You're Not Smart Because You're Thinking.

You know that your child has the ability to take off his diaper.  You know that putting him down for a nap without shorts over his diaper makes it even easier for him to take off his diaper.  You know that the one time your child takes off his diaper in his crib unsupervised there will be fecal matter involved.  You know that it can happen, and you do it anyway.  It appears that you are not too bright.  Why in the world would you do something which could so obviously turn out poorly?

Motherhood makes you less "smart."  Not only because you have opportunities to lose sleep in such large quantities that are impossible to ever re-coop, but because your mind is taking in and sifting through much more than the bottom line, pardon the pun.  You are thinking that it's over 100 degrees outside and he'd be cooler without shorts on.  You are thinking the shorts he's been wearing today are very cute, but don't seem like they'd be very comfortable to sleep in.  You are thinking he's very tired and usually plays for a few minutes and then drifts off to sleep.  You are thinking that ordinarily you would just put him in another pair of cooler, softer shorts except that you are already mentally doing laundry and packing for next week's trip and would prefer to make it a one-pair-of-shorts-per-family-member kind of day.  You are thinking he's slept like this hundreds of times before and it's never been an issue.  You are thinking how he prefers to take off disposable diapers, and today he's wearing a cloth diaper.

It's not that you don't make logical connections out of all the pertinent information.  It's that you make too many logical connections out of all the pertinent information.  "Smart" says, "Shorts are always required for nap.  Period."  But, Mommy says "Because of all of the above information, I will now engage in ill-advised, reckless behavior because it seems the most comfortable for my child and the most prudent use of laundry time" on this ill-fated t-shirt-and-diaper nap day.

And you leave the room.  And you go back into the room because of the screaming that you know means your child has his leg stuck between the crib slats.  You dislodge it, and he asks for more milk.  You bring him more milk and tell him it's time for a nap.  He screams.  You leave the room again.  He's quiet for quite some time.  Then he's talking again--not all that remarkable.  He does this many days.  Then you hear the piercing scream of limb-caught-in-crib-slats again.  You wince and wish you had the guts to put him in a big boy bed already.  You go in, and no amount of reality tv could have prepared you for what you see next.

He is, indeed, stuck between the crib slats again.  But he's standing up.  He's diaper-less, which as has been mentioned above, is not entirely surprising.  And before you see the rest, you smell it.  When your brain processes the smell it tells your lungs to sigh before you even know what you're signing about.  You just know it's not going to be good.  And your brain is right.  Your child begins motioning violently toward the other end of the crib, showing you that he pooped in his diaper, took it off, got poop everywhere, decided he should smear his pacis in it, and then try to climb out of his bed.  The climbing out part makes a lot of sense.

A second wave of realization hits you as you see that he topped it all off by tinkling all over the poop-smeared sheets and pacis.  Lovely.  You repeat your favorite motherhood phrase:  "Urine is sterile."   You are strangely relieved by the fact that the new data concerning the urine did not increase the net amount of germs in the current equation.  You thank God that you finally ignored the research stating that Caucasians under 5 are seldom if ever lactose intolerant and started your paci-dipping child on Lactaid last month.  You shudder at what could have been.

You do not have the presence of mind to take a picture for all of posterity, because every fiber of your being has the overwhelming desire to retrieve your offspring from any setting in which you find him freely intermingling with human waste.   As you immediately remove your child's shirt and gingerly carry him to the bath tub, you hear yourself saying something to him about poop belonging in the potty.   You wash and wash, but once you allow yourself an inspection-type sniff you are disappointed.  You go into turbo-cleaning mode as a sinking feeling comes over you.   You realize that every square inch of his scrubbable body has been scrubbed (or gently lathered and rinsed due to a propensity to skin irritation and eczema), but all evidence points to the fact that he must have put his defiled pacis into his mouth.  Thus the lingering smell.  "At least it was his own poop.  If you're going to mouth human waste,  best-case scenario is that it's your own.  Good call, Spencer," you think to yourself.

You're quickly and loudly hearkened back into reality because your child still thinks it's somehow in his best interest to act as if he hates baths [the same child who cannot get enough of you chasing him around the backyard with a water hose spraying him in the face], so as your mind begins searching its database for the "easiest" ways to deal with the little treat awaiting you in the nursery, your child screams and cries providing you with the perfect test as to whether you have the ability to simultaneously hold him in the bath tub and devise a hazmat disposal action-plan.  You realize that you cannot think and bathe him at the same time.

The rest is really not worth recounting.  I'm sure you can imagine what has to be done.  An hour later, your squeaky clean (on the outside) toddler is finally asleep in his crib, having only lodged his leg between the slats two additional times since nap time take two.  And to think you could have just turned the thermostat down a couple more degrees and made peace with washing a few extra pairs of shorts.  So much for getting through the day with only one pair of dirty clothes per person.

Dear Spencer, it's the little things...

that I want to remember about you.

We brought your castle slide inside.  It's been hot outside, and sunscreen really irritates your face, so I asked you if you wanted me to get your slide.  You answered with your token, "'Kay."  I dragged it inside while you stared at me.  I told you that I was taking it into the living room, and you ran in there to wait on me.  I so enjoy feeling as if we communicate.  You've played on that slide more in the past week that you have in the 9 months that it's been in your backyard.  Probably because we put it in front of the television.  Now at least you're getting exercise while you watch your movies.

Many of your toys are just taking up space in your closet.  I'm tempted to get rid of all of them and start over, but my more practical, thrifty side would never let me do that.  I still attempted to sort through some of them, and while I did it, I would hold each toy up and ask if you liked it anymore.  Every time I did this you adamantly replied, "Nah!" ["No!"] and shook your head as hard as you could.  I think you totally understood what I was saying.

I have been putting you in your crib for time-outs.  It's only happened four times, but it's changing my life.  It's a good fit for my personality because I automatically have a game plan when you disregard what I say.  I don't have to stand there and think about what I'm going to say or how many times I'm going to tell you to stop or whether or not I'm going to "fight this battle" with stronger "discipline."  I just say "No."  And if you ignore me, I just pick you up and say, "We don't 'X.'  You're going to your crib for a time out."  I don't get angry or frustrated or flustered.  I put your in your crib and walk out of the room.  Your longest time-out has yet to exceed 35 seconds, and each time I've gotten you out you have not repeated the offense (at least not immediately).  I feel so secure in these new boundaries.  I'm sure you will too.  =)

One day last week around 11:15 or so you climbed up in your high chair and wanted to eat lunch.  This is not normal, and i embraced it whole-heartedly.  You fed yourself yogurt and ate chinese beef and broccoli.  You said "yum" and talked all about it.  Many days don't go this way, and it's so much fun when it feels like some of what we strive for (eating, speaking, not throwing every piece of food handed to you across the dining room) is getting though to your little mind.  

Today, like many days lately, you didn't want me to rock you before your nap.  A few nights ago you fussed and cried until I just laid you in your bed and then you stopped immediately as I told you goodnight and covered you up.  Clearly it's not you who's keeping the "rocking before bedtime" dream alive.  I'm committed to letting you phase it out.  If only you'd give up the pacifier while we're at it.

One morning this week after I changed your diaper, you pulled me down and pressed my face up against yours, holding my face down beside you as tightly as you could, insisting that I lay there next to you as you watched your morning dose of PBS Kids.  You were holding me down in a really awkward position, but I just soaked it up.  You're such a sweet little boy.  Usually not a day goes by that I'm not completely amazed at the blessing we've been given in you.  

When we went to get my allergy shot this week, we had quite a lively visit.  You are so comfortable there, that you want us to walk straight into the shot room, so I have been trying to teach you that we wait our turn until they call my name.  As soon as we go back you start pointing at the dum dums and asking for one.  If I'm not in the mood to have you covered in sucker drool, I just pick out a flavor that I know you won't like, for example: root beer or bubble gum.  It's really funny to watch you taste it and then shiver.  After that you dance around on all the chairs and built-in benches.  You did some twirling and only had a few near death encounters, and for the first time you didn't want to leave.  I basically had to carry you out of the office crying, which causes people to stare, by the way.  Thanks for that.   We then headed straight for the post office, where you were awarded another--you guessed it--dum dum.  The clerk was very nice, and I felt bad for him when you didn't act very enthusiastic about the sucker.

We've had quite a few interactions today where you have tried to say a new word!  Horray!  Just when I feel like giving up.  You also said "thank you" to the man who gave you a sucker at the post office.  After the post office, I really pressed my luck and took you to the grocery store.  We had a few not-so-great moments, but on the whole you did great.  You ate blueberries and a cereal bar in the basket and danced around (literally), while trying to open every package of food.  Anything at all "delicate" has to be put on the bottom of the grocery cart.  The person who checked us out did not seem to appreciate my logic in putting so many small things down there.

When we finally got home, you ran to your beloved black rectangle in the living room, saying "Mmm Mmm Mmm," until I turned on Dora.  It started in the middle of an episode that I didn't think you liked very much, so I skipped it and you went ballistic.  I quickly got back to the spot where it had originally started, and you were back at ease.  You then promptly looked up at me, waved, and say "bye bye."  As if to tell me that my work here is done and you'd like to be alone with your media.  I'm not complaining.  I unloaded and put away the groceries in peace.

(Very) Short Stories from the Life of Spencer

Chapter 6: July

Life has been moving fast at the Kelley house. From broken appliances, burst pipes, minor plumbing upgrades, to bachelorette parties, road trips, and weddings. It's not going to slow down for a couple of months. This reality is encouraging me to grow as a person by getting over my desire to make each post perfect. So, without further ado, here is what Spencer is up to these days.

He has mastered the ability to climb in his booster chair at the table. I looked over one day, and there he was. Unfortunately, he seldom sits in it longer than four minutes. He also loves to throw things onto the ground (forcefully) and see what happens (loud noises and shattering pieces are preferable). He also likes to do this when he is mad, but most of the time it's just for kicks.

In preparation for his aunt Natalie's wedding, I gave Spencer his first hair cut. I basically cut off a few inches that had grown into a quite curly mullet. I didn't cut anything else. His hair is actually crying out for a real hair cut, but it curls up so nicely in the humidity that we'll probably wait until the dryer days of winter. Until then, he's pretty much au natural. Really cute somedays and rather mangey and matted on others.

Spencer is also getting very strong. He loves to jump on me, which used to be fun. Now, it is typically painful. Not sure how we're going to phase this out. At night, he likes to get all riled up before bed time. The other night he was swinging his arms as hard as he could and he accidentally socked me in the face. It truly hurt.

Spencer can drink from a cup very well when he wants to. The problem is that he doesn't want to--not nearly as much as he wants to pour the water out. It might be years before I put milk in a cup for him. Pouring, splashing, splattering, swishing, and lapping liquids off the floor are all too exciting. I think his last few teeth are coming in. He has almost all of them already, but I can see the last 2 teeth he lacks on top making their way down--they aren't molars (he's had all of those for a while now).

He currently loves climbing behind sofa cushions, and throwing them on the ground. Not the pillows on the sofa--the actual cushions. He hates it when I wear my glasses, which I'm needing increasingly more often. Every time he sees me in them he starts to fuss and say "glasses" (which sounds nothing like the actual word), and he reaches up and tries to pull them off. If I stand my ground and leave them on--Oh, the drama that ensues. Speaking of drama, unfortunately, Spencer is not loving his baths these days. I don't know why. It's getting really old.

While Jonathan was out of town, I said our bedtime prayers (when Jonathan is home he says them). After I said "Amen," Spencer repeated it. It was more like "ma-men." Precious. He's really cute (and usually really sweet) when he's tired, as long as we are on-track to getting him put to bed. If we are trying to do anything else, not so sweet.

Speaking of new words, Spencer will be 20 months old tomorrow, and I have been working really hard on his words. Notice I say that I have been working hard on his words. He has not. He typically won't even try. He has probably only added 2 or 3 new words to his spoken vocabulary in the last month. I say "spoken vocabulary" because he understands hundreds (probably thousands) of words. But, whenever I point to things and ask him what they are, he won't say anything OR he will point to something he can already say the word for and say that word. So, then, I'll point to the first thing again and I'll say "What's that?" Then I say what it is. Then, you'll love this, he claps for ME. He says, "Yea!" and grins and claps. As if he's really and truly proud of me for saying that word. It was really cute the first hundred times or so, but now I'm wondering how we are ever going to learn some new words.

A few nights ago, I repeatedly asked him to "use your words" when he was trying to get me to do something. He did his little fussy dance where he lifts his knees up really high really quickly and squints his eyes and fussed at me. I can't wait for the pediatrician to ask me if he says x or y at his 2 year well-visit. He's never said the regular first words first. He still doesn't say "uh-oh," although he finally stopped calling me "Bob Bob" and now says "Ma ma." His first words were "I love you." No lie. It was more like "Ay ya yAAA." This past month he has started saying "'kay" as in "okay." I will never forget the night that I put him bed, and said, "I love you. Have a great night." He looked up at me and said, "'kay." I have to say, it was precious; and he's said it most nights since. He pretty much says 'kay instead of "yes." Although, if you really push him on it he will sometimes acquiesce and say "yes." I know full well that all kids do things at different times and in their own way, but Spencer's ways in this department seem very unique. On the up side, I typically know exactly what he's trying to communicate. He's got communication down to an art.

I got Spencer some new jammies with fish on the pants, and when I put them on him for the first time he was so intrigued. He looked closely at them and pulled on them and even sat in weird ways to be able to look at them better. By the next morning, I'd forgotten about the interest in his jammy pants until I took them off to change his diaper. He screamed loudly, and I could NOT figure out what was wrong with him. I continued changing his diaper, which he happily allows every morning, and then, when he usually gets up to run off as soon as I have a clean diaper on him, he grabbed his pants, pushed them towards me and fussed. He was completely consoled and quite a happy camper once I put them back on him. He ended up wearing them all day--in 100 degree heat. He's never done it since, even with those same pants, but that day he was not taking off those pants! I was a little worried, since he seemed a little young to be starting that; but like I said, he's never done it again. Strange little sweet boy.

Spencer now pulls everything he can out of our kitchen drawers. All the silverware, boxes of foil and plastic wrap with the blade built into the box, our nice sharp knives. It's quite an adventure. He loves to get as many pieces of silverware as he can possibly carry into the living room and stick them down behind the couch cushions. He can also get things off the counter with ease. A few mornings ago he helped himself to another muffin. On the other hand, when Spencer is finished with things, he is very serious about that. He has deposited his cup or bowl onto the kitchen counter when he's finished with them, and today I caught him throwing away every last piece of his grilled cheese sandwich because he had eaten all he wanted. On the one hand, I'm pumped that he seems to have such a bent toward neatness. On the other hand, he threw away half of his grilled cheese. BUT, I should probably be more of a cup half full kinda girl when it comes to these things. He ATE half of his grilled cheese! =)

He loves to try to take about 4 stairs at a time (even going down), and he refuses to hold on to the side. So, the other night at church I wouldn't let him hold my hand to go up and down the stairs. He wants to hold it so that he can basically free fall down the stairs while you hold onto his arm. He got really mad at me, but eventually he did surrender. He held onto the side and took one (or two) steps at a time. But EVERY step was an inward battle, and he would have fallen and hurt himself multiple times if I hadn't grabbed him at the last possible nanosecond.

Spencer seems to prefer eating foods that are different every day (not overly healthy ones, of course). But, if I make something new, he will almost always eat some of it. Things he has seen time and time again he will literally take from my hand (or his plate) just to purposely and forcefully throw it across the room. Lately he's been mixing it up and throwing it backwards over his shoulder. It's not cool.

A new Dora movie has a specific scene that has Spencer cracking up every time he watches it. There is a volcano that blows bright colored balls everywhere, and when the map talks about it, he giggles, and when it happens, he giggles loudly and a lot. It is so funny! He's not an exceedingly giggly child, and he was not an exceedingly giggly baby, but for some reason that part makes him laugh every time. I will be working in the kitchen and hear him burst into laughter. It's really funny. He also started randomly laughing on the ride home Sunday night. I thought he was choking at first, and then I thought he was crying. That's how strange it is for him to spontaneously start laughing. He has always laughed the most when he's really tired, and it was past his bed time. So, I don't know if he has just been exhausted much more often or if he is just starting to laugh more. Either way it's hysterical.

In health-related Spencer news, I think he is lactose intolerant. I've read that it's very rare for kids his age to be lactose intolerant, but our little experiment has overwhelmingly confirmed that he is an exception to that rule as well. I'll spare you the details that led to my hypothesis, but suffice it to say that the off-brand Lactaid is still twice as expensive as regular milk.

Spencer's love affair with all things television related is still in full-force. This was actually quite a life-saver on our 7 hour road trip to Tuscaloosa. No, that was not a typo. I threw caution to the the wind a few weeks ago and agreed to go with a friend to see another friend in Tuscaloosa--with Spencer! It went amazingly well, although we were both quite exhausted when it was all said and done. Spencer slept better than I'd ever imagined (not much in the car, though). I never would have made the trip alone with Spencer, but since I was not in charge of driving us there, I was able to muster the energy to take care of Spencer for our four day excursion. I have been trying to "live a little" these days (yes, this is "living a little" for me, ok?), and I think it's a good thing.

We got back from Tuscaloosa just in time for Natalie's wedding festivities. Her wedding was BEAUTIFUL, and Spencer was a little bit of a nightmare. But the day went great, even thought it started ridiculously early. I'm hoping to write about it all soon.

Keepsakes

I've been trying to hang some framed pictures in order to free-up more storage space. The problem is, I really like my house the way it is (for the most part). Every time I put something "extra" on the wall, I just want to take it down. Every time I walk into our office/guest room/room full of junk, I know that I need to do a little "purging" of my many boxes full of greetings cards from Great-Aunt Shirley and notes from junior high school; but I also believe that the English language includes the word "keepsake" for a reason. I can call things a "keepsake" and not feel guilty for filling up an entire extra bedroom with things I neither need nor use on any sort of regular basis.

But look at these little gems and answer me this: How could I get rid of these?

These girls are still my friends, and if I don't preserve our carefree youth, then who will? Not to mention that last frame represents some of my finest artwork to date (unfortunately). So, the plastic, cardboard, pink-sparkling frames will retain their place of honor, but if my cleaning out continues at this rate, I may have to start calling it the "Keepsake Room."

In Spencer's Words, "More! More!"