I am not one who can function well on little sleep. No amount of caffeine can alleviate the wanton urge to close my eyes and drift off to a peaceful slumber. Not even the loudest most irritating alarm can get me out of bed on time. I am grouchy, impatient and often agitated easily when I’m tired. There really is no consoling me aside from just letting me go to sleep.

That? That doesn’t happen with children.

I was hesitant about having children for that very reason. I would have to forgo sleep for an unknown number of years.

Petty right? Don’t have children because they affect my ability to sleep in. Yup. Selfish.

Carter was a great sleeper as an infant. He’d wake to eat, then right back to sleep; he was the baby of my dreams. But as a toddler? He rises and falls with the sun. There isn’t enough coaxing in the world to get that child back in bed once he’s opened his eyes and seen even the faintest amount of light peaking from behind the blinds.

Doesn’t bode well with a person who loves to sleep.

Then throw an infant into the mix and I’m a walking zombie most days.

Every morning Hudson wakes at 6:30am; I quickly gather him from his bassinet (STILL IN OUR ROOM because Mike isn’t ready for him to move into his crib. *sigh*) and pull him into me as my lay in my bed, hoping not to stir Carter just yet, I quickly shove a boob in his mouth to smother his coos and squawks for food.

But my efforts are usually futile since Carter has hawk like senses and is up and jumping from the bed before Hudson even gets a latch. Seriously, that kid could hear a penny drop about 6 blocks away.

The door opens with a creak from the years of paint on the jam: then silence. Waiting for another sound, he stands in his doorway. As soon as he hears something, anything he comes running to my room, It’s wake up time Mommy! he states. Every. Single. Morning. Then he questions, Where’s Daddy? I don’t know if he expects that the answer will differ each day; but without fail, he asks.

I fade in and out of consciousness as I try and play defense. Keeping Carter from poking and tickling (which is more like shoving his needle-like fingertips into your gut) Hudson while he eats is like trying to separate a PMSing woman from chocolate. I try to coax him from the room with Hot Wheels waiting for him in the living room, or sending him to go pee - just to buy myself a couple extra minutes; but he is relentless.

I’m up. I’m up!

Once Hudson’s finished we all make our way downstairs. Hudson gets placed in his swing, the television is tuned into Dora, orange juice and Nutrigrain bar are distributed while the coffee brews. I plunk myself down in the overstuffed arm chair waiting for that sweet beep telling me my lifeline is prepared for injection. Sweet delicious coffee.

As I sip my coffee and peruse The Blogs while we relax, I peek over the top of my laptop to see Carter sitting peacefully on the couch, fingers threaded behind his head, lounging back on the sofa: the baby seeing his fingers for the first time, mezmorized in his swing.

They ain’t half bad these early mornings.

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We were going through a phase where poop was scary and Carter just wouldn’t go in the toilet. He was consistently constipated, and I realize now not that he COULDN’T go - he WOULDN’T go. I had no idea how to deal with it accept feed him prunes, prune juice concoctions and hope that it just got to the point where he could no longer hold it in.

I never thought I would be so happy to see someone take a dump on the toilet. I was on the verge of jumping up and down, completely elated that there was FINALLY! poop in the toilet!

You’re wondering just how we got to this point, aren’t you?

Well, back in July while most of you were meeting cohorts in San Fransisco a small group of us met up in Niagara Falls for Blog Friends Fest. As I explained our potty training woes over dinner (yes, AWESOME dinner conversation!) Kitten Pie mentioned how she was able to train ‘pie to poop in the toilet.

I leaned into her, hoping not to miss one minute genius detail. If I had a pen and paper - they would have been in hand. Ready to soak in her brilliance I waited with baited breath.

“I just told ‘pie that her poop was going off to play with the other poops.” she said so nonchalantly. So much in fact, I thought she was trying to pull a fast one on me.

“Wha? Srsly? That’s it? And she just pooed?” I asked. Admittedly, I was a little deflated: how could it be THAT easy? Carter wasn’t going to go for that.

I blew it off thinking that ‘pie was just some fantastical toddler. How could that HONESTLY work? And went about the same ol’ boring begging that just wasn’t getting through. Carter? Not fantastical.

I resigned to the fact that he would be pooping in the toilet before college and that was something I could look forward to.

A little over two weeks ago I was at my wit’s end. I had run out of ideas. Smarties, stickers, begging, promises of cars and no curfew just weren’t cutting it with this kid.

I told him that he poops wanted to go play with the other poops.

(I admit, I even scoffed a little at the idea: why am I saying this? It’s SO not going to work.)

And now?

I must apologize you my sweet Kitten Pie.

It WORKED!

My kid craps on the TOILET!

And HOLY MOLY does he ever! I swear that thing was (and continues to be) the size of my arm!

My three year old has given my 30 year old some serious poop envy.

The first time Mike was in the washroom with Carter while he crapped (armed with the poop friends story) he came running out: “Sam! Sam! Holy shit! You gotta see this shit! It’s HUGE! I’ve never even had a shit that big!”

*sigh*

*BIG sigh*

To humour him, I took my time walking up to the bathroom. I could hear him coaxing Carter not to flush because this poop was a trophy poop. That I had to see it first!

At this point I was cursing the fertility gods for leaving me in a house full of boys.

As I walked into the bathroom both of them we standing on either side of the toilet, looking into the bowl with HUGE grins.

I peered into the bowl, definitely not expecting to see what I saw, because in that bowl was the HUGEST poop I’ve ever seen in my life.

A poop so large it had to be preserved in digital format.

Yup. Took a picture.

OH! The Shame!

Hey if she can do it, so can I!

(Hi Lotus, ya that was me sending you the weird google hits for poop in the kitchen. Cursed poop in the kitchen!)

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Down and dirty. Is that kinda like short and sweet? Because if it is, that’s what I mean and if it’s not just ignore me.

Hold me.

I’m scared.

Today. Friday (if this automatic posting doo-dad works) is Carter’s third birthday. I wasn’t weepy about past birthdays but I think with Hudson’s arrival this year is different and I’m sad that he’s three. Really sad.

My boys.

Maybe I’ll have more about that later, not right now. I can’t.

I’m too fuckin’ scared for my life.

While you’re reading this (if the automatic posting worked correctly) I am packed into a trolley-type-bus with about 120 children ranging in age from 2 - 6 and some parents. We’re probably baking in the hot hot sun and endured a couple of meltdowns already.

Pray for me.

Carter’s daycare has a field trip to this makeshift safari type place where baboons rip the trim off your car and eat your windshield wipers while smearing their ass across your windshield and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

I thought it would be nice to volunteer since it’s his birthday and all.

Send. Booze.

Copious amounts.

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Deadline is September 1st (that’s 10 days away)!

All you have to do is post your favourite summer pictures on your blog with a link back and share the link in my comments!

Seriously! Photo Printer! FREE! WIN!!

Friday before the long weekend we took Carter to Marineland. Marineland is a park dedicated to - you guessed it - marine animals. Seals, dolphins, beluga whales, orcas (since I hate calling them killer whales) and deer.

Deer? Ya, I don’t know how they fit in with marine animals, but they’re there.

The week before going Mike and I were hyping Carter up for this trip. I’d talk him up about seeing the dolphins and seals, and every night he’d ask if we could see the dolphins tomorrow. The utter elation was contagious. So much that I taught Carter the theme song. If you living in Ontario or close to on the US side of the boarder you’ve more then likely seen the commercials and heard The Song so many times it’s engrained.

I found it on the website and it’s been playing CONSTANTLY since. He requests the song over and over AND OVER! Total rookie parenting move: teaching my child the Most Annoying Song Ever.

We arrived at the park early morning hoping to have an entire day (another rookie move) to see everything the park had to offer. First on the plan was the dolphin show.

We arrived at the amphitheatre early and got really close seats.

Mike and Carter went to the tank to get a close up of the dolphins set to perform for us. (Doesn’t that sounds dreadful? Though it’s the truth, it sounds horrible to call it performing.)

There was one dolphin that took a shine to Carter.

It (sorry, not fluent in a dolphin’s intimate parts to decipher which is which) swam by a couple times, then stopped in front of him.

Then sent him a little playful splash.

This kid jumped in the shot just as I took it. Bugger.

We watched some seals.

And a walrus.

Then fed a beluga whale.

And some deer.

He hasn’t stopped asking to go back or to listen to damn The Song.

More photos at flickr!