When it comes to teething, my husband and I have very different view points and attitudes. I’ll believe that my whiny clingy child is teething and not just having yet another MamaHoldMe me moment when I see enamel poking through. My husband on the other hand, assumes that teething is responsible for everything.

6 in the evening, Betsy is holding the screaming two week old infant and barely holding it together. The Viking walks in, looks at said screaming infant from across the room and announces with all seriousness: “He’s teething!”. 

Seriously. Gunne won’t leave my arms? Teething. Is sucking on his sleep sack? Teething. Is laughing hysterically while he tortures a cat? Teething. I’d like to point out at this time that Gunne Bear did not have one tooth until after he passed the 9 month mark.

For whatever reason, apparently hitting rock bottom and becoming a hot mess the other day was the turning point I’d been looking for in losing my blahs. Things had been turning around for a few days, but finally just succumbing to it was enough to propel me back up to the surface. I have a little kid on Christmas Eve sense of anticipation, giddiness and happiness going on right now. It’s kind of thrilling.

I do realize that simply becoming a hot mess was not my only outlet; I’ve been working hard to overcome the blahs in a number ways including:

• Having The Big Talk with The Viking about some stuff that has been festering for a solid 2 years now. We will be attending counseling soon and I really think that this time we will finally be able to put it behind us.
• Designing the most out of this world piece of jewelry I’ve come up with yet. Seriously; it’s spectacular. I plan on giving one away to one of you in September, so no sneak peeks yet, but I can tell you this: I used both purple and orange fresh water pearls and it’s dangling and gorgeous and I’m thinking of making them in a million colors.
• I’m trying hard to get out of my shell and meet some people in the area. My chief complaint with where we live is the people IN my neighborhood. I’ve met some very lovely people elsewhere in the town, and am looking forward to meeting more.

To further my sense of excitement and upcoming wonder, I’ve given myself the following goal: Each week I have to do one fun thing, and one creative task. These can range from visiting the splash pad and possibly meeting some new people, and finally painting my bureaus turquoise to visiting the butterfly museum I’ve been moaning about wanting to get to and painting each room of my house a vibrant color.

To cap this all off, I’m challenging all of you to the same thing: Bring some fun and creativity into your lives and then come back and share it with me. We’ll inspire each other to new heights and have fun trying.

Taking part once again in Working Mom Wednesdays. This week’s prompt: Brag about you!

We’ve been watching it come closer for months. We’ve witnessed the shakes, the extreme need that goes way beyond normal, and The Viking and I have primed ourselves for the intervention. What some babies and toddlers can handle with ease, our son has begun to crave with a power that seems beyond him. Gunne Bear has become addicted to his sleep sacks.

It started innocently enough. When it was time to transition him from his swaddle, we thought that the next logical step was the sleep sack.

But as time went by, it became obvious that he had more than just a recreational interest in it. Instead of using it only for bedtime, we began breaking it out at naps, too.

Soon we found that it wasn’t enough to have just one sleep sack in the house; we needed three. One made of fleece, one cotton and one muslin for those really hot nights. You would think that in 100+ degree weather, he would prefer to sleep without one, but you would be wrong.

See, he doesn’t just sleep in them. Oh no. Look at the corners of each of those sacks, and you’ll see his dirty little secret. Within seconds of being laid in his crib, Gunne Bear crams handfuls of fabric into his mouth and sucks on them to go to sleep.The fabric of his sleep sacks is his drug of choice, with his fleece sack being the preferred flavor.
Late at night, we’ll sometimes here him start to cry. Before we can even get out of bed to see to his needs, we suddenly hear the sound of the cries become muffled followed by, “Mmumphumph um slurp slurp slurp”.
I’ve gone into his room while he’s sleeping to find him curled on his side with the corner of the sack crammed deep into his mouth and a blissful expression on his face.Obviously, his need for the sack consumes his every sleeping and waking moment.

While we’ve heard that some toddlers don’t care to keep wearing the sack, as it slows them down, Gunne Bear does not care. He has learned to stand and even toddle in his sack.

In fact, he’s begun to carry the fleece sack around the house wherever he goes, stuffing the fabric into his mouth to suck on it at random intervals. It’s not uncommon to be seated at the kitchen table enjoying your breakfast, while Gunne Bear sits beneath the table and enjoys his fix.

He plays with his sack constantly, stealing it from wherever I’ve stashed it and even trying to climb inside when it isn’t time to sleep.

His love of his sack has begun to consume him, as all addictions eventually will. We’ve tried to gently explain to him that his sack must stay in his bed or bureau when it isn’t being worn, but he won’t listen to us. We’ve tried weaning off of it for sleep, but he just sobs until we break down and tuck him in.
He laughs and lights up with happiness at the word “nap” because he knows that in just seconds, he’ll be getting his fix. When we lay him on it to zip him in, he can barely control himself, laughing and stuffing the fabric into his mouth as quickly as he’s able.
There’s nothing left for us to do but stage an intervention before this really gets out of hand.

One day at a time, Gunne Bear. One day at a time.

The day started innocently enough with my giant tabby howling outside the toddler’s door at 6am. Waking him, and therefore us. I may or may not have swatted at him, which caused him to attach himself to my husband, biting his ankles for the entire morning. Was this the hot mess I’m referring to? No. No it is not.

After we’d been up for a while, the teething toddler (who is himself a hot mess, but that’s a story for another day) became unbearable to be around, so I put him down for his nap. In a diaper and a sleep sack. Do you see where this is going? Shortly before he fell asleep (or shortly after he woke up, I don’t know which) he removed his diaper. And then, he pooped. The sight that greeted me when I entered his room was enough to make me throw up in my mouth a little. A hot mess? Yes, but still not the one I’m referring to.

After cleaning him up, and getting poop on myself in the process I needed a shower. At some point in time during the shower, the toddler unscrewed the cap from a full bottle of laundry detergent and dumped it on the floor. And the towel that was waiting to dry me off. And the bath mat. A hot mess? Oh yes, but still not the one I’m talking about.

So now, I’m still convinced there’s still poop on me somewhere, my hands smell like laundry detergent and in my haste to clean up the mess, I used an entire package of baby wipes. My last package of baby wipes.

At this point, the toddler opened up the junk drawer in the kitchen and started flinging things willy nilly. Now. He does this often, and usually I don’t really care, but today? After all the poop, and detergent and teething induced whining? I lost it. I became one. Hot. Mess.

As soon as the toddler was back down for his second nap, this time with a pair of shorts duct taped over his diaper, I sat down with a tub of frosting and succumbed to the hot mess that I had become. I only hope that my son recovers from the sight of his mother morphing into Large Marge before his very eyes. As for myself, the day is not over and I fear for what awaits me later on this afternoon.

 Make sure you head over to Our Mommyhood this morning, where you’ll find my personal ad for finding mom friends.

“Is this the French Roast or the African coffee?” “African.” “It doesn’t smell extra bold.” “That’s because it’s only regular bold, not extra bold.” “So it’s Captain Picard coffee instead of James T. Kirk coffee?”

“Ah! He’s naked! Why are you naked? Where is your diaper?” “Technically, he’s not actually naked, since he’s wearing a shirt.” “There is a bare baby bum in my living room and you want to quibble with me on semantics?”

“Ye-ow-ow Ye-ow-ow Ye-ow-ow” “What the hell is Youk’s problem?” “Ye-ow-ow Ye-ow-ow Ye-ow-ow” “I don’t know but I wish he would stop making it ours.” “Ye-ow-ow Ye-ow-ow Ye-oWOW” “I guess Cordie was as annoyed as we are.” “Did she bite him?” “Just hit him I think.”

“Are you running this morning?” “I don’t know. I have to deal with my car.” “Oh is that today? Are you getting it fixed?” “That, or it ends up on the slag heap by evening.”

“Blah! Blah! Blah!” “Oh, hey stop for a second Gunne Bear; before you harass the cat just eat this piece of waffle.”

“Yum, yum, yum, yum, yum.” “Is he eating his waffle?” “No.” “Why is he yumming then?” “He’s holding a container of condensed soup.” “And that’s yummy?” “Apparently.”

When we visited Nantasket Beach last year, Gunne Bear was only 6 weeks old. I had thought that I had learned from our rookie mistakes of traveling with a baby, and had planned accordingly this year. Oh how wrong I was. Since I’m more than sure I am not the only mom traveling for the first time with a toddler, I have pulled together this handy tutorial so that others can benefit from my mistakes.

Do: Set up the pack and play in your toddler’s bedroom and let him sleep in it a few nights before you go. This was a life saver, and allowed him to feel at home and get plenty of sleep while we were there.
Do Not: Make the mistake of accidentally scheduling a pediatrician appointment for a shy toddler on the morning you are leaving. Having three strangers sticking him with pointing things right before he falls asleep in the car, and wakes up to oversized men yelling, “BUDDY! I’M YOUR COUSIN JOHN! GIVE ME A HUG!” will not be the best start to the vacation. Just sayin’.
Do: Pack plenty of slings and wraps if you are a babywearer, since your shy, feverish toddler may not allow you to put him down for the first three days. I spent hours with him in a wrap on my back or front and it was the only thing that kept me sane.
Do Not: Assume that relatives will be able to help out with the toddler wrangling in the un-childproofed house. Merely the sight of Cousin John or even Nana coming into view may be enough to turn your child into a pillar of salt before he collapses into a hot mess on the floor.
Do: Throw all the food your toddler won’t eat to the dog. The dog will be more than excited at the idea of an all you can eat buffet and will take to following the toddler around and protecting him from danger.
Do Not: Forget to pack baby gates when you have a toddler that just learned how to climb stairs and is now obsessed with doing so. Especially when the house has three floors, four flights of stairs and you don’t wish to have a heart attack by suddenly realizing that you hear him from the floor above you.
Do: Insist on going out to dinner on the night your husband finally arrives to join you.
Do Not: Have a glass of wine with dinner when lately alcohol has been giving you insomnia, and you and your husband will be sleeping in a twin (yes a single) bed. Your husband’s snoring may or may not drive you so batty that you make a snorting sound before hammering him in the back with your fist. Do feel guilty when he thinks you had a nightmare and comforts you, but only a little.
Do: Make sure there is a washing machine where you are staying, particularly if your toddler has recently learned how to remove his diaper.
Do Not: Put your toddler down for a nap in nothing but a diaper, confident that his sleep sack will be enough to keep the diaper on.
Do: Pack some diapers with snaps to dress him in at night. Also, shorts that are one size too small and not easily removed make a handy way of keeping your toddler in his diaper during naps.
Do Not: Forget to have some fun on your vacation anyway.

It’s one of my first memories; being lifted over the counter at an amusement park game and being told to pick any of the giant stuffed animals they had as prizes. I chose the largest stuffed bear they had – easily twice my size.
Paragon Park in Nantasket Beach was built in 1905, and torn down in 1985. My family visited every year, and some of my first memories revolve around the park. My father in a lucky ring toss, winning an impossible game to get me the largest stuffed bear I have ever seen. Riding what I firmly believed to be the scariest haunted house ride ever created. Receiving the first Super Bounce ball that I ever had as a child, and promptly putting it in my mouth because I was two, and it looked like a shiny green piece of candy.
The only part of Paragon Park still in existence is the carousel. 105 years old, it still provides rides to children of all ages at all times of year. Today, I brought my son for the first time to start creating some memories for him.

We’ll wait a few years on the Super Bounce balls, though. Just in case.

I can’t really say that I’ve had a “vacation” this week, but it has been a nice change of scenery. Gunne Bear is so shy and Mama focused that I haven’t been able to do much of anything with him clinging to my leg, but we’ve tried to have some fun, regardless.

The Viking joined us yesterday, so today we’ll be going to the carousel and the park and actually getting out a bit. So since I’ve been trapped in here for the last few days, allow me to share some photos from around the house.

Note: I designed most of the home’s interior as my last major job before Gunne Bear was born, so some photos are included merely because I’m proud of the way they turned out.

Taking part in the Working Mom Wednesday meme again! This week’s prompt is: Top 5 Things You Say to Your Kid Daily.

This could seriously be 50 Things and I would still have trouble narrowing it down. Does anyone else just feel like they’re on constant repeat?

Anyway.

Go Get the Kitty/Be Gentle with the Kitty OK. These two go together, since 99% of the time, he never catches the cats, but loves to try. In fact, the fastest way to cheer him up when he’s upset is to point out the location of a cat and say, “Go get the kitty!” At which time he goes charging off yelling, “Blah! Blah!” (black, black) or “You! You!” (Youk, Youk) and the cat in question leaps over a baby gate to safety. However, he does occasionally get one of them, which leads to, “Be gentle with the kitty!” and then giving the cat in question about 15 treats for not removing his face.

No Pulling! Do  You Want to Sit on the Floor? I finally broke him of his biting phase, but hair pulling seems to be hanging around a little longer. His punishment for pulling (or biting) is sitting on the floor for one minute. He knows this, and sometimes will stop what he’s doing at the thought of the cold (not really) hard (it’s bamboo) floor. Occasionally, though, he stops just long enough to think about that and then gives another yank.

Thank You for My Hug/Thank You for My Kiss Thankfully, in addition to being in a hair pulling stage, he’s also in a lovey stage. I get thousands of hugs and kisses a day, and when I thank him for them, he gives me more. So you can imagine just how often I thank him for his affection!

Do You Want Some ______? My kid is skinny and picky. A terrible combination, as it leads to my asking him if he wants X or Y food all day long. The answer is usually no, unless it’s a squeezy pouch in which case the “Yesh!” (yes) is accompanied by a huge grin and tiny hands opening and closing in front of his face as he encourages me to speed up.

Where is Car/The Caterpillar Book/Ball/Favorite Toy of the Moment? I am all about distraction when I’m trying to get some work done, and he’s clinging to my leg. If he really needs me, I’ll stop what I’m doing, but if he’s just hanging around because he’s bored and I only have a little bit left to do, I’ll ask him to go get whatever the toy of the moment is, just to buy myself those last few minutes to finish editing/writing/whatever.