Huggies and Heroes...

Huggies Slip On's---What's your take?

Well, here's mine.

To be honest, I don't normally buy Huggies diapers.  As a first time mom I experienced severe absorbency issues (newborn boys maybe?) and in babies more recent...allergy rashes.  I'm just not a huge fan. 

But...I thought I would give these puppies a try and ended up scoring them for only $3.99/Jumbo pack (using some mad couponing skills)...hoping, of course, that the newborn skin sensitivity was a thing of the past for Mr. Golden Locks.  

(Warning:  Possible soap box moment below)

While they have generally been fine, I have had concerns with the snuggness of their fit.  The whole add campaign revolves around easy diapering for the active baby.  I find that simply slipping them on does not secure them to the babies form and therefore having to take the time to undo and readjust the "adjustable straps" then deafeats the purpose of their whole creation.  Am I right?  I mean, if you then have to lay them down in order to adjust the velcro-ish thing-y's (because let's face it, in my experience, no active baby is going to stand still long enough for you to adjust them without trying to run off, right?) then Huggies whole campaign is blown out of the water, right?

(Excuse me while I step down...)

So...as a stubborn consumer, hail bent on using the product as intended (whether or not it actually works), I haven't been making the adjustment (pure laziness on my part).  

Let's just say that there has been a whole lotta' butt crack going on over here as of late. 

Other than that, no real problems.....

Until today.

I'm cleaning up after lunch and "Mini Rob" comes into the kitchen, "Mom...Mom...Moooooooooom....come here, come here, come here."

"Just a second,"  I say in typical "mommy's concentrating on something else" fashion.

He persists....

So do I.  

Then I get a feeling (I call them "Mommy Revelations")......and think, maybe I should listen to him.

"Okay [Mini Rob] what do you want to show me."

"Come here....come here."

He drags me off to the toy room.  When we reach the outskirts (aka the door) he pauses, points towards the corner, and says,  "Look."

I do as I am told. 

There I find Mr. Golden Locks squatting down...playing with some toys...with the "Niagara Falls of Poop" cascading forth from the back of his diaper.

I spring into action.  

Running over to Mr. Locks, I grab him around the waist, swing him upside down and start yelling orders as I sprint over to the "changing area"...."'Little Red' towel....'Mini Rob' garbage bag....'You' (pointing at the little Mr.) stop wiggling.  Hold still.  NOW!"  

The crisis was soon over, damages assessed....a sigh of relief.  

It could have been much worse.  The blob of brown goo was quickly loosing ground....gravity was winning....it could have ended up on the floor, and who knows how far it could have been tracked then.

Sigh...

"Mini Rob" wins Hero of the Day!   Thank you for you attentiveness and saving me from a lot of grief.  

Thank you Heavenly Father for sending me a "Mommy Revelation" to remind me that maybe, just maybe I should listen to my children every once and a while (and therefore be saved a lot of anxiety and work).

As for the diapers....not super impressed.  But...be as it might, I have two packages left....I guess I will just have to make the most of them (and pray for the best).

So...have you tried them out?  What do you think?

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Hiya...take that Sir Laughs A Lot....who's laughing now?

So I have a certain 5 year old (Little Red) that gets himself into a lot of trouble...A LOT OF TROUBLE...because he is so set on making other people laugh.

His excuse for everything..."well, but ________ was laughing."  As if that should excuse his behavior.

I have tried many approaches to cure this kind of thinking (you know, that it's okay to do anything as long as someone finds it funny)  I've tried:
The "just because it's funny doesn't mean it's right." approach.
The "I don't give a crap if he was laughing" approach.
The "you think that's funny...give me 50 burpies" approach.
The "oh, you still think it's funny?  give me 50 MORE burpies" approach.
and sometimes The "go to your room until your dad get's home...I don't want to see your face for a very long time" approach (which I used the other day when he scissored off some of Golden Locks's (16 month old) beautiful curls).

But...this one takes the cake.  Not only was it really effective..but it made ME laugh.  In fact, I'm still laughing.

Pure mommy genius.

A few weeks back we were having a particularly heinous day....the kids were giggley and obnoxious and I was a bit sleep deprived and not finding much humor in their antics.

Little Red was in the bathroom and needed me to come wipe him.  I walk into the bathroom not only to find G-McBabe (our eldest) in the bathroom with Little Red (a big no no in our house), but the ENTIRE new roll of toilet paper unrolled and in a heap on the floor.

I glared at Little Red with a blazing flame of fury in my eye...

"What?...What?....he says...and then "Well [G-McBabe] was laughing."

He and G-McBabe exchange their little smart "A" glances...you know, the ones kids use when they are being completely disrespectful and are really trying to tick you off?, and began to giggle.

Cleansing breath...cleansing breath...I told myself (I just saw the Hulk this week for the first time and feel like I may have found my kindred spirit... he he he)...and at long last I calmed.

The two boys were still giggling...which annoyed me to all get out...but I calmly replied.  "So...it's okay to do anything just because you think it's funny, huh?"

Giggle, giggle..."Yeah," they replied...giggle, giggle....along with more shifty glances and a bit of hand over mouth "I promise I'm trying to keep myself from laughing but cant quite control myself" gestures.

"Oh, okay," I said.

"So....G-McBabe...do you think it would be funny if I were to take Little Red's head and dip it into this toilet of poopy water (and believe you-me, Little Red had the runs and it was pretty poopy)?"

Again, more giggles and even a few loud bursts of uncontrolled laughter from both of them (probably because of the mention of "poop" and "toilet"...boys, seriously?), and finally G-McBabe answers, "Um....Yeah..." with a huge grin.

"Oh, Okay, .......well then," I say.

I think Little Red could sense something in mommy's mood had changed...he stopped laughing.

I quietly rolled back up the toilet paper and calmly wiped his bottom.  I, ever so gently, helped him off the toilet and waited for him to pull up his pants.  Meanwhile, G-McBabe is still giggling in the back ground (what, did they have too much sugar that day...i mean, REALLY?)

Little Red finishes and, before he could even blink twice, I snatched him around the waist, tipped him upside down and lowered his head within mere inches of the water line...poop and all.


The giggling and laughter turned into pandemonium....

I hear, "MMMMOOOOMMMMM!  MMMMOOOOOMMMM!  AHHH AHHH AHHHH AHHHH!  HELP!  HELP!  HELP!  from Little Red....screaming....crying....the works.......PUT ME DOWN PUT ME DOWN ......PUT ME DOWN!!!!!

and simultaneously from G-McBabe, "MMMMOOOOMMMM!  MMMMOOOOOMMMMMM!  IT'S NOT FUNNY!  IT'S NOT FUNNY!  MMMMOOOOMMMMM!  IT'S NOT FUNNY IT'S NOT FUNNY IT'S NOT FUNNY IT'S NOT FUNNY!!!!!!PUT HIM DOWN...IT'S NOT FUNNY...IT'S NOT FUNNY....ETC."

After a few seconds (but what I'm sure seemed like HOURS to both of them), I calmly put Little Red's feet back on the floor and reply, "Oh...that wasn't funny to you?"

(pant pant pant)  "No," they replied.

"Oh...cuz I thought it was funny,"  I said smiling.

They both stared at me like I was crazy.

I let that thought sink in while I washed my hands.

"So...maybe it's NOT okay to do things just because we think it's funny, right?"

"Yeah"...they mumbled as I walked out the door.

And that was that.

I will say that the lesson learned was quite effective for a few days.  Any time I had problems, I would kindly remind them of the toilet incident and they would shape up rather quickly.

I had forgotten about it for a time....shame on me....it's good ammo.  One that I will be using rather often, I am quite sure.

Hey, a mama's gotta do what she's gotta do to teach her children the lessons of life.

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My very existence in one word..."poop"

I'm frustrated.  I grab the phone and go outside.  Mail...I'll check the mail.  That's what I'll do.  Just get me out of here.
When I'm done I sit on the front lawn and call Rob at work.
"How are you?"  he says.
"Frustrated."
"Why?"
"I have wiped bums over 40 times today and  ___________ (we will call him child XYZ) has pooped in his pants three times in the last 45 minutes.  I swear, I'm gonna scream." 

"So what are you gonna do?" 

"I told him he had to put on a pull up and would have to pay me for every one of them he poops in.  And...HE'S UPSET with me because I wont let him go outside and jump on the trampoline (do you blame me?...visions of poop...eveRYwhere)."

Just then another child comes out and says, "Mom...I have to go poop."

Rob starts laughing. CASE. IN. POINT!

Can we say probiotics....HELLO! (which I have already administered)

If only that was that.

While I am sitting here typing child XYZ comes in from playing outside and says, "Mom, were you REALLY serious about me having to pay you for the pull-ups?"

"DID YOU POOP IN YOUR PANTS AGAIN!?!?"

"Yes."  

ARRRRGGGGGGGG!!!!

I put him on a potty time out.  "Just stay there for a while,"  I said.

Seriously. 

I'm leaving for an undisclosed amount of time as soon as Rob gets home.

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When it hits the fan...it hits the fan

I knew I was supposed to be doing something...I just couldn't remember what.

I was on the phone with my sister when Husband calls...and calls...and calls. ("Maybe I should answer that.")

It finally dawns on me...I was supposed to run some cash out to him at work.

Crap.

I pick up the phone, "I'm coming."......."Do you remember what else I was going to do while I was out?"

He rattles off my to do list:

*trip to drug store ("list is on the counter"),
*trip to red and white bullseye place for Rx's,
*trip to neighboring city to drop off a bike at bike shop (30 min drive BOTH WAYS)!

I look at the clock...It's 11:30AM.

Double crap...

"I'm so not going to make it home before nap time."

Sigh...

It's a mad rush to get ready to leave.

I start preparing lunch on the go (more economical, you know)...yell for Little Red and Mini Rob to "go potty and get shoes on"... Mr. Golden Locks is still in his jammies...heck, I'm still in my jammies...gotta get the bike in the car...don't forget the coupons... 

I'm feeling a little frantic at this point.  So much to do.

(Thank goodness for therapy!)

I try calming myself using some anxiety relieving techniques (inhale slowly 1,2,3,4...exhale slowly 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8...inhale slowly 1,2,3,4...exhale slowly 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8...you get the idea).

"Mom!," I hear from the other room.

I continue to peel carrots while going over the checklist again in my head.

"MOM!" 

Yeah...still peeling carrots...lost in my own thoughts.

Finally,  "MOM!  MOM!  MOM! MOM!"

"WHAT?!?!?," I yell.

"[MR. GOLDEN LOCKS] THREW YOUR KEYS IN THE TOILET."

(goodbye new found calm feeling)

Carrots forgotten I RUN (literally) to the bathroom.

My worst fears are confirmed....my keys are in the toilet...so is Mini Rob's urine...and two or more weeks worth of bacteria (yeah, I've been meaning to get to that.)   UGH!

(Have I mentioned I'm a semi recovered OCD-ish germ-a-phoebe.)

Not good...not good at all.

I order the kids out...and ask Little Red to assist Mr. Golden Locks in the detoxification process (hand sanitizer).

I grab the keys out of the toilet and throw them in the bathroom sink.  I begin the first of several wash cycles (with anti-bacterial soap, of course) while alternating between panic and self-control in my head ("sick, disgusting, I will never be able to touch them again"... "get a hold of yourself, calm down, you will clean them well, you will move on, and you will be okay (positive self reinforcement...ya know)).

While in this back and forth debate with myself (between the OCD and the sane Melanie) I forget what I am doing (other than white knuckle scrubbing these keys)...there are soap suds everywhere.

Little Red comes back into the bathroom, takes a look and says "Mom...your wasting water."

I swear I could have shot lasers out of my eyes just then.  Instead I had to settle for "the evil eye" and "the nostril flare."

"What?", he says casually.

AAARRRGGGHHH....

Once I finally got control of myself (and the sane Melanie won out), I did pretty good.

I cut off a fabric key chain that was soaked in toilet water (who needs it anyways), bathed them in Clorox Clean-up (literally), and washed them again (all that you ask?  Yeah...and that's the SANE Melanie)

Deep breath...Done!

Until...


Husband calls..."Are you coming?"

Sigh....

Forget economical...we're going to McDonald's!

UPDATE:  I also ended up skipping the trip to the bike shop after I took the wrong freeway exit.  A woman can only take so much in one day.


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