The Closet Crapper

If there exists a phrase to describe my last three days it would be this: adventures in toddler poop.  Right now the little man is peacefully sleeping, but I’m sure that will end well before I’m ready for it to.  You see, I feel like all I have done the last couple of days is clean poop.  I know it isn’t…we did have a great hour and a half at the park yesterday, but somehow that memory is much less remarkable in my mind than a number of others…

At just shy of 18 months, little man is actually fully capable of communicating when he has to use the bathroom and using it.  He has done it on a number of occasions.  However, lately he has decided to be, quite literally, a closet pooper. He actually hides/goes to a corner/behind furniture and covers his eyes to poop and tells you no when you ask him if he is pooping.

Sunday morning, 9:30am: We sit him on the toilet since we know he has to go.  A couple minutes roll by…nothing and he tells us he is all done.  Okay kid, I’ll bite…it’s a pretty routine time for you to go, but I understand there are days when you just don’t have to.  I take him off and turn to do something…the hubby and I both get distracted in the midst of getting ready for church.  Little man has disappeared while naked…I look over and he is playing in the closet…a perfectly normal thing for him to do.  He loves hiding in my clothes.  I have a sudden realization – he isn’t playing peek-a-boo or hide-and-seek with us – he is deathly silent.  I look at hubby and say “he better not be crapping in my closet.”  Hubby makes a beeline for the closet.  Sure enough.  There is a log in the midst of my hanging clothes as little man runs for his life leaving a trail of little turds, one of which he steps in as he proceeds to run down the hall.  Hubby is, to put it very mildly, not amused.

Monday, lunchtime: Hubby forgets his lunch at home and tells me he is coming home to eat lunch.  Awesome!  It’s a treat to see him midday and we’ve had a bit of a frustrating morning so it will be good for us both to see dada.  I’m fixing us some lunch and see little man go around the corner of the couch.  He’s silent.  “Are you pooping?” I ask.  “No,” comes the response.  I know he is lying to me.  I finish up what I am doing and head over to him as hubby walks in the door.  Craaapppp.  Literally.  He is fully clothed, but there is poop on the carpet.  I take little man to the bathroom…poop down his pant leg, all over his sock.  Gross…he gets a mini-bath, hubby cleans up poop off the carpet.  Hubby is never coming home for lunch again.

Today, 9:20 am: Little man was up crying from 4:30-5:30, then up at 6:10.  Back to sleep at 8:30.  We have to leave for MOPS at 9ish.  I might play hooky…oh wait, I have pumpkin bread I made PLUS granola and yogurt someone dropped off at my house to bring.  I’m exhausted, so is he, but somehow we are going to MOPS.  In the car little man was chatting and eating a banana.  It’s now silent.  “Are you pooping?” I ask.  “No,” comes the response.  A few minutes later my car is FULL of disgusting, gross poop smell.  And I am stuck in traffic.  Ten minutes to go a mile in a car that now smells worse than the barn.  I arrive for MOPS and pretty much head straight for the bathroom, because the little changing table in the nursery was not going to cut it.  It’s down his pant leg, all over his socks.  Mid clean up I run out of wipes.  Ugh.  Why am I not in the nursery where there are packages of wipes?  Why is no one coming into the bathroom so I can ask to bring me some more?  I have hand sanitizing wipes.  I pull them out and as I do little man starts peeing an arc at me; thankfully, he misses me.  Are. you. kidding?  Pee on the bathroom floor.  I have four sanitizing wipes left.  I start mopping the floor with his clothes that will no way be going back on his little body.  Thankfully I have extra pants and a shirt.  I find a way to somehow finish containing the mess and cleaning him up with a mix of paper towels and creativity.  He’s clothed now.  No spare socks.  He is barefoot with a couple inches of fresh snow outside.  Oh well.  I survived.  My bag smells like poop.  I think he is getting a diaper rash…I didn’t bring the coconut oil.  Oh well.  He’ll survive.


Head back in to join the other moms.

Today, noon: I am going to the bathroom.  Little man says he has to go.  I put him on the toilet.  He says he is done.  No, you are not.  Two minutes later, floodgates open.  Thank you Jesus.  I did not want to clean that one out of a diaper, or carpet.  Finally – a bit of success!

Tomorrow: let’s avoid any repeats please.

I thought it was peanut butter…

Life is an adventure with me for sure!

It was one of those mornings a few weeks ago where everything was going decently well…we were happy, the house hadn’t yet been wrecked by the tornado that is my son (and it was already past 8am!), and I probably only got up two times in the middle of the night as opposed to four our five.  And then it happened.  A moment that made time stand still and burned itself permanently…in detail…into my mind.

We had just finished breakfast – toast with peanut butter & jelly alongside some banana slices.  I got Joshua out of his high chair, setting him down on the ground to go play while I took just a couple minutes to respond to an email I knew was waiting for me.  I sat at the dining room table while he played contentedly a few feet away in the living room.  Moments after I began typing I heard him grunt…and poop.

I decided to take two minutes to finish the email before changing his diaper…it would give him a chance to make sure he got it all out anyway!  As I was typing out the last sentence or so Joshua came up next to me and handed me something – its a new skill he has been learning.  I glanced over…said thank you and took it from him.  He started to walk away and I turned back to the computer.

This, my friends, is when it happened.

I looked down at my hand and noticed some peanut butter on my finger.  We had just finished breakfast and sometimes I can be lazy about thoroughly wiping everything off my squirmy boy’s hands.

So I licked my finger to get the peanut butter off…



I looked in horror at Joshua as it dawned on me that I just tasted AND ATE my son’s POOP.

“Ahhhhh, I just ate your POOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!” I cried to Joshua as I bolted up.

I ran to the sink, washing my hands and my tongue…trying to get that horrid taste from my mouth and then scooped Joshua up…noticing that his hands were, in fact, covered in poop.

I changed his diaper…one that shouldn’t have left him with poopy hands based in it’s shape, consistency and where it landed in the diaper (TMI??) and then realized that he reached inside his diaper to access the poo.

After the battle that was changing his diaper and trying, unsuccessfully, to prevent him from sticking his poop-covered fingers in his own mouth, I was terrified.  Terrified of going back into the carpeted living room that my little boy was playing in when THE INCIDENT occurred.

I walked in…making sure Joshua stayed behind me to avoid further messes.  Immediately I saw a wooden tray that holds puzzle blocks, on the floor, covered in poo.  Whew, I thought.  That’s easy to clean, sanitize and whatnot.  Dodged that bullet.  Then I took another step into the living room and on the other side of the recliner I saw a large poop mess, freshly rubbed into the carpet.  A spot about the size of an average adult’s hand.  Seriously?  I guess when little man does it…he really does it.  Can I just say…I am incredibly thankful for wet vacs and carpet shampoo!

Moral of this story?

Don’t EVER assume it is peanut butter.

All is forgiven little one…off to other adventures and stories!

The Bed Hog

“You know how if you have a dog and you let them sleep on your bed they end up encroaching in your sleeping space?”


“That’s what Joshua did to me last night.  He took over and didn’t let me sleep.”

That’s the conversation I had with my hubby Friday morning. Thankfully, it was his side of the bed that the little mister ruthlessly stole. 😉

We have NEVER let him sleep with us in bed.  He has his bed (crib) and I have mine.  All is well with the world.  Sometimes after daddy leaves for work I let him come in and snuggle with me for an hour or two…but that is the closest he gets to snoozing in our bed.

Friday night he REFUSED to sleep.  I would hold him and he would fall asleep just fine.  I would put him in his crib and he would roll over on his belly, start crying and refuse to sleep – often crawling to the end of the crib and repeatedly bashing his head on the crib slats.

I thought I had finallyyyyy gotten him to sleep, gazed oh so lovingly at him while he dozed, tiptoed out of his room and crawled under my bed covers…excited to drift off into la la land.  I settled in, closed my eyes and drif….waaaaaahhhhhhh!!!

He didn’t even give me a full minute of hope.

Dan got up to try his hand at getting the little bugger to sleep while I had flashbacks of him at 2 months old when we played this game.  Dan walked into our bedroom with a screaming baby, clearly frustrated, and set him down on our bed.

Instant silence.

Contented sleep.


Hubby curled himself around the little man…not even wanting to attempt a transfer.  His bedroom is literally three feet from ours and I can get to his crib from my side of the bed (on the far side) in about 8 steps.

So while Joshua blissfully slept, Dan found flexibility that he didn’t even know he had to stay on the king sized bed.  I slept pretty well over on my half of the king estate…rolling over at 2:30 to feed the little guy who was trying to crawl to me to get his fill.  After feeding I cozied him up next to me…where he didn’t stay.  Instead he rolled his way back over to hubby and pushed him little by little toward the edge of the bed until he woke at 7am ready to eat again (the longest stretch of sleep we’ve, rather I’ve, had in a while, I might add!).

Needless to say, Dan was quite exhausted come Saturday morning…and began calling Joshua a bed hog!  It made for a more tired and stressful day at the zoo where we had a line like the day after thanksgiving to even turn into the park.  Although some people co-sleep just fine, it just isn’t my style.  I think he understands now why I like the separate space…my bed.  Little mister’s bed.  And never the two shall meet 😉

Race Roundup: Hot Chocolate 15K


Race bib, CTA fun pass & chocolate. Photo courtesy of Shila 🙂

I’m thankful for crazy friends who do ridiculous things with me – like drive to Chicago only to stay there for twenty-four hours so we can run a race…and not just any race, but a 15K.  Oh, they have a 5K option, but we figure that if we are going to drive all the way to Chicago for a race, we might as well make it worth it and be out on the long course.

This was my second time running the Hot Chocolate 15K in Chicago.  Last year we had a blast and decided we were gluttons for punishment and we had to do it again.  Except this time we both failed miserably in training for it – me, for mostly legit reasons (see last post), my friend…well, she at least did more than me.

I registered for the race in August in the middle of a health roller-coaster, during a moment of feeling well.  When I started to feel not as well again, I didn’t train.  Leading up to yesterday’s race I had done three (maybe four) 2 to 2.5 mile runs and one 5k – within the last six months.  Really, that is it.  I’ll have the race roundup post for the 5k I ran two weeks ago in a coming post…I ran it because I thought that I should probably run more than 2 miles in the lastsix months before going to run a 9.3 mile race.

Note to self and others: Do NOT, and I repeat do NOT, just go run a 9.3 mile race when you have run less than half a dozen times in the last six months.   I have run about 10 TOTAL miles in the last six month.  This is not me making excuses, because I am just fine with my time, this is me painting you a picture of reality.  I just figured I would ride off from my past running successes.  It was only 9.3 miles…no biggie.

Off to Chicago we went.

We got an email Friday night or Saturday morning that said the lines to pick up race packets on Friday were unacceptably long and that people were waiting 90+ minutes in line to get their packets…so they tripled the number of stations to pick up race packets. We arrived in Chicago at the home of my awesome friend who agreed to host us and jumped on the train to downtown.  We had to pick up our race packets at the south lot of Soldier Field.  We didn’t realize how far away that was from the closest train stop.  We walked, and walked…and couldn’t find the packet pickup.  We had to ask a couple of people because there wasn’t any signage to direct you to the packet pickup  only a sign or two near the lot to direct cars to park…nothing to direct people walking in from city center.  Not being Chicago residents, it was confusing.

We arrived at the big tent for packet pickup and that’s when we saw it.  The line.  It was HUGE!!  We waited 75 minutes in line OUTSIDE…when the sun was going down (last year…10 minutes, inside).  I was grateful I wore my ski jacket.

It took just a couple minutes to pick up our packet and be out of there once we got inside.  We made the trek back to the train stop, headed to my friend’s house where we ate, hung out (they were lovely hosts!) and went to sleep.

We got up crazy early, thankful for the end of daylight savings and for the extra hour of sleep, hopped on the train and headed to the starting line which was much closer to public transport.  We checked our gear easily and went to our starting corrals.  I was in “D” and my friend in “F.”  We now just had to wait…they spaced the corrals out by waiting 3 minutes and 30 seconds between each to reduce some congestion…probably a good idea because the start was still slow.

Finally it was go time for corral D.  The course was significantly changed from last year…and I wasn’t a fan of it.  The first 5k was alright but then the rest was not at all awesome.  It seemed we went through industrial Chicago and then we went up the lakeshore path – which was okay, but not very scenic at this time of year.  Last year the course went through the city.  I understand that it requires more road closures…but its no fun running a 15K when there is almost no one out there to cheer you on for over half the course when you are out in the middle of nowhere.  Last year running through the city and by homes and apartments people came out and were cheering for the runners…which is so. much. better.

Personally – I felt pretty decent for the first 10K.  The first mile was slow with the start, but then I started clicking off pretty consistent 8:45 miles…until I was in the middle of the wilderness it seemed, and I couldn’t find a new song to replace the one chorus that has been running through my head for four miles.  And then, I had to go.  You know…I had to go.  So just before mile 7 there were port-a-johns…I didn’t really care about my time all that much and I certainly wasn’t going to play chicken with my body – so I stopped for 2 minutes and 43 seconds.

I should also mention that over the past 8 or so months I have had problems with my left bum and upper hamstring….sciatic problems when I run and particularly when I run up an incline.  I could feel it nagging at me the whole race…but after my little pit stop the course started to pick up a few more rolling hills from pedestrian walk ways and such…and my problem area began to scream at me.  My last two and a quarter or so miles were really awful…I hurt a lot.  I had to take the uphills slowly to minimize the pain…if only I could have stopped at the 10K mark.  That would have been the perfect distance.  I finished anyway.  My overall time of an hour twenty-seven plus change was actually an hour and twenty four minutes and thirty seconds when I take out my bathroom break.  Overall pace was 9:22 but when you take out the bathroom break time I have an overall pace of 9:04.  I can’t complain…I hadn’t run more than 10 miles in six months.  I’ll take it.

Then came the post race food…the whole reason we even make the trek to Chicago.  It was delicious as expected BUT two things hampered a great review from this gal.  One: while they gave us a good amount of fondue I don’t think they gave us enough stuff to dip in our chocolate.  Last year they gave more, and even let us take a few extra pieces if we wanted.  The second was that we didn’t get whipped cream in our hot chocolate like last year.  I felt jipped.  Oh, and at the end of the race last year they were giving out chocolate squares left and right.  They gave me one this time.  And it was smaller.

Did I still have fun?  Yes.  And the sweatshirt we got in our goodie bag fits great and is nice – definitely a score.  I like that we get decent stuff for the price we pay.  Will we do the race again next year? It’s still up in the air.  It is still a fun race, but it wasn’t quite as awesome as I expected based on last year’s experience.  It seemed last year was more chill…I missed that vibe this year from the race.  Maybe we’ll try to find another Chicago race with an awesome goodie bag…any suggestions?

You Should Try This!

You may have seen it around with its increasing popularity, but if you haven’t you need to check out stand up paddle boarding (commonly written as SUP…like ‘sup, how you doin’?).  I started seeing it around last summer, but with limited places to rent a paddle board, and lacking the solid chunk of change required to buy one (you are looking at close to a G and up) I didn’t have the chance to try it.  Until this summer that is.

Many of the places I had seen rent paddle boards were doing so for about $40 for an hour and a half including a short into into paddle boarding.  A bit to rich for my blood.  So when we were at our local metropark earlier this summer (Memorial Day to be exact…a crazy hot day where we waited over a half hour in our car in line just to get in the park!) I saw that they were renting them at one of the beaches…for $10 per hour!  Jackpot!  All summer I’ve been jonesing for a chance to try SUP so when I got a text from my awesome hubby on Friday that said “want to go stand up paddle boarding tomorrow?”  I about jumped up and down with excitement.

So we headed out to the park Saturday afternoon and got our boards for an hour…that was an adventure in itself as the hubby somehow lost twenty buckaroos between the car and the paddle board rental counter.  A twenty dollar deposit is required on each board you rent so it seemed we weren’t getting two boards with me only having my twenty…cash only.  A big, humongous thank you to some friends we just happened to run into while they came up to buy some food at the food counter and loaned us a twenty (such a cool God thing and amazing friends).

SUP is awesome.  If I had crazy disposable income maybe I’d buy one, but I don’t, so I’ll have to settle for my $10/hour rental.  It is a GREAT activity to work on your balance and core strength.  I think it is actually a fantastic cross training exercise for skiers – they can work on upper/lower body separation and balancing in the bumps.  It’s amazing at how well I thought some of those skills translated between the two sports.  If you are afraid that you’ll fall…rest assured that it isn’t too difficult to learn…especially if you have fairly calm waters.  The water was a bit bumpy and rough while we were out, but we did it without much difficulty.  You may fall – I did once as I was shifting my weight to try to balance on one foot, but hey…you’re supposed to be in a bathing suit anyway – they are meant to get wet 🙂  You can always start on your knees if standing up seems intimidating right away.

So what are you waiting for – go rent yourself a paddle board and have some fun!!