Shokufeh is... home

My days with diapers are numbered?

On Saturday night, when we came home from the movies, my mom reported that MrMan had urinated in his potty for the first time. She'd been changing his diaper for bed and got the sense that he needed to "jish." So she put him on his potty, and "jish" he did.

Then, this evening, I was called to the bathroom by Sam. He'd been hanging out with MrMan while he played in the bathtub. Lately, there's been several accidents in the tub - after seventeen months of it never happening, MrMan's defecated in the tub a few times in the past month. Apparently, the same was happening this time around. But Sam had been clued in by MrMan's seeming desire for privacy and was able to transfer him to his potty before he completed the deed. While MrMan was very focused on the feces in the tub, we focused on the feces in the potty.

No pressure, but maybe we'll change only about 1000 more of MrMan's diapers? And, hopefully, I'll eventually get the hang of emptying his potty without making a mess. Anyone have extensive experience with the "Once upon a potty" potty?

WFMW: Bathtub toys

I've never participated in this Works For Me Wednesday thing, but if there's one thing I like to share with people, it's my opinion. So, I figured I'd share something that has been working quite well for me: a solution to dealing with MrMan's bathtub toys. For a while, we kept MrMan's toys in his plastic bathtub, even after he'd graduated to bathing in the regular tub. But the plastic tub accumulated water in its little nooks and cranies and it was a bit cumbersome. I've seen those bags that you attach to the bathtub wall, but they never really called to me, partly because I thought about how the mesh will probably stay damp and get funky.

Some months ago, I bought a set of plastic stacking mesh baskets at a children's consignment sale. Much like these. I felt like three was the best height for MrMan's toy storage, since the fourth basket would be above his head and would result in frustration or climbing tumbles, or both. But what to do with the fourth basket? Aha! A bathtub toy solution. We keep his toys in the basket and keep the basket in the tub. Because it has legs, and is actually a little wider than the bottom-most width of the bathtub, there's good air circulation underneath, so everything dries out nicely. And if I feel it's time for a little extra cleaning of them, I just spray them with Clorox Anywhere spray, without worrying about drips.

For more WFMW ideas, check out Rocks in My Dryer.

A question about presents

Now that MrMan is a little older, and has friends who are even older, we're entering the stage of birthday parties. In the past couple of months, we've been invited to three parties. I can see how one could go bankrupt buying nice gifts for everyone. But at the same time, I don't want to give crappy presents, or be perceived as cheap. (Okay, I admit it - I care what other people think about me.)
What is your rule of thumb for how much to spend on presents for children to whom you're not related?

Jumping on the bandwagon

For months, Sam's been praising Heroes. While telling me that I probably woudn't like it. I finally got tired of being told that (and I guess it helped that I no longer have Gilmore Girls to watch, boohoo), and decided to watch it for myself. I'm hooked! I think I watched the first episode on Saturday, maybe late Friday night. And started watching Episode 5 at 5:30 this morning, since I was already up. At this rate, I'll be caught up by mid-June. Or maybe by the end of the week, since I'm having an internal debate right now: mop the kitchen floor or watch Episode 6?

Two for the price of one

I should keep a log of the movies I see in the theater this year. So far:
1) January 1: Deja Vu - okay. I was hoping that seeing this movie, set in New Orleans, on January 1 would set the tone for the year and that 2007 would be a year for seeing movies. I've been wrong so far.
2) May 27: Spider-Man 3 - okay. We finally redeemed one of Sam's birthday coupons for a date night without MrMan. Five months after his birthday.
Yep, I'm at two. But I think there's a good chance I'll beat last year's total, which I think was two. Maybe three, but I can't think of what the third one would have been. I'm too embarassed by my choices to reveal what the first two were. And I'm hoping that my picks for this year improve. Wait! I did see three last year. And the third one was good! Little Miss Sunshine!

Tonight, there was drama in addition to the movie (and the ramblings above from the workings of my brain). About five minutes before the movie ended, the woman in front of us turned around and yelled at the boy next to me for the noise he was making with his straw. If that hadn't happened, I probably would have come home and written about the fact that I don't think it was a movie for little kids, especially at a night showing. But I know that babysitters are not easy to find. Especially free ones, like mine. And how ironic it was that here we were, having left our child at home, with one of the few families with small kids in attendance, plunking down next to us.

But since the yelling happened, followed by more yelling on the part of the boy's parents, and more yelling by the woman (who, ironically to me, was pregnant, it seemed), and threatening by the parents as they left with their kids (which made me feel a little sorry for them that they were missing the last few minutes of the movie, and made me wonder why the woman couldn't have endured five more minutes of the kid's noises, or at least asked him to quiet down a little more politely), I'll also say write that kindness goes a long way. Or at least I think it would have, in this situation, along with many others. And that it's a shame that we live in a world where we can't collectively agree on rules for kids, which would allow us to keep other people's kids in line without stepping on their parents' toes. If the pregnant woman had been nicer about the noise, or addressed the parents instead, things might have gone better. And if the parents were used to living in a world where everyone watched out for each other, including kids, things might have gone better. But, instead, everyone in the theater had to listen to their yelling, the family missed the last few minutes, and the pregnant woman was threatened with bodily harm.

But as my dad pointed out when we got home and we told him about it, it was like two shows for the price of one.

Not just a problem in the French Quarter

The garbagemen probably had a bit of a chuckle, maybe a grumble, when they got to our house this morning. They hefted up the garbage can, tipped it over, and out came... nothing.
Anyone who keeps abreast of New Orleans news knows that garbage cans have been an issue of late. Someone had the bright idea of automated garbage pickup: specially outfitted trucks that pickup specially designed cans. What they didn't take into account was the design of most houses and properties in the city. These are some big garbage cans and have to be placed in, or right at, the street. Most people don't have a convenient place to store them, an easy way to roll them to the curb, or a good place to set them for pick up. Street parking, anyone?

We are lucky in that we have a relatively big property, so there's space to store the garbage can. And very few people park on the street in our block, so finding a space to set the can isn't a huge ordeal other. But getting the can to to the curb can be problematic, as there isn't really enough room to roll it down the driveway once the cars are parked. So our solution is to pause in parking so that one of us can get the can down the driveway before the cars are parked for the evening. Last night, an empty can was rolled out to the curb. There were plans to fill it before we turned in to the night. But there were distractions, and empty it stayed.

A little us time

Today, I kept MrMan home from school so we could have some time together, and with our playgroup friends. After weeks of not spending a weekday alone with him, it's like a holiday. I'm fascinated by his imagination and playing with things by himself, the words he says, his whole demeanor. Not that I don't get to see a glimpse of these things every day, but there's something special about it when it's just the two of us, at a time when we would normally be apart.

I think once my job starts, I might have to take a personal day every once in a while to reconnect with my MrMan.

My sweetest downfall?*

This past Saturday night, in celebration of my mom's finishing her MLIS, we had an ice cream social. She was able to spend time with friends that she has had to neglect this past year while trying to juggle school and work, and everyone was able to satisfy (even overwhelm) their sweet tooth. I knew that one of the things she was craving was a nectar cream soda. So I bought some New Orleans Nectar Soda Syrup, to add to vanilla ice cream and soda water. And, of course, top with whip cream. We have plenty of the syrup left over, and enough of teh other ingredients to keep me in nectar cream sodas through the week. It's 9 am, and I'm already contemplating one for today. This could undo the fifty pounds I've lost since giving birth.

*Title from Regina Spektor's song, "Samson"

Such a week this is!

There are so many things I've been wanting to write about. These snippets will have to suffice for now.

Yesterday, MrMan said what I would call his first sentence: "Thank you, Mommy." Short, but full. And polite. You may not have understood it had you been present, given his pronunciation ("Tak twu, Mimi"), but my heart just melted at his unprompted appreciation for handing him something.

Today, I got a job offer. I actually got the offer for this job some time ago, but it was more vague. Now it's more specific and I'm super duper excited about what I'll be doing. It involves women and health and the progress of both, and I think I'm going to love it.

Tomorrow, my mom is graduating. After years of hard work and stress, her masters is done. By tomorrow night, she will be a full-on official librarian. Woohoo for her. Also tomorrow, MrMan is turning eighteen months old.

Just under the wire

Thank goodness for other people's blogs. If it weren't for reading someone's blog entry this morning, it wouldn't have registered in my brain that this week was Teacher Appreciation Week. Despite some signs at daycare referring to appreciating our kids' teachers. In my defense, I figured we should be appreciating them on a daily basis. Because, hey, they keep MrMan safe and sound, teach him new words and skills, and allow me to pee on my own. But just to make sure they keep doing nice things like that, I ran out and got a couple of Smoothie King cards to give them when I go to pick up MrMan today.

Being home

Sometimes, the love I feel for this city of mine overwhelms me. Enough that I have to let a tear leak out and grab a tissue to blow my nose. These emotional moments do not usually crop up with looking at the beautiful architecture or eating the delicious food or listening to some soul-satisfying music. Sometimes those do it to me. But it's more likely to be the subtle moments that grab at my heart.
Feeling comfortable enough to leave through the side gate of a local coffee shop - despite the vines that grow across the gate, it's the route that lots of regulars take. It's not that I go there that often, it's that I've gone there that long.
Seeing someone familiar walking along the street, or in a shop... someone I've seen for years, but never met.
Taking in the abundance of the nature we host here. Or I guess the nature that hosts us here. It's been slammed and dented, but it carries on. The flowers, the trees, the wildlife.... When living in Hawaii, I often marveled that so many leis could be made every day and there were still flowers on the trees. We don't have such an industry here, but I marvel nonetheless at the lushness of it all.
These moments that make me tear aren't that special in themselves, but more in what they mean: that I'm home.

It's the little things

I just realized that today is 05/06/07. I'm sure someone, somewhere, did something to celebrate.

The spelling's the same this time

It's not just last names that sometimes confuse me.
Earlier today, Sam came home from the comic book store, having finally used a gift certificate I gave him some months ago. As he was showing me one of his buys, he mentioned that it was by Joss Whedon. It's a good thing he explained that he's the creator of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," because I was sitting here thinking, that British singer that did Gap ads also does graphic novels?

It hasn't been as sad as I anticipated.

Mine. All mine. My boobs are once again all mine. I probably shouldn't type that. Not just because it sounds a little odd, but because I might jinx things. But I figure... we've gone a week. I'm convinced if we can get through another, MrMan will be officially weaned. Those of you with toddlers who are boob-obsessed, and you're ready for them to end their obession? I highly recommend 72 hours apart.

Early morning shenanigans

The boy is, amazingly, still sleeping. I guess it's not SO amazing, considering he woke up a little after 5:00 am, wanting to eat. There was a bit of clawing at my chest. But when that didn't work, he changed tactics and started directing me toward the kitchen for some bread. Only after he'd eaten a full slice (over several trips to the kitchen*), chanted and done the hand motions for part of "Five little possums/monkeys hanging from the tree," chanted and done the hand motions for part of "Five little monkeys jumping on the bed," played with his Thomas train, and walked a little on our bed was he ready to go back to sleep again. It fits so easily in one sentence. But really it took an hour. Just about enough to stretch into the period when we should think about getting up for the day.

I'll need to remember to give him a snack tonight right before bed. Now, I guess I'll just wake him up, since I need to get him to school and come back in time for a job interview.

*Even though he's obsessed with Sam these days, MrMan refused Sam's taking him to the kitchen. All of the trips had to be him and Mi/me.