What's the Deal?

I usually don't post twice in one day. In fact, I think I never have. But in addition to that last post, Keaton just pooped in the bathtub while both boys were taking a bath. Yep, pretty unbelievable. That was worse than both morning incidents combined. I guess Keaton didn't want to be outdone. I don't think it ever ends. And how has Carl managed to miss every single one of these incidents today? All I can say is, his time is coming! Oh and the kids' toilet is clogged, so I guess he will have to handle one gross job. I must admit, I typed that last part with just a bit of a smile of satsifaction. Just a bit...

Yes, Another Post About Poop...I Sincerely Apologize.

What can I say, when you have a three-year old and a one-year old...your world is pretty much consumed by grossness. This Sunday morning, I awoke to the sound of Cale playing in the other room. I was so blown away that he hadn't come to get me up, that I rolled over and went back to sleep. I slept for about twenty more minutes, then I heard his voice over the baby monitor, so I knew he was in Keaton's room. Thinking it was good while it lasted, I reluctantly got out of bed, not-so-eager to start my day. But, at least it was 7:30...which is an hour longer than the boys usually let me sleep so I guess technically I slept in. Cale was in Keaton's room, along with every tractor he owns. Keaton was standing in his crib, watching big brother play...hoping someone would get help him out of his bed. So, I scooped him up and the two of them quickly began playing together. It's nice during those few moments when they actually play together with no tears, from Keaton. The tears are always from Keaton because big brother loves to torture him. Head locks, leg locks, body slams...I hold Carl responsible for Cale's love of doing these things to poor Keaton. But sometimes, no wrestling or tears are involved, and they just play. Ahhh, that's bliss. So, I went to the kitchen to start by beloved pot of coffee. I have to say, coffee is my most favorite thing...food or drink. I can drink it all hours of the day or evening. It probably makes me far too happy, but I can't help it. It has helped me cut way back on my Dr. Pepper addiction...to an almost nonexistent point, so I guess it's actually been useful to me, right? Replacing one addiction for another, I suppose. As I was waiting for my coffee to finish, I noticed a mud spot on the kitchen floor, right in front of the door that leads outside to the garage. I figured that Carl had dirt on his shoes when he came in last night. Besides the annoyance of thinking I had to mop the floor yet again, I didn't think too much about it. Coffee first, cleaning later. Fast forward to a little later in the morning. I noticed Keaton's nose running like a faucet, so I went to the bathroom to grab a tissue. As I headed there, I bypassed the dirt spot that Carl had suppossedly left on the floor. When I stepped into the bathroom my socks were immediately soaked. I nervously turned on the light and it was like a horror scene out of a toddler movie. No blood or goriness...not that kind of horror. But, the potty kind. The floor was covered in pee and the toilet was covered in poop. It was even all down the side of the toilet. My first concern was my wet socks. Wet socks are bad enough, but knowing they're soaked in pee instead of water is much more disturbing. After getting out of the socks and mopping the floor, I began to work on the even nastier mess. I still don't know how it is physically possible to get poop in the places that Cale managed to. Side of the toilet, under the toilet seat... I guess that's real talent. Oh, and that "mud" spot on the floor, was not mud. And to think, I had been so pleased that he hadn't woken me up first thing in the morning. So sadly I had to tell him when a number two situation arises, he need to have help from a parent. Even if it means waking a parent...ahem, Daddy preferably, up in the morning. Okay, now I know you may not believe me when I say this but you will just have to take my word for it. As I was typing that last paragraph (while sitting on the couch on our back porch) I heard a knock on the window. I looked up to see Cale standing, pantsless. This wasn't too strange since it's always been a battle to keep pants on him. But, he was suppossed to be napping, so I immediately felt aggravated that he was up. I went inside ready to take action when he told me that he had just got done pooping and I had to wipe him. So crazy, since I was just typing the story from this morning. I kid you not, when I walked in the bathroom, the toilet was covered once again. Seriously, it's like he's trying to get it everywhere. I mean, can that actually accidentally happen? I asked him why the sudden messy bathroom visits, but he played the "I don't know" card. So I cleaned up yet another poop-plosion. What has my life come to?

I must say, I am so glad that the last few weeks are over. So glad. Cale and Keaton both had small surgeries. Keaton had tubes, which ended up being a piece of cake. He came out of the hospital room bouncing, full of energy, and getting into everything. He hasn't stopped since. Cale, on the other hand, had his tonsils out...which was definitely no piece of cake. He hurt pretty badly and cried a lot during the week after his surgery. And to be quite honest, he was downright mean. I kinda felt like we gave him a "be mean" free pass because we knew he felt so awful.

But, about a week ago things started to finally get better. Cale is back to himself. Well mostly. He went into surgery with a fairly deep, raspy voice that he has had all his life. He almost always has sounded a little hoarse. He came out of the surgery with a cartoon character, somewhat nasal-ey voice. He totally does not sound like the same kid. It's crazy. I catch myself just listening to the sound of his voice, his laugh. It catches me off guard because it doesn't sound like "Cale".

But, I really do think he's already a little happier since he got his tonsils removed. I don't know if it's because he's sleeping more soundly at night or what, but he seems more smiley and less sullen, so that's good, right? I have my fingers crossed that he will start regularly sleeping completely through the night...which means I will get to sleep through the night. I'm not quite sure what it would feel like to consistently sleep through the night. I vaguely remember the feeling of waking up well-rested; Looking in the mirror and seeing a face without massive bags and red, bloodshot eyes. Why didn't I appreciate sleep before "kids"? At least there's coffee. Lot's and lot's of coffee.

Cale might have two or three good nights, but then the streak breaks and he's back to waking up. It's been this way ever since he was a baby. If I had known we would still be going through this at three-years old...let's just say it was best that I didn't know. When he was in a crib, he would just scream and cry until we came to him. But, ever since he's been in a bed, with the ability to come and go as he pleases...we suddenly are awoken to the slamming of doors, the pitter patter of little feet, and all-too-often the sound of his shrill cry as he makes his way across the house. What a crappy way to wake up...the dread I feel when I hear that sound because I know it may be...no, WILL be a battle to get him back to sleep. Oh, I'll get him in bed...but to sleep is another story.

And he always wants me to sleep with him. Not him with us in our big, comfy bed, but me with him in his bunk bed. Now don't get me wrong, it is a step up from his tiny doll-sized toddler bed that he transitioned to after the crib. But, there's just something about climbing into a bed with the feeling of cracker crumbs on your bare feet, rolling over to find a half-eaten cheese stick on your pillow...which you also realize has a large, conspicuous-looking stain...probably juice but possibly something else a little worse than juice. It feels contaminated. At least it's my offspring's contamination, right?

Keaton has been pretty regularly sleeping through the night for awhile now. Thank you Lord for low-maintenance babies. Keat is such a chill little guy and besides getting into absolutely everything he can possibly find to get into...he's pretty easy. But on the down side, his favorite hobby right now happens to be snatching toilet brushes when nobody is looking, doing who knows what with them, as he runs through the house acting like he's got some sort of special prize. And this is especially hard for me because I find toilet brushes disgusting. The drippy water that splashes from them as you take them out of their base...makes me shudder. Toilet water in general grosses me out. I remember dropping my glasses into the toilet one time when I was in high school...and I very well considered throwing them away but I knew my mom would kill me so I washed them about a hundred times and didn't wear them for awhile. Stupid I know.

Back to Keaton's toilet fetish, I would just put the toilet brush somewhere other than beside the toilet...but where? I don't want to put the disgusting thing on the counter or on a shelf...or anywhere for that matter. I figure the toilet is something equally disgusting, so the brush just belongs there beside it. I can't wait to tell Keaton stories of his toilet brush fascination when he's older. I guess I really need to snap a picture...but I can not bear to let him linger with it because it always ends up in his mouth. The other day I caught him running through our bedroom with the toilet brush in one hand, and a large spoon in the other. Because those two things totally go together. I'm sure you're just dying to come to our house for dinner now, right?

This is why we can't have nice things. Well, one of the many reasons.