Lately, my Munkin Man has been quite the charmer. For example, when he woke up this morning he came downstairs, marched right up to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and said "Cute jammers you have there, Mom. Could I have some bwreakfwist, puh-LEEEEZE?"
Who taught him this? I would like to know so I can appropriately thank and/or pay that person. I have gotten more compliments from my son in the past week than I have from my husband in the past year. I'm almost considering dating my son because he makes me feel that good about myself.
Tonight, as he was getting in the tub, he made it a point to come over to me to tell me "Mom, what cute glasses you have. And nice eyes, too!" He then threw his arms around my neck, gave me a huge peck on the cheek, and told me "I love you, but I have to go take a bath now. Bye!"
Moments like these are what makes this motherhood thing totally worth it.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Raw Meat
As wonderful of a mother as I am, I do admit there are times when I just don't have all the answers (hard to believe, right?). And, believe it or not, I even panic a little bit sometimes. Like last night.
After tucking in a couple of very sleepy little boys, Mr. and I decided to watch a movie together. We popped the corn, got our drinks, and had just settled in to watch The Proposal (which, by the way, was just ok), when we heard wailing coming from upstairs. Both of our eyes flicked over to the monitor, trying to process why we could hear the crying upstairs but not on the monitor. It hit us both at the same time: Munkin Man was the one crying, not Bug.
Mr. dashed upstairs as I tried to figure out how to pause the movie. A few seconds later I had a revelation: Munkin Man had a bloody nose earlier in the day that took quite a while to alleviate. I was pretty sure he had one again.
Sure enough, when I got upstairs to check things out, I found Mr. up to his elbows in blood, as a wailing Munkin Man was pleading with him to make it stop. I grabbed an old towel out of the bathroom and shoved it in my eldest son's face. By this time there was blood all over his blood, clothes, body, and my husband. I picked up my Munkin and sat him in my lap on the floor, as I pressed the towel to his nose and pinched the bridge to try to stem the blood.
Have you ever seen in the movies when someone gets stabbed or something and the blood just spurts forth, maybe even pulsing a little with each heartbeat? That's what was happening with Munkin's nose. His bedroom looked like a murder scene, and I was sure that soon he was going to pass out with all the blood loss. I'm sure it was in the thousands of gallons. I was pretty positive he had leukemia or some bleeding disorder.
After about 40 minutes of the bloody mess, I called the doctor, who said to pinch his nostrils shut and if the bleeding didn't stop in 5 minutes we'd have to take him to the ER. Sure enough, 10 minutes passed and he was still spouting blood like Mt. Vesuvius so we made plans to take him in. When we called the neighbor and found out she could NOT come over, I panicked a little. How in the world was I going to take this bloody mess in all by myself? We couldn't just leave Bug home alone and I was surely not going to wake up him.
After several agonizing minutes of trying to decide what we were going to do, I noticed that Munkin was fast asleep and Mr. had taken the towel off of his face. No more blood!
This morning we went to the doctor, who looked up his nose and told me it looked like "raw meat". After vomiting a little in my mouth, I listened to the doctor as he reassured me my oldest son did not, in fact, have leukemia or a bleeding disorder. He has a sensitive nose, and needs nose spray and saline.
That I can handle!
After tucking in a couple of very sleepy little boys, Mr. and I decided to watch a movie together. We popped the corn, got our drinks, and had just settled in to watch The Proposal (which, by the way, was just ok), when we heard wailing coming from upstairs. Both of our eyes flicked over to the monitor, trying to process why we could hear the crying upstairs but not on the monitor. It hit us both at the same time: Munkin Man was the one crying, not Bug.
Mr. dashed upstairs as I tried to figure out how to pause the movie. A few seconds later I had a revelation: Munkin Man had a bloody nose earlier in the day that took quite a while to alleviate. I was pretty sure he had one again.
Sure enough, when I got upstairs to check things out, I found Mr. up to his elbows in blood, as a wailing Munkin Man was pleading with him to make it stop. I grabbed an old towel out of the bathroom and shoved it in my eldest son's face. By this time there was blood all over his blood, clothes, body, and my husband. I picked up my Munkin and sat him in my lap on the floor, as I pressed the towel to his nose and pinched the bridge to try to stem the blood.
Have you ever seen in the movies when someone gets stabbed or something and the blood just spurts forth, maybe even pulsing a little with each heartbeat? That's what was happening with Munkin's nose. His bedroom looked like a murder scene, and I was sure that soon he was going to pass out with all the blood loss. I'm sure it was in the thousands of gallons. I was pretty positive he had leukemia or some bleeding disorder.
After about 40 minutes of the bloody mess, I called the doctor, who said to pinch his nostrils shut and if the bleeding didn't stop in 5 minutes we'd have to take him to the ER. Sure enough, 10 minutes passed and he was still spouting blood like Mt. Vesuvius so we made plans to take him in. When we called the neighbor and found out she could NOT come over, I panicked a little. How in the world was I going to take this bloody mess in all by myself? We couldn't just leave Bug home alone and I was surely not going to wake up him.
After several agonizing minutes of trying to decide what we were going to do, I noticed that Munkin was fast asleep and Mr. had taken the towel off of his face. No more blood!
This morning we went to the doctor, who looked up his nose and told me it looked like "raw meat". After vomiting a little in my mouth, I listened to the doctor as he reassured me my oldest son did not, in fact, have leukemia or a bleeding disorder. He has a sensitive nose, and needs nose spray and saline.
That I can handle!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
A Little Privacy, Please!
There are certain things that moms of boys experience that I'm sure moms of girls don't. Case in point: yesterday morning.
I was in the bathroom, doing my business, when Munkin Man charged in.
"'cha doin', Mom?" he asked.
"Going to the bathroom, Munk."
At this point he squatted down next to my backside, pointed, and said, "Mommy, you pooping in the tunnel?"
"Buddy, please move back a little," I said in my sweetest I-will-stay-calm-about-this voice.
I finished up, flushed, and walked over to wash my hands, as Munkin Man dropped to the floor and let out a banshee scream. I sighed, and stood watching my sweet, precious little man throw a tantrum to end all tantrums. Knowing that anything I could say would inevitably prolong the tantrum, I walked out of the bathroom. A few minutes later, a snotty-faced Munkin found me in the kitchen, trying oh-so very hard not to cry.
"What was that all about, buddy?" I asked him.
Between sniffles he replied in a most pathetic voice, "Mommy, Munk wanna see da poop!"
And that, my friends, is what makes my life interesting.
I was in the bathroom, doing my business, when Munkin Man charged in.
"'cha doin', Mom?" he asked.
"Going to the bathroom, Munk."
At this point he squatted down next to my backside, pointed, and said, "Mommy, you pooping in the tunnel?"
"Buddy, please move back a little," I said in my sweetest I-will-stay-calm-about-this voice.
I finished up, flushed, and walked over to wash my hands, as Munkin Man dropped to the floor and let out a banshee scream. I sighed, and stood watching my sweet, precious little man throw a tantrum to end all tantrums. Knowing that anything I could say would inevitably prolong the tantrum, I walked out of the bathroom. A few minutes later, a snotty-faced Munkin found me in the kitchen, trying oh-so very hard not to cry.
"What was that all about, buddy?" I asked him.
Between sniffles he replied in a most pathetic voice, "Mommy, Munk wanna see da poop!"
And that, my friends, is what makes my life interesting.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Adventures in Potty Training- Part 1
I never thought the Munkin Man (aka my two year old) was going to ever be out of diapers. I was convinced he wasn't going to be allowed to go to kindergarten because he was still going to be wearing them at age five. Imagine, then, my surprise, when I found out that he had been holding it in during our entire six-hour car trip from Michigan to Joliet, Illinois, and then proceeded to pee in the toilet as soon as we entered our hotel room! Mr. and I looked at each other, amazed, and at that point we knew that our precious little Munkin was going to be just fine for kindergarten.
I called up my bestie and toilet training veteran and told her about what happened in the hotel room.
"I think he's ready to start potty training," I told her.
"Ugh. Really? Please don't use that word," she replied.
Oh yeah. Bestie doesn't like the "P" word (potty).
"Sorry. Toilet training," I sighed.
"Great! What's your plan?" was her reply.
Oh, shoot. I didn't really think about having a plan.
Not having a clue as to how I should go about doing this, I spent hours and hours online Googling "How to Potty Train". Most of the articles I found were interesting, yet none of them really appealed to me. Instead, I decided that I was just going to strip the Munkin naked from his waist down, and vigilantly watch him, throwing him on his Froggy Potty as soon as I saw any hint of liquid come from him. Bestie thought that was a good idea too, as did Mr., so that became The Plan.
Tuesday morning, Munkin woke me up by standing at the gate in his doorway and saying "Mommy, help-a ME! TWYing!", as he was attempting to climb over the gate. As usual, I stumbled into his room (I am NOT a morning person), and took off his diaper. This time, though, I didn't put a new one on.
"Change-a diaper, Mommy?", asked my little Munkin (I swear, he has an Italian accent, but there is not a drop of Italian in him!)
"Nope, buddy, today you're going to pee in the potty!", I chirped happily to him.
"No potty ev-airhhhh," he replied in his best French accent
Hm...this is going to be harder than I thought, I thought to myself.
The morning went on, and I kept staring at my son's groin like some kind of creep, sure that at any second he was going to start to pee and I could throw him on the potty (Sorry, Bestie. I mean, pot). Nothing happened.
Three hours later I was checking Facebook as any good mother with two young children should be doing, when all of a sudden Munkin exclaimed "Potty!" and ran over to the frog. Without saying a word, he sat down on it, filled it, and jumped up with his hands in the air like a gymnast who's just stuck his landing.
"I peed, Mommy!!" he trilled with a huge smile on his face.
"You peed, Munkin! I am so proud of you!" I beamed back to him.
"No, Mommy, so proud of YOU!" he whispered back.
Yeah, I'll take credit for that one, buddy. Thanks for making it easy on me!
I called up my bestie and toilet training veteran and told her about what happened in the hotel room.
"I think he's ready to start potty training," I told her.
"Ugh. Really? Please don't use that word," she replied.
Oh yeah. Bestie doesn't like the "P" word (potty).
"Sorry. Toilet training," I sighed.
"Great! What's your plan?" was her reply.
Oh, shoot. I didn't really think about having a plan.
Not having a clue as to how I should go about doing this, I spent hours and hours online Googling "How to Potty Train". Most of the articles I found were interesting, yet none of them really appealed to me. Instead, I decided that I was just going to strip the Munkin naked from his waist down, and vigilantly watch him, throwing him on his Froggy Potty as soon as I saw any hint of liquid come from him. Bestie thought that was a good idea too, as did Mr., so that became The Plan.
Tuesday morning, Munkin woke me up by standing at the gate in his doorway and saying "Mommy, help-a ME! TWYing!", as he was attempting to climb over the gate. As usual, I stumbled into his room (I am NOT a morning person), and took off his diaper. This time, though, I didn't put a new one on.
"Change-a diaper, Mommy?", asked my little Munkin (I swear, he has an Italian accent, but there is not a drop of Italian in him!)
"Nope, buddy, today you're going to pee in the potty!", I chirped happily to him.
"No potty ev-airhhhh," he replied in his best French accent
Hm...this is going to be harder than I thought, I thought to myself.
The morning went on, and I kept staring at my son's groin like some kind of creep, sure that at any second he was going to start to pee and I could throw him on the potty (Sorry, Bestie. I mean, pot). Nothing happened.
Three hours later I was checking Facebook as any good mother with two young children should be doing, when all of a sudden Munkin exclaimed "Potty!" and ran over to the frog. Without saying a word, he sat down on it, filled it, and jumped up with his hands in the air like a gymnast who's just stuck his landing.
"I peed, Mommy!!" he trilled with a huge smile on his face.
"You peed, Munkin! I am so proud of you!" I beamed back to him.
"No, Mommy, so proud of YOU!" he whispered back.
Yeah, I'll take credit for that one, buddy. Thanks for making it easy on me!
Friday, July 23, 2010
And We're Off!
5:52 am. Bug's cries are getting louder and louder and harder to ignore. I sigh, throw back the covers, and head into my 14 week old's room to nurse him before he wakes up his sick brother. "Good morning, Bug", I coo at him when I arrive. He answers in his sweetest voice, and flashes me that dimple that always seems to melt my heart. When I pick him up he nuzzles into my neck, and I take a moment to savor his baby-ness. We sit down in the rocking chair and a very hungry Bug starts nursing. He drinks greedily from me for about five minutes until he starts to choke. I pull him away, but not before he starts projectile vomiting.
Really? This early?
Not wanting to ruin the beige microfiber chair, I take one for the team and let him vomit all over me. He's like a Super Soaker; by the time he's done I'm covered from head to toe in baby puke. When he's finished, he gives me a look that implies it was my own fault for producing milk that didn't live up to his sensitive little belly's standards.
"Oh no, buddy, don't start blaming me for this", I tell him, as I take off his sleep sack and pajamas. We head back into my bedroom, where Mr. is sitting up in bed, smiling at me.
"I thought I heard some gross sounds in there," he says, smiling, as I, disgusted, deposit Bug into his lap.
"I'm going to go rinse off," I reply.
When I get out of the shower, Mr. and Bug are having a great Baby conversation and I just stand there watching them for a minute. Bug is so smiley and happy, and I'm sure he's just told his Daddy about how cool it was when the puke arced in the air and landed in Mommy's eye. When I take him back so that Mr. can shower, Bug burrows his head into my neck again (he is such a cuddlebug! That's part of the reason I call him Bug. The other part is because he has huge buggy blue eyes) and starts sucking his thumb. I lay him down in his crib and within seconds he's fast asleep again.
Once again, I'm in love with my Bug.
Really? This early?
Not wanting to ruin the beige microfiber chair, I take one for the team and let him vomit all over me. He's like a Super Soaker; by the time he's done I'm covered from head to toe in baby puke. When he's finished, he gives me a look that implies it was my own fault for producing milk that didn't live up to his sensitive little belly's standards.
"Oh no, buddy, don't start blaming me for this", I tell him, as I take off his sleep sack and pajamas. We head back into my bedroom, where Mr. is sitting up in bed, smiling at me.
"I thought I heard some gross sounds in there," he says, smiling, as I, disgusted, deposit Bug into his lap.
"I'm going to go rinse off," I reply.
When I get out of the shower, Mr. and Bug are having a great Baby conversation and I just stand there watching them for a minute. Bug is so smiley and happy, and I'm sure he's just told his Daddy about how cool it was when the puke arced in the air and landed in Mommy's eye. When I take him back so that Mr. can shower, Bug burrows his head into my neck again (he is such a cuddlebug! That's part of the reason I call him Bug. The other part is because he has huge buggy blue eyes) and starts sucking his thumb. I lay him down in his crib and within seconds he's fast asleep again.
Once again, I'm in love with my Bug.
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