The World is a Boys Buffet - A Craving for Christmas Trees

Just over 1 year ago my boys and I were exhaustedly erecting the final Christmas tree in our home. We go a little nuts with the decorations around here at Christmas time and by “Christmas time” I mean November 1 and by “we” I most definitely mean I, and over the top, crazy, old saint nick badgering woman would probably be a more accurate description then just the lonely simple word “nuts”.
By this point in the evening it was past the boy’s bedtime and as any parent knows starting a huge task after the kids should already be in bed, however fun it may be, always makes for a poopie head screaming, hair pulling, back punching gem of a time for all children involved.
Bedtime is a great time around these parts. By 7pm the mood has generally shifted from happy and calm to grumpy and whiney and the boys are usually tired too.
Anyways, the boys were tired, I was exhausted from the decorating festivities of the day and Jordan was working late and not home to partake in all of the “fun”. My youngest at the time decided the toy room Christmas tree in all of its child-decorated glory, looked appetizing.
Now I’m a mother of only boys, so I have the understanding that there is something woven into the fibers of a boy, deep deep down, its un-explainable and un-changeable, a boy will eat anything and everything he sees.
I would more easily understand this whole fiasco had there been popcorn cascading enticingly off the branches or if cute little gingerbread men adorned the tree, but that was not the case. My sons delicious, festivous snack choice that evening was glass light bulbs. And they were not even the colourful kind! Oh what a merry time that was.
I was in the kitchen grabbing something and my oldest yells “mom, Nixon’s eating light bulbs”.
I ran to the toy room to find my sons mouth bleeding while he’s holding up a string of lights with one missing. All that remains in its place are a few jagged shards of glass. A very pregnant and frantic me packed up the boys and we headed to the hospital where we got to sit and wait for hours. Eventually he had an x-ray and nothing showed up. He was fine and we never had any issues, I’ve always been curious how that glass made it out.
This season I’ve been on guard and so far no bulbs have been harmed in the decorating of our home.
So a word of warning, if you have young boys, they will eat anything and everything. Keep an eye on your Christmas tree.

Poop And Other Matters Of The Heart

Top 10 things I never thought I would have to say

1. Take those toys out of your underwear.
2. Don’t touch your poop.
3. No you may not switch your crocs for you pointed cowboy boots so that you can kick the stray cat harder. (where would he ever get this idea?).
4. Stop eating your boogers.
5. Please don’t play with cat poop you find in the sandbox.
6. No! Don’t drink the bath water, we just watched your brother pee into it!
7. No sorry, we cannot eat poo poo soup for lunch (this one I find myself repeating every single day).
8. Please stop examining your brother’s bum with your finger.
9. You pooped where?
10. Please stop gangnam styling and eat your lunch.

As you’ve just witnessed, poop seems to be the most hilarious thing in the world to 2 little men in my home. Actually I’m not gonna lie, we all have poo poo humour to some degree in this household. But, my kids have good hearts and are exceptional boys, so the few times I have to try to convince them its gross to let the dog lick the spoon their currently using to finish their breakfast or I have to scrape poop from under their finger nails, I count my blessings, after all it could be much worse, it could be in their hair or even worse then that, it could be in mine. My silly boys and their crazy antics make me laugh more times then I can count in a day. I’m so blessed to have 3 little comedians to tickle my ribs.

Fecal Folly Meets Creative Parenting

Today was a rather exciting day in my world of parenting. In trying to be a good mother I sometimes use creative parenting. Today came the pinnacle of creative ideas.

My son was fully potty trained for months, he was easy to train and we had relatively no issues with his potty habits. 4 months ago in an effort to assist in the household running smoothly and in wanting to make moms life a little easier my son decided he didn’t want to be potty trained anymore. How kind and thoughtful of him! Imagine the joy I experienced in washing out grown man size feces from my little boys red baseball underwear.

I’m quite the party pooper in matters of this sort and in an effort to help my son achieve success in bowl displacement I tried everything. I mean everything. Nothing has convinced him that using a toilet is more fun then watching mommy scrape ripe gotchie gifts from his favourite race car under garments.

A few days ago I started toying with the idea of reverting him back to a baby.

After one to many sphincter retraction mishaps I warmed up to the idea and decided to give it a try.

Mommy, “Nixon you seem to enjoy pooping your pants like a baby, do you want to be a baby?”

Nixon, “No”.

Mommy, “well if you continue to act like a baby with your bathroom habits I’ll have to start treating you like a baby”.

Nix, “I’m a big boy, no more pooping in my underwear, I’ll poop in the toilet”.

I reveled in my great parenting skills and felt like a good mom and like I had done a good job solving this issue.

The next day another underwear mishap, okay Nix, I’ll give you grace, don’t let it happen again.

The next day, same thing. We have the whole baby talk again and he once again declares in a loud strong voice that he is a big boy and he’ll use the toilet next time.

Next day same thing. I remind Nixon that in being a baby he will have to eat baby food and sleep in a crib.

Day 4 arrives with another excrement package for this mama bear. Okay, time for creative parenting.

“Nixon, I see you’ve decided your breakfast of champions this morning will be a jar of baby food.”

Now at first I felt bad, I wouldn’t want to eat baby food, but then again I use the toilet so its my privilege to eat yummy food. I had already given a gazillion chances so I stood strong. I offered a choice of baby food, after all I’m not a monster. But the choice wasn’t delicious strawberry or raspberry apple, his delightful options were chicken & vegetable or peas and carrots. Peas are Nixon’s nemesis so naturally he went for the scrumptious choice of chicken & veggie. In my kindness I heated it and added a touch of salt to try to make it edible. I taste tested a miniscule amount and barfed. It was much worse then I imagined. I for one will no longer be feeding my poor 7 month old jarred baby food. Gross. Anyway, I strapped my self described “Big Boy” into the high chair and gave him his first bite. You should have seen his face. It was awfully wonderful. I have to be honest, I laughed hysterically on the inside half way through the jar. Sometimes I couldn’t hide my sheer joy, so I had to turn away and hide my face. I don’t think he figured out that my body convulsing in silence was me laughing on the inside.

My poor boy choked down most of the jar and upon completion once again declared he will be using the toilet from this point on.

Here’s to hoping…