And oh. I can’t even tell you how many times we’ve heard him darting around in the darkness, digging through his toys… and when he hears us walking to his room, he’ll race back to bed, lay down, and pretend like he’s done nothing wrong. Complete with sweet smiles and soft “I love you Mommy and Daddy” phrases as we open the door. But upon closer inspection, we can always find a stash of toys hidden under the blankets and stuffed animals, exposing his mischief every time.

The only thing we can think to do at this point when we hear his footsteps exuberantly pounding around the room is go in there and tell him to get back in bed because it’s night time. No yelling. No frustration. No discipline. No negativity. Why? Because none of it worked, and you can’t keep doing what doesn’t work because it will drive you insane.

I’m hoping the repetitiveness of simply but continuously and firmly putting him back in bed every time he gets up will eventually sink into that hard little head of his. He’s seemingly more apt to do what we say when we don’t show negative emotions. Keep your fingers crossed.

But still. He won’t stop getting out of bed. And he’s making himself stay up later and later… last night, for example, he stayed awake until 1:00am. And then got up at 8:00am, which is late for him. He must me a night owl like his mommy. Only I don’t joyfully bounce out of bed in the mornings like he does…

We also converted the crib to a toddler bed. Up until this point, before he started climbing out of his crib, we left it as is. The older he got, the less we worried about him falling and getting hurt. BUT, once he started climbing out, we decided it was time to take the rail down. Once we started the process of converting it, however, we realized a vital piece of the railing for the toddler bed was missing. (This, sadly, was no surprise. When we first got the crib when Nathan was born, it arrived at our house missing and ENTIRE CRIB SIDE. Made in China… go figure.) So we couldn’t attach the safety rail since a vital component wasn’t included. Because of that, the first few nights Nathan rolled out of bed a number of times. Once he sustained a nasty abrasion on his forehead from falling out. So I took some great advice my mother-in-law gave me; I rolled up a long blanket and stuffed it under his sheet on the edge of the bed. It makes a nice round lump, which helps keep him from falling out. Works like a charm (for the most part, when he hasn’t flattened it out from constantly getting out of bed at night), so I’m not quite as irritated as I was about being unable to install the safety rail.

So we’re all pretty tired around here. No one is getting a lot of sleep at this point. I know that this, too, shall pass and that he won’t be this age forever. It’s a phase that we’ll get him through, just like we’ve gotten him through all the other phases he’s been through in his little life.

In the meantime, some good recuperative sleep sure would be nice…

“Trees! Mmmm good trees!” he said as he chomped on it. Trees are what he calls broccoli.

“What’s in your mouth, Nathan?” I asked. “Come here and give it to Mommy, please.” He hopped right on over to me, opened his mouth, and spit out what resembled a broccoli stem into my waiting palm. “Where’d you get this?” I asked. He just smiled and bounced out of the room.

A few minutes later, I walked into the kitchen and noticed some water had been spilled out of the vase holding my Valentine’s Day flowers Paul got me. I picked one of the flowers up out of the vase and noticed the stem had been chewed off.

Nathan had gnawed off part of the stem on one of my roses. And he then put it back into the vase, apparently thinking I would never notice.

So as I was about to apply some lipstick, I noticed it had been mauled by what looks like little toddler teeth. I’m pretty sure Nathan ate it since I have yet to find any evidence of it being elsewhere. That’s ok… at least he left me some…

In other news, Nathan says the funniest things sometimes.

Me: “I love you, Nathan.”
Nathan: “I love me toooooooo!”

He’s at such a precious age. Don’t get me wrong… it’s NOT an easy age to parent by any stretch of the imagination. But his sweet disposition totally makes up for the frustrating times. Take my half-eaten lipstick, for example. It’s frustrating because that just-so-happens to be my favorite lipstick that I own (doesn’t it always work that way? Your favorite things are the ones that get destroyed) but yet I couldn’t be mad at him. It’s what kids his age do. They eat Mommy’s favorite things and then dole out hugs like candy so that you won’t be mad when you discover what they’ve been up to.

He has no idea I am stockpiling records of these little antics to tell his future wife one day… shhhhh…

Yes, I am complaining. My neck is killing me, thanks to my extremely strong-willed toddler. I initially hurt my neck in December… it sucked, but compared to how I feel now, the pain was more of an aggravating nuisance. I was trying to get Nathan into his car seat and he bucked up and threw one of his mega tantrums, hurting my neck and back in the process. I tried to wait it out, but ended up going to the doctor in the beginning of January. He told me I had a pinched nerve and prescribed an NSAID (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory). I didn’t take it at that point because the pain was waning, so I saved it in case it flared up again.

Then a couple weeks ago, I reinjured my neck. I was trying to get Nathan into his high chair (due to having a teeny tiny house, we need to move our island out of the kitchen so we can move a table in… until then, I’m stuck with putting Nathan in his high chair) and of course, he would have none of this high chair business. So he threw another tantrum and wrenched my neck in the process. An hour or so later, I was putting away clean laundry. As I reached above my head to put away some blankets, I heard an audible pop! in my neck and then felt blinding white pain.

It’s been severe agony ever since.

I haven’t lost my range of motion in my neck itself, but I can’t shrug my shoulders. The only semi-comfortable position I can sleep in is on my stomach with my head turned to the right. Forget about sleeping on my right side or back. I have throbbing pain all through my neck radiating down into my right shoulder and also up into my skull- pain that’s so intense that I’m finding it hard to concentrate. And then the icing on the cake- a couple days ago, I started getting these flurries of piercing of headaches in the back of my head that radiate into my right eye, which I’m sure is related to my neck injury. It feels exaclty how I imagine it would feel if someone was stabbing me with an ice pick. Each one only last 1-2 seconds… 5 at most… but they are debilitating because I only get a few seconds of relief before the next wave hits. Fortunately after about 5-10 waves, they will dissipate for a while. But when it’s happening, it’s absolutely excruciating. I’ve tried everything… OTC medications like Tylonol, Ibuprofen, and Aleve don’t work. Neither do topical creams or numbing agents. Heat and ice don’t work either. I took my prescription NSAID, but it didn’t do a damn thing. Additionally, it made me gain 5 pounds in 4 days (which I have thankfully lost already)… and since I have been working my butt off getting down to my goal weight, that was unacceptable. Since there was no progress anyway, I discontinued using it.

I guess another call to the doctor is in order. My grin-and-bear-it attitude has not been successful. I think this is something that probably can’t just be “waited out.”

I HATE going to the doctor. It’s a pain because I have to try to figure out babysitting… there is no way I would take him with me- he’s in his I’m Into Everything Around Me phase, and it’s exhausting taking him anywhere where he has to sit and be quiet. Plus I hate being around sick people. It makes me feel all anxious and stuff. The last time I went for my neck, I was sitting out in the waiting room (which, for some ungodly reason, is not divided into a sick side and a well side), watching in horror as sick people coughed their noxious sputum all into the surrounding air without even attempting to cover their mouths. I could practically see the droplets reflect in the sunshine shafts as they hurled through the air. Kinda like how you can see dust dancing. Only this was disgusting sick people mucus, not dust. I cowered in chair in a corner that was as far away from everyone as I could get, trying to take slow, shallow breaths. I don’t care how silly/paranoid/neurotic that sounds. I don’t want someone else’s toxic sick mucus droplets incubating in MY lungs, no thank you. The office even supplied masks for those with a cough, but not one single person used one. They just open-mouthed coughed all over the place.

Seriously. HOW HARD IS IT TO COVER YOUR MOUTH? Did their mothers not teach them proper MANNERS? To everyone who is sick and coughs without covering their mouth, here is a big fat FUCK YOU, ASSHOLES. I hope your mucus boomerangs back into your lungs and makes you DOUBLY sick instead of infecting other people. Self-absorbed nitwits who don’t think about other people. And for God’s sake, DON’T COUGH ON YOUR HANDS. It’s nasty. We touch lots of things with our hands, and all those germs are transferred from your hand to anything you touch. Cough into your elbow. My toddler even knows how to do it.

GROSS.

So yeah. Anyway, being a parent is hard. Not just mentally, but physically as well. It wasn’t so bad when he was a little baby, but now he’s all big and strong-willed and determined, and even though I’m in great shape, I’m still no match for the ire of a disgruntled soon-to-be three-year-old.

So just the other day, I heard him issue his telltale dominating meow. But before I could get into the living room to reprimand him, Nathan clamored through the kitchen and into the living room as fast as his little legs could carry him. He ran right up to Meeper, squatted down, and said, “No, Meepa! No no! MIND THE MOMMY!”

That’s right, folks. I am THE mommy.

I have most of my Christmas shopping done! I spent all day Saturday braving the crowds, getting jostled by oblivious texters while walking crowded walkways. I seriously can’t stand people who text and conveniently forget that the world around them continues to revolve.

Oh yeah. Speaking of texters, I was almost hit the other day by a moron who was texting while driving (again. This seems to happen nearly every time I drive). I was passing her in the left lane because she apparently didn’t have the brainpower to keep her speed consistant… it varied drastically. So anyway, as I was passing her, I noticed she was looking down more than she was looking at the road. And then she veered into my lane and nearly hit me and Nathan as she was looking down.

People who text and drive aren’t the brightest crayons in the box. They are apparently clueless that they have greatly increased their odds of crashing and injuring someone because of their own self-absorption. They are thinking only about themselves and what THEY want.  I just hope that neither me or any of my family members or friends are hurt because of such brazen acts of sheer stupidity and self-centeredness.

So anyway, I braved the masses, hit some awesome sales, and got just about everything I needed to get for Christmas. I’m not usually able to get everything done this far ahead of time, so it’s nice to be able to relax and not stress as Christmas Day approaches.

In other news, Nathan is still being a bit ornery. This child is incredibly strong-headed and stubborn, and he keeps doing things he knows he’s not supposed to do just to test us and see what we will do about it. His most recent mischief involves climbing up onto his bookshelf to retrieve the baby powder. While I was distracted. On the computer. Can you guess where I am going with this?

Not only did he dump the baby powder all over his dresser, but he tried to pry the safety lock off one of the drawers. We’ve been having issues keeping it adhered to the dresser, and Nathan has been taking full advantage of this weakness. No big deal… it’s just clothes in there… but still. It’s the principle.

And now he is in time-out for climbing on top of his toy chest and messing with his radio (which is off limits!). I was on the computer, beginning to type this post (it seems most of his mischief occurs when I’m writing in this blog) and then I suddenly hear music blaring from his radio. I storm into his room only to catch him standing on the floor, smiling sweetly.

LIKE HE THOUGHT I WOULDN’T FIGURE IT OUT.

I love this cat, but I’m about done with him. I’m sick and tired of dealing with poop every day. Just go to the fucking litter box already. We even bought this really expensive litter called Cat Attract, which has really high ratings with effectiveness. All the reviews I read practically gushed with awesomeness and how the owners of the cats were pleasantly astounded that there was something out there that got their cat back to using the litter box. So we tried it.

FAIL.

If anything, it made the pooping worse.  The day the litter arrived, he pooped in the box the litter came in, so we had high hopes that this stuff would be powerful enough to attract him to the litter box. After all, just the lingering smell in the shipping box was enough to get his bowels moving.

Nope.

That night, he took SEVEN SHITS on the floor and peed on the tile in the back room. We’ve had a fecal test and a urinalysis done, and both came back normal. We’ve tried multiple different cat litters, added an extra litter box, clean them every day, removed the hoods off two of the boxes, changed cat food, tried punishing him, tried ignoring it (which made it even worse), tried giving him even more affection (which was worse than just ignoring it)… I’m seriously at my wit’s end with this.

SERIOUSLY.

Why, you ask? Well. Let me tell you. He poops in high-traffic areas where it will be seen such as in the hallways and places where I have STEPPED in it. He’s pooped in front of Nathan and my child PLAYED in it. He’s pooped on the couch, on the pillows on the couch, on the hoods of the litter boxes, in his favorite cat beds, on his scratching posts, under the cat tree, beside the water bowl, beside the food bowl, in Nathan’s time-out corner, right beside our shoes as well as ON Paul’s shoes, beside as well as ON his cat toys, in front of the front door… I’M DONE. I’m SO done.

Now, I’m no vet, but I really think he’s marking. I think Andrew is highly insecure and jealous of Nathan… and not to mention, one of our other cats, Meeper, has been trying to “dominate” Andrew, which is just a burr in his side and exacerbates the problem.

So I tried sequestering him in a small room to get him reacquainted with his territory and with the litter-box.

FAIL.

He left me 9 blobs of poop to clean up. His pooping is very calculated and deliberate. Whenever he’s about to go, he starts exhibiting behavior which alerts us to what he’s about to do. He sniffs around for a spot, hunches over on all fours and contracts his muscles… he is not losing control of himself. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. So most of the time when I see him about to go, I grab him and put him in the litter box. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

I want to give him away, but I can’t do that in good conscience without disclosing his pooping problem. And if he’s marking then relocating him will only make it worse. And not only that, but I am a really nice person. I’m a huge animal lover and a supporter of animal welfare (not animal rights… big difference). And even me, being the animal lover that I am, find myself resisting the urge to throw him out the door and let him take his chances with our busy road. It’s my first reaction when I get up in the morning and have to clean up SIX-EIGHT PILES OF CRAP. Too bad he’s been an indoor cat all his life or I would just give him to someone who could keep him outside. Also, I am OCD when it comes to germs and cleanliness so after I clean the poop up, I then disinfect the area. It takes a while. It’s hard not to get pissed off, ya know? So how could someone who doesn’t have nine-years of loving history with with this cat be able to handle his problem without losing their patience?

So we will be taking him to the vet soon. I think we have one more option- a feline anti-depressant. That is my absolute last resort. I don’t know what else to do… and Paul and I believe the core issue is that Andrew has become a highly insecure and jealous cat now that Nathan’s in the picture. As much as I don’t want to put him on medication, it’s my last resort for the sanity of everyone in this family.

I just want him to be his happy, poop-free little self again. The only reason we’ve been putting up with this for so long is because we remember how cool he used to be. He’s such a conversationalist and more like a dog than a cat. He even used to sit really cool… like a human with his little belly splayed out. He loves belly scratches and has even let me use him as a pillow. He rarely shows his belly anymore.

Now when Paul or I try to love on him and pet him, immediately when we’re done, he takes a big ole dump right beside us. And he still poops when we ignore him. We are damned if we do and damned if we don’t.

This has to stop.

So today, I walked past him as he was playing in his room. I heard him say, “Time to clean up!” and as I peeked my head through the door, I saw him picking up his Hot Wheels, one in each hand, and transporting them to their proper place into the basket on the toy shelf. He did this multiple times until all 50+ Hot Wheels were picked up off the floor.

I could not be more proud. I know plenty of adults who are too lazy to clean up after themselves, so seeing my two-year-old do it without any prompting makes me feel like I’m doing something right. I tell him all the time how important it is to clean up after himself because if he doesn’t do it, then that means someone else has to, and that’s not right.

For instance, I used to be a waitress when I was 16 years old. And out of all the different people that I served, guess who I hated waiting on the most? FAMILIES WITH KIDS. I especially hated, HATED waiting on the families with small children. Why, you ask? Well, because the majority of all the parents that came in apparently thought it was perfectly fine and “normal” for their kids to fling food all over the table and floor, spill drinks, be disruptive, and make the most God-awful messes I’ve ever seen. And the kicker? The reason why I hated serving them so much, aside from the irritation of dealing with a child who has no discipline?

SHITTY TIPPERS.

I tell you, parents with messy kids tended to leave the saddest tips I’d ever seen. You see, servers don’t get paid crap. At the time (over a decade ago), the hourly rate was $2.13 an hour, and to this day, it still hasn’t gone up to minimum wage. That’s because servers are expected to make up the difference with tips. So here I am, busting my ass cleaning up after these bratty little booger-crusted hellions and for next to nothing. No matter how great of a server I was… never letting their drinks empty, bringing their orders out in a timely manner, etc… they still only left a dollar or two. Even if that tip was 10-20% of their bill, when they allow their child(ren) to leave such a horrendous mess, they should tip more because the server now has to go above and beyond to take care of something the parents apparently didn’t have the capacity to take care of themselves. And the more time I had to spend cleaning up after a table, the less turnover I had, the less tables I could wait on, and the less money I could make.

It was really such a welcome relief when the few families with well-behaved, respectful kids came in. That’s probably why whenever we go out to eat, our server inevitably comments on how well-behaved Nathan is.

Here’s the deal. People who let their kids make these disgusting messes pretty much look like complete Parenting Failures to all who observe them. Typically speaking, the messy kids are also the ones throwing tantrums, screaming, standing up in their seats, flinging food across the room, climbing up on top the tables, being disruptive and disturbing the other patrons, etc etc etc etc. Lazy parenting at it’s best, folks. So what gives me the right to say that?  Well, my two-year-old would LOVE to do those things. I’ve never, NEVER allowed him to drop his food on the floor, take food off his plate or play with it, stand up in his seat, climb on the table, or any of that. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely tries. But I am the PARENT. It’s my job to prepare him for the next stage in life, and letting him do all those things teaches him nothing but how to be self-absorbed, entitled, and bratty. My child will not be allowed to be a brat. I know he is capable of better, therefore I expect more of him. I teach him what I expect of him when we’re at the table. And when he doesn’t comply, there are consequences (like putting him in time out, for example. And there have been many, many times I’ve had to get up from the table, take him outside, and put him in time out for not minding me at the table.)

Time and time again, I see parents “check out” while their kid runs amok at restaurants.

There is no excuse. None. Put on your big girl (or boy) panties and BE A PARENT. Teach your child the right way to behave. It’s not the kids’ fault that their parents suck, and believe me they will pay for your failures as they grow into adults, and that’s not fair to the child.  They usually end up becoming bratty, self-absorbed and entitled adults who won’t be able to get far in life.  What a shame.

I can’t stand to see bad parenting because it’s so selfish on the parents’ part and is nothing but detrimental to the child. Your child deserves better. Your child deserves a parent who is going to at least TRY mold them into becoming a responsible adult. I have friends whom I am embarrassed to go eat with because their own children, who are older than my son, are hellions at the table. When we leave the restaurant, my son’s area is clean. There is no food on the floor, no spilled drinks (I understand it’s inevitable, but some kids spill their drink nearly every single time they eat) and no disruptions such as standing up in his chair or getting up and running around the table.

The world doesn’t revolve around a single one of us. We have to be respectful of others, and we have to understand how our actions affect those around us. It’s our job as parents to teach our children those same principals. Anything less is letting your child down and inadequately preparing him/her for life. That’s not fair to the child.

Nathan: “Ma! Mommy! Mom! Mommy! Mama! Ma! Mom! Mom! Mama! Mommy! Mommy! Ma! Ma! Ma! Mom! Mom! Mama! Mama! Mama! Mama! MAMA! MAMA! MOMMY! MOM! MOM!”

Me: “What, Nathan.”

Nathan: “I wove you!” (That’s how Nathan says “love.”)

Yes, my child has gotten into the annoying habit of saying Mommy, Ma, Mama, and Mom over and over again, trying to get my attention.  It reminds me of that Family Guy clip. I don’t particularly care for that show, but the clip is hilarious.

Me: “Nathan, you’re not minding me. Do you want time out?”

Nathan: “Yes!”

Me: “You do? You want time out?”

Nathan: “YES!”

Me: “Fine. Go to time out.”

Nathan: “Yes, Mommy! I sorry! Yes, yes timeout!” (while throwing a temper tantrum and flopping around like a fish-out-of-water on the floor)

Me: “You don’t REALLY want time out, do you? Don’t say yes unless you REALLY want time out.”

Nathan: “Yes.”

Me: “…”

The above conversation is something I deal with every day, multiple times a day. It can really be enough to drive someone crazy, especially when temper tantrums are thrown into the mix. He knows darn good and well what the word “yes” means, so I don’t know why he is using it the wrong way. Unless he’s trying to test me. That is TOTALLY Nathan. He is my little tester… constantly testing his boundaries to see exactly how much he can get away with. Unfortunately, he does not realize that Mommy is not amused (and is, in fact, the OPPOSITE of amused) at his antics.