The Lazy Potty Trainers

We've got to get this job done because I want G to start preschool in January, and they won't take him with diapers. I get it, but man alive is this job daunting. I put it off when I was pregnant because I was tired and pregnant. I didn't consider the time crunch I'd be up against by putting it off.

Here's the thing, though:

If you wait until your kid is practically begging to start peeing on the potty, the training process isn't too terrible.

We equipped ourselves with a frog potty, a couple of packs of stickers and a fire hat my mom sent (that he gets to wear on the potty and turn on the lights and siren if he goes).

Stupidly, I started hitting it hard on Monday, knowing we had to be out pretty much all day on Tuesday and Wednesday - so I'm pretty sure Monday doesn't even count. So here we are, starting fresh.

We turned on a space heater in the family room (it's a furnished basement so it's cold down here) and G is running around pants-less-ly playing, sipping on juice (which he seldom gets so he's drinking a ton) and peeing away. The first day he got to get a sticker for each pee, and I swear, he peed 45 times in an hour. And over these two days we've only had two accidents!

Moral of the story is: Lazy parenting pays off. Sometimes. Okay, maybe just this once.

Adding a sticker to his road. That sucker was filled up front and back by hour 2.

Cheesin' in his fire hat. Love our 50's cabinetry.

Pumpkin Fun

I don't like Halloween. I don't like what it's about. I don't like spending money on costumes. I don't like that people think once they're in costumes they don't have to act like responsible human beings. And I don't like carving pumpkins because it's messy and squishy and gross. I also don't really like having candy in the house or in my kids tummy.

But I do like my kids and I know that this is the last year I'll be off the hook for celebrating Halloween legitimately. In the mean time though, I have successfully gotten by just sticking stickers on pumpkins and just avoiding the costume aisle at WalMart.

 

 

 

 

 

The Siren Noise

When G was tiny, I was sitting at Easter dinner with a bunch of friends talking around the table, and all the kids were playing/laying near us in the living area (they were all pretty small and couldn't get into much trouble) - they were cooing and "talking" and it got kind of loud. Then someone started crying. Then someone else. And through all the chaos I knew exactly when my baby was one of the ones crying. A friend (who at that time didn't have children) commented that she couldn't believe I could pick out the cries of my child over those of all the others. I told her I thought God/the universe/nature makes a baby's cries the most irritating thing on the planet to that child's mother, so she'll tend it's need immediately. And I still feel this way, although P's cry is less irritating and more painful as I'm pumped full of Fenugreek all day and as soon as she makes a peep my milk lets down with a vengeance. Seriously, it's what I assume being electrocuted feels like. I don't know if that's normal or not, but after not having enough milk for G and practically starving him, I'll take it.

I used to wake up at G's tiniest peep, but since P came along I haven't heard him at night unless I'm on guard (like when he was sick). The other day Erik told me G woke up screaming 3x the night before and I didn't hear a single thing. I felt kind of bad about it. At first I thought it was just the sheer exhaustion of having a newborn but as I kept thinking I decided it must be biology. My body must know that I have a baby to tend to and has made me more in tune with her than with my child who is more likely to be able to fend for himself. Interestingly, Erik used to never be awakened by G at night but now *he* awakens to every peep. Maybe biology is working on him as well (YAY!).

But, until I can get my brain straightened out and trained to awaken to both kids needs (does anyone have any tips on this?), I have told G to wake me up by making a siren noise (the loudest, most annoying noise that boy can make - it could wake the dead) - because that's honestly the only way I hear him on Tuesdays, when Erik goes to work before the sun.

Grantism.

S: Grant, get your finger out of your nose.
G: I just checking on it!

Keep It To Yourself

We adopted Baxter from the pound in October of 2007. We loved that little guy to pieces immediately, even though when we took him outside for his "interview" he couldn't have possibly cared less about us. We spent hundreds of dollars nursing him back to health after being neglected by the pound and whatever owner he'd had before us and when our work days were done, we couldn't wait to get home to love on him.

 

Baxter, just a few days after we got him. He was so sick the
vet told us we should leave him in his kennel all the time so he could
regain his strength.

Baxter Moneypit J. We still call him Baxter M. when he's in trouble.

 

We doted and doted and doted on him, and when we moved to HI and had to leave him behind in Oklahoma for a few months we were really sad to be without him. He was my companion when Erik was deployed to Iraq, and even Erik would ask to see him/have him do his tricks when we were on Skype (don't tell him I told).

 

We loved him enough he had clothes. A Halloween costume (pictured)
and a couple of sweaters when we lived in OK because he was cold after having
all his hair shaved off for being so matted. He did look pretty cute...

 

In May of 2010, we found out we were pregnant. We had already been tossing around the idea of getting another dog, but we decided to act when we thought it might soften the blow to Baxter when he wasn't "top dog" in our lives anymore to have a buddy. Truth be told, I wasn't too keen on the idea, but I went along with it because I thought it was what Erik wanted (and it turns out, he was only going along with it because it's what he thought *I* wanted). Anyway, enter Sam.

Samuel Adams J.

 

Sam was effing nuts until we had him neutered. We spent more money fixing him up than we did Baxter (thanks, Hawaii), even though his prior owner loved him dearly. (She got rid of him because she wanted to move into the fancy new government funded apartment building and they didn't take animals - boo hoo.... She later asked for him back - after telling me she had been on a month long trip to Alaska. I told her she'd have to pay for all the vet costs we had incurred and that was the last I heard of her). I never fell in love with Sammy, and neither did Baxter, he was much more Erik's dog than mine.

Sam, Grant (in utero) and myself.

 

Few things in life are better than a brand spankin' new bone.

And then Grant came along. Baxter barely tolerates Grant (or anyone at this point... he's a cantankerous old man) but Sam adores Grant. He lets him yank and pull and poke and prod all he wants. And when he's had enough, he just gets up and moves on. He's been protective of G from day one, sleeping on the stairs outside G's room while Erik was away. We always said we'd never stop loving our pets just because we had a kid. Now when I see people as in love with their pets as we once were, I can't help but think they obviously do NOT have children. I'm kidding, I know that's not always the case. Well, I'm not kidding in that I really do think that, but.... Maybe we just have smaller hearts than those people who manage to still love their pets after kids come along.

 

Sam on guard outside Grant's room.

Baxter hoping that if he sits in G's bouncy chair
G might have to find another one. At a different house.

 

The problem with them (as with all dogs, I'm sure) is that they have an affinity for chewing up diapers. And they poop in the house when they're mad or feeling ignored (which was pretty much every day while Erik was deployed last time). That deployment is pretty much what sealed their fate as irritations versus family members, but man on man does G love Sam (and vice versa) - which is so sweet to watch. I can't seem to find the recent photo of them laying on pillows reading books, covered up with a blanket - but trust me, it would make you say "awww."

There was no dog tongue to baby contact in this picture.
But it wasn't for lack of trying.

Always on guard.

 

These dogs are a serious pain the ass. And the wallet. They're always underfoot, always waking the baby with their barking, always crapping on the floor, always using up the battery for their electric fence and getting off the property (okay, that's our fault), but we're committed.

 

3 members of our family have told us we should just get rid of them for one reason or another. And even though these dogs get on my nerves, I find that advice seriously offensive. Seriously.Offensive. Not everyone is wishy-washy with their responsibilities, and can feel good about dumping a pet because of inconvenience. Most recently, one family member suggested we just take them to the pound. What?! My jaw must have dropped open when they said that.

 

We adopted them, we took them into our family and committed to care for them. They're ours. Yeah, maybe we don't play with them very often, or love on the them (or even love them) as much as we should but does that mean we want to or should send them away? Maybe it would make life easier, but whose to say what their lives would be like at their next home? It's not perfect here anymore, but it's safe, and it's warm and they have food in their bellies and a bed to sleep in and they aren't overcome with mites or skin problems or whatever-the-hell else was wrong with Baxter when we got him. I know my life would be easier without them, but we're committed - so stop offering the unsolicited opinions. They live here.

 

But we sure as hell won't be replacing them when it's their time to go.

 

(((And even as I was typing this I had to get up and yell at Sam for barking crazily at the mail man and potentially waking the baby. These dogs really are lucky my parents taught me not to quit. Haha!)))

"Apta Crist"

Also while Pat and Ken were here, G was able to help Grandma Pat make some apple crisp ("apta crist") from the big bags of fresh apples Pat picked up on here way here.

(Again, big thanks to Ken for photographing everything! I didn't even know this was going on thanks to a glorious nap.)

G's first job was to clean the apples for Grandma to peel.

 

They they decided the apples needed to be lined up and counted.
And by "they," I mean Grant.

 

 

 

Sam was hoping for a job eating scraps, but he was turned away.

Once each apple was peeled, Grandma chopped it up and put it into this bowl,
Grant carried it to his work station and dumped it in the dish. He was very careful
to taste-test each apple.

Some apples required additional testing. Quality Control, ya know.

And this preshie poo snoozed away in her swing, unaware of the deliciousness that
was being created just a few feet away.

Apple Season

Growing up in Oklahoma, fall was just sort of a speed bump on the way out of summer and into winter. The leaves and grass were already dead from the summer draught, the weather was still pretty warm and it was just sort of a non-entity. It wasn't until Erik and I moved to Lawton (Oklahoma, no less) that I met someone who was in LOVE with fall and decorated accordingly. We went to her house for dinner and it was so festive and homey with fall colors everywhere that I went out the next day and bought fall decorations for my own home that I have LOVED putting out every year since (even in Hawaii!). Living up here has given me my first leaves changing, apple and pumpkin abundant, crisp air experience (I missed it last year because I spent September in Oklahoma visiting my mom). I really, really love it! So, big shout out to Devon, without whom I might have never learned to love fall and it's décor.

Last weekend while my dad was visiting, I decided I'd go buy a big bunch of apples and cook them down while I had another set of hands running around the house to tend kids (Erik was in the field). I scoured Pinterest for a recipe and I found a SUPER winner. I think it's a new fall tradition. Seriously, I even went back to buy more apples for more sauce. The vanilla bean makes it seem extra fancy, too.

Vanilla Scented Applesauce, adapted from Martha Stewart

 

Ingredients

• 14 ripe firm apples (about five pounds), such as Gala, peeled, cored, and quartered. I used mostly Empires, a local NY apple, but tossed in some Jazz and Fuji's that were hanging out in our fruit bowl.
• 1 cup apple cider, plus more as needed. Enough to cover the apples about 1/3 to halfway up
• 1/4 cup sugar, plus more as needed
• 1 large cinnamon stick. Call me a rebel, I used two. I wasn't sure how to discern the size of my cinnamon stick.    
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger, plus more as needed
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg, plus more as needed. I used cloves - makes it way more fall-y, and because I couldn't find my nutmeg.    
• 2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice (Real Lemon did the job just fine, although I do see the irony in using a real vanilla bean and resorting to jarred lemon juice)     
• 1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise and scraped
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar, or more, depending on your preference.

Directions

1. Step 1

   Combine all ingredients in a wide, heavy saucepan over medium heat. Cook, covered, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon and adding more cider as needed to prevent scorching, until apples have broken down, 50 to 60 minutes. Mash any large pieces with the spoon. Add more sugar and spices, as desired.

2. Step 2

   Remove from heat; discard cinnamon and vanilla pod. Stir in brown sugar. Yields about 1.5 pints.

I poured too much cider over the top in the beginning so I had to skim some off. I decided to make Apple Cider Donut Holes with the excess deliciously-spicy-and-vanilla-flavored cider. Another huge win. I must have been feeling energetic. I did all this with a big pot of chicken broth stewing on the stove. Hopefully I'll come into another burst of energy like this around this time next year. ;)

Someone Started Cooing

 

 

I love when Pat and Ken come with their camera. I swear, it's the only time I have pictures of me with the kids. I need to remember this when I'm a grandparent.

Life Changer

Last weekend when Erik's parents were here, we all packed up and drove about 45 minutes to Ellicottville for Oktoberfest. Highlights included:

A fire hat.

Cancer sticks. Otherwise known as hot dogs.

Oh, and the most exciting thing to ever happen in all of G's life.

I'm seriously not sure who had more fun.

That was the best $6 (yes, $6 for two rides) I ever spent!