The photos I am posting have nothing to do with the subject matter. They are photos of wildflowers and blossoms in our yard that prove that spring has FINALLY arrived. Once you read what I am writing about, you will be so excited that I did not post photos of the subject matter that you just may want to kiss me. A hug will do just fine.
I am a regular girl. By “regular”, I do not mean that I am dull and boring (Though I truly am!) or that I watch shows such as The Hills, The Bachelor, or even The Gilmore Girls. I am sure they are all lovely, but there are only so many TV hours in a week, and I choose to spend them on The Office, LOST, Heroes and House (sometimes).
By “regular” I am referring to Bowel Movements, or BM’s as they were. I have them daily. Yes, I grace the porcelain throne every day (sometimes more than once) and do my “business”. Shut up. You do it too. I do mine in about twenty seconds flat, if you really want to know. Nothing changed when I was pregnant, either. Constipation is apparently a common side-effect of growing another human being in your uterus. But for me? Not a problem. I dumped daily. Yay!
Honey (who will cringe AND DIE when he reads this) is also regular. Daily pooping. Huzzah!
The boys? Yep. Regular. They are also funny in that when one decides they have to drop a load, they other gets the same urge. They are like dogs. They will be in separate bathrooms, doing their business. Then they both yell at the same time, “I’m DOOOOONE!”
See? Nothing to do with the subject matter. Hugs?
Miss Emily is a different creature altogether.
She eats the same balanced diet as the rest of us, but has an issue with the pooping. She has for as long as I can remember. When she was a baby we would actually hold her legs back (ala labour) and help her birth a poop. She had gotten all ladylike in her old age and will not be party to such nonsense.
She only poops once every two or three days. It takes a good day or so of working to get it out. She goes through spurts of bearing down, face all red, trying to squeeze it into being. I will ask her if she’s pooping, to which I get a solid, “NO!”
OH REALLY, EMILY? I AM PRETTY SURE YOU ARE PUSHING OUT A POO, WHAT WITH THE SQUATTING AND GRUNTING.
Finally, she will get it out. Usually in the bathtub. AWESOME. The dudes will start screaming and jumping ship. Good times, good times.
The log will be six inches long, and solid as a rock. It’s unbelievable, really.
See? NO PHOTOS OF POOP. You are welcome.
I do not know what to do to help this girl of mine. It is not that she doesn’t poop. Her poop is just hard and, um, HUGE. I have tried to give her apple juice, but she prefers water (my kids are not big juice drinkers). She loves cheese (mmmm…cheese…), but I have limited her access. My friend Karen recommended Activia yogurt, but Emily will only take a bite or two.
We find that when she is backed up, her appetite is almost non-existent. She’s FULL, and wants no more. I cannot figure out how to help her. I have been told I could try a suppository, but the thought of sticking a foreign object up her butt seems a little, I don’t know, violating.
If you have any less invasive tips, I would sure love to hear them.
Miss Emily will be most appreciative as well, I am sure.
Last week I posted about how I hated the stage that Emily is in. Not everything about it, just the whole I-still-need-a-nap-but-then-want-to-stay-up-late-and-make-Mommy-and-Daddy-crazy stage. Apart from that issue? I actually love the stage that she is in. It is FUN.
Truth be told, sometimes the “fun” is said with a sarcastic tone, as well as “awesome” and “that’s just super“. This girl of mine? Is a little feisty. I have no idea where she gets it from. Nope. Not a clue. Heh.
I am the mother to three young children. My oldest is five and a half, so beyond that age? I am clueless.
I am, however, a bit of an “expert” in the Under Five category. Not for your kids. Nope. Not going there. And not really for my kids either. I have had three children, and the fact that they are all so utterly and completely different proves that I am no expert whatsoever.
What I am an expert in is the “stages” that my children go through. Let me tell you what I mean.
The first six months of my children’s life was amazing. Sweet, soft, silky newborns. New babies are miracle. So squishy and loveable to boot.
Except that it is not my favourite stage. It is all full of concern and worry. Are they eating enough? Too much? Are they sleeping enough? Or too much? (Emily was the uber-sleeper. I always sometimes worried that maybe she was sleeping way too much. That much sleep must be something I should worry about.)
SERIOUSLY? She slept. AND WAS HAPPY. But still, I worried.
My favourite baby stage is when they are sitting unassisted. They are immobile, and you can scatter toys around them and they are happy! Yay! Happy, happy, joy, joy…
Then they start moving. Which is good! They move around, getting to where they want to go. The yelling and screaming are (somewhat) abated. They keep growing and moving and exploring. It is great.
I am currently back in a stage which I abhor. The not-done-napping-but-up-too-late stage.
Both boys were done with the “afternoon nap” shortly after their second birthday. It is not that they did not want one. I just did not give them one. Why?
Because I like an early bedtime.
Some people have no problem keeping their kids up until all hours of the night. Good for them. Really. I (and Matthew), however, like our kids to be asleep between 7 and 8pm. That gives us an hour or two to have some kid-free time to work in the shop or edit photos/write a blog post.
*HI*
The kids then wake up (or are woken up) by 8 in the morning. It works for us.
The issue we are having lately is the whole nap deal with Miss Emily.
She would sleep all afternoon if we let her. We have cut her nap back to two hours, and that has worked. Until recently.
Now, if we let her sleep two hours, she is up until about 9. Which sucks. And blows. I am not a night owl by any means. I need my kids in bed at a decent hour so that I can have some “me” time that does not occur after midnight.
She still needs a nap, though, or she gets quite grumpy. Even more that usual.
It is that awkward needs-a-nap-but-not-too-much stage. It is lame. I don’t like it.
Good thing she is so cute.
Did you know that she has an “outtie”? Now you do.
As Honey was unloading Graham’s backpack last night, he showed me the following two handouts that were included in that huge pack of craziness.
Water bottles, and home readers, and uneaten lunch, oh my!
And also? THESE.
SERIOUSLY?
The dude is in KINDERGARTEN. He is FIVE.
I know that the “touching thing” can be an issue for some kids. The thought of it being an issue for my kids makes me want to cover my ears and yell, “NANANANA I CAN’T HEAR YOU”.
I think that they should just show this video clip.
Then at least us parents can have a good giggle about the whole topic.
I will likely sing about my vulva for the rest of the day. Awesome.
(The very first time I clicked on Metalia’s site, she had posted that clip. I have loved her ever since.)
*From The Emperor’s New Groove. A favourite around here.
If you have a feed reader, I had “unpublished” this post for fear of coming across the wrong way. The emails I received told me that this clip was too funny NOT to share it.
Too Many Moments
Date: Monday February 18, 2008Posted in: Emily, Family, Graham, Honey, Nathan, Parenting, me
(Brace yourselves for a bazillion photos.)
This weekend has been one of the best that I have had in a long time.
I have been trying to figure out what made it so special. We did not really do anything out of the ordinary. We puttered around, ran errands, went to church, hung out as a family. You know. The usual. But it was different somehow. Better. I think I finally figured out why.
It was SUNNY.
Not only was the sun shining, it was actually giving off heat. Enough warmth that we could be outside without scarves and mittens. Will wonders never cease?
On Saturday afternoon Honey and I took the boys outside while Emily was napping. For the first time in many (Many!) months, they wanted to go on the swings. It helped that there was no biting North wind.
Oh, swings. How the kids have missed thee.
Me? Not so much. I don’t “do” under-ducks.
