Oh Yes, He Pooped

This is the face of a very backed up little boy.

Saturday brought day 5 of no poop and this was an expression that he presented more often than not, understandably. This weekend’s main goal was to get David to poop. It’s good to have goals.

Ever since David turned one, we've had hard-core constipation issues (no pun intended).

At the 18 mo well check, my pedi poo-pooed my concern (pun intended) and so, it's something we've been dealing with for a while. It seems to be getting worse.

I’ll admit, David is a dairy freak. We have cut back significantly on his dairy intake, but the constipation is still occurring every time he has to move his bowels.

This weekend, we gave him Miralax, pears and I made Fiber One muffins laced with pears and prunes. I also gave him apple juice laced with prune juice.

I was going to get this kid to poop if it was the lastthing I did. The only problem was that of course, Sofia and William also wanted the - what will forever be known as - the “Poop Muffins” too. In fact, they loved them and wanted two and three. I cut Sofia off at one, but let William have a few. I let David eat as many as he would like, within reason.

You can imagine what how the latter part of the weekend went down.

Suffice it to say, David pooped. Oh yes, he pooped. And pooped. And pooped.

As did William, who does not have bowel issues. Our house was fairly offensive by 3 p.m. Sunday, but those pipes were cleared out!

Post Poop Joy!



***

More on the household front…

No word from the promising job for husband…He does have an interview/seminar thing he’s attending tomorrow. It’s probably not something he’d be interested in, but he’s going because…well, it’s not like he has anything else to do.

After blowing up at him over the state of the house last week (I had been gone for 12 hours and the house was a sty - on a day when he did not have the kids) I came home to a spotless house Wednesday evening. It was trashed within about 45 minutes, but it was nice to come home to.

And at the risk of sounding like some crazy Joan Crawford/Kate Gosselin hybrid shrew, my husband really sucks at doing laundry. I found a load my work clothes mixed in with towels and kid’s socks and underwear. For the love of all that is holy. Deep breaths.

He kept telling me that the boys’ dresser was overfull. I looked in to find pajama tops mixed in with regular tee shirts (gasp), collared shirts in the drawer (that should have been hung up) and just all sorts of laundry related crazy-making.

The cherry on the cake of my day was finding little fuzzy toddler socks in my tights.

I know he’s trying, but I may have to make him a laundry cheat sheet. I’m really not anal,
even though I know I sound like it.

I think we are on the right track with unemployment and Cobra, but I won’t hold my breath. I have an appointment with WIC in a few weeks. We definitely qualify income wise right now, but beyond that, it gets a bit fuzzy.

That’s it from here.

P.S. Oh yeah, Sofia has been having breathing issues since yesterday, so we're slated to visit the pediatrician this afternoon. Nebulizer treatments are not effective, so I suspect bronchitis.

Tightening up the Ship

So, over the last few months, it seems I've been waking later and later. This is not good. The kids are waking up later, everything gets pushed back, we are always in a mad rush to get out the door, leaving me a stressed out mess with no makeup on. (I've taken to applying my makeup in the car these days).

In sheer frustration, last night I decided to get things back in line. We've been letting Sofia watch Caillou before bed, turn off the TV at 8 p.m. and it's 8:30 or 9 before she falls asleep. It dawned on me that *maybe* this is contributing to her acting out as well, lack of sleep. Granted, sleeping 9 p.m. - 8 a.m. should be enough, but this a girl who loves her some sleep.

Last night, I informed her there would be no pre-bed Caillou (a bad habit started by myself to get her to comply) but I would sit and read her stories. I did this and we had a great time. At 7:30, I told her it was time to go sleepies. She resisted, of course but I'd already made sure her teeth were brushed, she had a sippy of water, all her blankets, etc. and she didn't have any of her stall tactics at her disposal. (of course, there's always the potty card, but she didn't play it.)

She layed happily in her bed and "read" her books. Keep in mind, this is broad daylight as the curtains in our room are sheer. I peeked in around 8 and she was sound asleep with the blanket over her head (she's done this since she was a baby).

Of course, this meant she woke up full of piss and vinegar at 6:30 a.m.!! I didn't mind as I really want to start waking earlier. The boys woke up shortly after, I made everyone eggs and we had plenty of time to lollygag around, take our time and not be stressed out.

That said, I was still late for work. This is so hard for me as in my former life, I prided myself on puncuality. It was my "thing." Those days are a distant memory.

I think I have to either accept being late for work for the rest of my life or change my hours.