Update.

I just thought you all would be interested to know that after yesterday's nap, he refused to go to bed at night. He stayed up 'til 3AM.

And since I couldn't stand to wake him up before 7 to take him to my gym class, I decided to let him sleep and skip my class. So what does he do?

Wakes up and starts screaming 10 minutes after it's too late for us to leave. Great.

And one more.

When Oliver rolled over in his sleep, he reminded me of this photo I took almost 11 months ago.

Some things don't change, I guess.

Whenever I see him sleeping like this, I remember what it was like to hold him when he was a tiny baby.

I admit it makes me heart melt just a tiny bit.

Also.

Did I mention that it snowed this last week? And last night? And umm... last I checked, next week is MAY?

Tomorrow will be 75.

PSYCH!

And these are the only photos I got from Easter.

 

Please, no photography while I'm setting up the Little People.

And this is what Oliver looked like less than 15 minutes before he crashed on the bean bag.

Trying weeks.

These last couple weeks have been trying ones.

Every day last week I had something to go to, aside from my normal gym routine. Last weekend I went shopping for a bra to wear under my dress (It finally came in!) and I was harassed by 9 missed calls on my cell phone.

I called Jared and he said, "You need to come home now. There is poop everywhere."

So, I came home and, as it turns out, he wasn't lying. The scenario played out like this:

Oliver was taking a bath and he pooped in the tub. Jared took him out and let him run around while he cleaned the tub. Oliver decided he wasn't finished pooping, and pooped on the carpet in the living room. Being so exhilaratingly  unsupervised, he decided to play with his poop. (How could you resist, I guess?)

He walked through it. (As evidenced by tiny little foot prints across the carpet and on the linoleum.)

He tried his hand at finger painting with it. (As evidenced by the stinky brown streaks on our white walls.)

He rubbed his cup through it. (As evidenced by the poop covered Buzz Lightyear cup left on the table.)

And then, the icing on the cake, the awe inspiring finale, the piece de resistance  - he drank from said sippy cup.

There was poop on his face, his mouth, his hands, his whole body. After tasting the (not so sweet) taste of his own fecal matter, he walked into the bathroom and found Jared.  Even Oliver knows when he's in too deep.

"Yuck," he said, shaking his head no.

Yeah. I can imagine that was yuck.

So anyway. I cleaned up the poopocalypse the best I could. At least that event is over and done with.

But then, every day this week and most of last week Oliver has decided that he won't take a nap. I know he's tired because he'll fall asleep while he's eating or playing with his trucks. BUT! The second I carry him into his bedroom he gets a wild look in his eye and starts screaming. Like, I've-been-casted-for-a-gore-film horror screaming. Nonstop.

He's always been good at sleeping. He is a champ at night sleeping. He used to be a champ at napping. Why stop now?

I let him scream in his room for 20 minutes the first day, then gave up. The next day I left him for half an hour. Then 45 minutes. Today I worked it up to an hour, and I just don't think I can go any longer than that. A neighbor even stopped by to ask if everything was alright, since he heard the screaming. He will fall asleep in my arms and stay soundly asleep, but the second he touches the mattress he is up and running again.

After a failed attempt at a crib nap this morning, I held him while we watched a movie this afternoon. He fell asleep.

And instead of trying to get him to his room, I very slowly slid my arms out from underneath him. I bunched the blanket up and shoved it underneath him where my body was supporting him and slowly, very carefully, got up and left him there. You think surgeons get shaky hands when they're cutting into people? Ha. You should've been watching mine. There was no way I was letting him wake up. Not when I could finally go to the bathroom by myself and drink a cup of hot chocolate.

What else was I supposed to do in a situation like this?

I win again, suckers.

 I can't do this everyday, so how do I get him to go back to his usual napping? I'm at a loss for ideas here.

Holy Bills.

This has been the ultimate week of bills. We pay our insurance yearly, and we've been here a year already so that whopper is due again. My eye exam is next week and I've got to pay for that. The rest of our normal utility bills all came this week. Several wedding vendors require another piece of the deposit this week. I just hate looking at bills. Even knowing I can pay them, I still hate them. But the worst part?

I nearly had a heart attack when I opened Saturday's mail. The envelope was all official and fancy looking so I opened it quickly and didn't bother to read the outside. Then it said, YOU OWE US $1,200. WE ARE A COLLECTION AGENCY, HEAR US ROAR.

Whoa. Intimidating.

Immediately I was like, umm... Did I steal a library book? Run a red light? Litter? I tried to think of every possible fineable offense I've had in my entire life and I really could not come up with anything. I guess that must mean my life is pretty boring.

After freaking out for 20 minutes or so, I reread the envelope. NOT my name on the envelope. Must have been the previous tenants. Hehe. Oops.

So the next time I ever get a fine for anything,  I'm going to freak out and think it's because I accidentally committed the federal offense of opening somebody else's mail today. Great.

Potty training.

We've been working on potty training Oliver for a long time. When I see him pooping, I stop him and put him on the potty. That part works well if I can catch him early enough. Getting him to pee on the potty is hit or miss. Sometimes we sit a long time for nothing. Other times he goes. No real rhyme or reason to that.

Today, though, for the first time he asked to go potty and he actually went. Like, right away. I'm hoping this is a new trend, but I don't want to get excited for a one time fluke. Time will tell!

The doctor seemed to think we were idiots for trying to do potty training this early (18 months) but really... How could I not try this early? I can only take so much situation comedy centered around excrement in this household.

It feels like the ghost of my old beagle Lucky has come back to haunt our apartment. Lucky used to delight in nothing more than pooping under stuff. The grand piano, the Christmas tree... if she could fit under it, she liked to poop there. Oliver does the same thing. He'll poop under the table. He'll poop under the high chair. For a scenic diversion, he will poop under a pine tree in the park. If his head is suitably covered and I'm not looking, it's a perfect pooping site as far as he's concerned.

And, also like my fat old beagle, if you show Oliver the poop and ask how it got there he holds his hands out, shrugs his shoulders, and says, "I don't know." And he says it convincingly. Innocently. What? There is poop there? Surely it had nothing to do with me. I've never seen that poop before in my life. If he had a tail, I'm sure he would wag it.

Yeah. Right. Daddy probably pooped there while we were watching Sesame Street. I'm sure that's it.

Yesterday we were taking a bath together and I was reading my book until suddenly Oliver stands, points with his finger to some floating logs and says, "Mom! Poop! Oh!" I took him out of the bath and he immediately peed on the rug.

I really would like to get him past that. Because I am kind of done with doodoo. I'm not in good standing with the fecal family. I'm kicking crap to the curb. I'm shutting down the shit. Canceling the caca.

You get the idea. I want this potty training business to get over and done with soon.