To Fight the Good Fight

When you have three kids you have to expect a certain amount of fighting to ensue every day.  About 50 times a day.  Right now I technically don't have 3 kids fighting, because Georgia is still just a baby, and she doesn't really care that she didn't get to hold that stuffed animal the same amount of time her sister did.  As long as she's got something to put in her mouth and chew on, she's happy.  Sonya and Lana, however, are becoming experts at the fighting.  They play really well together most of the time, but about every 10 minutes or so it'll turn to screaming and yelling and usually someone crying.  Most of the time, Lana.  

This morning I was trying to have my private time in the bathroom.  I was excited to read the new US Weekly to find out if Kate was indeed going to leave Jon.  Normally I don't buy those stupid tabloids, but I have to admit every once in a while a story sucks me in.  Right now I am a bit obsessed with the Jon and Kate story, and  I don't even watch the show regularly.  I'm not proud of my obsession, but it's there.  I didn't get very far in the latest update on them when I heard screaming coming from the living room.  Now normally on Saturdays, I do get to have a few minutes in the bathroom to myself.  Today, however, my husband, Andy went to play golf with the guys from work.  He only goes about 3 times a year, but when he does it's all day and he might as well BE at work, because I'm alone with the girls.  All day.  On a Saturday.  It may sound like I'm complaining, but I'm really not.  He's a great dad, and is usually here every weekend with us and I go do things by myself most of the time on the weekend. But I love him and I want him to stay sane so, sometimes he needs to get away.  I mean time away other than work.  But I digress.  So I hear the screaming start, from Lana.  Lana is also my screamer.  I think the crying and screaming go hand in hand.  Then again I have girls, so those things are inevitable.   

"What's going on?!"  I yell.  I get no response.  I repeat myself only louder this time.  Then I get this from Sonya, "Well...." This usually means she's done something she's not supposed to, and she's trying to think of the best way to tell me to get her in the least amount of trouble.  I save her the time.  

"Why are you fighting?" I ask.  Then I see Sonya shove Lana.  

"That's it Sonya!  Time out!  Go to your room!"  She did and I realize Jon and Kate's story would have to wait.  I leave the bathroom to check on Lana.  She was fine.  Apparently fine enough to start hitting the baby with her blankie. Georgia was just sitting there innocently.  So I pick Lana up and put her in time out.  So there they both sat for 4 minutes and 2 minutes in time out.  It does seem to help.  They are nice to each other for a little while but then it starts all over again.  

When I was a kid, my sisters and I would always ask my mom what she wanted for her birthday or mother's day and her response was always the same, "Three good girls."  I could never understand why she would ask for that when she could get the latest Barbie or Cabbage Patch doll.  NOW I get it.  All I can say is, sorry for all that fighting mom.  I'd take 24 hours of  "three good girls" over Barbie any day.

Diapers Were Made To Be Changed

This morning I almost made it out of the bathroom without any interruption, but alas little Lana came in to make sure THAT craziness didn't happen.  It was only for a moment and only to inform me "Mommy, I poop".  

"You pooped?" I asked her and she nodded her head yes.  "Then we gotta change your diaper," I told her.  

"NOOOOOO!" She yelled and ran out of the bathroom.  Why they do this I'll never know.  Sonya was the same way.  They either poop then lie about it when you ask them or they willingly tell you they pooped, but for the LOVE OF GOD do NOT change their diaper!!  Why would you want to sit in poop?  I don't understand it.  Even Georgia, lately, has put up quite a resistance anytime I try to change her.  She's constantly trying to roll over and sit up, which does not make cleaning a dirty butt very easy.  Although, I have heard that when they start to tell you about going in their diaper it could be a sign that they might potty train soon.  Only one child's diaper to change?  What will I do with all the extra time?  The possibilities are endless!!  

Anyway-I left the bathroom and went on the hunt for my poopy pants child.  She had run into Georgia's room where they had all been playing, and closed the door behind her to try and deter me as much as possible.  It reminded me of those shows where the thief is trying to get away and they knock over fruit carts or whatever else is in their way to slow down the cop chasing them.  This is pretty much what Lana was trying to do.  I opened the door to the room to find Lana running into the closet and closing the door.  They're not the smartest at this age when trying to avoid getting caught.  They always manage to corner themselves.  I opened the door and she screeched as I picked her up. I carried her to the changing table where I performed the horrible act of cleaning up her diaper and putting a dreadful new un-poopy one on her.  She proceeded to whine about it the whole time on the table, but as soon as the new one was in place she sat up happy and ready to play.  I looked at her and told her we could stop all this nonsense if she would just put the poop in the potty like a big girl.  She just looked back at me blankly and said,"I go pway now."

Yup-that one should be potty trained aaany day now.  

My Little Helper

Taking care of three kids on a daily basis can be a ton of work.  Luckily for me I have Sonya, who even at four years old, displays serious Mommy tendencies and helps me out a ton, even though she's a handful herself some days.  Still, if I run out of diapers or wipes, she knows just where to get them.  She can get Lana out of her booster seat if need be and she knows how to work the DVD player better than I do.  She does take it a little far sometimes and one day I found her trying to send Lana to time out, but other than that I'm thankful for her help.  I do sometimes forget though, she is just four and helping me is the last thing she wants to do.  

Like always, I did my best to clear myself private potty time.  I put the baby down for her nap, Sonya was painting and Lana was watching Mickey.  But once again after about two minutes of bathroom time I was interrupted.   This time by the baby.  Georgia is 11 months old today and has been by far the easiest of my three.  She's has the sweetest most laid back nature and hasn't had many cranky days thus far.  Usually she goes right out when I put her down for a nap, which is why I found it surprising that she was crying.  She tends to move all over her crib and every once in a while she'll get a leg stuck through the bars.  I thought this may have happened, so I called Sonya back to the bathroom so she could check for me.  When I first called her name I got no response.  The second time I finally got an annoyed "WHAT!"  I told her to come back to me because I needed a favor.  The next thing I hear is something I know I've done myself when I get annoyed, but haven't heard from her.

 

"uuuuurrrrrgggggg!!!"  

I'm thinking she's not happy.  Then I hear, STOMP, STOMP, STOMP, STOMP down the hall.  She stops at my bedroom door.  

"Sonya come here"

STOMP, STOMP, STOMP

There she stood arms folded and a scowl on her face.  Apparently she was NOT happy that I had taken her away from her Picasso painting she was working on, and to walk 10 feet down our hallway was just too much for her.  I asked her to please go in and check on her sister to make sure she wasn't stuck anywhere in the crib and to report back to me.  She stomped off and after about 2 minutes Georgia was still crying and Sonya wasn't back.  I was leaving the bathroom at this point so I went to find out for myself what was going on.  I found Sonya back at the table painting and asked her what happened.  She told me Georgia wasn't stuck, just crying.  I went to her room to soothe her at which point both Sonya and Lana thought this meant it was time play in there. 

 

"OUT!" I told them.  "It's time for G to go to sleep you you guys need to leave."

Sonya left willingly, but Lana continued to play the baby piano.  So I picked her up and realized I was touching bare butt.  She was wearing a dress, so I hadn't realized that she had nothing on the bottom.

"Where is your diaper?"  I asked

"I took off" she told me.  

I walked out to the living room and said something about Lana not having a diaper on and Sonya said, "Oh yeah-I saw that there and was wondering who's diaper that was". 

Thanks Sonya, thanks for all the help.

Obsession

When you deal with a two year old you deal with a good amount of obsessions.  At least that's the case with my daughter Lana.  For a while she loved Elmo, now we can't get through the day without the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse playing at least 2 to 3 times.  Trust me I'll have that theme song in my head even when I'm sitting in the nursing home at 87.  Her other current obsession is hand washing.  I don't know why, but she wants to do it constantly.  I do remember her older sister going through it around the same age too, so maybe it's something alot of them go through, who knows.  All I do know is I've had to replace the soap in the bathroom twice this week and the city of Burbank has been calling to ask us to cut down on our water usage.  My daughter may be the reason Southern California goes into drought mode.  

Anyway-natured called a bit earlier for me this morning and all three of them were up and playing in their bedroom.  I knew it wasn't going to be a very private time for me today, but when you gotta go...So after about 2 minutes, Lana came running into the bathroom and hung on the sink saying "I wanna wash hands!"  I explained to her that she couldn't do that right now, because I couldn't help her pull the chair over to the sink considering my current state.  "I WANNA WASH HAAAAANNNDDSSS!!"  There's no reasoning with them at this age.  "Lana  you can't right now." I tried again.   At this point she flung her tiny body on the floor and proceeded to have a full blown 2  year old temper tantrum, all because I was a mean mean mommy and wouldn't let her "wash hands."  All I could do was sigh and watch it.  After about a minute, she realized I was getting ready to leave the bathroom and she immediately stopped her tantrum looked at me and said "I fush toilet."  This is also something she's been obsessed with lately, but this time I could give in to her.  She walked over to the handle waved bye to the contents (something we've taught her in a potty training capacity) and left the bathroom happy, forgetting all about the fact that she didn't get to wash her hands.  Now if I could only find a replacement obsession for Mickey. 

Spin Art On Mommy

So this morning I'm in the bathroom doing my daily "business".  The older girls were playing spin art in the kitchen and the baby was down for a nap.  I figured I was golden to have some private time for at least 10 minutes.  No sooner had I thought this when my four year old, Sonya, came marching down the hallway.  She stopped short of the bathroom and I called her name from the toilet closet and she opened the door.  There she stood with a bottle of spin art paint in one hand and the scissors, held very carefully by her side, in the other.  

 "The paint wont come out.  Can you fix it for me.  I thought the top was already cut open, but it won't come out." She told me

   I marked the page of the magazine article I had been trying to read (yes I'm a bathroom reader you should know that up front). I took the scissors and bottle of paint from her and proceeded to cut the tip on the paint, then squeezed, but nothing.  I cut the tip a bit more, still nothing.  Then for some reason, I decided it would be a good idea to just squeeze the bottle as hard as I could.  Near my stomach and leg.  The dried up piece of paint (which was apparently the problem) came out along with about half of the bottle of neon pink paint.  On my stomach and leg.  Luckily my skin wipes off easily.  Sonya was concerned for my well being and asked if I was all right.  When I assured her I was, she grabbed her bottle of paint and scissors turned around and headed out of the bathroom.  I wiped off the paint with some toilet paper, but I still have a faint neon pink stain on my skin.  I suppose when I find a chance to shower today it will come off.  I never did get to finish that article.  Perhaps tomorrow...