The Potty Chronicles, Pt. 2

Potty training is a process. One that I am, apparently, not very good at guiding.

*banging head against wall*

After two wildly successful days of M Meets Toilet, he decided that he longer wanted to pursue a diaper-free life. It went something like this:

Me: M, do you want to go to the toilet?
M: Um, no thank you.

Me: Come on, M! Let's go pee in the toilet!
M: Um, no thanks.

Me: Time to go sit on the big boy toilet!
M: Um, not now. No thank you.

And yes, he was always that polite about his refusal to pee. That is just his style.

There were many, many conversations like this each day. M didn't seem to mind wearing soaking wet underwear. Gross.

My professional mama opinion was that we should pull back a bit. No pressure. There is no point if he is just going to dig in his heels and get upset when I direct him to point his parts towards a large, porcelain chair with a weird hole and water in it. Seriously, think about how difficult it is to teach someone the concept of using a toilet! Go ahead, try it. Nose blowing is another tricky one.

So we have pulled back. There has been the occasional moment of excitement when M has inquired about the bathroom, but it usually results in a spell of naked dancing rather than actual peeing.

I may have experience with potty training, but I learned again that each kid is different and what worked with C clearly isn't going to work for M. I wonder how many times I am going to learn this lesson before it sticks. For now, it is back to the drawing board with M.

Did your child resist potty training? What finally worked for you?

The Potty Chronicles, Pt. 1

Yesterday began the first round of potty training M, my second child. He will be three this summer and, more importantly, he is starting preschool in September. As a lot of you parents know, most preschools won't take non-potty trained kids - at least that is the case for us.

Potty training C was a nightmare. It took well over a year and involved lots and lots of negotiations, tantrums and crying (mostly on my part). I read books. I read blogs. I consulted my pediatrician. I asked other parents. I cried to my mother.

C got the hang of it eventually and headed off to his first year of preschool with no issues.

Now it is time for M to learn.

I made up my mind that yesterday was the day. There is no good day to start potty training. You just have to accept that you are in for a huge mess and a lot of stress and jump in with both feet and hope the fall isn't too far.

My tactics? No more diapers. We went straight into underwear.

I used training diapers with C and I think it just ended up prolonging the process. Ultimately, he could still go whenever and wherever he wanted to go.

So, how did M do on his first day of potty training?

After a lot of accidents, I finally got him in the same room as the toilet. After a few more accidents, I got him to sit on the toilet.

As I sat down to catch up on some emails before dinner, I heard that glorious sound that every potty-training parent longs to hear: the sound of pee hitting toilet water.

Praises were sung. Happy dances were done. The euphoria of a potty training success is right up at the top in terms of achievement in parenting.

But don't get too excited. Rome wasn't built in a day. In fact, I have a few days of starting Rome from scratch before I make a dent in the ultimate goal of one less child in diapers.

Now on Day Two, I am back to a lot of accidents, a bit of persuasion and seemingly endless amounts of patience. I have potty trained one and I know I can potty train another.

If I can get this done, I only have one more to go!

Tell me your potty training triumphs and nightmares!

The Sisterhood

On this holiest of days, we thank our mothers, our grandmothers and, for the mamas, ourselves. But if you have a moment, think of all of the other mothers around the world. Regardless of language, culture, religion and a million other differences, there are some things that we all have in common. 

If there were to be a meeting of mothers from all corners of the earth (let's pretend there is some kind of universal translator involved), we would have something to talk about. 

We have all held a tiny bundle in our arms. We have all marveled at the miracle of life. We have all put someone else's life in higher priority than our own. We have all paced the floors during teething or fevers while we chanted lullabies thinking, What on Earth can I do to make you go to sleep?! We have all been disgusted by some bodily fluid that our child has produced, but dealt with it anyway. We all think that our child is the most precious, most adorable, etc., etc. in the world.

The milestones for our children have all been the same: rolling over, crawling, standing, walking, first words. We have all rejoiced in the small triumphs of our child reaching those milestones.

So, as you are spending time with your children today (or without if your family has given you the day off), take a second to appreciate how amazing it is to be a member of this sisterhood of mamas.

Happy Mother's Day!

On the other hand...

I'll have plenty of other lovely things to look forward to in my man-filled house. Just because I don't have any daughters doesn't mean that I am spared from all awkward conversations and situations, just a big chunk of them.

Not at all.

Since my last post, I have been focusing on the things I will have to endure. So mothers of all girls, these are some of the things that you will get to skip in the years to come:

- I am already having to discuss the status of my sons' nether regions. C, in particular, gives me regular updates on his little buddy. At some point, that will stop and they won't want to me acknowledge that they have nether regions.

- They are going to bring home slimy, creepy, crawly things of all kinds. I will have to pretend to like these creatures because, if they know I don't like them, the boys will use them as a terror device.

- Once I leave the realm of diapers, I am hoping I have a few years of neutral odor before my home smells of B.O. Not long after that, clouds of Axe Body Spray will clog my sinuses the moment I open my front door.

- Boys, way more than girls, go through a really long, weird phase in their early teens. Their limbs are longer than they think, so I'll have to remove all breakables that I got to put back on display after the toddler years. Their skin is awful, but they aren't as predisposed to begin a skin care regime. The body odor/Axe thing will kick in. Oh, and no boys are attractive at this age. This will be the time that I love them from a distance, which will work out well because they won't want to be anywhere near me either.

- They eat a lot now, but I can only imagine the kind of grocery bills I am going to have. Bulk shopping is already going to start in the next few month since F is on real food now. Let's guess how many carts I'll need to fill when I have three teenage boys to feed!

- I think the sex conversation is a bit weirder with boys. I am one of those parents who feels that it needs to come from both parents, so that will be fun and I am sure they will be super comfortable with it.

- If you have seen Transformers, there is a scene when Sam's parents burst in on him when he is in his room. I am sure I will interrupt "happy time" at some point as well.

I know I am in for things I can't imagine. Mothers of boys: what else does the future hold for me?

Conversations I won't be having

I have no problem admitting that I wanted a girl. I was convinced that C was a girl, only to be corrected by my ultrasound tech at my 5-month scan. M and F were no surprise. My doctor did tell me that F was a girl and three pinkalicious weeks went by before my dreams of tutus were shattered forever by a more accurate scan.

While I had always dreamt of tea parties, ballet classes and lengthy shopping sessions, I wouldn't trade my boys for anything. Things may be a little dirtier, a little smellier and a little louder, but we have a ball.

Since I am not planning on getting pregnant anytime soon, or ever again for that matter, I occasionally find myself pining for a girl. When these pangs rise up, I think of a few things that, as the mother of all boys, I'll never have to do (bra fittings, shaving lessons, monthly hormonal surges). This is a double-edged sword because it can also take me into "things I'll never get to do" territory (prom dress shopping, wedding dress shopping, lots of other shopping). A safer way is to think of the awkward conversations I get to avoid.

Any parent will tell you that the job is full of difficult conversations. If I think back to some of the sticky topics that my mother and I broached, the worst ones were all related to my gender. Since I know that I won't have to hit those down the line, I shouldn't have it quite so bad!

Here are just a few of the conversations that I will never have to have:

- Keep Your Legs Crossed: Wear A Skirt With Class
- Welcome to Menstruation: Riding the Crimson Wave for the Next 45 Years
- Tampons: A Beginners Guide
- Makeup: How Not To Look Like A Tramp
- Keep Your Clothes On: Celebrities Aren't The Only Ones Whose Naughty Pics Hit The Internet

Just to be safe, I'll probably will touch on that last one with my boys.

I am sure that I will have my fair share of awkward conversations in the years to come. Don't think for a second that I won't be hitting the major ones: sex, drugs and the long-term ramifications of following a bad fashion trend (you early 90s kids know what I am talking about and boys were not exempt).

But next time I am a little sad that there are no ballet shoes or Cabbage Patch dolls in my house, I'll remind myself that I will never have to convince my daughter that the prom dress she loves is going to haunt her fashion record forever or the wedding dress she has her eye on isn't going to happen because it costs more than my car.

So you tell me, what is the most awkward conversation you have had to have with your child? Or if your kids are still to young, what is the conversation you are most dreading?

Skin care regime

I was watching an old episode of Oprah and she was interviewing a beautiful actress who has entered her older years. Oprah was asking her how she had managed to keep her skin looking so amazing despite the fact that she is now in her 70s. At this point, the actress (and I honestly can't remember who it was) launched into a detailed description of her skin care regime. It started with the fact that she doesn't do a thing in the morning before moisturizing and she went on to describe her scrubs, toners and facials.

By this point, I am cracking up. My skin care procedure is only in place because I would kick myself later on if I did nothing now. I take off my makeup, moisturize and am devoted to SPF like a good girl.

I am sure there will come a time in my life that I can take care of my skin in the morning before I do anything else, but it certainly won't be here for a while. I am guessing I have another ten years before I even get to brush my teeth immediately upon waking up. Right now, I am tending to a crying baby, a sleepy-eyed toddler and a preschooler. Most days, I am lucky to get a shower before 10:30. In a few years, I'll be rushing to get everyone up and dressed for school.

As for my end-of-day routine, I am barely standing by bedtime. You really think I am going to stand in my bathroom to do a glycolic peel? I don't think so. If I am going to trade my precious sleep for anything, it will be a good book or some writing time. I'll accept the crows' feet and the laugh lines when they come. I'll know that I could have done just a bit more to prevent them, but I made the choice to get some sleep instead.

Just like dating

I never had to do the grown-up dating thing. I met my husband in college when it was easy to meet people and dates were low-key. I have never had to go out on a blind date or scan the crowds looking for someone who looks like a good match for me. Until now.

I am just going to throw this out there - finding other mom friends is just as hard as dating. I know that a friend is not on the same level as a life partner, but they are almost as important. Life sets you up to get married when your friends get married and have babies when your friends have babies, but it doesn't always happen that way. So, what happens now?

For the first time in my life, I am being set up on a blind date. Kind of. My brother is "setting me up" with a new friend from work who, like me, has young kids (almost the same ages as mine), a husband from another country, has a job in addition to raising a family and happens to live nearby. I may just start calling my brother Match.com. On paper, she and I are the perfect match. No doubt we will have a ton to talk about. But, what if we just don't click?

When you are looking for a partner, there are a lot of things that have to fall into place and the list of criteria is different for everyone. When you are looking for a mom friend, the list can get more complex. It starts with the things that you look for in a friend, but then you have to add in other factors because there are other people involved. Do your kids get along? Do your spouses get along?

You and Other Mom may get along great, but if your kids don't like each other, you limit your interaction to girls-only outings and double-dates. If your spouses don't have anything in common, you cut it down to coffee outings to blow off steam pent-up from days spent with the kids.

Now, having friends who you only see over coffee or dinner are great. I am not knocking those friends (especially since this constitutes most of my friends); however, I hope that, someday, I can find a few friends to get together with as families. The kids will be happy. The spouses will be happy. The mothers will be happy - and that is really all that matters anyway.

Doing it all

I am becoming one of those mothers. I raise the kids, have a part-time job, have a hobby, read lots of books, cook from scratch and still find time to make homemade marmalade. But here's the thing - doing all of that is one of those things that looks impressive from the outside. If you were in my house while I was juggling these various tasks, you would see a disheveled, insane woman dancing around the kitchen to avoid the children and toys scattered around the floor.

Sure, it sounds great when I walk up to a friend, with my hair clean and makeup on to say, "Here, have this jar of homemade marmalade that I made yesterday." But the fact of the matter is, I am a nutcase. Who in their right mind does that? Who tries to take all of that on? Herein lies my point, the mothers who try to do it all are not in their right mind. Either that, or it only looks like they are doing it all.

What do it mean by that? I mean that, there are some days I have to juggle more than others. The days that there is a lot on my plate, I have to pick and choose. Showering is a luxury. Cleaning house has to wait until the kids have gone to bed. I only do my own laundry once in a blue moon (a large wardrobe makes this possible). Plus, I only get done what I do take on thanks to a large support system. My husband is more hands-on than than I ever could have dreamed and he always gives me time off when I need it. In desperate times, my parents live nearby and are always up for a visit from the grandkid crew. My in-laws visit for long stretches of time a few times a year. All of these factors make my insane aspiration to do it all possible. So really, I am not doing it all. I am just making it look like I do it all.

An interesting family dynamic

Our oldest, C, was just over a year old when I got pregnant with M. I immediately began to worry about how C would react. He was still a baby and needed almost constant attention. How would he handle a mother distracted by a squeaky, scrawny newborn?

M's birth didn't do much to relax the situation. Born nearly two months early, M had to stay at the hospital in the NICU for a few weeks. Due to the fact that I had a C-section, I wasn't able to drive. Those weeks, coupled with the fact that I had not been able to pick him up for a month already, made C very upset with me. While I shuttled back and forth to the hospital, C was shuttled back and forth between our house and my parents' house. On one occasion, I returned from the hospital and went to give C a hug and kiss both of which he refused and he wanted nothing to do with me. Throw in the ridiculous tsunami that is postpartum  hormones and I became a wreck. One baby in the hospital and one baby that hated me.

I really needn't have worried. Once we brought M home, C couldn't keep his hands off. He wanted to feed him. He wanted to hold him. He wanted to kiss him. They have been close every step of the way (except when they both want the same toy, but that is for another post).

Flash forward another year. I got pregnant again. This time, there would be even less of an age difference. M was only about ten months old and I had already been warned that another premature birth was in my future. The worrying started again, but I was hopeful that M would like his new brother and everything would be sunshine and daisies. What I didn't take into account is that M is very, very different from C. To expect that same reaction was just wishful thinking.

We were ready for an early arrival this time, so I was able to explain to the kids what would happen, although at such a young age I doubt they grasped the concept. This time, we had planned for my mother-in-law to stay with us, which at least meant that the kids could be at home and not so displaced.

F arrived early. Few weeks in the NICU (déjà vu anyone?). We brought F home. C was delighted. M wanted nothing to do with that little bundle. He didn't get mad or even particularly jealous, but he didn't take note of him either. It was, and I am not exaggerating in the slightest, almost three months later before M acknowledged F's existence.

I wouldn't have been surprised by jealousy or aggression, but completely ignoring that F was in the house was not something I had considered. So now F is just over ten months old and M still doesn't like him most of the time. When he has decided to acknowledge him, he usually calls him "it." The rest of the time, M goes out of his way to avoid F. This is getting more difficult now that F is crawling. I have, on more than one occasion, found M perched on the stairs where F cannot get him. M cries when F pursues him.

The best part of this relationship? F loves M more than anyone else. He thinks that M is hysterical and it is a game that they are playing. My husband and I usually just sit back and enjoy the show. We particularly enjoy it when F pins M in a corner. F happy to play with his beloved older brother and M screeching to "get it off!!!!"

Nick and I often speculate when this phase will pass and M will accept F as a part of the family and not an invader. While I do find it entertaining, I do hope it is soon. The thought of F chasing M around the house when they are teenagers frightens me. I mean, I know that the teen years will be interesting, but I would hope that M no longer fears contact with F. They should have other, more ridiculous things to fight over by then.

When in doubt, just cut off all your hair

I have never been one of those women who is afraid to experiment with their hair. I have worn my hair long, short, brown, red and yes, even blonde. My hair has always been something that I accessorized with, taking an "it will always grow back if I hate it" mentality.

During my pregnancy with F, my hair grew at lightening speed. It was crazy. Even my obstetrician - a guy - often commented on how long my hair was getting. The quick pace of growth didn't seem to slow after I had F either.

It had been a long time since I had worn my hair long and I began to remember the perks of lengthy tresses. When I didn't have time to shower, I could sweep it all back into a ponytail. It got long enough to create elaborate styles when I had the time and a large messy bun when I didn't. I was really enjoying the long hair. It made me feel more feminine in a house packed to the gills with testosterone.

Then it started to fall out. A lot. One morning in the shower, I pulled out a handful of my hair. It was shocking. It was really gross. It was going to clog my drains. This continued for a few weeks and the stress of losing my hair created more stress, thus inciting a vicious cycle of stress and hair loss. Tumbleweeds of hair danced down my hallways and it looked like we had adopted a long-haired molting animal of some kind.

I finally lost my cool. Since I had worn my hair short before, I knew that chopping it all off would be no big deal. But my previous short hairstyles had all been high maintenance and I do not have time for blow drying and styling and all that other crap. No. This time, I needed to go shorter. Super short. Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby short.

I'll admit it. I was scared. I have a few renegade cowlicks in my hair. What if they rebelled and I looked like Alfafa or Dennis the Menace? What if I just looked like a guy? What would I do without the safety net of a ponytail? Then again, what if my children started coughing up hair balls? How much would it cost me to have every drain in my house snaked by a plumber to evacuate the hair blockage created by my fleeting mane? I went online. I found a picture of a haircut that I liked. I went to see my hairstylist, Roland. I gave him the picture.

I told Roland my problem and what I was thinking about doing. Roland has been cutting my hair for five years, so he has a pretty good understanding of my impulsive hair tendencies. But this time, I made it clear that I only wanted him to do it if he thought I could pull it off. He thought I could and I gave him the green light to start cutting.

As long clumps of hair fell victim to the scissors, I began to feel lighter. Sure, my hair would still fall out because that is one of the things that can happen when you have a baby. But at least it wouldn't be quite so shocking. A handful of short hair isn't as jarring as a handful of long hair. When he finished, I was very happy with the cut and glad I made the decision to go short.

When I walked in the front door, C ran up to me, looked at me quizzically and asked, "Mummy, are you you?"

"Yes, I am me. I just had my hair cut." He seemed to accept that as a plausible reason for my new look.

It has taken a some time to adjust to seeing my reflection. After two months of short hair, I am just now expecting to see short hair in the middle. I also got back about twenty minutes of my life a day because washing this close crop takes no time and I don't have to dry or even brush it.

I am sure that I will grow it out again at some point in my life, but I am enjoying my new 'do and the hair-free floors and drains that come along with it.

Mamas, do you have any good child-inducing haircut stories? I want to hear them!

Mamas: United We Stand, Divided We're F%#&ed

Being a mother is really, really hard.

Being a mother with no mother friends to talk to is even harder and this applies long before the baby is ever born.

Pregnancy is filled with amazing and wonderful milestones. It is also, filled with lots of weird-ass stuff that happens to your body. Obviously, you can ask your doctor anything, but there are some things that require a friend.

When I was pregnant with C, I found myself lacking a go-to resource for icky, highly-personal questions. Most of my friends who had children had them a long time ago and didn't remember. I did have a couple of recently or simultaneously pregnant friends, but I needed to address some very delicate areas that required a certain level of trust that I wouldn't gross them out. On occasion, I turned to pregnancy chat rooms. The problem with that is, everyone tends to post the worst case scenario and scare the crap out of the other mothers. So, a lot of my questions went unanswered.

As a result, I now have a very open policy that I share with any of my friends who become pregnant: there is no question too personal, too gross or too stupid to ask me. If it is a question that I am not comfortable with, I'll figure out a way to answer or help you get the answer.

Pregnancy can be very scary and confusing, but it is even more so if you don't have resources to answer questions like "should my nipples really look like that?" or "how the hell do I shave my legs if I can't reach them?" In case you are wondering - yes, they should and use depilatory cream or have them waxed.

But needing mama friends certainly doesn't end with pregnancy. The gross questions may slow down once the baby is born, but the need to talk to someone who is experiencing the same things increases in spades.

Having other friends with kids the same age allows you to see other types of parenting. Hopefully, your friends aren't the preachy type who make you think you are doing it all wrong. More than one of my mama tricks have come from my community of mama friends. Sometimes, you just need another perspective.

Plus, if you have friends with kids the same age, you get to go on play dates. Now, play dates don't sound fun to most people, but mamas know that you can make them really fun. A very good friend and I recently took our kids to the zoo. I think we had more fun than they did. At least until the lack of napping kicked in and everyone melted down, but it was still great to be out and have a chance to talk and catch up.

Something about being around other mamas takes the stress out of socializing with your kids. If I have a non-mama friend over, I usually feel a little more inclined to keep things in order, keep everyone happy and quiet. But other mamas understand the madness that comes with having small children, so I tend to relax a bit more.

Being a mother is really hard, but it is a lot more fun if you have friends to help you laugh it off, cry it out and have a drink with when it gets to be too much!

I learned the hard way

I think that it goes without saying that you should always, always have a set of clean sheets on hand for your child's bed. Same goes for pajamas.

But, I have a bad habit of leaving the clean laundry in the basement, near the laundry room. This is a habit that I will now break, at least for the sheets.

Let me tell you that, when your child wakes you up at a ridiculous time in the middle of the night because they have been sick in their bed, the last thing you want to do is trudge downstairs to get clean sheets. If I had just put them away, they would have been in the closet of his room and my only trip downstairs would have been to rinse out the gross sheets, which was bad enough.

I will also let you in on a little-known fact. If your spouse is out of town, that is the night that your child will throw up in bed. Or the power will go out. Or the basement will flood. You get the picture. Now go wash your sheets and put them in your kid's room.

Mummy's juice

Before I start, I should say that I don't drink very much. I am a glass-of-wine-in-the-evening type of person. On with my tale.

I was pouring myself a glass of wine yesterday evening and C came in and our conversation went something like this:

C: Are you having some wine?
Me: Yes. Would you like some juice?
C: Yes please. Apple juice, not Mummy's juice.

Well, it is juice. Kind of.

Feeding the baby

There are a few things to know when you start to introduce the baby to food.

You just need to accept the fact that when you feed a baby, baby food that is, you are going to look like an idiot. The sooner you understand and accept this, the sooner you stop focusing on trying not to make "eat this" faces and spilling food everywhere in the process.

I can remember feeding C and getting food on every part of his face. It was always the worst when it dried into his eyebrows before I wiped him down. Now that I am three kids into the game, I can usually get through an entire meal with F without spilling or smudging beyond his little chin. Of course, there is the occasional lump of oatmeal that gets up his nose, but that is due to his sudden movements more than my skills. This is because I look like a total idiot while I feed him.

My husband hardly gets any food into the baby. Why? Because he doesn't attempt the face-making and baby-tricking tips that I give him.

Aside from face-making, baby-tricking is key. When they first start eating baby food, this is not necessary. However, they reach an age where they get sneaky. This happens earlier than any first-time parent could possibly anticipate. I, for one, thought that kids didn't get sneaky until they could talk (I can practically hear the fits of laughter from the experienced parents who are reading this).

No. They get sneaky early! When they identify a food they don't like, they start to take note of where the spoon originated. When the spoon returns for another scoop the grossness, they make it difficult for you to successfully deliver said grossness. So, you get smarter and hide the dish from their view.

The baby then takes note of the color and/or smell and checks the spoon before it gets to their mouth. See what I mean? They are sneaky little buggers!!

Luckily, by the time they reach this point, they are usually starting to feed themselves and you are onto a whole new set of problems and are no longer distracted by the face-making and baby-tricking.

You are now onto toddler-deceiving, which is a whole other topic for a later post.

Baby addict

I am baby crazy. I love everything, okay, almost everything about babies. I love how soft they are. I adore the way they nuzzle against you. I am nuts for the way they smell (when they aren't stinky). When they pout their little lips and suck in their sleep, I melt.

And it's not just the first few months of babyhood that I love.

Jump ahead a few months and I am all about the cooing. The little sounds they make crack me up. The fact that they develop their little personalities so early fascinates me. One of the cutest things of all is when they first learn to clap their little hands and find it so amusing.

I could really go on for a long, long time.

My husband and I have been extremely fortunate in the baby department. Although M and F were both preemies and had to do stints in the NICU, we have had no major health scares, no colic, manageable teething and overall happy babies. This makes my baby addition a little harder to crack.

Here's another thing that makes it easier: I really don't like being pregnant. I mean I really, really don't like it. My pregnancies have not been easy and, due to the premature birth of one baby already, my pregnancy with F was filled with extra check-ups, weekly injections, hourly medication and a whole lot of worrying.

Does that stop me from wanting another one? No, not really.

My father told me once that he thought I was a baby addict, hence my high output of children in such a small period of time. His theory was that once they reached a certain age, I started realizing that they were not going to be a baby for much longer and, before I would have a chance to miss their baby-ness, I would just get pregnant again. I haven't really had time to test this theory until now.

F is approaching the age at which I would normally be getting production underway again. I was in the office the other day and saw a heavily pregnant co-worker and felt a pang of envy. Envy. For pregnancy. Me, envious of that which I detest.

Shit. My dad was right.

So I come before you today to say:

Hi, my name is Laura and I am a baby addict. Hi, Laura.

There will be days like this

Bad days (for me) tend to come in batches. A couple of days here. A week there. It usually isn't as simple as waking up in the morning and starting fresh.

I am in the middle of such a period of time. Let me give you a run down of today's events.

The morning started well. The boys all slept all night - no teething screams, no "I'm afraid of the dark" interludes - and I was able to begin the day with a full night of sleep under my belt. That was the high point of the day.

For some unexplained reason, probably having to do with the low pressure system, thunderstorms make my kids really cranky. M threw two really impressive tantrums before I had gotten through my first cup of coffee.

Next, C took a spill that caused a superficial head wound. Once I stopped the bleeding, I spent the next two hours keeping him awake in case of a mild concussion.

Midday brought really gross, dirty diapers from each of my children. Except for C, who is no longer wearing diapers, so that particular mess didn't have the same ease of disposal as his brother's messes. Potty training is a dirty, dirty business.

Fast forward to later in the day and M dives (on purpose) off a chair in my room into the corner of my bed, which wins him a nosebleed. It also gave me my second blood-stained shirt of the day. This noseblees reappeared later on in the evening after he took another fall while coming in from the park. Good thing I hadn't bothered to change my shirt.

The rest of the evening was one screaming fit after another. Headache for C, another tantrum for M and some serious teething pain for F.

Luckily, Nick and I have a non-negotiable bedtime policy, so the madness ended at 8:00 p.m. My mood at this point is sour, at best, and I am confident in assuming that my dreams tonight will be bloody flashbacks of the day.

Today was Day 2, maybe 2 1/2 of this particular bad patch. The other days were not quite as bad, but they were tainted with a bad mood that has settled over our house for a time.

I am more than ready for it to move along, so I can have a normal, mostly managable day. Really, it would just be nice to lose the desire to run out on my own the very second that my husband walks in the door from work. I like to go out for a break every now and then, but needing to leave the moment that someone comes to relieve me is never a good sign.

I don't have to pull out my hair, it's coming out on its own

A bizarre side effect to pregnancy is that you don't lose any hair while you are carrying the baby. After giving birth, it is only a matter of time before you not only resume normal hair loss, but all of the hair that you didn't lose during pregnancy jumps ship as well. This can result in tumbleweeds of tresses blowing throughout your home.

Some women lose hair in clumps, which I can imagine is frightening. Mine didn't fall out in clumps, but I did lose a staggering amount after having F - way more than I lost with C and M. Further proof that every pregnancy is different.

Many pregnancy books discuss this topic, but they typically say something along the lines of "some increased hair loss is common in the few months after giving birth." That bit of information doesn't prepare you for pulling hair balls the size of a small woodland creature from your shower drain.

Sometimes you need the gory details to truly understand what is coming your way. So, there you go, information AND gross details.

Carcation

Definition: the miniature vacation that occurs when you get to drive in your car without your children.

When there are kids in the car, the radio stays low, the music is usually child-oriented, there is a lot of buckling and usually some screaming. Even if they are all asleep, they are still there and you have to be aware of them.

A car trip without the kids can be like a little getaway. I put on very loud, very non-child-friendly music. I sing. I dance. I go crazy (while still being a responsible driver). If I am not in the mood for music, I can drive in silence. Complete silence. Like a spa, only without the masseuse and gurgling fountain.

I don't get to be by myself very much, so I take advantage of time on my own whenever I can.

Solo car trips are a treat for me. I don't think my husband understands this, but I know that all of you other child-haulers get what I am saying.

Never underestimate the recuperative potential of a car trip on your own.

Leave 'em behind - just for a bit

Nick and I recently got the chance to go on vacation. Alone. For the first time since our honeymoon. Four years ago.

We had five days of child-free heaven. Yes, we missed our kids, but this was the first time we had had a chance to miss our kids.

A friend of mine asked me how I could possibly leave my babies. The truth is, it wasn't hard to leave them because we needed it and so did they. While Nick and I were on vacation, my boys got some quality time with their grandparents and got to do all the fun stuff that we won't let them do.

The thing about having small children is, it can be really easy to forget your spouse in the everyday madness of keeping your wits about you (or not, in my case). You become Mama and little more. The same things happens to your spouse. Time away from our kids reminded us that there was a time that it was just us and we had fun. It also reminded us that there was a time that we could exist in a room without toys and crumbs everywhere.

My point is, it is important to remember that your spouse is more than just a parent. It also helps to remember that you are more than a parent too.

Momiform

Definition: the uniform worn by mothers making it possible to identify them from a distance, even when their children are not present.

The momiform of old consisted of "mom" jeans, a t-shirt, athletic shoes and a scrunchie.

Looming around shopping centers and elementary schools, you will notice a bevy of women in yoga pants, tank tops (a hoodie if the weather deems it appropriate) and large sunglasses. This is the momiform of the new generation of mothers.

The classic momiform can still be spotted. But it is becoming the stuff of legends. Like Bigfoot and UFOs, they are seen from time to time. Mothers rocking the classic momiform are beyond fashion's reach and probably still wear a double-breasted blazer with shoulder pads on occasion.

Those that don the new, more hip momiform are still capable of wearing non-elastic pants when they step outside of their motherly duties.