I was reading amalah.com’s post about going to a blogging conference in San Jose this weekend and it totally hit home. While I couldn’t be more excited to finally meet other bloggers and spread the word about motherblogger since I feel like I’ve been blogging in a vacuum until just about the other day I’m torn about leaving preschool and babyblogger home with nannyblogger. See when I got wind of the conference, I convinced Fatherblogger it was just the trip we needed—alone. We’d get uninterrupted sleep for THREE nights and yes (more…)

Since we’ve been spending every weekend away at someone’s house—it gets hot in the city—I find myself packing Thursday and unpacking Sunday and I’ve finally got it down to a pretty good science. But the one thing I realize that are as important as wipes: thank you cards. From now on, I’m packing them and writing them the morning we leave so that I’ve said thank you for the wonderful weekend before the working week rush. I just got an email from the friend we visited this weekend and I was so annoyed with myself because she emailed me hello before I got to email her thank you for the amazing meals and good times. I know its a small thing, but its those small things that make a difference.

My heart is all afflutter. Today’s Mom’s Daily Dose has a really funny riff on all the blogs that talk about poop. What a thrill for me to read. I started my own category: grosser than gross because I wanted to come clean about those shocking moments when everything goes to crap—literally. And now I know I’m not alone.

Preschoolblogger has become very interested in his butt. On the plane going to Boston this past weekend he had an accident and peed in his pants, what can you do, the TVs on Jet Blue are just that exciting. So he’s sitting in his seat in only wearing a new pair of underwear because I was a bad mommy and forgot to put extra pair of pants in the babybag. And he asks fatherblogger sitting next to him to tickle him. So fatherblogger tickles his side. No, he says very loudly: Tickle my butt. Tickle my butt. Tiiiiccckkkllleee my BUTT!

Then today, I was at the drugstore buying Bourdreaux’s Butt Paste for Babyblogger and preschoolblogger says: Butt Paste! Butt Paste? Why on Earth do we need paste for our butts?

And then after dinner we were walking to get an ice cream and because I’m a few feet ahead of him he shouts out: Hey mom I’m farting. I’m farting big farts.

Tonight I was supposed to go to a bingo birthday party at Tortilla Flats. It’s a traditon, we’ve gone for five years and our table has never won. This, our sixth year anniversary was going to be our year. But babyblogger had a virus and I needed to be home. I felt bad but once I got home I was glad to deal with his horrendous diaper rash, running nose and upset tummy myself. And after I put babyblogger to bed preschool blogger and I got to hang out. Fatherblogger is away on business (and if this storm keeps up I’m afraid he’ll never get home) so I let him stay up late (more…)

The other day we all went to visit grandparentbloggers and swim in their pool. At dinner, preschoolblogge who was very happy to be eating his pasta in the buff started to twist aroudn his chair. He kept bending over, reaching really really hard to bend all the way over his groin. I asked him what he was trying to do, having some suspicion and he said, “I’m trying to bite it.”

Oh, ok, just not at the table dear.

The other morning after successfully sleep training babyblogger I brought him into my bed to snuggle while I gave him a bottle. He was in a happy, smiling mood and after the bottle I let him sit on my belly and gurgled at him. He gurgled back and then threw up in my face.

In a daze trying to sleep train babyblogger,  preschoolblogger wakes up and needs to use the loo. I lead him to the bathroom and help him take off his nighttime diaper. I notice he’s made a small poop and I dispose of it and help him wipe himself and send him back to bed. Afterwards, I use the bathroom and notice it still smells, but am too tired to deal. The next moring I wake up and there is a poop the size of a stapler on the floor clearly, that was the main event from the night before.