Disposal and Playdoh

There was a morning a few weeks ago where my husband turned on the garbage disposal in the sink and an awful crunching and clanging sound bellowed from the depths of the drain.  I cringed and busied myself making the kids’ breakfasts.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw him reach his hand down and retrieve a mangled spoon, 2 marbles and Little People doll that had been chewed apart by the disposal blades.  “Do you have any idea why these things were in the sink drain?” he asked.  “Hmmm, that’s odd,” I returned nonchalantly.  He wasn’t buying it.  “I mean I guess I can understand the spoon but what the heck are toys doing down there?” he demanded accusingly.   I decided to come clean.  Sometimes I let the kids pull their chairs up and play with their toys in the sink when I just need 15 minutes to finish cooking dinner or feed Gabe a bottle or just hide from the kids for a bit.  Sure it’s messy.  Despite my warnings and safeguards, the kids end up soaked, the counter resembles a small pond, and the kitchen floor under their chairs could be mistaken for a slip’n’slide.  Sure, it’s a little wasteful to have the sink on for a long time (I swear I have it on just slightly more than a trickle).  But those rare 15 minutes of un-interupted time are well worth the expense of running the water and the clean-up in my opinion.  The same can be said for playdoh.  My husband hates the stuff.  Every time I bring the big Tupperware full of playdoh down from its hiding spot (in clear view on top of our kitchen cabinets) he looks as if I’ve brought out a nuclear waste product for the kids to play with.  Sure it’s messy.  Tiny little particles of playdoh quickly make their way from the table to the floor to the bottom of our feet.  Or worse….the same tiny particles go undiscovered until days later when they’ve hardened to a razor-blade sharpness ready to pierce our bare feet.  Once again, that precious time while the kids are busy making playdoh noodles and ice cream and hamburgers trumps the annoying clean-up process afterwards. 

“I’ll be better,” I promised.  “No toys in the sink.”  But then there was that phone call I had to take about my Pilates classes.  And the rainy day where the kids were SO bored.  And the day I had to jump in the shower before rushing off to work.  This morning my husband turned on the disposal and a horrible grinding sound cut through an argument Tyler and Maddy were having about who was going to sit next to me at breakfast.  I slouched down in my chair and hid behind the Cheerios box, knowing I was in trouble.  Now who can loan me a 20 spot for this month’s water bill?!

S.O.B.

Shortness of breath.  It’s a term we use often in the healthcare arena to refer to a plethora of patients with health conditions rendering breathing difficult and laborious.  There is a new category with whom this term can be widely used and that is mothers attempting their first jogs after having a baby.  I’ve never been an elite runner but I do have one marathon under my belt and make the 2.2 mile course around my subdivision a regular part of my exercise routine.  Or made it a routine until the birth of my third child, sweet Gabriel.    With each child it has taken me slightly longer to return to my regular jogs and I’m happy to announce that after 5 months I am finally ready to lace up those running shoes again.  Being a physical therapist I know the importance of a gradual return to activity so I started with a walk/run around my usual path with Gabe (a feather-light 15 pounds in the jogging stroller).  After a  few attempts I was able to make the jog easily without stopping to walk.  The adrenaline rush felt great and did wonders for my ego.  Last weekend I decided to take the two older kids out for a jog so I loaded their combined 60+ pounds in the double jogging stroller and off we set.  As I began the jog I explained to them the importance of exercising regularly.  “Why?” Tyler asked.  Shocking.  “Well buddy, it’s good for your heart,” I said, my breathing growing labored after only a block.  “Why, Mom?” he asked again.  “Well, (huff, huff) when you run (puff, puff) you make (huff, huff) your heart (huff, puff) beat faster (huff, huff, huff) which makes it (huff, huff, puff, puff) stronger.  “What, Mom?” Madelyn asked.  Apparently with all the huffing and puffing she could not hear the answer.  I’ll try another approach.  Deep breath…….”Whenyourunyourheartbeatsfastwhichmakesitstronger” (HUFF,HUFF,HUFF,HUFF!) “What?” they both ask in unison.  “NO MORE TALKING!” I bark out, my heart pounding in my chest, my lungs on fire, my self esteem bruised.  I am two blocks from home.

On The Floor

Jennifer Lopez is getting a lot of press these days with the divorce and all.  It got me thinking about her hit song On the Floor.  I mean, here is a woman who is 42 years old and the mother of 3 year old twins singing about breaking a sweat on the dance floor as she drinks a little more.  Really???  Is this what other mothers  in their 40’s are doing right now?  I think not.  I decided to re-write the lyrics.  My song will still be called On the Floor but it will be referring to the location most of us normal mothers are at risk of collapsing at any moment.
(If the formatting below looks funny visit my actual blog at http://pilatesbycarrie.blogspot.com/)

J LO’s Lyrics                                                             Carrie’s Lyrics 

It’s a new generation                                              It’s a new generation

Of party people                                                       Of Moms and Dads

Let me introduce you to my party people         Let me introduce you to my 3 darling children

In the club…………                                                    Under five……………

If you go hard you gotta get on the floor               If you spill milk you gotta clean up the floor

If you’re a party freak then step on the floor        To be excused you gotta eat a little more

If you’re an animal then tear up the floor             Before you play you gotta do all your chores

Break a sweat on the floor                                    Test me, I’m out the door

Yeah we work on the floor                                     Yeah I’ll walk out that door

Don’t stop keep it moving                                     Non-stop always moving

Put your drinks up                                                  Put your shoes on

Pick your body up and drop it on the floor        Pick your toys up, put em back where they go

Let the rhythm change your world on the floor    Better go pee now or you’ll pee on the floor

You know we’re running sh*t                             We're running late march your
tonight on the floor                                              butts out the door

Brazil, Morocco                                                      Playground, storytime,

London to Ibiza                                                       Preschool to Playdates

Straight to LA, New York                                        Straight to the pool, the doctor

Vegas to Africa                                                      Drive thru to McDonalds

Dance the night away                                           Blink the night is gone

Live your life and stay young on the floor            Wake up, step on a toy left on the floor

Dance the night away                                           Blink the day is gone

Grab somebody drink a little more                  Start the baths, read a book and shut the door

Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala                                    Wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah

Tonight we gon’ be it on the floor                         Tonight you better stay in your beds!

Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala                              Wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,
Tonight we gon' be it on the floor           I'm begging you to STAY IN YOUR BEDS!

I know you got it clap your hands on the floor     Baby’s crying, wants to nurse a little more

And keep rockin, rock it up on the floor                He rocked a deuce, now it leaked on the floor

If you’re a criminal kill it on the floor                    I burped him and he spit up on the floor

Steal it quick on the floor, on the floor                  So much crap on this floor, on this floor

Don’t stop keep it moving                                      Non-stop always moving

Put your drinks up                                                   Wash your hands please

It’s getting ill it’s getting sick on the floor             Or you’ll get ill, you’ll get sick on the floor

We never quit, we never rest on the floor      We get no sleep, never rest when you’re sick

If I ain’t wrong we’ll probably die on the floor       If I ain’t wrong you’ll all three give it to me

Brazil, Morocco                                                       Boogers, and vomit

London to Ibiza                                                        Strep throat to a fever

Straight to LA, New York                                         All from a bug, a germ

Vegas to Africa                                                        A tiny amoeba

Dance the night away                                             Blink the night is gone

Live your life and stay young on the floor              Coffee pot I love you evermore

Dance the night away                                             Blink the day is gone

Grab somebody drink a little more                         Think I’ll join J LO to drink a little more

Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala                                      Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala

Tonight we gon’ be it on the floor                           On second thought I think I’ll hit that floor

Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala                                       Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala

Tonight we gon’ be it on the floor      Come on honey we gon’ be it on the floor!         

P.S. Congratulations Jaime!  You are the winner of the super cute bracelet (FYI:  I use the online site random.org to select the winners in a totally fair manner).  Jaime's "New Use For An Old Thing" is to use the Bounce dryer sheets as a dust rag to quickly wipe off the dust bunnies on her bedroom furniture.  Clever!  I will make sure you get your prize ASAP!

P.P.S.  My Prenatal Pilates class is full but there is a waiting list.  There are 3 spots left in the Postnatal Pilates class due to start Aug 20th.  Visit http://www.pilatesbycarrie.com/ for more info!

Mother of Invention

There is a saying:  Necessity is the Mother of Invention.  No  where is this more evident than the One Step Ahead catalog.  It is a catalog of children’s products, many of which are boasted to be parent-invented.  I stumbled upon this photo.

It is a nasal aspirator designed to remove gunk  from your child’s nose by having the parent suck it through a long tube.  The description promises it is “impossible to draw goop up the tube.”  Nevertheless.

It got me thinking about all the crazy inventions moms and dads (and siblings) have stumbled upon over the years based on sheer necessity.  Another of my favorite magazines, Real Simple, has a section called New Uses For Old Things.  For example, they recommend using lifesavers candy to hold a candle in place without putting holes in your cake or an empty tissue box to gather those annoying grocery store plastic bags.  I thought it would be fun to merge these ideas and take a poll about your own crazy inventions or New Uses For Old Things.

It didn’t take long for me to come up with some examples of my own.

My sister and I recently took a road trip to Michigan with our combined 5 kids crammed into the back of my Honda Pilot (my husband still adamantly refuses to join the millions of soccer moms toting their toddlers around in a mini-van).  It was next to impossible to reach the 2 kids in the third row and I started to panic as I envisioned the passenger seat person attempting cirque de soleil-style maneuvers to meet their requests (more snacks, a juice box, switch the DVD, etc).  So as I was perusing the dollar section at Target….it came to me.  I bought a caddy and a key clip which I fastened to a bungee cord that spanned the distance from the passenger seat coat hanger to the one in the third row and bottaboom bottabing…..our own personal snack distributing zip line! 

Not all of my inventions or New Uses For Old Things are as patent-worthy as this one but in no order, here they are:

Cereal box as dividing wall at kitchen table for 2 arguing toddlers.

Ceiling fan as mobile for fussy newborn when you just don’t have the time (or energy) for another game of goochy-goochy-goo!

Your finger as a makeshift toothbrush for your child when you are running late and have the toothpaste but can’t find that missing toothbrush (a piece of gum works well if you can’t find either).

Cup and spoon as bath toys when you are on vacation.

Car heating vent on full blast for drying wet clothes when unable to go home to change.

Cell phone backlight as makeshift flashlight to negotiate your way safely to bed or help re-navigate little ones back to their own beds when you don’t want to turn on the light.

Pillows on the floor next to bed as safe landing spot when transitioning child to “Big Boy/Girl Bed”

Articles of clothing held in place by a rolled up window as a poor man’s sunshade when the beating sun threatens to wake a sleeping child on a long car trip.

Jump rope as lasso for long-range carseat rocking (courtesy of my 4 year old).

Kitchen tongs as retriever of matchbox car that sank to the bottom of a toilet full of….. (recommend throwing away immediately afterwards)!

So, here’s the poll question:  What have you invented, been meaning to invent in your “spare” time, or what New Use For an Old Thing have you come up with???  Comment to this blog and you will be entered to win this super fun bracelet that I spotted at a boutique in Naperville.  It is a stretchy beaded bracelet with a funky broach pinned on (pretty nifty invention, huh???!) 

P.S.  I have 1 spot left in the next Prenatal Pilates session which will take place on Wednesday evenings from 7:30-9:00 PM starting August 10th and ending Sept 21st (skipping Aug 31st).  If you or someone you know may be interested check out my website for more details. (http://www.pilatesbycarrie.com/)

P.P.S.  My next Postnatal session will tentatively be held on Saturday mornings from 9:00-10:30 AM starting Aug 20th and ending Oct 1st (skipping Sept 3rd).

A Mother's Prayer

I woke up at 6:42 AM according to the bedside alarm clock which I haven’t needed to set since my first child was born over 4 years ago.  I am disoriented from lack of sleep but slowly I start piecing things together.  Gabriel, my 5 month old is asleep on his side in front of me, my body forming a “C” around his tiny frame, the nipple from my exposed breast resting on his cheek.  Ah yes, I remember bringing him into our bed to nurse him at some point during the night.  Did he actually eat and at what time…..I do not know.  I crane my neck behind me but my husband’s space is empty…he must be at work already.  What day is it?  Friday.  My day off.  I say a silent prayer.

Dear Lord,

Let me patient with the kids today,

Let me speak in soft tones,

Let me answer all their questions without saying “Because I said so”,

Let me praise rather than criticize,

Let me…….

My prayer is interrupted by Tyler waking up…on the wrong side of bed.  Crying, he enters my room waking Gabriel who starts to fuss wondering what happened to the food source that was at his disposal for the better part of the night.   “When is my play date going to be?”  Tyler half whimpers and half whines.  “Two weeks and two days,” I say which transforms the whimpers into full blown sobs.  I take a deep breath as I recite the prayer to myself:  Let me be patient, let me be patient.  I fish around the files in my head searching for some parenting advice from the no less than 5 books I have read recently before settling on How to Talk So Your Kids Will Listen, and Listen So Your Kids Will Talk.   “It sounds like you are upset because you want the play date to be today, right buddy?”  But he cannot hear me over the hysteria of his own crying (complete with loss of breath and near-gagging).  I grab Gabe and leave a blubbering Tyler to wallow in his sorrow and I almost bump into Madelyn in the hallway, a diaper full of pee weighing her PJ bottoms to the ground.  “Good morning, Squirt,” I chirp happily even if it isn’t as genuine as I would like.  “Come on down for breakfast!”  “I want water and milk and juice,” she demands angrily.  I would like to match her tone with an equally loud “Who do you think I am…your personal waitress!” but instead I say, “Can you say please, honey?”  Speak in soft tones, speak in soft tones.  Tyler finally joins us at the breakfast table as I start pouring milk (with a side of water AND juice for Madelyn), Gabe hoisted up on my left hip.  “I don’t want breakfast,” Tyler says.  Let me be patient and speak in soft tones.  “You have to eat something, buddy,” I say in a voice barely above a whisper as I slowly unlatch Gabe’s tiny fingers from my hair, but not before he grabs a fistful and pulls it loose from its roots.  “WHY???!!!!” he grunts.  “Because I…….” I catch myself before recovering with “…..I want you to grow big and strong and have enough energy to play all day!”  Just then Madelyn pokes Tyler and the fighting begins.  Let me praise and not criticize.  I desperately attempt to find something praiseworthy about the situation as my blood pressure rises a few more points on the scale.  “Madelyn, please keep your hands to yourself.  I like the way you are keeping your feet to yourself.”  She glances down at her feet pleased with the new idea I have given her and stretches out her leg far enough so her big toe just barely grazes Tyler’s chair which sends him into fits of rage.  (Who writes these parenting books, anyways?!!!)  I feel myself spiraling out of control as I set a squirmy Gabe into his exersaucer, a bowl of Cheerios in front of Tyler and a smorgasbord of beverages in front of Madelyn.  “I wanted waffles!” Tyler screams.  “I wanted orange juice not apple juice!” Madelyn screams.  Gabriel, unable to talk yet, just screams.  I feel like a Loony Tunes cartoon as my face turns bright red, steam emits from my ears like a tea kettle, and my eyeballs spiral around in their sockets.  It is 7:12 AM.  But it’s 5:00 somewhere.

Marketing Mania

I’ll admit it.  I am a sucker for marketing ploys.  Just the other day at the grocery store I bought “Smart Wheat” bread.  What’s so smart about it….did it graduate magna cum laude from the dough factory?  Yet somehow my hand absentmindedly plucked it from the shelf of no less than two dozen other types of bread.  It wasn’t the cheapest one and it most likely was not the healthiest option but I was in a hurry and fell “hook, line, and sinker” for the loaf that had to be the intelligent choice, right? 

 Towards the back of the store I opened the refrigerated case to select an orange juice and once again was fooled by the “Kids” orange juice.  Hey, I needed orange juice and I had kids so this had to be the one for me right???  I mean what could be wrong with a carton that contains Vitamins A-E and has an orange with a smiley face on it? 

These marketing geniuses don’t just get ya at the supermarket either.  When my son was born over 4 years ago BPA (Bisphenol A:  a compound used to make some plastics that the latest research claims may cause neurologic damage if ingested) was an abbreviation that was not familiar to me but now……you might as well put a picture of a skull and crossbones on anything that has even come into contact with BPA.  Here is a picture of a bib boasting that it is BPA-free that I would be tempted to buy even though the chance of my child actually eating the bib is an impossibility.  Marketing. 

You know who could learn from these marketing strategies?  Car mechanics.  I had my oil changed last month and the mechanic began his usual recommendations for the 60,000 mile check-up that included changing the rear differential fluid for the low, low cost of $106.90.  “No thank you!” I said easily.  Now, if they had called it “Limit your chances of getting in an accident and harming your kids” fluid I may have considered it!

Lingo

Every profession has its own unique lingo.  A language that to an outsider sounds foreign but to a member of the elite group is a badge of belonging.  Take for example, my husband.  He is a Certified Public  Accountant and loves to “mock” the phrases that are a regular part of his daily grind.  “Don’t keep things close to the vest….we want you to speak off the cuff so we can opine on your ideas before running them up the flagpole to the President.”  Translation:  Don’t hold back, say what’s on your mind, so we can analyze them before bringing them up the chain of command to the President.  Then there is my sister.  She is a cop, well a detective (for more on her double life as a mother and detective check out her blog at http://mommyfive-o.blogspot.com/) and I am in awe of the “code” words that are a regular part of her job.  “10-4, I’m heading Code 3 to the 1096.”  Translation:  I understand, and I am driving with my lights and sirens on to the mentally unstable person.

Parents have their own lingo as well.  Mostly it centers around the various discipline techniques on the market.  There is the Supernanny warning prior to issuing a time out in the naughty chair, naughty rug, naughty corner, naughty bench, etc.  Then there is the counting: That’s 1, that’s 2, that’s three, take 5.  But the biggest sign of mommy and daddy language is the constant challenge of communicating with each other in the presence of your children without revealing to the child what you are discussing.  I quickly learned that my kids were born with a chip in their brain that allowed them to hear secret conversations between my husband and myself from across the house if it involved ice cream, carnivals, going to the park or anything else that would benefit them.  Which is amazing considering I asked Tyler to pick up his toys 3 times at close range today and he didn’t break his gaze from his new favorite cartoon, Chugginton.  As a result, we resort to spelling things.  “Honey, do you want to take the kids for I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M  after dinner?  It didn’t take long for Tyler to figure out what was going on.  “Mom, what do those letters spell?”  “Are we going somewhere fun?!”  When I am with my sister we talk in piglatin: “OO-day, OO-yay ant-way oo-tay ake-tay uh-they ids-kay oo-tay uh-they useum-may?”  Tyler runs up from the basement: “Can we go to the museum, Mom?  Can we, can we?”  (Damn that computer chip!)  So if we can’t spell or talk in foreign languages, what are we left with???  Motions and gestures like a game of charades?   Just this evening my husband started humping the air behind the kids’ backs as an invitation to get busy later on.  Frustrated by my lack of acknowledgement he resorted to our old lingo. “Do you want to have S-E-X?”  My response.  “No hablo Inglés.”