Ear Worms

Ear worms. I'm not talking actual worms wriggling about in the canals of your ears. I'm talking a song, or a little snippet of a song that gets stuck in your head and won't get out.

Over the past week, I've noticed that Toddler's been plagued by ear worms. Earlier this week it was This Land is my Land. I can tell that one frustrated her because she didn't know the words to the song and was going around in circles with the first verse. Over and over she went with "this land is my land, this land is your land, from California to la la la la la."

Yesterday, it was Kookaburra.

"Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree eating all the gumdrops he can see. Stop Kookaburra! Stop Kookaburra! Leave some there for me!"

Over and over she sang that one verse of Kookaburra. After a day of hearing it, I was curious about the whole song. So, in a spectacular parenting fail, I opened Spotify and looked it up. As soon as the song started, Toddler looked at me like I kicked her and ran full speed to her room yelling, "nooooooooo!". I found her hiding under her blankets humming her ear worm. I felt like a jerk.

What's a mom to do? I had to help the kid. Bad enough she had an ear worm then I had to unintentionally make it worse. I realized that if I made an even bigger deal out of the ear worm, it would stay longer so I stealthily set about helping her out.

Onto Bing I went. I came across a BBC news article on how to get rid of ear worms and started running down the list.

The first suggestion was to sing Simply the Best by Tina Turner. So I sang the only lyrics I know. Toddler just shook her head. Either she didn't like the song or I sing a terrible rendition. Who am I kidding? I sing a terrible rendition.

The next was to visualize your ear worm song playing on a record player and imagine yourself lifting the needle. I had a laugh at that one. It was going to take me ages to explain to Toddler what a record player was.

Another suggestion: long division or difficult Sudoku puzzles. Nope, not going to work. BBC was letting me down.

Next on the list of search results, The Health Sciences Institute. They suggest replacing your ear worm with another song. I wondered if that's replacing one ear worm with another? It was worth a shot so I started playing Toddler songs that I didn't think she'd heard before to distract her from her noxious Kookaburras.

I think it worked because she eventually stopped singing. Kookaburras didn't invade our breakfast this morning and they didn't show up on our morning drive to preschool. Yay!

You know where the Kookaburras showed up? In MY head on the drive home from pre school. Damn. Laugh Kookaburra! Laugh Kookaburra! Arrrgh!

It Came, It Saw, It Conquered

We were on our way to meet friends for a play date last Friday morning. Toddler was chatting happily in the back of the car, clearly looking forward to play time when she suddenly went quiet. Too quiet. A quiet Toddler scares me. For a quiet Toddler is a problem toddler. A quiet Toddler is up to something...

This quiet toddler was up to something alright. She was heaving. Before I could pull over to the side of the road, she spewed her morning oatmeal all over the back seat. Poor little thing. So, I took a quick left up Diamond Ridge Road and  made my way home to deal with the poor bawling, barfing little girl in my backseat.

I thought a warm bath, a nap and a thorough scrub down of my car would be the end of it. Oh how wrong I was.

I send Hunter a message to let him know what was going on and I got a short message back saying, "I don't feel good, either. I think I'm coming down with something." With Hunter, that could mean anything from a headache to the sniffles. In hindsight, I feel like the worst wife on earth for giving him a mental, "whatever."

Hunter came home from work all pale and sweaty. As is his usual custom, he headed straight for the shower. I heard the shower start and just as quickly I heard it stop. "Oh no. No no no, this isn't happening," I said to myself.

Hunter emerged from the bathroom a half hour later looking near death. He sat down on the couch then quickly got up again. "I have to puke," he said before he broke into a sprint. I'll be honest, Hunter's a loud barfer and the sound of him retching from the spare bathroom sent me running.

Thank goodness the kids were safe because there was no way on this earth we were capable of taking care of them for the next hour. A quick text for help and my lovely Texan friend dropped Pedialiite, ginger ale and Clorox on my doorstep - she deserves a special place in heaven for that.

Over the next two days, Toddler watched more Dora the Explorer than she's ever been allowed. The flu hit her Friday morning and she was fine by afternoon. The rest of us were down for a couple of days. For a while, we were wondering if Little Hunter would need an ER visit but he rallied and finally managed to keep something down.

Being as sick as we were, we couldn't responsibly take Toddler out in public, no matter how full of beans she felt. She had to stay in with us and wait it out.

Toddler's Dora marathon has had some nasty repercussions - for example, Dora needs help to do just about anything. Ever since we were sick, Toddler's asked for help with everything from breakfast eating to slipping feet into rain boots - things she can completely do on her own. On the plus side, her Spanish vocabulary has greatly improved.

It seems like every family has a similar tale. This was our first and I'm betting it won't be our last. I feel thinner and wiser now. I have learned to: always keep a stash of Pedialite on hand and to be more vigilant of little people's hygiene habits. I also learned that Dora needs to go. We need a new show, a show that doesn't require so much "help."

Keeping up with the Alaskatarians

So this morning, after a tough negotiation session with Toddler over pants (I lost), I dropped her off at pre-school and drove myself out to McNeil Canyon meats with a bucket full of partially-frozen moose meat.

Hunter's got a caribou hunt in the works and I realized that if he gets one, I'm going to need some freezer space to accommodate it. I also need to figure in the salmon and halibut he plans to catch.

I've been enjoying this Alaskatarian diet but to be honest, I started to forget about the meat in my freezer and started leaning into vegetarian and vegan meals. I think it's mostly out of laziness and an inability to plan ahead - mornings are busy enough these days without having to think about what to take out for dinner. In my house, there's also the issue of having to scale over Hunter's hunting and camping gear to get to the freezer. Somewhere along the way, after stepping in one-too-many garage puddles and suffering cold, wet socks and tripping over tents and boxes, I stopped trying.

My dedicated vegetarian friend plans her menus every week. She shops once and is done with it. That's working for me these days. I'm finally cured of my post-Dillingham shopping disorder; I don't really feel exhilarated by grocery shopping anymore. I think seniors' day at Safeway fixed my wagon.

Thinking about a weekly menu and writing it down also caused me to be a bit more creative. For variety sake and for the sake of using the ingredients I've purchased, I've been trying out previously overlooked recipes with great success. Little Hunter eats everything and Toddler eats nothing, so I have a carte blanche. (It won't last, I know).

This week's menu includes a yam and peppita quesadilla with a sweet and spicy chipotle sauce, a caramelized tofu and mushroom stir fry and a vegetable linguini with peanut sauce. Yum. The way it is, I can look at my menu at around 4:30, pick a meal and get to work. I can chop vegetables during Little Hunter's last nap of the day, assemble dinner during Dora the Explorer, bake dinner durning bath time. When all is said and done, I get to enjoy dinner with Hunter and two lovely smelling kids.  

This time, my McNeil Canyon meat order was focused on summer food. My barbecue melted out of the snow last week and we're feeling ready to grill!  The gentlemen out East are stuffing me some Bratwurst as I type. They ground me some burger this morning and for those very rare days I feel like scaling Mount Hunter out in the garage, some italian sausage for spaghetti (the only one meal that everyone in my house eats).

All right summer: I'm ready for you. Only three more feet of snow to go!

Raining Babies!

It seems like it's been raining babies for the past few months in Homer. For a while, I thought Hunter and I were the last of our friends to have a baby then all of a sudden, a wonderful new crop of friends pops up, many of whom are expecting.

Our lovely new friends make Hunter and I feel like veteran parents. I'd like to say professional parents but in all honesty, we can't get Toddler to eat vegetables, we use Dora the Explorer when we need a few minutes to ourselves and we still haven't mastered sleeping through the night. I don't think we qualify.

What we have learned in the past three and a half years as parents is how to equip your kid for babyhood in Alaska. New friends of ours mentioned that they really don't know what they need for an Alaskan baby so for them and all other new parents, here is our Top 10 list:

1. A Non-Slip Winter Coat

A what? This winter, I bought myself a lovely new Columbia winter coat. It's nice and warm, kinda fashionable and easy to clean. The reason I don't wear it much? Friction. Little Hunter has a winter suit made with the same slippery material. It's awfully hard to hold him when we're both dressed for outside. I'm always hitching him up and he's always sliding down - once again proving that polyester is your frenemy.

2. A Baby Backpack

This was probably the best piece of baby gear we bought. We picked up a Kelty Kids Carrier from REI. One with legs so that it was easier to get on and off when we were alone. I just put Little Hunter in his backpack, set it on the kitchen counter and strap myself in. We thought about a stroller but with the amount of snow and the terrain in these parts, a backpack would get more use. So that's where we sank our money. Make sure you add the rear-view mirror option. It'll save you some serious body contortions while you try not to accidentally slap a branch in your sleeping baby's face.

3. The 2.5 Tog Gro Baby Sleep Sack

Forget the light weight sleep sacks you find in stores. The Gro Baby Sleep Sack is perfect for people with Toyo stoves. Why? Because a house can get cold during your nightly setback. At least ours does. This sleep sack is warmer than most and can double as a sleeping bag during camping season.

4. The Bundleme Car Seat Cover

According to the car seat experts here in Homer, we're not supposed to put baby in a car seat while wearing a snow suit. What's a parent to do when temperatures dive? Put on the car seat cover. Keeps baby snug and warm.

5. An Unique Winter Hat

What's cuter than a baby in a cute little winter hat? Not much. My personal favourite is the pook toque. Little Hunter and Toddler each have one. Makes me smile each time they put them on.

6. Nomar Mittens

Nomar in Homer makes great baby mittens. They come with the string attached so you can slide them through your baby's snow suit. Even if your snowsuit has hand covers, still use the mittens. I found that both my kids had cold hands without them.

7. The Moby Wrap

I remember the first time I met a friend's baby girl. We were out snowshoeing at Wynn Nature Center and there she was, wrapped snug as a bug in her Moby inside her mom's jacket. Homer moms seem to swear by their Mobys. They're hard to figure out at first but once you've got it, you've got it. 

8. Columbia Fleece Bunting

I bought one of these for Toddler at the Columbia outlet in North Seattle. It was on clearance for $6. I tell you, it was worth every penny and then some. These little outfits are a great extra layer for when it gets really cold and they're a great full-body suit to wear in the in-betweens of spring.  If you can't find one, we've used a pair of fleece pajamas, one size up, over top of clothes for that extra bit of warmth.

9. Photo Back up Devices 

This is a big one. I think I'm going to buy flash drives for my next baby shower present. Back up your photos, friends. In multiple places. Local storage, cloud storage and external storage: do it!

10. The Jolly Jumper

My brother sent me one of these. It hangs in my bathroom doorway - I'm actually not sure if you can find these in the US. Mine came from Canada but sources tell me they are available, I just haven't been able to find one. It's the only reason I don't stink. Little Hunter can bounce to his little heart's content while I take a shower. I bought a clear shower curtain to go along with my potentially contraband Jolly Jumper so I can keep an eye on the guy and cut my shower short if he gets too bouncy. That hasn't happened yet. Oh sweet sweet shower, how I love thee!

Alaska Moms, if you have anything to add, please send me a comment!

Out!

It's time for Little Hunter to sleep in his own bed. It occurred to me the other day that he is by far the most comfortable sleeper of anyone in this household. 

This little guy spends his nights sprawled out on three-quarters of a king bed, using me a kick plate when he wants something to eat, a back rub or someone to play with.  Meanwhile, his dad is sleeping in the office and his sister is huddled up on the guest bed, having claimed that as her own ages ago. I find her every night huddled up with only blankie keeping her warm. Probably time to make it official and get her her own bedding.

Yup, it's time to get this little dude sleeping on his own both for his sake and ours. Five nights. That's how long "they" said it should take Little Hunter to get used to the new world order. Five nights.

Tonight's night four. Over the past three nights, Little Hunter's gone from howling at the mere sight of his bed to a quiet but clear grumble when being put down. Hopefully tonight is the last of it and he's used to his own space. I hope so because I'm tired. So very tired.

Meanwhile, I'm going to start looking for Toddler-approved bedding. Never in a million years did I think that I'd be googling queen-sized Dora the Explorer duvet covers in organic cotton. Pretty sure they don't make those. Hopefully I can find something in purple that isn't terribly heinous. 

On a less sleep-deprived front, I ordered a new gadget to ease the effects of spring fever in my house. Ideally, my new gadget would be a treadmill but we don't have room for that. Instead, I ordered a balance board. It arrived the other day and it's a hit. Feeling punchy because it's snowing outside, AGAIN? Have a go at "walking the dog" or "maintaining center". You can't be too upset about snow while trying very hard not to fall flat on your face. It's even better if you can imagine yourself on a surfboard in Maui.

Waiting our Turn...

There's a stomach flu racing its way through Homer's wee people. It's not one of those tidy, 24-hour affairs, either. No, it's a days long mess that apparently leaves its victims pale and drained of all energy.

It's coming for us.

I thought we dodged it a few weeks ago when an e-mail from Toddler's preschool came out advising us that there was a reported case of Rotavirus. Toddler didn't get sick so I thought I was in the clear.

Week before last, our good friends came down with the flu. All of them. Started with their baby girl, moved on to their toddler and on to the parents. They were sick for DAYS. Then there was the text message from my friend letting us know that her son was down. He was sent into SPH for iv fluids.

Our good friends just let us know that both of their girls came down with the flu. These are the two healthiest kids I know. They're my bell-weather of illness. They're not doing so well. Not cool.

Toddler's not feeling well this afternoon, I can tell. The throw-ups haven't started but I know they will. Poor girl looks like a wee vampire, all drained of colour. She's hot and sweaty yet trying to convince us she's just fine. I put her to bed with a bucket nearby and told her to come and get me if her tummy feels funny.

Hunter thinks we're taking the boat out for its inaugural 2013 run tomorrow. I tried to explain to him that he might not want to get his hopes up too high but he was having none of it.

The guy's been getting the boat ready for weeks. He cleaned and fixed all that needed cleaning and fixing. He straightened out all the wiring, installed a new compass and tuned up the motors. He put so much work into it and he's pretty stoked about getting out. As I write, he's restringing and greasing up all of his fishing reels.

He doesn't understand what's coming. It might even be coming for him. I hope not. Bad enough having a sick toddler but a sick husband who's already suffering a raging case of spring fever? Not cool. Not cool at all.

Clandestine Pie

Little Hunter has finally started eating solids. The decision to start him was actually his. He was sitting on my lap one day while I was eating dinner and his chubby little hand reached out to my plate and grabbed a spear of asparagus. Now, when a six month-old grabs something, they do it with gusto. They keep a death grip on whatever it is they have and like an alligator have a hard time opening up and letting go.

I had an awfully hard time trying to pry that slimy piece of asparagus from his hands and before I knew it, in to his mouth it went. He gave it a good work-over with his new front teeth and down the hatch it went.

He's been an eating machine ever since. I know I need to gradually introduce foods to the guy but instead of a methodical and slow introduction its been a more a case of trying to save the little guy from himself. He likes to eat when and what we do and he makes big production out of communicating that he wants a bite of whatever it is we're eating. If we decline, he whines and squeals and carries on until we relent and give him an acceptable bite.

Luckily he can eat meat so we've been starting him on game. He's a fan of sausage. Polish seems to be his favourite.

He likes Mexican food, too. Rice and beans are a huge hit. I discovered that last week when I took Hunter out for a Mexican lunch date. Little Hunter devoured half my lunch. Sadly, the other half got scattered all over the restaurant. ( My apologies to the lovely lunchtime waitress at Don Jose's. I'll bring a splat mat next time I come).
 
Now the other day, I found myself at Fred Meyer in Soldotna, standing in front of a display of luscious looking strawberries. They were even on sale. Oh boy!

My favourite pie in the whole entire world is a strawberry rhubarb pie. Love it love it love it. Every year, I freeze Alaskan rhubarb so that I'm sure to have some when strawberry season comes. Every year, I joyfully make myself a pie.

I've got everything ready to go to make my first strawberry rhubarb pie of the season tonight and I can hardly wait!

Sadly for Little Hunter, he can't have strawberries yet. I haven't introduced wheat yet, either. Apparently in 2008, they changed the recommendations about introducing wheat to babies and I can if I want; I just haven't. Sugar, too. Haven't introduced him to added sugars and I'm not about to start.

Sorry little man, this year's batch of pie is out for you.

Unfortunately for Hunter and I, babies know when you're up to something (like sneaking a pie). I'll bet Little Hunter's not going to bed until very late this evening. Oh yes, his little baby senses will have him up giggling and laughing until the sun goes down (which is close to 9pm these days).

So we'll have to sit and wait for the kid to sleep before busting into dessert tonight. Maybe we'll take turns and eat pie on the front porch in the snow? Clandestine pie tastes better afterall.

Owie Sagas

Toddlers are funny little creatures. For a while there, that the standard greeting among the three year-old set changed from a boisterous "hi!" to a quick hello followed by a rundown of owies; both real and imagined. 

Each little nick or scratch is considered a badge of honour and much back-and-forth ensures about how the owie happened and how much it hurt.

Then last week, I cut myself while slicing onions and had to put on a bandaid. That was a revelation for Toddler. I'd been purposely hiding bandaids up until then. I knew full well that a bandaid married two of Toddlers most favourite things in the whole wide world: owies and stickers. Worse, the bandaids I had were pink. When I bought them a year ago, I had NO IDEA that Toddler would be into princesses and that she'd associate light pink with princess things.

With great hesitation, I pulled out a princess owie sticker. Toddler was so excited.

For a week Toddler tried her best to convince me that she needed an owie sticker. I told her that they're used to stop bleeding or to cover up a cut, not for decoration. She's not happy about that explanation and has been going to impressive lengths to con me out of the box ever since. 

Fast forward to Saturday. The weather was fantastic so we decided to hop in the plane and fly to Seward for an afternoon at the SeaLife Center. 

Hunter had the plane attached to the generator to warm up the engine. He and Toddler were busy untying the plane's tail and wings and taking off its snow covers and I got to work unplugging the generator and lifting it into the back of Hunter's truck.

I couldn't get the tailgate down so I decided to lift the generator up and rest it on the top of the tailgate, then lower it down into the truck. It was a great plan, so I thought. Sadly, I wound up crashing the generator on a finger as I brought it down on the tailgate. I still don't really know how I managed to do that. 

As I danced around and tried my best not to let obscenities fly, I realized that a bandaid might make it better, even though I wasn't cut or bleeding. It would keep me from looking at my poor squished finger and pathetically over-analyzing the extend of the damage. Out of sight, a little less out of mind.

One of the mantras of parenting is consistency and walking the talk. So yeah, no princess owie sticker for me. I spent a lovely flight to Seward watching my finger nail turn a lovely shade of pink (ooo, a princess nail!) and sizing up all my nurse friends to decide who I'd call to help me fix the pressure that Hunter was sure was going to hurt like nothing else later that day.

Luckily, I didn't have to call a nurse friend. I don't have a princess nail anymore, I have a purple one. I might have to amend the owie sticker rule to include ugly injuries you don't want to look at.

That's not my car!!!

It still amazes me how different every little baby is. Before I had kids, I figured a baby was a baby was a baby. That there was no real difference from one baby to the next aside from small physical quirks. Oh, now naive was I!

The vast differences between my own two kids surprises and amazes me every single night. Where Toddler was a predictable sleeper, her little brother really isn't. What's this have to do with my car? Well...

For all his mellowness and contentedness, Little Hunter, as the French say, isn't doing his nights. When he was born, I bought him a co-sleeper. I figured with him sleeping at my side, I wouldn't have to get out of bed so often at night and I might, just might be a tad more rested to tackle a day with two kids. Plus, I figured getting to a crying baby quickly would reduce any disturbance to Hunter and Toddler.

That was a mistake. My nighttime Sinatra quickly realized it was nice in our bed and kicked up a giant fuss when we put him back into his co-sleeper. So, now the guy sleeps beside me and like clockwork every morning at 5 a.m., he gets up to sing. It's terribly cute to hear him but after a few nights in a row, it gets tired. I get tired. 

Yesterday at about 4:30 in the afternoon, I realized I was missing a few crucial ingredients to dinner. So I piled the kids into the car and we headed down to Safeway. Toddler decided to wear her complete snow suit to the store. Half-way through our expedition, she decided to take it all off in the middle of the store: mittens, scarf, coat, snowpants, boots and all. We Love & Logic-ed our way out of that one and finished up our list. On the way out, it occurred to me that I was pretty tired and that Hallelujah, I could be in bed in three hours. I could muscle through three hours.

I pushed the cart, kids and groceries out of the store and up to the mud-splattered grey car that, in my mind, had a funny license plate. I opened the back door and thought to myself, "oh, how sweet of Hunter to clean out the back of my car. He must have known that was on my to do list." Then I started packing in my groceries. I directed Toddler to open her door and climb in her car seat and set about arranging the bottle of wine I bought so it wouldn't crash around in the back.

That's when Toddler uttered the most horrifying words I've heard her say in weeks, "Mommy, where's my seat?" 

"Oh my goodness, this isn't my car!!!" I hollered back to her. Probably too loudly. Feigning calm, I asked Toddler to get out and close the door. I quickly put my groceries back into the cart and hustled off to my own car, which was parked an aisle away. 

So, to the owner of the late-model Grey Honda CR-V parked at Safeway yesterday, I'm sorry. Kudos to you though for keeping such a nice clean car. I don't know how you do it. Mine looks like a bomb went off inside of it. Your car even smells lovely. Mine smells like kids. 

Sorry again. I won't blame you if you start locking your car.

Iron Mom

They're called baby feeders. My brother introduced me to them when my first nephew was starting solids. Basically, they're a mesh bag that you fill with some kind of soft food and then insert into a ring. You then screw this ring onto a holder and hand it to your baby who then chews and sucks on the bag to get the food out.

These things are such a good idea in theory. Truthfully, Toddler loved hers and Little Hunter is enthusiastically getting the hang of his. 

The problem with these things is that they're utterly gross. When your kid's done with his feeder, there's always food left behind and its your job as a mom is to disassemble the thing and use your hands to clean out the slobbery, slimy, half-chewed mess left behind. Yuck.

While cleaning out Little Hunters slimy, gooey banana feeder today, it occurred to me that the amount of grossness in my life has increased exponentially since having kids. Entering momhood meant having to get over myself and, with dignity and grace, handle things that frankly should require a hazmat team. Or at least someone with a stronger stomach.

While in Florida, Toddler got a stomach bug. Poor little girl threw up for 24 hours straight. She couldn't even brush her teeth without throwing up. I hate throw up. I really really really do. The bug first hit her in the parking lot of a gymnastics gym. She filled her car seat and then started crying. Poor kid. The kindest woman came out of the gym and helped me with paper towels and a trash bag so that I could contain the mess long enough to get back to my in-laws. I never did ask her but I bet that woman had more than one kid. She was unfazed.

I, on the other hand, was fazed. Despite being fazed, I put on my Iron Mom face and gave Toddler a big barfy hug and cleaned her up as best I could. I was nauseated for a good two weeks after that. I KNOW it was all in my head. The only thing wrong with me was me.

Poop in the bath. That's another one that gets me. It happens to all kids in their childhood and as a mom, you can't make a big deal about things like that. Even though your inner diva is screaming "this is so gross, so gross, so gross," your Iron Mom smiles calmly and says, "oh, it's no big deal honey, happens to everyone!" The challenge then becomes quelling the urge to go at your kid with a scrub brush and industrial-strength soap (after you've calmly bleached and scrubbed tub, of course).

Runny Noses! That's another horrible one. Little Hunter has the tail end of a cold. Poor little dude is a runny-nosed mess. I happen to know my mother is grossed out by a runny nose. I've actually seen her gag at the sight of a besnotted kid. I think I inherited that from her. 

I used to have a lot of black clothes. I don't anymore. Baby snot on a dark shirt shows up like evidence under a black light. I change shirts a few times a day now as my little guy uses me as his personal hanky. 

I wonder if this will always gross me out or if one day, I'll wake up with Iron Mom superpowers? Powers to deal with whatever the kids throw at me without having to quell my inner diva.  I sure hope so.