The world according to Kate

While Kate knows the words "Please" and "Thank You" they aren't always a part of her vocabulary. We often need to remind her to use these words, and while sitting around the other day, Ben tried a new phrase to teach her how to ask politely for something:

Kate: "Daddy, I need water."

Ben: "What is the magic word?"

Kate (without hesitation): "Bippity Boppity Boo."

Me: (snicker)

Ben: "Ahhhh, yes. That is A magic word. But I'm asking about THE magic word.

Kate (puzzled silence): .........

Ben: "Please. The magic word is please."


Kate (more puzzled silence): ........


(Insert me shrugging at Ben while he looks bewildered about explaining how "please" is a magic word.)

Kate (looking at me like, DO YOU HEAR THIS GUY? IS HE CRAZY OR WHAT?): "Oooooookay."


Ben: (SIGH)


Me: (snicker)

Learning the wet way

Some of the best advice we have gotten about Beckett was from our pediatrician. Not one to waste time repeating things we already know, she skipped the first timers pointers except one: When diapering a boy, make sure you point his penis down.

In fact, she didn't just TELL us to do this, but gave us the general reasons... if a boy pees up, instead of hitting the absorbent part of the diaper, it goes up, out and around. This ends up soaking the kiddo, his back, and whatever (or whomever) is unlucky enough to be under him.

Now, this was unsolicited advice so I decided to take note. Because if the ONE thing your kid's doctor spends time telling you isn't about keeping them alive, but rather is meant solely to keep you from being covered in urine, I assume its fairly pertinent information.

Diaper penis down. Check.

So imagine my annoyance when late one night after Ben changes Beckett I find myself covered in some sort of liquid. Upon closer inspection... um, yep, that is pee. And NOT my own. I walk into the office where Ben is and told him that SHOCKER, our pediatrician wasn't lying about diapering your son. He looks up from his laptop and kind of squints at me and my wet pants. 

"Huh, she was serious about that?"

(Banging head against wall) THIS is what I'm working with people.

But at least he DOES diapers. And toilets. (He is reminding me of all this as he reads over my shoulder and threatens to quit, crowd source an "I hate Liz" campaign or worst of all, diaper up ALL THE TIME, resulting in lots more wet laps for me. Touché Ben, Touché).

I'd rather be sleeping

I'm trying very hard not to disappear from the blogosphere now that Beckett is here, but I have to admit, posting regularly is slightly difficult right now. This is mainly because it is very rare that BOTH my children are sleeping at the same time, and if by some off chance they are, then I'm rushing around the house, trying to be productive -- washing dishes, doing laundry, mopping and waxing the floor, planning a strategy for the implementation of world peace... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Yeah... I'm totally lying. If my kids are snoozing at the same time, you better believe I'm curled up in the fetal position right there next to them, trying to soak up some of the silence and stock piling a few hours of shut eye to prepare for the "dark time" (aka night, aka the time when I want to cry for several hours in a row b/c my son will not sleep, aka HOLY GOD WILL THIS INFANT EVER GET DAY AND NIGHT FIGURED THE FUCK OUT?!)

Ahem. Sorry. 

Anyways, with all that said, stories and information and general randomness keeps piling up over here, so I'm doing a quick round-up post to update everyone on life around the EdelSpot. It goes a little something like this:

1. Showering has become something akin to a religious experience for me. Seriously. My house is never, and I mean NEVER quiet any more. There is a baby crying, a toddler melting down, a dog barking or the television/radio blaring nearly every single moment of the day, and half the night. So when I shut my bathroom door, and turn on the blessed white noise of the shower, I very nearly weep with joy. I love opening the shower door and getting hit with the puff of steam I've let build up, I love that first moment when I step into the slightly scalding water, and I love (WITH A PASSION) the feeling of relief I get as all the dried milk, baby spit-up, finger paints, and random food items (sometimes smushed in my hair) gets washed away. For those 10-15 minutes I have a lovely feeling of being just a woman (and not a mommy), and it is delicious. Even though I know it will only last a few moments before I'm once again scraping peanut butter off my arm or wearing a t-shirt with an apple juice stain on it. And I'm okay with that. As long as I get my time in the shower.
2. It is official that second children get treated differently than first children. Haven't decided yet if that is a good or a bad thing for Beckett. On the good end of the spectrum, second children seem to be (at least in our household) worried over less, which probably will lead to a healthy and non-twitchy kiddo. On the bad end of things, I have about two photos of our little man and instead of stressing about whether things are clean, sterile and steam sanitized, I find myself using lukewarm water and a prayer (on a good day) or my very own spit to clean items from pump parts to pacis.  And once I let the dog lick something clean (I think it was Beckett's head).
3. Some things never change. See this post about my magical nipples. Apparently, they have not lost their ability for good since Kate was a baby, as they are working their witching ways with Beckett. GOOOOO BOOBS!
4. Speaking of boobs, Beckett weighs a hefty 7 lbs. 14 oz. now, which means mine have moved to udder status quite well, thank you very much. Today was our two-week check in, and Beckett's stats are 22.25 inches long (95% so we have a tall boy like his daddy), 7 lbs. 14 oz. (45% so slightly below average) and his head circumference is 35.8 inches (40%). Really, nothing too interesting here, but have to put in the pertinent info because as I've outlined before, baby books likely ain't gonna happen, so I'm just planning to tell my kids to Google their info when they ask some day.
5. I picked up a pamphlet about temper tantrums at the doctor's office today. The title of the piece is "Temper Tantrums: A Normal Part of Growing Up." I don't really plan on reading it, but the subtitle makes me feel good somehow, so I'm just going to hang it on my fridge and stare at it every time Kate blows a gasket because she can't find her Cinderella doll, or I won't let her have a second brownie, or global warming pisses her off.
6. I also learned at the doctor's office that I am not a terrible mother (well, actually that wasn't confirmed, but ONE of my fears was laid to rest). For the last several days, I've been thinking that Beckett always has a load in his diaper because he smells funny, but half the time he is clean. So last night I'm holding him and thinking how much I love him, and then I'm thinking how bad he smells. And wondering if it is normal that I think my child stinks instead of thinking he smells like happiness. And THEN I start to worry that maybe HE doesn't smell, that I am smelling ME, so then I get all paranoid about my hygiene AND I think I'm a bad mother because I STILL think my baby smells bad. Fast forward to the doctors office and I find out that his umbilical cord is getting ready to fall off, and that is why it smells bad. There is nothing wrong, it isn't infected and he isn't going to always be the stinky kid in class, but that just happens sometimes. Whew. Still, I can't wait until that damn thing falls off so I can snuggle my baby and NOT think about breathing through my mouth instead of my nose.

I think that is about it for now. The house is still slightly quiet (except for the a/c repairman who will leave before my children wake up if he knows what is good for him) so I'm going to take a moment to make sure the house is in order, do some ironing, maybe bake some banana bread.... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Beckett is already hosting important business meetings with his stuffed animals. That or they are planning a raging kegger. 

My babies.

Kate during her daily dress-up routine -- I have to admit she makes an adorable Cinderella. However, everything must be just right, including her makeup, gloves, shoes and purse or she has a temper tantrum. But its okay, its "A Normal Part of Growing Up." Whew.

Corruption by cartoon

We had a friend who told us once that his main goal in life was to keep his daughter off the pole (as in the stripper pole, for all you innocents out there). I think he was joking, but in my mind, that seems to be an admirable goal, though not my MAIN goal.

Honestly, I find it is pretty easy to joke about what you do and don't want to see your kids get mixed up in when their biggest choices revolve around wearing Elmo or Tinkerbell pajamas. But as I see all my friends posting photos of their kids heading off to school for the first time this week, I'm reminded about how quickly they truly do grow up.

And it scares the bejesus out of me.

Seriously. I sometimes find I'm barely equipped to mentally stay ahead of my two-year-old. And I think I'm going to be able to keep a TEENAGER in line some day?! Ha. Haha. Hahahahahahahaha. Yeah, I'm not too confident either. Because no matter how solid the foundation we provide or the safety measures we put in place (or the chastity belt we purchase), our kids are going to have outside influences that affect them no matter what.

I had my first experience with outside influences today and it gave me a flash of the future. And, DUUUUDE.

It started out innocently enough. Kate is currently in love with all things Disney princess. We play dolls. We play pretend. We watch movies. Yesterday, we put on makeup, dressed up in our best ball gowns and had a ball, complete with music and dancing (I was the handsome prince. Naturally).

Today, while playing pretend, Kate reached her hand down to me and said, "Do you trust me?" A million points if you can name that movie (points for what you ask? Haha, NOTHING! But I bet you feel like a winner if you knew the answer...) It is from Aladdin, and it happens twice in the movie. It is always said as Aladdin reaches down to help Jasmine onto his magic carpet. It is lovely, and romantic and sweet.

And, I thought it was pretty cute that Kate was re-creating a moment in one of the movies. So I reach up, told her I trusted her and she stepped over my lap onto the "carpet" -- and then cocked her head to the side, opened her mouth wide and leaned down to give me a smooch.

Did you get that? MY TWO-YEAR OLD DAUGHTER TRIED TO OPEN MOUTH KISS ME.

I tried to explain that we don't open mouth kiss people (ever. Until you are married, or at least able to insist he buy you a drink first) but I'm not sure if the message sunk in. Because that is how they kiss in the CARTOONS my daughter watches (insert head slap). I'm not kidding, check it out next time you are watching. There is no chaste pucker and peck kisses in Disney movies. These are princes and princesses IN LOVE. Which means OPEN MOUTH KISSING (and probably some under the shirt-over the bra action, but everyone gets married so fast in these things they don't really have time to get to second base in the story line). I was all worried about the violence in some of these cartoons (Lion King anyone?) but now I see there were tons of other influences at work that I just didn't pay attention to. So many things that seemed so innocent to me as a thirty year old woman, seem kind of seedy when your toddler (who doesn't know any better) tries to replicate it. Seriously, if she asks for a crop top like Jasmine, I'm sending her to a convent for pre-K.

I figure that just as long as an open-mouth kiss doesn't lead to the pole, we will be fine. But I will admit, the incident started to make me think about what it will be like 14 years from now, when I have to ground my daughter for sneaking out to neck with her senior boyfriend because she, like, "LOVES HIM MOM," and she just doesn't understand why I'm "RUINING HER LIFE" and she "HATES ME" (ouch).

Yeah. Did I mention the future scares the bejesus out of me? I'm going to go snuggle my toddler now and thank God I have THIS time with her. When all I have to worry about is some trampy princesses and dodging some slobbery kisses.

An early morning conversation

Lisa (friend and neighbor): Oh, I just love those little baby feet!

Ben: What is on his legs? Is that poop?

Me: Where? There? Gross, that could definitely be poop.

Lisa (Licking her finger and rubbing to see if it would come off): Hmmmm. Nope.

Ben: Could that be... marker? Is that marker?

Me: Huh, maybe. In fact, I think Kate was playing with a marker earlier. But the lid was on... Kate, did you write on Beckett with a marker?

Kate: (Nodding matter-of-factly) Uh-huh.

Me, Ben in tandem: (EYE ROLL)

Introducing Beckett Benjamin Edelbrock

Beckett Benjamin Edelbrock, born August 13, 2011 at 8:21 a.m. He was 20.5 inches long and 7 lbs. 9 oz. of pure, sweet, baby goodness. 

Daddy and Beckett in the delivery room. My two handsome men.

My little man and I the day we left the hospital. No, I'm not posting a photo of me from delivery day. Because every woman is allowed to be a LITTLE vain, and my puffy face and dead eyes from two days of no sleep did NOT display how wonderful and happy I felt to have our newest family member. Instead it looked like I'd just been jumped into the local gang (that means seriously beat up for all you folks who are not as street as I am. Word).

I wouldn't say I hate my lady parts...

...but, we are not on the best of terms right now.

I had my 39 week doctor's appointment today and man, talk about a downer. I went in and nothing, and I mean NOTHING is happening DOWN THERE. In my LADY BITS. Well, I mean, you know, my INTERNAL lady bits. My SPECIAL PLACE. Am I being too gentle in my description for you to get the point? Let me elaborate:

MY CERVIX IS NOT DILATING. MY UTERUS IS NOT DOING ANYTHING TO HELP MY BABY GET OUT MY HOO HOO. I AM GOING TO BE PREGNANT FOREVER.

Even my doctor was all, "Girl, this is a second baby, what is going on here?" and I'm all, "I don't know, could this be punishment for watching porn that ONE TIME just because I was CURIOUS? Is that, like, a thing?? Porn punishment through never-ending pregnancy?!" (Apparently, no, that is not medically "a thing" so, you know, whew. Dodged that bullet)

I started to get kind of irrational upset, but then I remembered that during my last pregnancy, I wrote a post about how lazy my cervix was being. Which kind of made me feel better because I still had Kate on my due date, and if I remembered correctly, my body wasn't doing tons to eject her before I went into labor either. So I rushed on home, looked up my post and BAM. Felt horrible again because OMG that post was from SEVENTEEN DAYS before Kate was born. And, to make matters WORSE, I may have felt that not much was going on down there towards the end of my last pregnancy, but at least it was giving off a "we're going to have this baby sometime this year" vibe. Whereas today, my special place is all, "I COULD start working to get this baby out, but I am le tired. I'll take a nap and think about starting the whole process tomorrow. MAYBE. Yawn."

I'm about to take my special place out and beat it to death.

There's an app for that

I'm getting so close I can taste it. Oh, wait, nope, that is heart burn and indigestion I can taste, but still... the birth of baby E2 is extremely close. As in, less than TWO WEEKS AWAY. Plus or minus a few days because I have two different due dates.

My official, doctor identified due date is August 17. You know, the one based on the vague question of when my last period started or ended or whatever it is they ask when you come in. My REAL due date is August 14.

By "real" due date, I mean the one my iPhone app has identified. And yes, there is an iPhone app that is quite handy for getting knocked up and tracking your pregnancy (actually, there are several) and we have one. Actually, I blame the app on my husband, who likes anything techie and thought it would be funny to have one and see how well it worked back when we were thinking about having a second baby. Trust me, it worked so well I'm having my baby in the middle of the hottest summer on record, instead of having my baby in the middle of fall like I had hoped (apparently, when you use software based on proven science instead of just boinking a lot, you conceive quicker. WHO KNEW?)

So, no offense to my wonderful doctor, but I trust my iPhone app just a little bit more when it comes to knowing my due date. And, while I know due dates aren't exactly written in stone, Kate was born exactly on her due date, so heck if I'm not focusing on the 14th being the end-all-be-all of this pregnancy. So hurray for having a baby in ten days. TEN.

YOU HEAR THAT BABY BOY? GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE.

Woodland creatures

Kate has hit a new phase in the last two weeks. The "I had a nightmare and I can actually TELL YOU WHAT IS FREAKING ME OUT" phase. And don't judge me, but in a really odd and twisted way, this has been a great experience for me.

Hear me out.

Before, if Kate woke up crying hysterically you could generally assume she had a bad dream. But you couldn't say much to make her feel better, because it could have been something truly terrifying, like flesh-eating zombies or Charlie Sheen that were invading her dreams. You just didn't know so you rocked her and loved on her and hoped that she wasn't dreaming about Mommy having a melt-down or how I told her she couldn't have a cookie before bed (scarring!) or even global warming.

But last week, Kate woke up with a bad dream for the first time in a while, and as I rushed in to check on her (seriously, her wailing "MOMMMYYYYYY" in the middle of the night while sobbing is the ONLY thing that can make my 38 week preggo body hustle) she hid under her blanket and told me that she was afraid and to hide. I plopped myself next to her bed, dragged her into my lap and wiped her tears as I rocked her and asked what she was afraid of. She looks around wildly, not quite wholly awake and wails to "Run mommy, run, run, run from the..."

BUNNY.

I shit you not, Kate was having a "crying hysterically, snot running down the face, can hardly breathe" nightmare about a bunny rabbit. I rocked her and assured her no bunny was going to get her and she eventually calmed down enough to go back to sleep.

Flash forward to last night and Kate once again woke up screaming crying. This time she told me that the bunny was STEPPING on her. That a-hole. Ben and I rocked her and got her back to sleep and not an hour later she woke us up AGAIN, this time cowering in bed from a raccoon that was chasing her. After she stopped shaking and we wiped up all her tears, she was ready to go back to sleep, wholly trusting me when I promised that the bunny and the raccoon couldn't hurt her in her home, that she was safe here.

I went back to my room and lay awake listening to night noises for awhile and thinking about how blessed we are. How with all the terror in this world, I can be assured that the worst thing my daughter has in her life are some unruly woodland creatures. And I thank God that we have been fortunate enough to protect her from so much of the hurt, and pain and sadness that exist.

Except evil bunnies. And as my brother-in-law so wisely pointed out, "Evil bunnies are SCARY, man."