Life With Two Two Years Apart. And Warm Toddler Pajamas Not Made With Fire Retardants.

I don’t have any photos for you.  Know why?  Because I am a mom of an almost 3 month old and a toddler.  I recently received a link from a girlfriend explaining the plight of a mother in a similar situation and it sums it up perfectly.

CLICK HERE to read it.

However, never one to be silent on such matters let me illuminate you as to the accuracy of that post with my own example.

Coincidentally, that very same friend came over for a visit the other day.  She was to arrive at 11am.  Let me tell you how my morning went as I prepared for her arrival.

I woke at 6 something with Dub (who is now two years old) and tended to our morning activities.  Thomas The Train for him and breakfast making for me.  I had three very lofty goals to achieve (for myself) by 11am.  Teeth brushed, clothes changed (since I had been wearing and sleeping in the same ones for two days out of necessity), and house somewhat acceptable.

By 8 sharp Doll baby was up too and nursing.  That takes a good 20 minutes.  Then diaper/clothes change for her and beginning the emotional preparation necessary to ready Dub for a diaper change.  He blatantly refused, and as I am reading a new book called “Don’t make me count to three” which addresses how to reach your child’s heart in order to remedy behaviors, I didn’t count to three.  (I have yet to reach the part in the book where they provide an alternative, so I spend a lot of time just not acting…or speaking when I get a negative response.  I should probably finish the book.)

I cannot have him smelling like poop when my friend gets here.  I can look like hell and my house can look like hell but my children should not smell like poop.

Carrying Dolly around and picking up what I can reach I continue to coerce Dub into a diaper change.  NOT having it.  He smells like a bomb exploded in his pants.  Eventually, I get Dolly down for a nap and attempt to lovingly encourage Dub to lay down willingly for THE EVENT.  He is arching his back and crying again by the time I get his pants down and I see that, in fact, a bomb HAS exploded in his diaper.  Since it is clear there will be poop everywhere if I attempt this without his full cooperation, I pull his pants back up, inform him that he will be staying in his room until he is ready for a diaper change, and close the door.  The screams that filled this home during that tantrum were mind-boggling to say the least.

By now it is about 9:30.  I sip my now cold cup of coffee and listen to Dolly waking up from Dub’s screams.  I get her up and nurse her again.  Dub is not letting up.  I put her in her crib and go tend to Dub.  Know what I find when I open his door?  You got it.  A naked two-year old in an almost all white room, which is now painted…brown.  I calmly but firmly wrangle him in order to clean him off which takes a good 15 minutes.  I sit on the ground and invite him to come give me hugs and we talk about what seems fun to do next.  (Now is not the time for lessons.)  He agrees that apples and carrots in the living room sound great!  (The tantrum is over.)  Get him dressed.  Quickly and insanely efficiently I clean poop off the rug and whatever else.  Go grab Dolly and put my laid-out clothes away since me changing seems impossible; change her diaper, sit down to nurse.  I notice something brown on her shirt.  How is it possible?  I washed my hands WELL.  I look down and there is a huge brown goopy thing on my finger.  Obviously I missed some poop and it must be ON me somewhere.  I am stuck however, until Dolly finishes nursing, so I hold my finger out and wait.  It is 10:30.  I don’t know why, but I smelled my finger.  Guess what?  It’s chocolate!  WHERE is that coming from?  Oh, right.  I put two chocolate chips in my bra to hide them from Dub on my way to his advent calendar so he could find the treats in the pocket of the calendar.  Obviously I forgot about them with all the chaos that was happening.  Well that is a relief, but still, there is chocolate all over my boobs and on Dolly’s clothes and I need to clean both of us up before 11.

Right then Dub sits down in front of me and loudly fills. his. diaper. AGAIN.

Dolly finishes nursing.  I run to the back to change her, clean me off and put on a new bra and shirt.  I walk out into the living room to attempt another poopy toddler diaper change.

My girlfriend is standing at the front door.

****

In other news…why do there seem to be NO chemical free/warm toddler pajamas???

If you are looking, I scoured the internet to find a natural, breathable material that is free of fire-retardant chemicals.

Here ya go.

http://snugorganics.com/product/organic-cotton-sherpa-sleeper/

If you are curious why you shouldn’t put your babes in fire-retardant laden clothing look it up.

I cannot afford to have entire wardrobes free of such things, and until now have had Dub wearing fleece footed pajamas.  He will continue to as they were given to us and purchased second-hand and have been washed a lot so…I try to feel better about it.  But when you think about it, we spend a lot of time in our pajamas, so for our kids, it is probably best to put some thought into what they sleep in.

Since I am looking to actually buy something new because he needs some extra warm ones, I am putting thought into what it is made of and what it is made with.

Dolly wears only cotton and wool since newborns really shouldn’t wear man-made materials.  Why?  They don’t breathe.  Babies overheat and need to wear breathable materials.  Not microfiber, not minky, not not not…

For Dub, I have discovered that it gets wicked cold in his room at night and he needs something mightily warm, but breathable, and of course, I don’t want him breathing in chemicals all night.

There.  That is WHY.  Truthfully, I have relaxed a whole bunch since the fire, and we aren’t eating entirely organic or anything anymore (gasp!) so I only really focus on the things that matter tons and I think healthy sleep environments are one of those things.

Happy day to you.  I’m going to go try to wash my hair now.

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