Rainy Day Obstacle Course

The Dungeon

In our new house we have a 1/2 bath right off the kitchen. We call it the "Dungeon" because it is small, dark red (a color choice made by the previous owners), and has very low lighting with no windows.  Anyways, the dungeon is actually growing on me. I have always thought that bathrooms right off the kitchen are gross since well, they are "in your kitchen."  In fact, they are actually very practical rooms--especially when you are potty training.  This brings me to my next point and moms of boys know what I am talking about.  A few weeks ago, Clinton said "Mommy! I went potty!" Upon inspection, I found crystal clear toilet water and with a puzzled expression on my face I began to ask Clinton if he was telling the truth...until I felt a warm sensation permeating my fluffy white socks. Soaked. For the next 20 minutes or so, I cleaned up a tall glass amount of what used to be apple juice off the floor, walls, and baseboards. The toilet remained untouched...a glorious white throne in a dark dreary dungeon. Heath's response, "You shouldn't give a water gun to someone who doesn't know how to aim."  Excuse me, little boys know how to aim. Read on...

Just a few days later after the pee on the floor incident, I glanced around the room and did not see Clinton. Except for the incessant chatter of 9 month old Hunter, things were quiet...too quiet. I thought to myself, maybe Clinton is sitting quietly in a corner reading a book, or maybe he rushed upstairs to clean his room.  Pipe dreams of a mother of 2 young boys. Then I heard a shuffle and then a tinkling noise coming from the direction of the dungeon bathroom. Hurray! I secretly whispered to myself, he took himself to the bathroom. I began marching proudly over to congratulate my son. But he wasn't there. He was next door to the bathroom, in our walk-in-pantry....peeing in a giant stockpot. Boys know how to aim.  They also know how to tease their baby brother and get away with it.

As you can see from the picture, there is now a child-lock on the outside of the pantry, a child lock to the door to the garage (for safety) and soon to be no lock on the bathroom door. The following is a true story. Clinton thought it would be a brilliant idea to entice Hunter into the dungeon.  After Hunter was safely inside, Clinton locked the door from the inside, turned off the lights, jumped out, and shut the door...leaving Hunter to fend for himself.  As soon as I heard the door close I ran over.  The crying began which immediately turned to screaming. I scrambled for a tiny pin-like object to pick the lock.  Hunter's cries made me frantic. Clinton pretended to "help." After a minute or so, Hunter was rescued.  I was very upset with Clinton that he would do such a thing.  I knew this was a teaching moment so I calmly explained to him that his brother was very scared because it was so dark and that babies can't open doors.  I told him to never ever do that again. Clinton looked up at me and sincerely apologized. His exact words were; "I'm so sorry Mommy.... Next time, I'll leave the light on."


 I love my boys. Let the rollercoaster of daily emotions continue on this adventure of parenthood. Bring it on.

By the way, those previous owners knew what they were doing. They also had two boys. I think the dark paint color and super low lighting was by design...it hides "flaws."

Mythbusting on flying solo with your baby

This baby's got nothing on my chubby little man!

Recently, I flew with 9 month old Clinton from Salt Lake City to New York City roundtrip for a total of $72. Yup 72 Bucks! You can too if your very generous brother-in-law works for JetBlue and you are willing to fly stand-by. The trip was in a word "memorable." Let me just bust some myths on flying solo with little ones.

Myth #1 "Red-eye flights are the only way to travel with children."

Tell that to the sleeping person seated behind, across, in front, or anywhere within shouting vicinity when your child begins screaming at the top of his lungs because it's midnight and he is still awake due to complimentary juice, peanuts, "helpful" in-flight announcements, and/or unexpected vomit-bag required turbulence.

And when you see a mother traveling by herself with her THREE very small and peacefully sleeping children assume:
a. She is legally insane
b. She has drugged her kids
c. She is a figment of your imagination

Myth #2--"Everyone is so helpful and nice when you have a child with you."
 
Dirty looks abound when you are at the airport late at night or anytime at all with kids--especially babies. They are hoping with all hope that you are not seated next to them. And when people say "Oh don't worry I understand," they are, as sure as poop stinks--lying.

TSA agents become your worst enemy as you are forced to strip down, unload, fold your stroller and shove it through the tiny x-ray machine, stop, go, unpack, repack, get dressed, check and doublecheck you have all your belongings before you can move on, all while holding your squirmy, sweet, little baby in your arms.

My advice: have a non-flying family member or friend get a gate pass to help you to the gate. Unfortunately, some airports, like JFK, don't allow gate passes so be prepared to cry all the way to your tiny, varicose vein inducing, 4.5 hour prison seat--17B.

Myth #3--You should totally travel with your child before they turn 2. That way they are considered a lap-child and fly for free.

And when your usually sweet-tempered baby slaps you in the face because he has cabin-fever and wants to run rampant up and down the 18 inch aisles, you tell yourself calmy and repeatedly, "it'll all be over soon, it'll all be over soon, it'll all be over soon," and secretly wish you had Nyquil in your carry-on.

My advice: Bring your kid's car-seat and pray that there is a vacant seat next to you.

Clinton at 9 months

Oh and if you have to use the bathroom mid-flight you have two options:

Option 1-- Juggle your child in your arms while you attempt to wipe yourself in the closet masquerading as a restroom.
Option 2--Hand your child to a stranger to hold and hope they are not a homicidal maniac.

And finally when all else fails, and as gross as this may seem and as horrible a parent people might think you are--you CAN put your lap-child on the floor to sleep. I won't judge you.

Good luck and happy travels!

My 2 year old niece, Gracie, riding in style!

Clinton at 6 months

The journey to record all the "moments" begins.

Everyone keeps telling me that maintaining a blog is a great way to journal all of the "moments," and the, ahem, joys of motherhood. No really, it was such a joy to start tonight's bedtime routine with a blow-out. I could go on but it's late and who wants to hear about more fluids? I just love my little guy. Clinton Ross, not to be confused with the Democrat or the Independent, is all of 6 months old and super healthy. I have the fantastic new cup size to prove it.  Nursing...it is all it's cracked up to be. What do you think?

CheeriO.