Drunk Noah

Why do my boys have pooping issues?

Caleb has definitely had his issues in the past and now it is Noah's turn.  He usually does okay if he stays on Miralax, but, like any "oops, we were too busy to remember" family, if he happened to miss a day or two, he would immediately stop going.

I have no idea why.  How can one hold in poop and be happy about it?  Seriously?

Recently, Noah got to the point where he had not gone in over two weeks.  Yep-two weeks.  Can you imagine the size of the poor boy's stomach?!  I was even encouraging him to go in his diaper that he wears when he sleeps, just to put him at ease, but nope.  He still kept it all in.  Miralax was not working, prune juice had no affect-the boy would not go.

I finally called the pediatrician and without even seeing him, they sent me to Children's.  (Something tells me that there is a note on file with our boys' charts that says "bathroom issues" so that they do not even bother to see us when it comes to these matters.)

Gotta hand it to the doctors and nurses who took our case-that poor nurse eventually saw much more poo than she ever needed to see in her life.

After exams and x-rays, they decided they would need to stick something up there and "get him going."  To make this procedure nicer (I mean, can it ever be "nicer?"), they gave him some medicine to help him relax.

Oh my goodness, did this kid relax.  I had the joy of watching my four year old ramble on like a drunk man.  He was playing Minecraft on my Ipad and kept blowing things up without thinking.  While he did that, he slurred his words together and kept talking nonsense to me.  The best part was that every time he felt more poo coming, he would stand up on the bed to push (because we all stand up to push out poop?) and would need me for balance.  At one point, I would holding on to him, while he pushed into the gigantic pull-up that they had put on him, and he started talking in a slow, sing songing type of voice...

"Mom, what's your favorite color?"
"Um, I would say blue."
"Oh...my favorite color is blue...and green...and yellow..."

Again-this conversation happened while he pushed out poop that may or may not have stayed contained to the pull-up.

I found myself gagging from the smell, while laughing at my drunk child.  I think the fumes were getting to me.

Eventually, they got him to the point where he had pushed enough out for their liking (or they simply were sick of us being there and wanted to cleanse the entire floor of the stench), and we were able to go home.  Drunk Noah stayed with me, even to the point of picking up the kids from school, who found him hilarious.  I mean, they have heard him sing songs in the car before, but not quite in that manner of loopiness.

Now he is so much better and our family knows to stop everything to make sure he gets his Miralax every day.  We have also made it a competition to see who can get the bigger poop out at night-Caleb or Noah.  They both HAVE to go before bedtime so that these issues do not occur again. 

Yep-it's a party in the Rosenfeldt household every night. "Quick boys!  Who's gonna go poop first tonight?  How big will it be?"

Hey, as long as they are going, I will talk about poop every day with my boys.

The Absence Of Molly

If you know our family well, you know our dog, Molly.  For those who do not know her story, she was found in a neighborhood about 15 minutes from our house in October 2013.  A friend of a friend of a friend found her and thanks to the wonder of social media, we found out about her and took her in.

You can read past posts about her to see the gory details of her first few days (farts, pooping in the house, wild escapes and runs through the neighborhood after slipping out of her collar), but she eventually calmed down and became a member of the family.

Over the past year and a half, however, we have come to realize that even though we love Molly, she really needs to be in a better home.  She NEEDS to run and we do not have the space nor fenced in yard for her to do so.  And we are a family always on the go and we felt like we were always leaving her behind. 

After MUCH thought and discussion as a family, we decided to see if we could find her a new home.  I could not just offer her up to facebook friends (because they had seen my posts from her misbehaving days so there was no way she would be in high demand there), but we found an local agency that helps to find homes for dogs.  They do not have a shelter, but they display the dogs every weekend at Petsmart.  If someone wants to foster or adopt the dog, then they go home with the animal that day.  If not, then we pick her up and bring her home until the following weekend, where we start the process all over again.

No one told me how hard this would be.

I dropped her off a couple of weeks ago for the first time, having no idea if I would see her again.  I literally sobbed on my way out of the store and just sat in the car, crying until I had no more tears. 

No worries, because even though she had "lots of interest," she came back home to us that day.

The same thing happened the next day, then the next weekend, with it either being me, or Nick, or the whole family leaving her there.  It was emotionally draining.  Every time we left her there, we had to wonder if this was it.  What made it worse is that she knew.  As we got near the store, she knew exactly where she was going and not only whimpered, but rested her head on our arms and cuddled as much as a lab mix can cuddle.

This past Saturday, I dropped her off without tears or lots of emotions because I figured we would be back again later that day.  When I actually got the call mid day, saying that someone decided to foster her, I was in shock.  A young woman "loved her even though she was being Molly" (guess she developed quite a reputation among the volunteers) and decided to foster her for a week to see how she would fit in her home.

After I hung up, I started thinking of so many things that this young woman needed to know.  I actually called the volunteer back and left a voicemail that said something like, "Molly has some quirks that she should know about...her first night with us she pooped everywhere and farted for hours...it gets better and she doesn't do that anymore...she's super strong and loves to run and will slip out of her harness if you aren't watching...she never uses a crate, but is good in the house all day, but will eat or chew certain things if she has the chance...she is used to sleeping on the couch...if she has any questions or concerns she can call me...will we have a chance to say good-bye?"

I have no idea why the volunteer never called me back.  Hmm.

I never realized how much her absence would affect us.  When someone knocks on the door, she is not here to bark.  When I am cooking dinner, she is not at my feet, pleading for me to drop something.  Nick and I no longer have to play "not it" for who takes her out at night before we head up to bed.  I can bring groceries into the house without worrying she will escape out the front door.

Okay, so those are things I can easily live without.

She is not here to cuddle up next to on the couch.  She is not here to stare at the door at the same time every day, when she knows the kids will walk in the door from school.  My kitchen floor is a mess because she is not here to lick up the crumbs. 

I find myself thinking about her all the time.  I wonder what she is thinking.  Is she mad at us?  Does she feel deserted?  Betrayed?  Lonely?  Who is this stranger who is taking care of our dog?  Is she nice?  Caring?  Patient?  Is Molly waiting every day for us to come back to her?  Has she escaped and is lost somewhere?  What kind of food is she eating?  This stranger doesn't know her routine. 

My heart hurts.

I know.  I know.  We decided to do this-for HER benefit.  We want her to be happy.  I just want to know that she IS happy or will be someday soon.  I want to explain to her that it is not something she did wrong (well, she could have avoided ruining my bathroom door frame, but that is for another discussion), but that we love her so much that we want her to have a better place to run free.

Who knows?  Perhaps she will show her true colors and frighten this young woman into thinking she was crazy for even considering taking in Molly.  If that happens, then we are at a crossroads.  Do we continue this routine and submit her to more change?  Or do we change our minds and keep her?

I miss her.  

Resolutions

Another new year and another pile of resolutions and goals to set for the year.

I'm thinking that "writing more" should probably be at the top of the list, eh?

Okay, so #1-Be more consistent with writing.  Which means less Netflix and less excuses.  Which means I should go turn the tv off now while I am typing this.

#2-Eat healthy.  So perhaps eating candy from the kids' stash while they are at school might not be the best idea?  Hmm.

My mind is often scattered and overwhelmed with what I need to accomplish so #3-Make a scheduled to do list and actually do it when it's scheduled.  So that does mean I should schedule when to watch Netflix and eat candy?

#4-Go the gym more often.  Done-I go all the time.  Oh wait-not just for socialization?  I am wearing yoga pants while chatting with friends so that counts, right?

#5 Have more patience with my kids.  So, raising my voice at Caleb this morning because he was complaining about his coat being "too thick to throw a football in" was not the best way to send him out into the world of learning?  But, surely rolling my eyes at Abby's latest emotional breakdown and getting frustrated with Noah pooping in his underwear was justified.

Hmm...only five resolutions in and it looks like 2015 is going to be a delightful year.  By this time next year, I will have my college body back and my kids will be perfectly behaved and loved.

Or maybe I should just do what most people do-make a resolution to not make any more resolutions.