Going Pro

While I am still only being cautiously optimistic, Calder seems to have a handle on this whole controlling his bowel movements thing. After Monday's initial success I was wary of getting to excited for the prospect of not having to change diapers anymore... until I foolishly decide to spawn again. But still, Calder is doing nothing to discourage my dreams of a diaper champ stank-free life. Apparently the siren song of a new Thomas pieces is too strong for Calder to resist. Last night while making dinner, I realized Calder had stopped annoying me and was eerily silent. Normally, this means he is doing something troublesome like playing construction zone in the soil of the potted plants so I was concerned. As one naturally should be any time a two-year-old has gone silent and is not asleep and/or picking his nose. I should not have worried though, being fed up with trying to eat old food off of the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, Calder had gone off to have himself a good poo. All alone. By the time I went looking for him, Calder had done his business, dumped and cleaned the potty and was just about to flush. I didn't expect a toddler to go from diaper to trained in just one night or anything but damn, I mean, this kid must really like trains.

As an added bonus, here's a conscientiously cropped photo of the original momentous occaision.

Victory!

Christ on a cracker, Calder finally pooped on the potty! He received Molly, one of Thomas's cohorts, for his efforts. Yes, I took a photo. For the record, Bruce made me do it and it sure as hell ain't getting posted on the interwebs. Has STFU, Parents taught us nothing?

Wee Sing

I am working on getting a better video edited together from Calder's show last Thursday night but here's a taste.

I, Flabbergasted

Not by the hordes of mewling toddlers I had the pleasure of watching this evening. Nor by the vast swaths of frosting now covering my previously clean back seat. No, I am flabbergasted because not one, but two people said something nice about Calder today. But people always say nice stuff about Calder, you say. True, he's adorable and has the social skills of an accomplished sociopath. People like him. But this time, THIS TIME, was different. Let's go back to the beginning. So, after battling the baby UN delegates and their entourages for five minutes just to snag one of my own damn cupcakes (FAIL), I just sgrabbed one of the store-bought jobbies and called it an evening. Bruce wisely made the decision too take us out to dinner because there was no way anyone was getting more than a teaspoon of sofrito rice and a shred and baklava.

Dinner with Calder is usually a dicey proposition, especially if he's already hopped up on cupcakes and fame. Tonight for some reason he decide to act like a human being and totally charmed the pants off the couple sitting next to us. As they left, the wife said to Bruce, "Your son is beautiful... and so well behaved! You must be doing it right." Needless to say I was so pleased I ate my whole fish taco plate and some of Calder's mac n' cheese to celebrate. Eventually some more people sat down and Calder proceeded to Dexter-ize them as well. Of course when they weren't paying him any attention he was his usual crabbity self, spitting water, eating crayons and throwing broccoli he was no longer interested in eating, no matter how much I pretended to be a T-Rex with him. This time, we left first. Bruce took the boy out to the car since he was verging on meltdown status and I waited for the check. After paying I got up to leave and the new table neighbor stopped me and said (paraphrasing), "I hope you don't mind me saying this" (totally expected to hear "Your son is soooo cute" here) "But I just wanted to tell you that I think you are an AWESOME mom." She then said a bunch of other nice things about my patience and creativity but I didn't really hear her because I was nigh on weeping and grinning like a drunk fool by that point.

So I thanked her profusely and told her she made my day even though that pretty much a lie, Lady made my week. Work's been shitastic so I come home every day with an extra load of bitchery, Calder's still hitting people at school regularly and I fall asleep on the floor of his room every night because if I leave before he's totally unconscious, he will go Exorcist on me for two hours. I feel like a terrible mom a lot of the time. I am sure that's probably not true but it's hard to shake those feelings when you are operating under a whole lot of stress, not enough sleep and definitely not enough time with your child. But with just a few simple words, those two women made me feel like maybe I am not a total parenting screw up. Yay for you, two ladies, you are exemplary human beings. You made me feel so good about myself I totally didn't even eat any of that extra cake when I got home. 

Close, but No Choo-Choo Thomas

So just a few minutes ago while I was mixing up my four dozen red velvet cupcakes (6:30 pm! Skokie Exploratorium!) Calder came rushing through the kitchen wrenching at his pants and the tabs on his diaper. After washing the lovely blood-red batter off of my hands, I followed him into the bathroom to find him attempting to dismantle a poo-filled diaper. Thankfully, I showed up just in time to intervene. But, oh! So close! Since Calder had missed his one big shot at glory, he instead focused his efforts on getting his Henry, from the Potty Movie doll onto his own miniature potty that now lives in our bathroom. Next to Calder's stack of reading materials. For someone who spends about five minutes a day in the bathroom, he sure is taking up a lot of real estate in there. But whatever it takes, man. I cannot wait until the day I can stop slinging shitty diapers and just watch the little man scrape feces off of his own butt. Until I fall, sustain a head injury, and decide to have another child, that is.

Ethnic, Huh?

Calder's music thingy is tomorrow at some place called an Exploratorium. I am not sure what that is but it sounds alright to me. The invite for the musicale also says to bring food, "an ethnic dish or dessert" to be specific. As I believe I have mentioned, Calder's day care is basically the baby UN so that seems kind of appropriate. I bet there will be some great Asian, Latin, Mediterranean and Middle Eastern food there. Maybe even some African and Southeast Asian. Sweet, I love all that stuff. But what about me? What do I bring? What is my ethnic dish. Because my dad hates church, I ended up a WASP. Now, I am no Katherine Hepburn but still, in the kitchen, my people really have nothing to offer. For the love of crepes, I am mostly German and Irish so ethnic cuisine is pretty much out unless you happen to enjoy cabbage a great deal. I guess that leaves me dessert. Dessert is so boring though. "Oooh, you made chocolate chip cookies using the recipe from the package. How thoughtful." I dunno, dessert just sort of feels like you aren't trying hard enough. It's go big or go home in the cutthroat PTA world. That's OK though since I am a notorious underachiever. I can live with baked goods being my ethnic heritage. Hell, the people in my extended family are all pretty doughy. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go bake four dozen cupcakes.

That's Washable, Right?

I am not sure what Calder was going for here. Beat poet? Dobie Gillis? Any number of other out-dated references?

 

Friday Film Fest

I was going to make up for subjecting you to the adorable murderous weasels by posting this insane potty training video Calder just got but for some reason it's not on YouTube. I find this hard to believe. The Potty Movie is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S. I swear this thing is more akin to a cult indoctrination program than it is a learning tool And the song. OH. MY. GOD. THE. SONG. "Bye, bye pee-pee. Bye bye poop." I neeed this cleansed from my brain. NOW.

Muuuuuch better. As an aside, never search for "potty movie" on YouTube. The creepy Japanese fetish things aren't even. the worst of it. Did you know that there are parents that post videos of their children taking a dump? On the series of tubes I call the Internet? And that they appear to still have those children?

The Circle of Liiiiiiiife!

I think it's well acknowledged that I let Calder watch too much TV. I am working on it. The fact that our living room TV recently crapped out is helping as well. I am also even considering the idea of ditching the Dish altogether once we receive our Netflix disc for the wii. When Calder does watch. I try to limit the amount of commercials he is exposed to and attempt to keep it age-appropriate and educational. Like, NickJr. nee Noggin and documentary stuff like Planet Earth and the newest Oprah-fest, Life. Calder looooooves these animal shows.  He does not care that Oprah is not now, nor will she ever be, as awesome as David Attenborough. He just cares about watching hippos fight and frogs thwapping at bugs with their tongues in slow motion. I don't blame him. It's pretty friggin' cool.

Calder doesn't even seem to mind all that big animals sometimes eat little animals stuff that goes down. He likes to talk about animals and what they eat. He knows that dinosaurs and lions eat meat, bunnies eat plants and lizards eat bugs. Sharks, for some inexplicable reason however, eat noodles. We, I at least, even make an effort for Calder to associate his own food with actual animals and not just some sanitized version of the food industry. While I am not yet at the point of taking him on jaunts to the local slaughterhouse, I do point out to him what animal his food is coming from and even let him go look at the pig and lamb heads that our local market has on display. He seems to like that. A little too much maybe? As long as he doesn't expect me to cook a pig head, I guess it's ok.

So anyways, back to Life. Last Sunday featured an episode called "Hunters & Hunted". I should have known what was going to happen going in but sometimes I can be quite willfully oblivious. In general, when Life gets to the cheetahs killing ostriches parts, they manage to capture the moment without a whole lot of blood and violence. Calder barely seems to notice the killing and instead says things like, "Dragon eat cow?" Yes, the dragons are going to eat the cow. But then, THEN, this scene comes on. I am very sorry I can't embed it but it's probably for the best. This is not a clip for those who are fans of adorable fuzzy things. 

This is pretty how much our viewing went down:
Look honey, baby weasels!

TV: Stoat

Fine, smartass. Look, baby stoats!

FYI: A stoat is sort of a weasel. You can learn more about them here.


Oooh, idyllic English countryside, lousy with rabbits. Hopping. Hopping. Nibble. Nibble.

Grown up stoat!

Stoats chase rabbits?

Wow, grown up stoats are fast.


Run, bunny, run!!!!

Squeaky bunny death noise



Calder: Bunny crying?


Me: No, honey, he's laughing, they're playing


Me (inside): Holy shit, that weasel just killed a bunny!!!!


Let me just say that Calder totally accepted my explanation and is totally fine about it all. He still loves his animal show. I, however, am totally and completely scarred. If there is anything to be learned from all this, it is that you should never, EVER trust Oprah.

This is Gonna Be Good

Calder came home from day care on Friday with a flier for a school concert. A concert that all students aged two to six will be performing in. The only way this could possibly get more epic is if they put them all on ice skates. I cannot wait. I will be there with bells on. And a video camera in hand.

Friday Film Fest

Calder, a man of letters. Literally. Here he performs that ABCs. I have no idea where this falls on the toddler achievement scale so I will just say this: Dude, my kid is smart.



And as a bonus just because this kid is what I aspire to raise. Sure it's a far cry from the ABCs but Calder has to start somewhere, right?

My Son, the Cheapskate

Last weekend, Bruce and I capped off our date by swinging by the Walgreens near our bus stop since Calder was just about out of diapers. Romantic, I know. This is the level of excitement you reach when you have seen someone use the bathroom a dozen or so times too many. The drug store isn't our usual diaper source but since they have knocked down every large grocery store within walking distance, we really didn't have a choice. Normally, I would have grabbed a small pack of whatever the generic was and dealt with the leaks until we got to our regular store for our regular generic diapers which are far superior to Walgreens'. Pampers were on some sort of ridiculous sale so I instead grabbed a couple bags, especially seeing as how they had Elmo on  them and stuff. Of course Calder loves Elmo, ALL two-year-olds do, he was engineered that way. Score!

Did you know that brand name diapers even smell nicer? I was not aware that the higher quality extended to the olfactory department. So, nice expensive diapers that keep Calder wicked dry and comfortable and feature one of his most favorite irritating creatures on Earth... these should be a big hit, right?

HAH. Calder took one look at the new diapers and in no uncertain terms told me  that I need to go rethink what I am trying to do to him and when I am done, I better come back with a "fishy daihper" or a "goggie daihper". Apparently, Calder is REALLY attached to that other store brand. As such, I have been using them to get Calder pumped up for going to daycare in the morning when he's not being so enthusiastic that Mommy and Daddy have to go off somewhere all day without him. When he's being a Pokey McCranksalot, I just tell him that if he goes to school, he can ask for the other diapers and they will happily comply.

I am not buying another box of diapers while we still have plenty just to placate a toddler so the supply at day care better hold out for a while because I need him to be happy and compliant once in a while. Especially since having made only a small dent in the first pack of the Pampers, trying to get him trussed is quite frequently more like a lop-sided wrestling match. And, like, sure I could just overpower him, but he can pee in my face.

Weirdest Easter, EVER

Since we never mobilized on Saturday for any of the nearby municipal Easter eggs hunts, the Easter festivities started in Casa de Turp around 11:30 that night while I assembled baskets for the three of us and stuffed about two dozen plastic eggs with candy, which I then stashed around our apartment. I thought I'd make it up to Calder for his parents' lack of with-it-ness by staging his very own personal egg hunt. I was almost certain that all these advance preparations would basically ensure that Calder would be bursting into our bedroom at four in the morning going, "Looggit, Mommy, locklit!!" Thankfully, this scenario did not come to pass and Calder eventually had to be forcefully roused at 8:30 because Daddy really wanted to eat his peanut butter egg.

Let's just say Calder's egg-finding skills leave something to be desired. Well, it's more like his egg-finding interest. Instead of locating his basket, emptying it and then using it to collect the hidden eggs as I had anticipated, Calder instead would find an egg, open it, eat the contents and then go locate another egg. The basket barely got a second look since coloring books and toys are not made of sugar.

Originally, the plan was to have pancakes after doing the basket thing but it was discovered that while we had plastic eggs coming out the wazoo, there was ne're a real egg in the entire place. So, plans changed. We went to the grocery store for some non-Hershey foodstuffs and then swung by Home Depot to pick up play sand so Calder would be able to put the new pail and shovel set the Easter Bunny brought him to some good use. I liked this new plan since, encouraged by my ability to successfully shepherd nearly two full herb plants through the winter, I decided to put some of my abandoned flowerpots to work and picked up some food plants as well. Even if we can't keep the Jesus in Easter we can still celebrate it as the advent of spring and renewal and all that jazz. I ended up getting two tomato plants because I love tomatoes, some broccoli because that's the only vegetable that Calder will eat and strawberries because they are expensive. 

So new plan: make pancakes then clean the back yard, set up Calder's sand box and pot all my new victims plants. That plan lasted exactly long enough for me to get three slices of bacon into a slightly warm pan since Bruce received a text from a friend offering us free tickets to the Blackhawks game that was starting in just over an hour. Not just any free tickets either, these were for lower box seats. Easter what?

Third plan: Eat something somewhere, get tickets from guy on street corner, watch hockey game in relative luxury then do all that other stuff minus the pancakes. For the most part we were able to stick to version three of our Easter action plan. On the way to the game we were able to swing by White Castle for some baby's first sliders, meet the guy and attend the game. I say attend because even though we were at the game, neither Bruce nor I could have watched more than 30 minutes total since Calder was hell bent of destroying the suite. I can't complain because that is 30 more minutes of live hockey than we would have seen if we had been seated with the rest of peons in steerage. We finally got Calder out into the seats with two minutes left in the game and that is only because the Hawks mascot was in our vicinity. He is a terrible half-Canadian.

Since none of the previous dashing around left any time for a nap, Calder screamed himself to sleep in the car on the way home from the game. Being totally unwilling to wake the sugar-crashing beast, Bruce and I left him in the car while we tried to execute the last few items on our day's list. We got as far as raking the sand box area and getting the bags of sand out of the car when it began to rain. Thunderstorm actually. Fortunately, potting the plants was an indoor activity since having them outdoors exposes them to a variety of city-dwelling vermin such as raccoons, rabbits, squirrels and of course, rats.    

  
To cap the day off, we are currently celebrating another resurrection, that of the Major League Baseball season. Red Sox vs Yankees. Good vs. evil. Somewhat appropriate for a religious holiday. The game is still on so it remains to be seen if that well be a plus or a minus but all-in-all, we had a pretty enjoyable, if totally unconventional, Easter day together as a family. Perhaps the start of a new tradition? I could get behind that, though I never did get any pancakes.

Service with a Smile

Last night, so Bruce and I could go out for dinner, we had two of his former hockey girls come over and watch Calder while they are home on Spring Break. Actually, they volunteered to come over and babysit. So much for that wild college kid stereotype. Calder, ever the host, tried to make them feel welcome and after we left, ran to the beer fridge an got them out some frosty brews. That's what he does for Mommy and Daddy's friends after all. Perhaps he was trying to console the girls for missing out on all that sweet action in Cancun, I don't know. When they tried to put the beer back in the fridge, Calder took one out again and opened it. With a bottle opener. I am going to think less about what this means psychologically and more about how developed Calder's fine motor skills are.

WTF?!*

You'd think if something is advertised as coming equipped with a hand brake, the brake pads would actually come in contact with the wheel. Not so, if the item in question is a jogging stroller. And for some reason, I cannot find information about this problem ANYWHERE on the internet. Not one single product review. Not even a positive one so it's not like the company is scrubbing them. Unless they are ALL bad then maybe I'd understand.

I just shot off a polite but firm email to the company since I doubt I could return the stroller since it was originally a Christmas gift. Yes I should have opened it earlier but really, who uses a  jogging strolling in December in Chicago? Stupid people, that's who.

UPDATED: OK, so we got the calipers to connect to the wheel when the hand brake is compressed all the way to the handle but the brake lock still doesn't work since it doesn't hold the lever pressed down far enough. I still don't feel bad about my snitty letter to the company though. I would feel bad if ANY of this had been addressed in the instruction manual. If bike-shop level adjustments need to be made to the stroller to make it work properly (and safely) the manufacturer should probably tell you how to do them. Also, just to bring my point home I may proofread the pamphlet they are calling a manual and mail it back to them.

* Apparently there is a punctuation mark that combines the question mark and the exclamation point. I cannot figure out how to make my keyboard do this. I can't figure out how to make it do many things. This combined punctuation mark is called and interrobang and for some reason, I seriously love this.