'Tis the Season

to be crazy...



So it's been awhile. Not sure what I've been doing that has kept me away, but I'm back. Whew. Going through my stack of stories, and there are some good ones, and deciding what to share. Gym pooping and social ostracism or bungee cord door?

Let's go with the cord. It's the most recent.

So, Dec figured out how to get out of his crib awhile ago. And I was very proud of my fabulous mothering when he did what I asked him immediately and cut that shit off. But you know what I say about pride. It'll always come back on you.

And last week it did. Wednesday, Declan didn't nap. He got out of bed every time he got the chance and came down to meet me in the living room. I figured it was a fluke.

Thursday, I heard a rustling in the monitor, turned, opened my eyes slightly and found a big, round face. "Mama". He didn't bother to call for me, probably because coming directly to the source is much easier. Nap time came and went and no nap occurred. Then bedtime which only took a few upstairs trips, and then he was out.

Now, it's important to note that Declan is a rock star sleeper. After a rough start, he is like clockwork. But I've learned that I took a lot for granted. Because at 11:30 on Thursday, 30 minutes before Rich gets home from Philadelphia, I heard a rustling and a wide awake Declan came down to meet me.

To tell the truth, I was actually a little excited. Rich travels every week and never gets to see Declan when he comes home. This would be a special treat. So I brought D into our room and lay him in our bed. I figured if he wanted to be with me so badly that he was refusing his own room, maybe he could take a little nap and Rich could come home to a little surprise.

12:30 came and went, no Rich. And no sleep for Declan who decided he wanted to roll around, yell doggie, touch my nose, and giggle at nothing. So let's get this straight: Declan can escape his room (and don't even mention the door handle thingies, Declan promptly takes those bitches apart and throws them on the floor), and comes down the stairs at every chance he gets, but will not go to sleep next to mommy.

So...how is he going to sleep, ever! I called Rich to ask where he was and it turns out that he was having his own problems. On the coldest night of the year, -6, Rich not only had a dead battery in the airport parking lot, but on his way home, got a flat tire on 435. And when he got home at 2:30am it was to Declan and I on the couch. D not quite asleep, but getting there.

So, being the trooper he is, he scooped Declan up and put him in his bed; only to be met with rustling a few minutes later when D ditched the bed and went down where the action was.

So at this point, D has lost seven hours of sleep. This kid is a mess. He did the silent cry because he wanted a goldfish and didn't get it. The silent cry.

It was a long weekend.

Friday afternoon, Declan did nap for about an hour. We transformed the bed and put on the toddler rails thinking that if he escaped he'd at least be able to get back in. And we put a gate on the door.

At nap time, Dec immediately got out of his bed and opened the door. And, seeing the gate, screamed. For an hour. Then passed out in place on the floor in front of the gate.

There's a special kind of sadness when you see your exhausted, stubborn kiddo like this. And I decided an hour into his much needed nap to put him back in bed. But he woke up. And didn't go back to sleep.

Onto Friday night. A new solution: bungee cord. If he can't open the door, he can't see the now-obsolete gate. It worked. He didn't escape the room. But at 11:30, when Rich and I were brave enough to take a look, we found him and yaya (his blankie) passed out in front of his bookshelf. Again, no bed. This time when we put him in bed, he fell asleep, which was great. But come 4:00am, we heard him but could no longer see him in his bed. He had chosen instead to sleep in his chair. Sitting up. PTFO.

The next two nights were spent moving sleeping Declan from his chair, where he had meticulously moved all of his stuffed animals to keep him company, back to his bed. And eventually he got it. Although Rich did find him sleeping on his window seat in the morning and today when I put him down for a nap, he was up and at 'em again, exploring that newly free room. But right now, as I type, he is sleeping in his toddler bed, stuffed animals in tow.

I need a nap.

Gone, Daddy, Gone

So we've been going through a big adjustment in the Corcoran household. Rich got a new job, which we are all very excited about, but which comes with one big caveat: travel. Every week. Always.

Now we've been dealing with the travel aspect on and off since Rich got into consulting, so it was with an informed mind that we agreed on this. But I had some terms: Declan is now going to daycare Tuesday and Thursday mornings and we got a cleaning lady. We'll get mowers in the spring too. Because as much as I adore Declan, and I do massively adore him, I need to have time to recoup. Whether it's reading a book, blogging, or doing the grocery shopping, just being alone holds a special kind of significance, one that I never truly understood until D came along.

We've had some real adjustment to the whole daycare thing, even though it's only for three hours. I could just feel his little heart breaking every time I'd leave him there. I'd watch as Ms. Tiffany cuddled and reassured him and I heard his screams all the way out the door. Man! That is a special kind of heartbreak. But, something happened yesterday.

Declan's been getting better each time. He says "Min-ee Min-ee" a lot (Ms. Tiffany) then with big, earnest eyes, "buh lub a low" (play dough). I think he's only played with play dough once there, but it was enough to shift the winds ever so slightly. Flash forward to this Tuesday when Declan screamed his head off and had a huge fit. He was so upset. And everyone kind of stopped and looked at me. Because Declan didn't want to leave. Yes, I was picking him up. Now it's me that makes him cry. Don't know if I was quite ready for this yet.

But overall I'm proud. He's been doing so much better at the gym, so much so that I don't really have an excuse not to go anymore. But, they don't change diapers, and Declan knows just when to poop. Right when I'm in the middle of aerobics. Kid's got some good timing.

This Wednesday, I happened to forget the diaper bag. I always forget something. So D and I had a little talk, and I asked him to please not poop. And I really thought we had an understanding. And I was convinced that he was in on the plan.

I won't go into detail, but Declan was most certainly not in on it. And the result was a couple of good, thorough hand washes on my part, done in the gym bathroom, and Declan being cleaned up with paper towels and then going commando for a minute while I searched for a diaper.

Then we went to storytime.

Costumes and Cry Babies

So my friend Sara invited me and Declan to come to her company Halloween party yesterday afternoon. It was great. There was candy at every desk, themed food (think cheese dip molded into a witches hat, awesome), games, and activities. It rocked.

Before we could go, Rich and I put on Declan's costume.

Yeah, that sentiment deserves its own paragraph. Imagine this: we've carefully and meticulously picked out the perfect costume; the right subject matter, right size, and right warmth has all been considered. And much too much money later, we came up with the perfect thing: Floppy the Bunny.
Needless to say, he was less thrilled with the costume than we were. But, I mean, come on this thing is cute. Let's take another look.

So after some sweet tarts and a little Jerry rigging of the top part (I converted the hat into a hood via scissors and safety pins), we were off to the party.

Declan was off and running right away. Exploring, eating, just having an all around fun time. But Dec loves a staircase and would not stay away. So Sara and I took him down the stairs twice to explore the whole building.

And then we found the elevator. D loves an elevator too. So much so that right as we arrived back to the main party level, his fingers all got stuck in the elevator door. Not so that it closed on them, so that the whole time it was opening, it was crushing those little guys. I thought for a quick second that I wasn't going to be able to get them loose and I think I may have been shouting in a very high pitched way, but miraculously, they all came out, and none are even bruised today.

But it did enough to make Declan thoroughly pissed. So I gave him some more candy, which seemed to distract him enough. But, I may have given him a little too much....

The next half hour was spent watching a frantic little toddler run, fall, climb, and shriek his way around the office, all while insistently trying to go down the stairs again. Sara sweetly told me about her sister in law and what she does for trick or treating. Had I ever heard of a child harness? Yes, I nodded, yes I have.

I explain these things about Declan almost every time I talk about him, and yet I think it really takes the true experience to understand what I mean when I say he's in fast forward. And hopped up on candy yields the triple triangle fast forward. Sara gets it. I don't think she'll ever ask again why I don't take Dec to the tailgate.

Fine, here's another. Go ahead and giggle.

Infections

Sometimes, when I'm just run down or I need a little alone time, I'll say I don't feel well. What I'm really feeling is tired and overwhelmed. This is not one of those times. This is not one of those times where you can discard your "upset stomach" the moment something fun comes along. And I'm good at the faux upset stomach. It started in first grade when I somehow figured out that if I went to the nurse before Mrs. Walker's math class with an upset stomach, that meant I didn't have to go. And when I was teaching, I'd occasionally take a "sick" day. I've always just needed them to recoup or as an excuse to be excessively lazy.

But now I don't get sick days, and there's some serious karma going on because I get sick now, really yucky, sniffly, headachy sick. And while I know it's part of being a parent of a toddler, it still sucks. Because Declan and my days truly depend on being mobile. That kid cannot and does not just entertain himself at home. And he gets even more agitated if I want to do something as unimaginable as sitting down. He'll pull my finger and grunt impatiently until I get up. And when I do, he'll stop, but the moment I sit again it starts back up. So I want to get this straight: I do not ever get to sit down during the day.

So I'm sure you can imagine that the fact that we've been sick four out of the last eight weeks has made even mere existence a little, well, awful. Options are limited for life with a toddler, and a sick toddler can't go to story time, the daycare at the gym or play groups. Which leaves...not much, especially if you're not allowed to sit down.

Now I realize I shouldn't complain. Staying home with Declan is a great privilege, but I'd sure love a sick day now and then.

Growing Pains

Sometimes it blows my mind when I think of Declan getting older. And that to him I will always be "mom". It breaks my heart to think about the day he'll sink down in the car to avoid being seen with me. The day I look at myself in pictures and see the frumptastic outfit I thought was cool. But I've always cared about what was cool. At least, I cared for a long time. I think that part of me is fading fast. And my identity is now two fold, but I'm hoping it doesn't make me fractured.

I've always been a cusser. In fact, I've always gravitated toward the edgier parts of life: parties, gossip, cussing. I've never been demure, conservative or excessively rule-abiding. I've always been what they call outspoken to your face and bitchy behind your back. And I can own that. At least that way, I get to say what I really want and not mask it behind a pinched smile. I've always enjoyed having the freedom to do and say exactly what I want when I want.

But Mom doesn't. Mom is patient, mutes cuss words from songs and doesn't let Gigi watch Fight Club while babysitting (waaay too much violence for a toddler). So does this mean I'm evolving? Or maybe it's an identity crisis. At home, I am in charge all the time. Every decision I make, excluding those that are made in conjunction with my husband, is mine and mine alone. I pay the bills, mop the floors, and decide which games Declan plays. I am the boss lady. Some women do this before they are mothers. Some women, those I envy, not only get it all done but they also have a cache full of great recipes and decorate the house for holidays, complete with theme cookies. I had a wrought iron pumpkin on the porch from October to May. Lana did that one.

And Lana is sometimes neglected. Lana likes to dance all night and yell and laugh and sleep all day. I sound like Tyler Durden. I am not a split personality (yet), but to deny my "Lananess" leaves me lonely. What makes it worse is that most of the friends I've nurtured over the years just aren't doing the same thing I am right now. And while I envy people who can just take their kids along to whatever they are doing and can enjoy themselves (as my mom swears she could) just the same, that is just not what I'm finding works for us.

Most of the things I loved (and still love) to do were not family friendly. Tailgating is a blast...until you do it with a wiggly toddler who just wants to run up and down the hill and open and shut porta-potty doors the whole time while you stare longingly at those people who get to actually have a conversation. Bars are great, but come on, I'm not that hard up!

Most of my closest friends are not mommies yet. So, I've spent the last 10 months trying to find some new additions. And I have to say, I'm doing a pretty good job. People say that as an adult it's harder to make friends. Well, what about as a mom? My goal is to find friends who can jibe with both sides of my existence. Play groups and potty training by day, Chardonnay by night. But just wanting the Chardonnay doesn't cut it these days. Now I have to first want Chardonnay, then either put Declan to sleep and drink it while watching TV, something I've always found a little useless because there's no one to talk to, or find a sitter, and then the hardest part of all, find someone else who would like to go have a drink to go with me. Because I either have to plan it so far in advance that by the time it comes, someone ends up with an excuse to bail or so spur of the moment that everyone already has plans.

And even as I'm writing this, I know that every mom feels this way. Whether she wishes she could spend more time doing bible study or dancing on the bar (you guess which one is me). And I've seen lots of mommy facebook posts asking if it's time for a drink yet at about 4:00 on a Friday. These are my people. My name is mommy, but you can call me Lana.

Blocked

I think I'm hitting a creative low right now. It seems I'd rather watch my nightly Bravo than express myself creatively. Hence my lack of blog posts. Rachel Zoe is stealing my mojo. I die. Bear with me, my zest for writing will return. Until then, I'll give you some of the very best examples of why having a 1 1/2 year old rocks.

1. When Declan's hungry or eating something he likes, he stares at his food and gives a throaty mmmm. He also does it to me or Rich if we have something he thinks is delicious. And in public to strangers.

2. This weekend, I met a 3 year old little girl who was the same size, if not a little smaller, as Declan. When we got home, Declan seemed like a toddler giant.

3. Declan makes friends wherever we go. The last time I took him to the doctor, in spite of feeling pretty cruddy, he put on a show, complete with a dance and a shimmy for the doc and his assistant. Most of the checkers at Dillons know him by name.

4. Declan learned how to say "shhhh!" and whisper. He knows to whisper outside of Daddy's office. When he says shhh, he also does the finger motion in front of the lips. His finger is always up his nose.

5. His new favorite song is "She Wolf" by Shakira.

6. Sometimes when we are walking side by side he reaches up and takes my hand.

7. He'll now get the phone and tell me the person he'd like me to call. Then we call so he can say hello.

8. He told me this time before he pooped in the tub. I enjoy his preparedness.

9. Dec loves slides. The joy he gets from a slide ride greatly outweighs the joy I get from any activity. Even shopping.

10. I spent my second weekend away from him and he survived. I was doubtful that this could occur. It's called progress people. Progress!

Tickle Me Emo

So I finally got my first visit from the Parents As Teachers lady. She was great, and I'm happy to have any ideas that take me away from incessant reruns of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. You can judge all you want, I don't care. I'm willing to admit that Declan watches way too much of this cartoon. So much so, that he can say Mickey, Minnie, Donald and Toodles. Plus, he can sing part of the Hot Dog song. It's the first thing he asks for in the morning and the last at night. But I think they only made like 15 episodes, so I can practically recite them. Just to clarify, we only allow three a day, but I know a lot of television purists who I'm sure would be, or more accurately are right now, appalled at that number.

Anyway, back to Parents As Teachers. I swear this kid had a meltdown just looking at her. Here I am, hoping she sees my smart, active kiddo, and all she can say is that he's obviously "sensitive", which I know means "big wussy". We call it Emo Baby. I didn't know aobut Emos until my seventh graders explained them. Back in my day (and I'm ancient to 12 year olds) we had goths and granolas. This Emo thing is new. Basically, Emos are goth-like kids who feel sorry for themselves even though they live in safe suburban neighborhoods and have no real troubles in life. Hence Declan the Emo Baby.

And Emo Baby was in effect. I mean just standing up was making him upset. But as soon as she walked out the door, happy baby. WTF? And the other day he bit me so hard that I now have a purple bruise on my arm. The offense? I was talking on the phone.

It's Karma. When I was little, my sister and I would sleep with my mom. One of us on each side. But I didn't really like my mom to look at my sister so I'd take her head and turn it toward me. Every time I woke up during the night, before bed during story time, as we were falling asleep, every single time. So now I'm paying for what I put on my mom, one whine at a time.

But Declan's not just whining. Occasionally he learns a new body part or word. He totally surprised us with the other day when some friends brought their newborn over. Declan pointed and said baby right away. I was pretty proud. Some words we have to work hard for. I've been trying to get him to say help for awhile now (I think it could be a way for him to escape Emo Baby) and nothing. He has yet to say anything close to help, but baby he got without even a prompt. Here are a few of his words, and one of his very favorite activities.




I often focus on Scooter's annoying qualities, but this is one of his best. He lets Declan mount him like a cowboy and just sits there. Occasionally, he'll stand up and knock Declan off, but D just thinks that's hilarious and starts again.

We've also been working on identifying body parts. As you can see, some parts Mommy emphasizes, and some Daddy....




And with that I say goodnight!

Lady Kelly

There are some things that Declan does that are completely from Rich. There's one eyebrow raise that is eerily identical to Dad. Plus there's that boy energy. But there's one way in which Declan is definitely just like mommy. He's become obsessed with my ipod. It all started when I would put my ipod on while folding laundry. Declan thought it was fun to play on my bed, so I thought of it as a win win. Then he started running into my room and pointing at my ipod until I put it on. And he has some favorite artists.




And most of you know he's on fast forward pretty much all the time. Except for when he's mesmerized by techno beats.



But as with all passionate people, he lets me know just exactly what is not tolerable.





So we find something he can accept.

Sometimes it seems like I never leave my house.  Especially on rainy days.  I play a game called "Where in the Hell Can I Take Declan".  Maybe it's because I live in Lawrence and, let's face it, we don't have all the variety in the world.  Maybe it's because Declan is in constant motion and places like Target aren't exactly a fun trip out.  Declan ends up squirming and demanding cookies: duck-dee.  Imagine this: I'm walking at an inappropriately quick pace (it helps Declan if he's still moving at his normal speed), shrieking giggles and loud thumps can be heard across the store from me (Declan enjoys throwing things out of the cart and thinks it's really funny when I bend down to pick them up), all followed by an almost constant beat of "duck-dee?"

Declan's "vocabulary" has really exploded.  Or I should say his attempt at vocabulary...because I know what he's saying, even if you don't.  Dada, for example, means both Daddy and Doggie.  Nuh means nose, no, and sometimes keys (hmm...one of these things is not like the other).  Vava means flower and water, but voo voo means poop even if my mom swears he calls poop baba.  Yaya means yes and blankie.  And, well, you get the picture.  He is absolutely itching to talk and tell me all of those things in his head.  Things like: "Mom, give me a cookie right now and I don't want that stupid vegetable, I said give me a cookie!"

Reminds me of a little cartoon and his cheesy poofs.  

Time After Time

In what used to be every week, but now seems to be sporadic postings, I highlight for my millions of readers (and by millions I mean five) what it's like for me to be a mom. I've been gifted with lots of ammunition for an entertaining read. Declan and his ever-reaching hands have assured that I'm never lacking in stories. And while I'm almost never clean, groomed, and fed, I'm always, always on my toes. And sometimes I just want a break. I just want to recline lavishly in a chair and have my feet rubbed.

I think every mom feels like that from time to time. What we don't always realize though, is that this baby that tears through the house and wipes graham cracker on my favorite skirt and throws whole bowls of applesauce on my new curtains is growing up.

And from last Tuesday on, everything new Declan does will take him further away from the baby that he was to his grandma Lauri. It was a sad day when we learned that Lauri had breast cancer, heartbreaking when we found out it had spread aggressively, and tragic when we saw her deteriorate at the end. But in the time between her diagnosis and her death, Lauri loved Declan with every ounce of strength she had. And like all precious, fleeting things, it is only in reflection that I can truly appreciate how much he meant to her.

And I'm so sad that he won't grow up basking in that love. We'll all recount it to him. We'll tell him how he gave her kiss after kiss on her last day and how she'd pick him up and hold him even when the cancer was reeking havoc on her bones. And how she didn't care if it hurt, it was worth it just to hold him. But it won't be the same as loving her in real time.

All she talked about when I was pregnant and in the first months of his life was having Grandma and Declan days. She wanted to take him to the zoo, spoil him with sweets, and spend her retirement watching him grow. And they'll both miss those great times.

There are many tragedies at work here, but since this blog is about Declan, I'll stick to this one. Looking through pictures of her, there was a special light in her eyes when she was with Declan. What a lucky kid! With all the possibilities out there, Dec was gifted not only with parents who love him, but grandparents who adore him.

So I'll try to do those things with him in her memory. And I'll make sure he sees her pictures and listens to the stories and knows that at her funeral so many people that I hadn't met knew all about Declan and how important he was in her last year. And I hope that somehow, somewhere when he grows up, he has a little bit of her with him.

To grandmother's house we go.

Some new things Declan's accomplished: eating his own yogurt, having great hair, and ridding the world of unneeded bibs.


Sometimes it seems that every one of my blogs starts like this: So, this week was a tough one.... And I will not disappoint. This week was indeed a tough one. Actually it's been the last two weeks.

Last week, D was having an afternoon tantrum extravaganza, so I took him upstairs and put him in his crib. At least, I'm 99.9% sure that's what happened because after he screamed for 10 minutes and I went up to check on him, he met me at the door. So I thought real hard about that .01% chance that maybe I just left him standing in the middle of the room. Nah, he escaped. 15 months old and he had his first jail break. Gotta give the kid credit. Turns out he was so traumatized that we gave him chocolate milk to soothe him a little. It was only later that we realized we rewarded him for his bad behavior. Grrrreat.

But that night he slept well and didn't escape in the morning. We chalked it up to a fluke and moved on. Last Saturday night, we had a wedding shower in Topeka, so we brought Declan up to Rich's parents. They were excited for their first bedtime babysit and had everything ready. They spoiled him with fast food and played with him until past his bedtime...all the things grandparents should do while babysitting.

At around 7:40, my begging and pleading paid off and Rich finally called his parents to check in. They said Declan had cried for about 15 minutes and then fallen asleep. We were beyond excited. We had been dreading this night and expecting Rich's parents to call at any moment to announce that Declan could not and would not go to sleep in an unfamiliar bed. We know our son well, so this was a complete surprise.

As the story goes (oh yes, there's more, but you knew that already, didn't you?), Rich's mom, Lauri went in to check on Declan about 15 minutes after we called. She tiptoed into the room expecting to see her grandson slumbering soundly but was met instead by an empty pack 'n play. Yep, no Declan. After a frantic call downstairs to Rich's dad, they searched the room. And they found him alright. Curled up in the corner with blankie. Behind a chair.

I've told you about blankie, right? Actually, I should write it with a capital B because he's Declan's best friend. Blankie and Scooter. And the nunnies that live in the garden.

There are two mysteries surrounding that night. 1. the pack 'n play was in a complete upright position and 2. how in the hell did Declan fall asleep after his jailbreak? This kid is notoriously picky about sleep conditions. He must have blankie, his crib, door closed, and night light in order to even consider sleep. And don't even think about skipping story time. If Dec doesn't have stories before bed, he will cry for 40 minutes. Guaranteed.

So how did this kid, after escaping the pack 'n play, decide to just curl up in a nice cozy corner to sleep? Rich and I laughed and laughed, but we've been on our toes ever since anticipating that night where he decides to Houdini us again. I'll keep you posted.

Oh, and I've got just one more thing. Today, Declan pointed to a Jayhawk and said Day-da. I'm counting it, people! One more word to the word bank. That is added to poo poo and water (va va) this week. Oh, and cookie. He said that one all through the store yesterday. Awesome.

Sober

Truth be told, Rich and I don't have a ton, outwardly, in common. I love Bravo and Rich watches Squidbillies. Enough said. What? You've never heard of Squidbillies? Then you must not be a squid or a hillbilly.

But, we both love to go out, and have been known to enjoy a drink or two. And, neither of us have many close friends with kids. In fact, we both have quite a few that aren't even married. So you can imagine that a weekend with our friends does not include trips to the zoo or afternoons in the park.

Rich's college friends were in town this weekend, and we had a ton of fun. In fact, I currently have a large bottle of Captain Morgan on my counter. It has a handle. Not that this would be even noteworthy in our pre-child existence, but now it's just so incongruous sitting next to sippy cups and bibs.

Needless to say, when Rich left for New Jersey this week, I was struggling. Not because I'd had too much to drink (I was, in fact, kinda lame) but because I didn't sleep while they were here. So, I was hoping for a nice, relaxing few days with Declan....

And you can all see where this is going, since you are aware that my son is a peach, not an apple. Thank you again for your wisdom, Kung Fu Panda.

So yesterday was just tough all around. It was raining, so no park. Declan was fussy every few minutes, so no relaxing. Then we went to the McDonald's play land. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but as a life long vegetarian, it's not usually on my list. So you know I was going to desperate measures, but what else do you do with a little road runner when he's fussy at home? And I love sweets, so we splurged and split a McFlurry. I mean, I should just end the story here, because all you really need to know is that McFlurry sent sugar surging through my little Speedy Gonzales. And you can imagine what happened next. There was lots of wiggling, pointing, stomping, and running. And by the time we went home, I was more than pooped. And it was only 3:30. Oh the irony.

After a few hours at home filled with teary demands, which mostly resulted in me carrying D around the house, it was finally time for bath. Yes! Declan can entertain himself in the bath and it means bedtime is right around the corner. I'm not ashamed to admit that I covet bedtime. It means I can actually do things like check my email and, you know, pee, without interruption. My reward for a long, trying day, is the few hours I get at night to do whatever I want...as long as I stay in the house. But that's another blog for another day. We're talking about the bath.

So Declan's having a great time. He's drinking from his bucket and coughing then laughing hysterically and doing it again. And I got him pretty much all done when he paused. And Declan does not pause. If anything he calms down to "play" from "fast forward", but pausing is relatively unknown in this house. I hear a little grunt, and...flurp! two brown buddies popped up to the surface.

I know this isn't incredibly uncommon, but for me it was instant panic. I scooped him out, searched for something to catch the poops in, and frantically grabbed at them. And while I was doing that, I was also holding Declan, throwing them into the toilet, preventing Declan from scooping them out again, and trying to keep poo off any unnecessary surfaces. I have never, ever truly multitasked until I was a mom. Hands down, I will put the skill I learned in that moment against anything I learned in college or in the "real world". I might try the whole one-man-band thing next.

Sink or Swim

This picture is the most accurate representation of Declan's existence. I call it "Fight Club Baby". His shirt is filthy because he won't wear a bib, he has two massive horns on his head from 1. running straight into the bed post and 2. doing a double axle off of his arts and crafts table. Next, we have his bruised legs from incessant climbing, falling, bumping, and climbing over the dog.

But he's not always moving. Declan has an animal book that he loves. He points at the pictures, and we tell him the names of the animals. Sometimes we spend a few minutes saying the same name over and over again. One of those animals is the bunny. So this morning when I saw a bunny in our front garden, I scooped Dec up and pointed until he said "nuh nuh", which is Declan for bunny. Glowing with pride, I inched open the door and we went out to look at the bunny closer. Declan, of course, couldn't stop pointing and saying "nuh nuh" so the bunny hopped away. We went inside and I thought we had a moment and could now go back to our day.

"Nuh nuh"

Declan was at the door. I told him that there were no more bunnies because it had hopped away. Undeterred, Declan spent the next ten minutes at that door nuh nuhing away. So I took him outside to show him that there were no more bunnies. Except there was one. So we watched it and it watched us and eventually Declan pointed and shouted and the bunny hopped away. And then Declan went looking for it. Under the bushes "nuh nuh". Back to the garden "nuh nuh". Pointing in the trees. You get the picture. It took me a quite a few minutes to coax him back into the house. And I was foolish enough to think that this bunny business was over. But, no. Cut to a half hour later. Declan's "nuh nuh" cries have escalated to a feverish pitch and his red little face is contorted and tears are rolling down his cheeks. He had a bunny meltdown.

As he lay in his crib to calm himself down (but really to get him away from me because I couldn't take it anymore), I realized that I had vastly underestimated my son's tantrum abilities. And love for bunnies.

So we've established that my son is no blushing flower by now, right? But until now, I hadn't properly considered this affecting my life expectancy. Because he almost gave me a heart attack this week. And then he shattered my ear drums. And you wonder why I can't get it together enough to blow dry my hair on a regular basis.

Now, I've always, always wanted to have a pool. I have infuriated my husband with concepts for our hypothetical pool for years. It's one of those things that I'm convinced if I had, would change my quality of life. That, and the ability to wear skinny jeans. Or, more accurately, the ability to look great in skinny jeans.

So Dec and I were at my friend Whitney's on Wednesday. She has a pool. And would look great in skinny jeans... But back to the story. We went outside and were playing with chalk when Declan took off running, and I don't mean kind of sauntering, I mean a full blown zoom, toward the pool. He must share my love of water. But instead of stopping at the edge, he just kept going. And this is where my heart attack occurred. Because even though Whitney has a safety net (literally) on the pool, Declan fell onto the net, which lowered into the pool and got him sopping wet as I screamed and lunged after him.

I pulled him up so fast that I can't even remember doing it. And what had been a mischievous little one in the moments before became a blubbering mess. And I didn't have any other emotional reaction but to laugh. As he clung to me with new found trepidation, I couldn't help but hope that he'd learned his lesson.

Next week we start tumbling lessons. Hopefully he won't run off the balance beam.

Bluffin' with my muffin

I know when I left the house my pants were clean. But when I got to the library to meet up with all the other moms, there were a pile of grass clippings, a few smeared in bites of snack, and some sort of gooey substance on them. Not to mention that on the way home I spilled coffee on my shirt. Not that it's a special shirt, but it's one of the only ones that is baggy enough to cover my muffin. I have an eternal muffin. Kind of like an eternal flame, but hotter.

I did see a girl I hadn't seen in awhile who told me I looked exactly the same. But she was drunk and it was dark. She probably thought it was a charity compliment. Like her good deed for the day. Or maybe it was the Spanx. And the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol.

My sister told me about a mom she sees at the playground sometimes. This woman, she said, always looks fantastic. Like great outfit, make up, hair, the works. But she leaves her kids in pajamas. And it totally makes sense to me. There's really only room for one of us to look cute. And Declan doesn't really care what he looks like. Maybe I should take this woman's approach. I'd certainly look better...to myself. I think I might be the only one enjoying my new glamour. I'm certain that if people will hand out parenting advice in a public restroom after seeing you for a split second, they wouldn't hesitate to let you know how black your soul is for focusing on yourself instead of your kid.

But if I don't blowdry my hair, I look like Mandy Patinkin from Princess Bride. "My name is Lana Corcoran, stop staring at my dirty outfit or prepare to die."



So now I'm taking my precious daily free time to ponder how I can get these coffee stains out and whether or not I should wear this stained outfit the rest of the day. On the plus side, if I leave it on, less laundry. On the minus, people might think we live in the woods. Choices.