Children are the pickiest eaters!!!

I just love this set of photos going around from mommyshorts.com

Click below to see more of these hilarious photos!!

10 Things: I Didn't Know Before Becoming a Parent

(1) I would never need an alarm clock again.  Sunday morning, my two-year old woke up at 6:15am.  Now, remember I worked as a corporate lawyer for years and I don't remember even waking up this early in those days, except to catch a flight. I think the last time I set an alarm was....um.... before kids??

(2) I would become an expert negotiator. It goes something like this: "How about we color with the crayons after your have put your clothes back on and stop hiding under the dining table?"

(3) I would become a really good liar. I think I told this one today: "<insert name> called me today to find out why you didn't eat your yoghurt. Yes, good girl. I will ring <insert name> and tell them you ate your yoghurt". Today, I used her hand surgeon's name. I secretly hope she doesn't randomly announce to him that she ate her yoghurt at her appointment tomorrow morning...

(4) I would have my hand in so much poop. Literally.  The most distant and recent example of this was a couple weeks ago.

Usually when one of my girls have done a diaper blowout, I stand them up in the big laundry sink and use the extendable faucet to wash them down nicely.  Of course, before I do that, I have to carefully peal away the diaper and quickly (with one hand) discard it into a plastic bag I store under the laundry sink.  Well, first time this ever happened - I was in the process of peeling the diaper off and I lost control of it and it just opened out... plop...plop....plop.  My one hand was gripping my Mini-V, the other was now holding an open, half empty poopy diaper and I am staring at what has plopped into the sink. These were my thoughts: "What just happened??...I wish I had gloves... I wish I had another bag... If I blink, maybe we can go back in time... omg I have to use my hand and pick that sh*t up. Literally".  And I did.

No amount of anti-bacterial soap will erase that disgusting memory. This is where I remind myself I have two degrees plus a Masters and yet I find myself handling poop all day. So gross. Pregnancy should come with a poop warning.

(5) Children think it's absolutely normal to spit out into your hand whatever it is they have chewed and decided they don't want to swallow.  The worst part is they do it in public too. Oh, and if your hand is not freely available, be warned that they will just spit it out on you, the floor, really anywhere. Today, my daughter decided to not finish her pasta and so she just spat it out on my kitchen floor.  And then they will use your pants leg to wipe their dirty hands and mouths afterwards.

(6) The diaper bag is now my handbag. I never actually realized when I was pregnant that it would be a long time before I would be reunited with my handbag. I mean every now and then when I am out without the kids of course I leave the diaper bag at home and take a purse but I had no clue before kids that essentially the diaper bag would be all I would carry! I was never a real purse-kinda-gal anyway but I do miss carry around items beyond my "bare essentials" of wallet/lip gloss/keys/gum. I also sorta miss carrying around junk I don't need... toothpicks, restaurant candies I know will never make it to my stomach because of the bag lint attached to it, sachets of sugar, random bobby pins, random receipts shoved in my bag that should be thrown out...


(7) You never get to eat.  Parents of 2+ kids, you know what I am talking about. You and your partner tag team eating at restaurants: "honey, you eat first and I will feed the kids and then we can swap"... then you inhale your food the first instance you get because you don't quite know if you will get another five minutes uninterrupted to eat for a while. Sometimes I am so hungry and honestly, I don't get that five minutes just to get even a cracker to tide me over... between the "carry me Mommy!!!!" (whimpering ensues if you attempt to put them down) and then the constant diapering, feeding, crying... I think back to the good old days of one child. Man, those days were good! When she was down for a nap, I had all that time to myself.  Now I am just holding out for when I can ship them off the school. Maybe then I will eat.

(8) Going to the toilet becomes a spectator sport.  Not only does my toddler barrage me with a ton of questions about what I am about to do, but then she wants to be there, watch and get a running commentary during the main event. This is how it goes: "Mommy, you go wee-wee? I'm coming too... Is it big wee-wee? Maybe poo-poo? Did you fart? Was it big poo-poo? Will you wipe now? Can I see it? Can I flush it?".  Honestly, you would think I had just given birth to something memorable.

Sometimes I try to trick my toddler just so I can use the toilet alone in peace for once: "Mommy is going to...um... check something...." (quick exit) but this usually follows with tears and the pained wailing of "Moooooommy!! Where are yooooou? Come baaaaaack!" - not worth it, I think having a spectator and answering questions is slightly more tolerable than trying to back one out whilst listening to your child cry and scream for you like they are in pain.

I really miss the days of being able to go to the toilet in peace.  Sadly, the few occasional moments I do have the chance to go alone, I tend to drag it out like it is some sort of vacation. I take my phone, have a game all ready to play,  or sometimes I keep a nice new catalog waiting for me and then I take my time and sit there for several minutes, just enjoying the solitude.  It's really quite pathetic.

(9) It becomes normal to refer to yourself in the third person.  I honestly can't remember the last time I used "I" in a sentence  with my children.  It's always Mommy this or Mommy that. It's so bizarre when you actually think about it. I mean, I know that they know that I am Mommy, so why do we do it?

(10) That just my touch, hug and kiss, has the power to stop tears and make a crying child happy again. Now, that is a gift, maybe even a superpower!

10 Things: Raising a Socially Conscious and Capable Daughter

1. Girls can do anything boys can do. 

Don't raise your daughter to think she can't be anything and do anything at all in this lifetime. Of course, there will always be some gendered differences that are undeniable (how realistic is it that your daughter will be the national spokesperson for testicular cancer?) but your daughter should never view her gender as a setback in life. Your daughter should be exposed to lots of sports and activities so she has the opportunity to realize her potential both intellectually and physically.

2. Don't force your daughter to wear pink.  

We live in a completely gendered society and it often upsets me when you see the big divide in children's stores between girls' and boys' clothing.  When I first found out I was pregnant, we decided at first to not know the baby's sex. Well, let me tell you how difficult, if not nearly impossible, it is to buy gender neutral clothing.  The girls' section is filled with peter pan collars, ruffled sleeves and little pink polka dots and bows. Not to mention everything is adorned with "Daddy's Princess", and yet the boys' section is a walking advertisement for anything with wheels - tractors, cars, firetrucks.  

Well, my now toddler daughter loves cars, digging in the dirt, rocks and playing with boys. Sure she loves to wear dresses and rummage through Mommy's makeup drawer but we must remember that children are completely uninfluenced in the beginning by society's attempts to mold their likes and dislikes according to their genders. Why should we tell them they should be or what they should like? Well, shouldn't we just let them be who they want to be? Don't force your daughter to wear pink ruffles if she likes blue.  Mini-V loves pirates so I recently purchased Carter's Pirate Pajamas (for boys).  My husband thought I was nuts at the time but I didn't care especially at that moment when my daughter's face lit up as she saw her new PJs.

3. Don't treat your daughter like a princess, and she won't act like one

I guess this follows with the above point. Every time I see a mother of a little girl treat her like a princess, not only do I roll my eyes but, like some amazing seer, I have this foresight of what's to come for that mother... probably a spoilt little girl. Look, I get it.  Girls love all the fairytales with princesses and they love Disney and castles and make-believe but where do you draw the line between allowing them to enjoy princesses and then them actually thinking they are one?

Let's face it, in real life Princesses don't work, they order people around like servants, they are high maintenance and they use tax payer's money to promote their own agendas. Do we really want our daughters to behave like this when they grow up? Do we want them to think it is OK to be high maintenance and to squander other people's hard earned money away for their own whims and fancy? I certainly have never ever done anything in a "princess" theme for my daughters, nor do I intend to ever.  This is an unrealistic fantasy and I would much rather encourage my daughter to not be high maintenance and be a real person - someone who works hard, appreciates the substance of things and doesn't get caught up in having the need to be "taken care of".

So how do we strike this balance? We should be encouraging our girls to take pride in their appearance and carry herself with poise like a little lady but they still need to understand they are not above other people (like princesses), there is no sense of entitlement of getting what you want just because you happen to be a cute girl. In my household, there will never be any pedicures or manicures for my underage children, there will be no handbags (what could they possibly have to carry?) and there will be no spa treatments.  If you treat you baby like a princess, what happens? You have a 14 year-old brat that still behaves like a princess. Sorry if this is harsh, just stating facts.

4. Encourage your daughter to have friends from all walks

As children, we know not about differences, there is a greater level of acceptance and a more tolerant playing field of interaction. Abled children play with handicapped ones, children of different races play together, they don't know if their best friend has two Mommies or no Mommy at all. Frankly, they don't care.  They just want to know if you will play with them. Social tolerance is learned in the household so set a good example.  Show your daughters (and your sons) it's OK to play with boys and girls and everyone in between.  Let them play freely and don't let on about your own prejudices.  They don't even understand that boys are different to themselves.  I know this because last week, my daughter said to me "Mommy, you are a good boy".  There is definite confusion there and that is OK. That is what is pure about children. There is plenty of time to educate your daughters about socially acceptable practices, like not sleeping over at a boy's house, but let that time come later.

5. Girls will fall and bruise too. It's OK

Everyone says "most boys will break a bone as a child" and while this probably holds true, it is also OK for girls to climb, jump, bump and fall. My older daughter is a total tomboy, as I have already mentioned and while we have been lucky enough to be spared so far with an emergency room visit, she has taken several hard knocks to the head, and elsewhere.  My outlook is that, as long as she is lucid, behaviorally cognitive  and not gushing out with blood, chances are she is OK. Sure I have made a few precautionary phone calls to the pediatrician to make sure - you can never be too sure - but remember, most children who are not seriously hurt from a fall will cry well after they fall because they were (a) scared or (b) lapping up the sympathy.  Of course give your daughter a cuddle and give her that sympathy and love.
This is really important for your child's emotional development BUT try not to overdo it just because she is a girl.

Let your daughter be tough and shake it off, just like your sons. Don't shout "ooooh myyyy god" if she skids on the grass a little harder than usual. Just walk over calmly, ask is she is hurting, wipe the tears and tell her she is OK and you love her. They feed off your emotions and believe me, I have plenty of friends with kids who cry cry cry over nothing but any 3rd party can tell you it's because the parent overreacts and treats the child like he or she is dying.  Don't do this. Don't scare your child.  Let them cry and tell you if they are hurt - not the other way around.

6. Girls want to be firefighters too

Let your daughters play with gender neutral toys and encourage her to dream and be anything she wants to be.  We are big advocates of this in our household.  When you break it down, a child's developmental milestones are pretty basic - and un-gendered. They have to develop intellectually, socially, emotionally and physically. That's really it.  Things like gross motor skills can be worked on through many means so let your daughters play with gender neutral toys.  Build your toy collection so that anyone walking in would be unsure if you had a daughter or a son.  This means that not only should your daughter be able to enjoy cars and trucks and legos but your sons should feel free to develop their imaginative play through things like toy kitchens and dress-ups too.  Mini-V really enjoys her Thomas the tank engine train and her firefighter hat and of course, surprisingly, she still gravitates to the tea set and the dolls (isn't gender and sexuality the darndest thing? Must be innate!) but the pint is we would never keep her from playing with boy-oriented toys. In fact I have ordered plenty of "boy Happy Meals" at McDonalds just for varied toy selection!

7. Don't paint your little daughter's fingernails.

It looks silly. See No. 3.

8. Try to use varied superlatives

Please don't always tell your daughter she is the most beautiful, even if this is true. Our ultimate goal is to encourage our daughters to be strong, capable young ladies with good self-esteem.  Try to use encouraging words like "clever", "smart" and "happy".  While, yes, your daughter is undoubtedly very pretty, focusing on this sort of praise does not let her also realize that there is much more substance to
her.

Of course, you can keep complimenting your daughter on her looks but remember to compliment her other characteristics too. Tell your daughter how you think she is extremely imaginative or confident. Also applaud her abilities and accomplishments, like spelling, drawing, being a good friend or helping her little brother, too. These words and praises actually mean something and will show your daughter there is much value in such traits. It will encourage her to be authentic and proud of who she is, regardless of how she looks.

9. Educate your daughter about sexuality and sex

Our society is highly sexualized and we should encourage our children - both boys and girls - to have a good, intelligent grasp of sexuality and sex.  In this day and age, I don't even think my point needs further explanation other than don't delay this too long. If you daughter is mature enough to handle this, then she is mature enough for the evolution of your parenting role. Wouldn't you want your daughters to hear the important stuff from you anyway? Talk about these topics openly and honestly. You don't need to sit and divulge everything that surpasses their maturity or interest level but certainly open up a frank discussion so at least your daughter knows you are open to talking about these topics if and when she is ready.

10. Remember to still encourage your daughter to be feminine and soft.

I know this sounds totally archaic and almost completely contradictory to most of what I have said but I really do believe there is a certain innate soft quality about females and this should not be stifled nor discouraged. Yes, your daughter can be strong and capable but she can also be feminine and gentle. This is not to say that you should direct your daughter either way. I mean, really, you just want them to be themselves so, having said that, we should not try to influence our daughters to not be soft (sorry, double negative!) just because we associate this with something negative like being weak.  Softness does not amount to weakness. There is nothing weak about being feminine, in fact this can be a great asset.  There is something to be said about great females in this world who are (or were) extremely nurturing and gentle.... think Oprah Winfrey, Mother Theresa or Princess Diana.  You can achieve greatness even if you are feminine.  But as I have said before, neither femininity nor strength should be mutually exclusive or for the sake of the other. We are women, can't we have it all?

Toddlers and Balls

I have just realized that having a toddler in the house means you live in a house of balls. I mean, literally.

I am constantly stepping on balls, finding them in the most obscure places, not to mention that I have to play dodge ball everyday - balls are whizzing by me all the time.  Mummy, catch!

I wonder, am I alone? Surely not because I see that Mini-V's 2 year-old friends are just as ball-obsessed as she is. They gravitate to them like it's some sort of baby crack. So today I decided to do a stocktake and actually walk through the main floor of the house, counting and documenting all the balls I found. I did not expect to find so many!!! There were TEN balls randomly placed on my first floor. I didn't even know I owned 10 balls. Here they are:

Ball 1: Next to the oven

Ball 2: Next to the couch in the living room

Ball 3: Under the Piano

Ball 4: in the corner next to the living room fireplace

Ball 5: in the foyer (and damaged by little teeth)

Ball 6: at the front door

Ball 7: in the kitchen

Ball 8: in the breakfast nook by the deck door

Balls 9: caught and grouped in a carrying case on the coffee table (this one is really cute to watch being toted around!)

Balls 10: in the play tent

The mess continues!

So firstly, forgive me if my tone is lack-lustre and fatigued but it was another day of me making nice with my bottle of bleach and paper towels. I cleaned up Buttercup's puke FOUR times today. Yes, that's right, FOUR times. I blame it on her newfound "bulimic" tendencies of shoving her hand towards the back of her gums to soothe her achy molar sites.

She vomited on her playmat in the morning, so that went into the wash with Mini-V's bedsheets that she urinated on yesterday (didn't blog about that one, all this happens so often it is almost becoming unremarkable for me). Then not even an hour later, I approach her in the exersaucer (at Mini-V's insistence: "uh-oh! Sister spat up!")... no, it wasn't spit up, it was smelly, curdled white, milk vomit!! All over her face, hands, and literally pooling around her suspended exersaucer seat in a cloudy, salivary mass.  For the second day in a row, I took the seat off and washed it. Now, this seat was never even washed once with Mini-V and yet I must have washed it at least 6 times with my second baby. So bizarre.

The "before" shot....I will save you from the "after" shot.

So everything was quiet on the vomit front (bar a post afternoon-nap episode of diarrhea by Mini-V), I made a delicious pureed dinner of carrots, asparagus, apples and beets.  Buttercup did great - she ate like a champion. And then it started... the hand was going in the mouth, I couldn't stop it. Vomit No. 3 had arrived. It wasn't too bad and it was mostly contained and over as quick as it came. The only thing I really felt sad for was that just five minutes prior Buttercup had been enjoying her dinner and now it was wasted, the food and my efforts.

So I am cleaning up the highchair and I decide to place the baby on the hardwood floor just next to the highchair as I am packing up the food etc. And then I can hear that distinct gagging noise.  It was like a scene unfolding in slow motion.  She must have gagged three times before the fountain of spew erupted from her mouth and spilled over onto the floor. It was the biggest of the day (didn't know she had that much left!) and a lovely burgundy pinkish color that would have made a pretty nail lacquer shade had I not known it was actually vomit. Well, this time it was in her hair and just all over. Just when I was applauding myself for catching her vomit No. 3 in her bib, all my efforts were instantly undone.

Bathtime!!! (and laundry time.... again.)

Fall classes

Well, summer is almost over and it's that time of the year when we start enrolling in classes.  Mini-V will continue her Wednesday gymnastics class (which she LOVES) but we are adding Monday morning swimming lessons, art class and a Kindermusik class that I can bring Buttercup to on Friday mornings.

Mini-V enjoying Gymnastics

Only thing is, I have learned that the art class may be cancelled as we are the ONLY ones enrolled! So disappointed, Mini- was so excited!!! She has just learned to paint and is really loving it.  Everyday she asks me if we will be doing art. I suppose I could do some ad hoc art at home but it is always hard seizing the opportunity with the little baby around and needing me too.

Doing some outdoor painting

Well, I said I would call the Art center on Friday and check in on enrollments. Fingers crossed that the class does go ahead. I was secretly looking forward to it too!!! I love art.

So if anyone is keeping track...

...I cleaned up vomit FOUR times within a 48-hour time frame. Gross. I hope today is vomit-free!! Here's the re-cap:

1. Buttercup vomited when I was putting her to bed on Tuesday night. She drank her bottle and looked like she was struggling through her burp. I continued trying to burp her when the volcano erupted. Casualties included one teddy bear who had to be thrown up from being in the direct line of fire. The glider and carpet also looked a little worse for wear after that episode

2. I always bathe Mini-V before her afternoon nap on Wednesdays, as she has her weekly Gymnastics class and that place kinda smells foul.  Lately, she has developed an intense (and frightening) fear of the drain, so needless to say, when she had her afternoon bath, she screamed and screamed during rinse-off. The screaming became hyperventilation... and then spluttering lunch vomit. Requiring an unnecessarily torturous prolonged bath in her case. Poor child was so upset, she vomited her entire Happy Meal lunch and milk.

3. That same Wednesday evening, I put Buttercup to bed and a short while later she started crying. Usually she will settle herself but it was getting progressively louder so I went up to look. I opened the door and the smell of vomit wafted over. I approached the crib and my left foot stepped in something wet. When I got on my hands and knees to look, I discovered a distinctly odorous drip trickling down the crib railing and into a little puddle on her rug. I then found vomit in the crib, on her sleep sack, on her, in her hair. Hmm... another bath for the day (the third I had given that day) and probably my sixth load of laundry for the week. 

4. I made the huge mistake of offering Buttercup her first whole piece of broccoli after she had eaten a jar of store baby food and a small bowl of homemade pureed pears. Completely my fault and rookie mistake that I should have known better.  She was doing great on the broccoli until she gaged - which I might add is a perfectly natural response to Baby Led Weaning - and so understandably, she vomited. All. Over. The. Highchair.  I took the entire high chair apart and yup, another bath! And another load of laundry.

Please wish me well for tonight, let's hope it is vomit-free!!!

Mini-V's mess-fest

So I have mentioned before that my two-year old has a tendency to vomit and defecate in the most obscure and often difficult situations, testing Super-J and my ability to handle the mess appropriately. Thought you might like to hear about some of the more memorable occasions, I could list so many more but I have to show some restraint or you could be here all day reading.

Downtown restaurant with no change table
This is memorable because it was the first (of many) occasions.  When Mini-V was four months old, we thought it would be easy enough to walk into town and grab a nice bite to eat at a nice restaurant.  It was late September, the leaves were just starting to change color and so we thought it nice to sit at an outdoor table of the restaurant, not wanting to disturb too many people with our baby and stroller. We had just placed our order when a distinct odor wafted over us. The odor of poo.  I did a quick check and found that not only had the baby done a massive one, but off course it was up her back and into her new BundleMe.  I was still a new Mom so I had to think for a moment about what to do. Of course I had a limited supply of emergency items in my diaper bag - blame it on inexperience - but luckily I did have diapers, wipes and, thankfully, a change of clothes. I unfastened the baby from the stroller and headed to the Ladies Room.

So that's when I realized that in this sophisticated Carrera marble lined, wallpapered "powder room", with its fancy Williams Sonoma hand soaps and phalaenopsis orchid, there was no change table.  I set myself up on the bathroom floor (yes, eew), carefully laying out my change pad, and swiftly changed and re-clothed her.  I returned to my table, removed the soiled BundleMe and ate my now cold lunch.

Ikea
I think Mini-V was around 10 months old when we did one of our twice-a-year trips to Ikea to pick up odds and ends and, of course, we stopped at its famed cafeteria. By now, she was eating finger good and I offered her a small piece of my steamed salmon. BIG MISTAKE. A few moments later, Mini-V didn't look so well. Then it happened. Projectile vomiting. When I mean projectile, I really mean it. She spewed with such tenacity that I thought she could enter a vomiting Olympic event.  It went everywhere. All over the highchair, the table, me, herself. And you know along with that vomit comes the frightned screams of The Vomiter. By now we had spectators. I tried to remain cool under the scrutiny.  Acting like oh yeah, I do this all the time. I actually did.  Vomiting was fast becoming one of her common and expected reactions to the teething process.

So anyway, again we were lucky to have a change of clothes, and by now we knew we had to always travel with Zip Lock bags to contain any soiled items.  But you definitely know it's a "situation" when you hear on the overhead announcement that the cafeteria urgently needs contamination clean-up crew - their special attendants who come with buckets, Clorox and who are dressed in heavy duty overalls and gloves.  Just when I thought we were acting as inconspicuous as possible, they send over their people. Nice.

The Mall
I don't now which incidence to mention first. The Mall is one of Mini-V's all-time favorite places to poop, vomit, wet her pants.  On my first birthday as a mother, I met a friend and her little son for lunch with Mini-V.  We had just bought the Baby Jogger City Mini and it was the first time I was using it and the new toddler size BundleMe. Brand new.  We had a nice lunch at the Nordstrom Cafe and I still remember what I ordered, because I saw it again later. I had ordered a Tuna Nicoise Salad, which most people know comes with a nice hardboiled egg on top.  I am allergic to hardboiled eggs, Mini-V is not, so she happily ate the yolk. She was about 8 months' old at the time.

After lunch, we continued walking and she was starting to look sleepy so I covered the mesh backing with the flap to give her some darker quiet inside the seat. It was a little too quiet, and there was "a smell". I looked inside, to my horror, and saw what looked like curdled eggs all over the brand new BundleMe and stroller.

I kid you not, I sat in the Macy's bathroom with her, and the soiled stroller and literally tried to clean everything with about twenty minutes.  I eventually gave up and had to go home, strip everything (including the new stroller) and wash every soiled item. It was utterly disgusting and the worst birthday present ever.  My next birthday, she was sick all over me too - but that's another story!

Another time at an outlet mall, at 8:55pm (5 minutes before closing), Mini-V completely destroyed her diaper and clothing with a foul diaper explosion.  Honestly, I can handle it in the best of circumstances.  I was getting used to it, but this was like the world was testing my abilities under time constraints. I have to say I passed with flying colors. We made it back to the car without too much haste, even if the cleaners had already started doing their work in the now closed Mall.

Mini-V drinks so much water that it is almost a 3-4 times a week deal that she will fill her diaper quicker than we can change it. Even if we change it and then drive someplace, chance are, particularly in the summertime, her pants are wet. We haven't formally started potty training but needless to say, I definitely think it will be challenging keeping up with her need to go! I can't even count and tell you how many times we have had to buy new outfits for her at the mall because she has already used her emergency clothing. No kidding.

Travelling
Well, this list here is voluminous too. She peed on my leg, through her diaper, on a plane trip to Dubai. She projectile vomited (almost getting the iPad, which I had only just put away because I thought - foolishly - she looked "sleepy") in the car and all over Super-J in India. I don't blame her, that car ride was sickeningly bumpy and jerky. The last trip we took, I honestly felt over-zealous packing five sets of emergency clothing for her in my carry-on, even though we were travelling over 20 hours.  Super-J even laughed when he saw and questioned the need for it all. Well, we used up every set of clothing and could have used one more.

Her Crib
This is the last story for you.  Mini-V's crib became her little sanctuary for mess, her high chair too. I can't recall how many times the crib rails had to be Lysol-ed or the sheets had to be cleaned due to mess.  I distinctly remember a couple of the worst times though.

There is a reason why for almost 22 months, we never put Mini-V in two-piece pyjamas. She has always been a butt-scratcher.  And I am not sure about other kids but my older girl has always been one to do a poop during naptime.  Maybe it's just that it is so relaxing and calm and it is the best, most private time for her to do her mess. There was one occasion that I had to learn the hard way that it is not a good idea to let her sleep in a two-piece.  It was mid-afternoon and she had woken from her nap. I could see, and hear, her on the monitor, playing around. Moving from one side of the crib to the other. She was about 15 or 16 months' old, so she was able to run back and forth in her crib.

I usually let her have quiet time when she wakes up, allowing her to nicely wake before bringing her back downstairs. This is mainly because sometimes she will wake and go back to sleep. The five minutes lets me really determine if she is up.  This time, she was quite active and making lots of "playing noises".  I went upstairs and when I opened the door, omg the sheer horror and disgust! The first thing that hit me was the stench. It was that smell of a badly soiled, possibly exploded, diaper, that has since been urinated in and had sat for a little while.  Then when I went over to her, she giggled and I smelled her breath. Yes, that's right. Her breath stank of poop! (I vomit a little in my mouth, thinking of this).  At this point, I think I gasped loudly and shrieked something along the lines of "AAARRRGH!".

Then, I looked at her fingers. Poop. Then I looked at the crib sheet. Poop. Finally, I looked at the crib itself, poop. Honestly, it looked like she had butt scratched and then proceeded to investigate what this matter was, then she has used it as a sort or Art medium with which to draw with. She had "drawn" (in poop) all over the railings, the sheets and even herself.

Needless to say, this was the ultimate in putrified disgusting, filthy moments in the repertoire of Mini-V. And one I will used time and time again against her in the future when she makes any material demands of me ("Mom, I want a car, "no, I cleaned your poop").  In truth, it wasn't too bad to clean, because everything had to be cleaned! At one point, I think I laughed.  It was so disgustingly memorable! To this day, I still try to put her in one-piece pyjamas.

So finally, I just want to add (and I know I posted about Buttercup's vomiting last night) but Mini-V did vomit on my today too. But you know, by now I am a seasoned pro at it ;)

Can you find Blue's Clue?

So I was changing Mini-V's diaper the other day and she suddenly calls out, "I found it! I found it! I found Blues Clues! Blue's Clues".  (Those of you who have children who avidly watch Nick Jr, then you know what I am talking about. If you don't here is the link: Blue's Clues)

So naturally,  I am thinking to myself what is she talking about? Meanwhile she is still pointing to the side of the change table and excitedly shrieking "I found the clue! I found the clue!".

So, this is what it was.... can you find "the clue?" I was laughing so hard when I realized what she was talking about!

Take a closer look at the 'splash' logo on my hand sanitizer... do you think it resembles Blue's paw print?

It's that moment when....

...you have a false sense of satisfaction with yourself for putting your baby down for the night at 6:30pm. You put your feet up since Super-J is with Mini-V, start planning what you will do for the rest of the evening with only one child left to say night night to...

...Then the baby stirs at 8pm so you go upstairs to check. Oh, she is hungry!! Go back downstairs, make bottle, feed her and suddenly unexpected (and unwarranted) projectile vomiting ensues. Dinner is on the stove, now cold. Your older child is hovering, asking over and over "Did Buttercup bombalid (translation: vomited)? Did she bombalid (translation: vomit)?" - YES, Mini-V, she vomited!!!...

...Super-J appears and swiftly takes the baby over to the laundry to contain the contamination and SHE VOMITS IN HIS MOUTH!

Meanwhile, a little voice in the hallway is chanting, "did she bombalid, Mommy? Mommy! Is that bombalid?". YES, Mini-V, she vomited, yes it is! Please go play with Daddy's iPad!

The now naked Buttercup is on her stomach in the hallway, giggling, happy. If you didn't know any better, you would never have guessed she had been hyperventilating amidst tears just five minutes prior.

After significant damage to a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of Woolite, along with successful final efforts to put Mini-V to bed and the permanent discarding of a few furry friends from the nursery - oh and don't forget a load of laundry, two showers (one for Daddy and one for Mommy), plus a bath for Buttercup later and it's finally dinner time. In our exhaustion, there was no effort made to re-heat it.  It is 9:30pm.

Hey, at least they are both sleeping now. For the moment.