Papoe

Operation Papi Princess

In parenthood you pick your battles, and one thing I have not cared much to fight over is the pacifier. I suppose you can say potty training too, but this is finally happening. It has not been perfected, but it is happening. I just wasn't going to be one of those people that insisted Jocelyn be potty trained at 18 months because at that time I had a five month old in the other room that was screaming like Linda Blair. And baby Linda helped me to ignore the pacifier in Jocelyn's mouth. Somewhere along the line she named it her papi, and her papi made her calm and happy. It helped her go to sleep and it kept her quiet. And quiet is beautiful before coffee, no matter what time of day.

But it has been time to say goodbye and I've been toying with ways to make the move. I read somewhere that it might work to "break" it by poking a hole in it to decrease the amount of suction. It took more than a poke (yes, I tried it myself). Jocelyn put it in her mouth and scrunched up her face like she sucked on a lemon. "It's broken."  

"I'm sorry baby, that's the only one we have." (Yes, I lied)

She put it back in her mouth and kept sucking.

Next on the list was the Papi Fairy. You know, that fairy that comes when you're sleeping and steals your prized possessions. I started to tell her that the Papi Fairy was going to come and collect her papi's and give them to the babies that needed them. "Oh," she said, "the Papi Princess?" Sure. Princess it is. The look on her face said that this needed to be an even exchange, so I told her that the Papi Princess would leave her a present. This peaked her interest and she began talking about it in days leading up to the switch-a-roo. There was even a hint of excitement in her voice.

I took a trip to Target and bought a tutu I had been eyeing for her. I thought it was only fitting that I include a wand, and I threw in a few stickers, since they could be shared with Aja. I decided to include a Thank You card, and a pretty package.

 
She awoke from her nap and walked into the living room in a daze. I pointed out the package and asked if she knew who it was from.

"Nana?"

"No, the Papi Princess."

Before she could rip into the bag, I opened the card and began to read it to her. "I want to thank you..."

Her face said clearly: Thanks for what? What the hell is this? What are you trying to do to me?

And then she began to cry and yell that she wanted her papi.

We skipped the rest of the card and the words of love and encouragement and went straight for the goods.

 Aja was not as excited about the Papi Princess

It remains to be seen if this is really going to work. She insisted on wearing her tutu over her pajamas and she brought her wand to bed. She repeatedly asked for hugs and continued singing and chatting a full hour after we put her to bed. The real test will be if she wakes up in the middle of the night.

I'm not personally loving her love of princesses but I'm chalking it up to being three. A little tiara and pink can't do too much harm, but I'm thinking of creating my own princess. She wears purple and black converse and glasses. I'm going to name her Princess Tuesday. Otherwise known as, Princess "I Can Kick Your Ass This Side of" Tuesday.

When excitement meets poop

Jocelyn doesn't remember a time when she was the only baby in the house, and I'm sure she won't remember meeting Aja for the first time. She was surprised and excited and unsure. She looked at the tiny baby in the carseat and decided she immediately needed to sit in it herself. Then she got up, ran around in circles and pooped her pants. Donning a new diaper and a new outfit, she insisted that she hold her baby sister.

Almost two years later they are infatuated with one another and it is a beautiful thing to watch.

I want my house back

Now that Jocelyn is three and Aja is nearing her two-year mark, I am able to peek through the fog of babydom and find solace in the fact that I will one day soon get my house back.  

They have ripped down blinds in both the kitchen and the living room (Aja). Red crayon has decorated the walls in various rooms (Jocelyn). Cream cheese and peanut butter have been mashed into the fabric of the couch (both). They have broken the knob on the heater (Nana*) and peed on the floor (both).

We once had a corner of the living room dedicated to use as our office. Slowly, as the months ticked by and Jocelyn went from rolling to crawling to walking, the couch inched back closer and closer to the wall, making the office inaccessible for her small hands and her vacuum of a mouth. Of course, the office is now just as inaccessible for Khary and I, and I now use the couch as my desk, which has done wonders for my ass.

My friend Sarah showed her son pictures of the girls in preparation for our upcoming stay at their house. He stared at picture after picture of my sweet girls and then said to her, “Ok, the little one can have my bed. But not that big sister. She looks like she would tear things up!”

Little does he know the destruction that can occur at the hands of little Aja.

In an effort to de-clutter and inch a step closer to the day when we can reclaim our home, we did a small purge of toys. Stuffed animals that they have ignored and the small odds and ends that fell to the bottom of the toy box were packed up under the cover of darkness. Had they seen this organizational feat they would have suddenly rediscovered their love of that dirty rabbit rattle that hasn’t been touched in over a year. I am contemplating a second undercover raid to see what will be missed. We have a finite amount of time before they start memorizing where each toy belongs.

I am not a highly organized person, but I still dream of the day when I can use areas of the house as they were originally intended—when I can unblock the hallways, and place the lamp, which is currently located behind a bookshelf in the corner, next to the couch and I won’t have to worry about it getting knocked over.

Of course, damage at the hands of my children will occur for years to come, but in different ways. I am guilty of spilling nail polish remover on my mother’s end tables when I was fifteen or sixteen, taking the wood finish right off with the cotton balls I used to mop it up.

As long as they stop peeing on the floor.

 

*Nana only contributed to the knob of the heater loosening and eventually being ripped off by Aja. She did, however, break our toaster, so she will forever be next in line if we’re looking to place blame. This is done out of love.

*

Don’t forget to vote for Papoe for one of the Top 25 Best SF Bay Mom Blogs. Only four days left! You can vote once a day! Thank you thank you thank you.

Age only matters when you're still in single digits

Birthdays are best celebrated with a bow on your head. Turning three in style. Check!

Smooth as a baby's butt (and a giveaway)

Recently a teacher at Jocelyn’s daycare suggested that potty-training should be on my to-do list before September (when preschool starts). To which I replied like a distracted teenager, “Uh-huh,” and continued what I was doing. Many of Jocelyn’s friends have been potty-trained for months, but I have always felt that it would be easier the older she is—and by easier, I mean that it would be easier for me. Call me crazy, but I have not wanted to hear every five minutes that she has to pee. At two years old, she might have been able to tell me that she had to go, but I would need to be there to pull her pants down and then back up again. That is just tiring.

So she’s been in pull-ups for about six months now, and she uses the potty before bed, and occasionally throughout the day. I’m okay with this because I don’t mind diapers. I prefer them to accidents and (I figure) the longer we wait, the less poo I will have to clean off her pants.

This brings me to the diapers. I may not mind diapers, but I do mind the price and so I’ve learned to shop around. I stock up when there’s a sale, and I try different brands. Although with Jocelyn it has been tricky. She was born with an aversion to dairy, which manifested itself in an ongoing diaper rash, only to be made worse by Pampers [I don’t pretend to know anything about the formula that goes into a diaper, but they changed something, causing diaper rashes that bordered on burns)]. I may be exaggerating a bit, but it was the first time Jocelyn was able to say she had an “owie.”

Aja’s butt is friendly to every brand.

A few months back I decided to try out Safeway’s Mom to Mom brand of wipes. They were inexpensive and did the trick. This is important because I don’t usually do reviews on papoe, but a few weeks later I received an email about trying out the Mom to Mom diapers. I figured it was worth talking about; I’ve used their wipes, and I have two butts to clothe in nappy pants.

Aja is still growing her behind in a pair of size 4 diapers. They worked great and I had no complaints. Jocelyn’s pull-ups were like a good pair of back up pants. They weren’t as stretchy around the sides as the Huggies, and don’t have the adhesive tabs, but we didn’t have any leakage problems. My main concern going in was a possible rash flair up, but her butt remained clear. No leaks, and the ease on the wallet make it a very good option.

I will now stop talking about butts.

As a thank you for reviewing the Mom to Mom diapers, I have two $25 Safeway gift cards to give away. To be eligible, please leave a comment and tell me about a time something was suggested to you, to which you responded, “Uh huh.”  Please note: you are not required to buy diapers or wipe any butts with your gift card. Damn, I talked about butts again!

Winners will be chosen (randomly) one week from today.

Happy Monday.