, Bubba has even gone No. 2 on the potty a few times. My son is quite adept at No. 1, but the other aspect of potty training has proven more difficult. Thankfully, the Lightsaber App has been providing a little extra motivation lately. The Force is strong in my family.
With a lot of time on the road taking our children to and from resident camp and visiting relatives, we eventually end up with some pretty restless kids in the back seat.
To get their minds off of complaining about just about everything, we came up with a game that doesn’t require anything but some brain power.
Some of the conversation starters for our “what if” and “if you were” game that we came up with are as follows:
• What if (you fill in the blank) book had ended differently.
• If you could have all the money you wanted allocated to one charity, which one would you choose and why?
• If you could go to any foreign country today and for the next week, which one would you go to (and why)?
• If you could go on stage with any rock star, band, or other musical performer, which one would you select and what instrument (or vocals) would you choose? Which song would you perform?
• What if you could open your own museum. What would be in the exhibits? (No, it doesn’t have to be limited to collections you already have at home, but it can be.)
• What if high speed rail went to this location we are driving toward, how fast would we be there?
• What if you could design your own environmentally-friendly home (and receive full funding). What would be some of the home’s features?
• What if (you fill in the blank) movie had ended differently. You pick the movie.
• What if the members of the family take turns contributing to telling a story where the main character is a vegetable (of your choice) and the main mode of transportation is a motorcycle. You choose the location, time period, destination and goal of this vegetable. This is great one if you left the Mad Libs booklet behind.
There’s a Mexican restaurant not far from our house. The Wife and I have eaten there before. The food is very average, but some friends of ours seem to enjoy it. Don’t ask me why.
Nevertheless, we both felt like an evening out on Friday. We called a couple of neighbors who turned out to be busy. Then, we called our friends with an affinity for sub-par Mexican food. Only the wife was home with their 2-year-old son. The husband had taken their 3 1/2-year-old daughter to a birthday party.
We agreed to meet the pair at the mediocre Mexican restaurant. The Wife and I brought our 3-year-old son and 18-month-old son. We were seated at a table for three adults and three kids - two in high chairs and one in a booster.
I soon learned that though The Wife and I wanted to get out of the house, our sons would have preferred staying at home and eating hot dogs. It was one display of misbehavior after another. Our oldest son, Bubba, began the meal by taking one bite of a tortilla chip and smashing the remaining chip into pieces.
Our youngest son, Peter, decided he didn’t want his quesadilla. He showed us he wasn’t hungry by taking four chews of the cheese-filled tortilla and throwing the gnawed remains on the table. Then, Bubba decided to take the crayons provided by the restaurant’s hostess and color the gloss white wall behind his chair. I took the crayon away, and Peter decided to stick it up his nose.
Meanwhile, our friend’s son spilled most of the salsa on his place mat. His mother removed the soaked mat and then he used the tablecloth as a coloring book.
Bubba also had to be rushed to the bathroom twice - though the second time turned out to be a false alarm.
The misbehavior was momentous. And, the food was average as I had expected. What I did not expect was a bill for $70.17! With tip, it turned out to be an $80 meal. Good grief! Now I remember why we never go out to eat.
