Shower Dangers....Cheerios

Death Toll- Two

I love animals and nature outside where it belongs. I don’t keep plants or whatnot in my house as my tendency is to kill them. I also prefer the only furry thing in the house to be the pug, so it goes without saying that I was totally skived out when I found evidence of a mouse in the house. John and I took an immediate defensive position. Steel wool. Poison. Traps. Things seemed quiet for a bit. We assumed the situation was resolved and did not think too much about it. Then last week, when my daily chocolate craving hit, I took out my bag of individually wrapped Ghirardelli 72% dark chocolates. To my horror, I discovered a hole in the bag and several pieces half eaten. Poking around the drawer showed my stash of expensive English breakfast tea was also ravaged. The die was cast and the kid gloves were now off. My chocolate and tea in one fell swoop? Prepare to die, sucka.

I was leery to call the exterminator. I did not want to engage in chemical warfare unless absolutely necessary. Instead, I decided to be strategic in trap placement. Speaking of traps, we use the mouse equivalent of the roach motel. It goes in but does not come out. My kind of trap that is for sure. The next day I heard nails scratching on plastic. The culprit had been captured. Eventually, our POW suffered a heart attack. The war was resolved…or so I thought.

The next morning after I prepared Alice her breakfast, I saw the enemy scurrying along the perimeters of my kitchen, apparently involved in some recon mission. Now, I pride myself on not being a “girly girl”. I kill spiders, assemble things with tools, open my own doors and whatnot. With furry scurrying things, however, I screech for the nearest knight in shining armor. I screamed for John, “A MOUSE….UGGHHH!” To which my gallant hero replied, “Well, kill it.” Despite my panic mode, I gave pause. “What the fuck does he want me to kill it with?” I thought. My laser vision has been on the fritz lately as have the flames that shoot from my finger tips. The pitch of my screams must have more power than I initially thought because not long after John came down stairs, I heard the telltale scratching within the trap. Wow, I actually drove a mouse to suicide with just the power of my voice. Perhaps I have super hero qualities after all.

And the Honor Goes to…

Ah…the joys of pregnancy. This morning Alice and I were having breakfast together when out of nowhere, I made the loudest fart. Alice looked up at me, laughed, and told me that I made, “Daddy’s noise.” As yet another sign of how pathetic I have become, I am glad my daughter does not think of me as the flatulent one. Sorry John.

Toddlers- A Delightful Force of Destruction

Let me preface this blog entry with a little clarifying information. My husband is a coffee snob who absolutely loves his Krups coffee maker. Although a tea drinker myself, I can’t fault his love of this machine. It comes with this carafe that is fantastic in keeping the coffee hot for hours (and I mean hours). For whatever reason, however, no one seems to understand how to use it. To pour the coffee all you need to do is turn the top a bit which breaks the vacuum seal and releases the coffee. Instead, people constantly look for a button on it. Despite showing the coffee drinkers who frequently come over the mechanism, it does not seem to sink in. Yesterday, all those folks would have been put to shame by our two year old.

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I came down from my morning shower dressed and ready to go to Gymboree. It was a lovely morning so far- Alice slept until 8, had a good breakfast, and did not disturb my shower with a tantrum. All these positives should have alerted me to some doom in the immediate future, but I am generally an optimist. As I came down the stairs, I noticed a very strong smell of coffee throughout the first floor. I was really puzzled. John was at his office in New Jersey so no coffee was made that day. I figured it must have been some weird quirk of my pregnancy nose. I was probably picking up the scent of coffee from several houses away. And then I went into the living room. Alice decided to cook with coffee on her little play kitchen. I now had huge splotches of coffee on my cream colored carpet and a caffeinated toddler and pug to contend with as well. How pathetic am I that I was happy it was just coffee on the carpet? Thankfully the steam cleaners worked their usual magic and I learned a way to get an old pug active again is some Kona coffee.

Imagination

For the last few weeks, I have noticed a major uptick in Alice’s imaginative play. Now instead of just manipulating her toys, she has been using them to create little stories and conversations. For now, the blocks and coloring have taken a back seat to her stuffed animals and Little People sets. Additionally, Alice is also imagining herself in other forms. Not surprisingly, most of the time she pretends that she is a dog. Now when the doorbell rings, I have two dogs barking. Yesterday, Alice retrieved a rubber glove for me and brought it over to me in her mouth while on all fours. She has taken to eating her morning Cheerios in a bowl on the floor. Although confused at times, the pug seems appreciative of this new side to her human. There is much tail wagging on both sides.

Returning to the Land of the Living

I never thought I would say this, but sometimes being a conscientious mommy does not pay off. Take my downward spiral into hell last week. On Wednesday I was at the pediatrician’s office for Alice’s two and a half year check up. During our consultation and exam, Alice’s pediatrician told us to make sure we washed our hands upon leaving as a rather nasty stomach bug has been going around. No problem. I carry antibacterial hand goo in my coat pocket these days (along with snacks, sippy cups, bandages, coupons…). I waited until we were safely by the car and proceeded to give our hands a good going over. 24 hours later….

I heard the crying at 2 in the morning. Wondering what could be up, I stumbled into Alice’s darkened bedroom and then it hit me- the smell, the slime beneath my bare feet. “Oh #%$@!” screeched itself through my brain. I turned on the light to see my daughter (along with her sheets and carpet) covered in vomit. Thankfully John was home for this one. I set her up in the tub, got John to wash her and proceeded to strip, steam, and clean. Part of me realized the futility of all this action. If she got sick once, she was going to go again. I was up about five more times in the night.

John went off to work the next morning leaving me with puke girl. I was pleasantly surprised that despite the heaving she was perfectly content to hang around the house and watch Spongebob Squarepants. Thankfully, by the end of the day, the vomiting stopped and for the next two days I went on a cleaning/disinfecting frenzy probably made all the more intense by my pregnancy and nesting urges. I finished on Saturday afternoon, took a long hot shower and proceeded to never leave the bathroom. Yep, I got Alice’s stomach virus.

I don't think I ever had such a virulent stomach bug before. According to the stomach flu gods, it was not enough that I would vomit; but, it had to happen in sets of three and in rapid succession. After several hours of that suffocating torture, the other end decided to get into the action. I was surprised there was anything left inside of me. You know things are bad when you think to yourself, “Boy, am I glad the sink is so close to the toilet.” After another sleepless night, I realized that none of the fluids I forced upon myself had any effect; I was dehydrated. This would have caused me to be upset under normal circumstances but in my pregnant state I was a bit freaked out. I wanted to cry, and I did try to, but no tears would fall. I called my gynecologist and was told to head to the emergency room for an IV. Several hours and three liters of fluid later, I was finally able to urinate and was released.

I am on the mend but still really tired. Unfortunately, toddlerhood allows no rest for the weary mommy. I look forward to the weekend and John being around so I can pull a Rip Van Winkle. Now if only I can get through today…

Alice’s Latest Obsession- The Humorous Fall Out

I am so fascinated by Alice’s tendency to fixate on something to the point of obsession. I guess I am just amused by the whole process. I enjoy seeing what makes her so happy, I laugh at her reactions to said thing, and I like to see how the latest passion is going to play itself out in our day.

For the most part Alice’s absorptions have centered on the pug (obviously) and several television shows. Yes, I will admit I am one of those parents who has the television on in the background often. Despite my former English teacher profession, I don’t really see television as the devil. I believe in the idea of everything in moderation. Actually, I enjoy seeing her reactions to the shows (I also enjoy the time they give me to occasionally put my feet up and have a cup of tea). The repercussions from her television watching have not been the dangers the “experts” caution us already paranoid parents about. I have not noticed exceptionally violent behavior or severe lack of attention to tasks. Rather, the quirks she has picked up have been very cute and sweet. Whenever The Backyardigans or Jack’s Big Music Show come on, I know I will have my own show of Alice dancing (read: spinning around in a circle until dizziness becomes too much) and singing (read: screaming when the characters hit a high note). After an episode or two of Blue’s Clues, I will be amused with Alice’s tendency to talk to inanimate objects like the dishes in my china cabinet. I am sure they appreciate her salutations of “Hi dish” and “Hi plate”. It is probably pretty boring day in and out in the same place. Dora the Explorer has resulted in her peppering her language with Swiper’s “Oh Man” exclamation when she is thwarted in an attempt to pull one over on me. The latest, however, has me still laughing even days later.

Last week I took 101 Dalmatians from the library. I thought Alice might enjoy it due to the focus on dogs. “Enjoy” is a weak word to describe Alice’s ecstasy. As soon as the movie is over, she clamors for “More puppies.” Ever since we have watched the movie (probably 101 times by now), I notice Alice often makes up little melodies when she does things. Walking down the stairs has a song as does playing with her toys. I wondered for a while as to the cause of this newfound quirk and then it hit me. She has seen her first real movie with a soundtrack. Consequently, she has now created her own. I have to admit I am envious of her soundtrack, especially as my life generally seems accompanied by a laugh track.