How to have happy tushies

My babies healed from their diaper rashes overnight when they were using disposables simply by switching them to breathable cloth diapers and getting the chemicals off their skin.

However, some babies are more prone to rash from the wetness of even the urine.  We thought that was the case with Gabbers.  It turns out she was allergic to the detergent we used to clean the diapers.

Babies under two years are likely to wet at night whether wearing disposables or cloth.

With that in mind, I lean toward cloth diapering when healing diaper rash. 

Here are some helpful bites:

1.  Keep the wetness off the skin with a barrier ointment like A&D (original) if the child is extra-sensitive to wetness just like you would with disposables.

2.  Use a fleece liner or better yet fleece pocket (click here for tutorial on making your own CHEAP).  Using fleece against the skin wicks the wetness away from the baby's skin and through to the prefold-- that's either underneath the fleece liner or inside the fleece pocket.  No need to buy pricey fleece lined fancy diapers.  Making pockets is the super cheap super easy way to go.  This is just ONE of the benefits of fleece.  I like the ease in washing out poop from the pockets instead of dunking the whole diaper.

Please leave a comment with any questions or send me an email.  Click on my tab at the top that says "Contact Me."  I'd be happy to walk you through it.  :)



P.S.  Happy Birthday to my brother Jesse!

Have a bite of cloth diapering

My initial cloth diapering investment cost me about $250.  That was almost nine years ago.  I estimated that even if I thought it was the grossest thing ever and wanted to quit, I had to cloth diaper Pookie for the next six months to pay for it.  That's all.  Six months.  That's taking into account the water, detergent, and electricity.  And I did it. 

It really wasn't so bad. 

In fact, dare I say, I became addicted to it.  It was fun.  I felt like this natural earth mother when I'd hang up the diapers to dry on the clothesline. 

I felt the gap with my grandmother, great grandmother, great great grandmother, and myself close.

I felt peaceful about it.  About diapering!

Sure, people thought I was a little nutty.  And on occasion, you could call me a "closet cloth diaperer" because I didn't really want people to know.

My dad even said, "Are you sure you want to do this?  I remember those nasty plastic pants and diaper pails and diaper pins!" 

But times are a changin' my peeps.  Cloth diapering today is not like it was thirty years ago.  There are fun, cute, helpful things for cloth diapering parents of today.

Honestly though, if I hadn't cloth diapered right from the first child, I might feel overwhelmed at the abundance of information and products today.  If  I were just learning about it now (7 kids in the picture), I would feel like I didn't have the time to take in the what to buy, what works for different situations, how to wash, etc.

I was thinking this morning, how about I give you a bite of it?  Just a little at a time.  Maybe I'll keep up with it and make it a regular post.  If I have time.  ;)

Today's cloth diapering bite:  Do not use liquid fabric softener or fabric softener sheets when washing your diapers, covers, etc. 

This also goes for towels.  Do not use fabric softener on your towels.  Just toss them in your dryer without softener.  They will be much more absorbent without using the fabric softener.  If you like, you could use vinegar (distilled white) in the rinse cycle. 

Always hang diaper covers (and plastic pants if that's what you choose) to dry.  They will dry in no time at all. 

See?  Just a bite.  That's not too much, right?

R.I.P. pet peeve

Sometimes if you've done something a certain way, like your whole life, you don't know there's a better way.  Like in my instance I just learned I could buy diapers from Amazon for way cheaper than I was getting them from the commissary. I could get them even cheaper than Amazon advertises them when I joined their Amazon Mom and also subscribed to getting them delivered to my doorstep. 

Right now, averaging 600 diapers a month, we are using disposables.  I have been thinking about making the switch back to cloth after I get the oldest three well-trained in the washing of laundry.  I mean at least with washing clothes and towels.  BUT NEVER TOGETHER OF COURSE.  Sorry.  I didn't mean to yell.  It's just a pet peeve of mine.

This is not the pet peeve I'm talking about today. 

The pet peeve I'm talking about today is how to measure flour.  I know how to measure flour because I have a gourmet chef for a mom.  She taught me when I was like 8 years old how to measure flour properly.  I also had a home economics teacher in sixth grade reiterate the proper way to sift and measure flour-- which is decidely different than measuring sugar.

My pet peeve is not with you.  Let me make that clear.  My pet peeve is with me for blindly believing (too many times) that you measure flour like I do-- that my mom taught you and Mrs. 6th grade Home-Ec teacher taught you as well.

I love to get new recipes.  I read fantastic recipes online.  I visualize them.  I get excited about what I'm going to bake.  I start baking and then I go, "Argh!  Fizzly stinkin' spiders!   I should've compared this recipe to others before believing the measurements and making it!"

picture from here

So if you're interested in knowing the "proper way to measure flour" here it is.  It may seem foreign to you at first, but in no time at all, it will be automatic. 

I was going to do a How to Measure Flour tutorial, but someone already did it.  They did it well.  And I approve.  There you have it my peeps.  Click on that link on how to measure flour and you too can contribute more accurate recipes to the world wide web and your family.

By the way, if you're feeling sheepish because you just learned, just now, how to properly measure flour, don't.  Follow along with me and see for yourself that I learn new things all the time. 

P.S.  Happy Anniversary Mom & Dad!

Daydreaming

Today, for about half an hour, I entertained the thought of going back to school. 

And then in a matter of 90 seconds, screaming Baby Girl declared her discomfort, three children in the middle of their history lessons decided it was run-wild-like-crazy-monkeys-time because Mommy was on the phone, one twin was asleep in his high-chair and the other was trying to break free from his.

I even mentioned to the representative from the University that I was talking to how I might only be able to do one class every few months or so. 

She seemed so confident in my ability to do it more regularly.

I even called Danny and we chatted about it for a few minutes on his lunch break. 

Then I saw the six books I'm reading this week, 2 that are on Sensory Processing Disorder, and remembered my current commitments:

Homeschool the 3rd grader and take him to Occupational Therapy appointments.  weekly.  without extra children in tow.  Take him to scouts weekly.

Homeschool the 1st grader, and get her swim lessons,

and homeschool the Kindergartener,

and the three Preschoolers, and take them all on the homeschool field trips and park dates.

Start couponing, diapers are going to be the death of me.

Learn to knit hats.

Plan menus again and fill that freezer.  You're now a family of NINE.  Leftovers are nigh unto non-existent.

And while I organized all these things in my head, I had to say out loud, (after getting off the phone of course),

You may not sit on the piano.
Don't let the baby suck on your unwashed hands even if she does seem to like it.
Who's a poop?  Is that a poop I smell?
Please put a size 4, a size 5, and a Baby Girl size diaper and the orange wipes container on the couch.
Hurry!  Hurry fast to the bathroom and you'll get a Tootsie Pop!
Please bring me one of the twins for a change.
It doesn't matter- whichever one you can catch first!
Yes, a Tootsie Pop!  No, not for a potty.  No negotiating.  You don't have time to negotiate just RUN!

I think my plate is full right now.  It was a nice thought though.

Believe it or not, I'm famous.

Well, my brother-in-law Jase is because he created Jaseboards.  And because I allowed him to marry my baby sister, he is now my beloved brother-in-law and may have even named his firstborn daughter after yours truly, and so, by relation, I am FAMOUS.  muhahahah 

And yes, I realize that's a crazy long sentence.  And yes, I also realize I write "and" at the beginning of sentences a lot.  And if Mrs. Ricks from my seventh grade English class knew I was doing such hideous things with the precious English language, including using the vague word "a lot" (as she'd call it) she'd roll over in her grave.  If she is was were  passed away, that is.

Back to the matter at hand.  My famous bro-in-law, Jase is giving away two Jaseboards.  I've never heard of Jaseboards before.  But my kids and I were mesmerized by this video.  Danny too.  Now they want one.  each.  Go to freejaseboard.com and leave a comment in two sentences or less telling him why YOU deserve to win. 

And could you share this with your friends?    I can just see it now,

Honey, you know that blog that I'm always snorting over and read religiously?  Well, turns out she's famous!!  Crazy huh?  And now her brother-in-law Jase is giving away two Jaseboards.  Do you think by association I'm famous too?  like Nikki?  Do you think that will increase my chances of winning?

Mommy, take my picture too!

"Even though you look like a fuzzball?"  I asked.

"I think it's funny," she giggled.

Yeah, you might not think so when you're 15 and are horrified Mommy let you go around looking like that and had the gall to take your picture, but okaaaaaay.

A not so unusual Sunday morning in the life of Nikki

I had a hair crisis this morning.  To have a hair crisis you have to actually CARE about what your hair looks like.  And believe it or not, I do.  occasionally. 

I showered last night.  I hate to shower Sunday mornings because of how long it takes my hair to dry if I don't blow-dry it (which I only do like twice a year) and then to style.  And then I feel absolutely pale and washed-out if I do my hair all fancy-schmancy (read: not a wild frizz-case) and yet not do my make-up.  This whole process is time-consuming and I don't like my time all consumed. 

So what happened this morning?  I decided I would pretend my hair would look acceptable if I pulled it back French twist style in a clip and just smooth my bangs with a curling iron.  They would not cooperate. 

First of all, I only recently cut my bangs again.  Like 10 days ago or something.  I'm getting used to them again.

I have a widow's peak.  You know, the thingy that makes my hairline look like Dracula.  It makes my bangs bounce up.  I'm used to this and for the most part I either go without bangs and show the world my sizeable forehead, or I wear bangs and look fourteenish.  Did I ever tell you about the Cheetos confiscating principal at the Jr. High I was SUBBING at?  No?  Anyhow, my bangs are not beautiful and trained like those of lovely celebrities. 

But I have bangs for now and they must be dealt with accordingly.

Today after smoothing them with a curling iron they got static-crazy and stuck straight out.  Like they were perpendicular to my face!  I pushed them down.  They popped up!  I smoothed them down s-l-o-w-l-y with the curling iron.  They stuck straight out.  Danny laughed at me. 

So I got the mousse and a slicked them down.  It wasn't enough.  I slicked them again.  and again.

Then I finally decided that if they did not cooperate and pretend to be back with the rest of my hair, I would have to sink so low as to use Gabbers barrettes.  Luckily they calmed down. 

After that craziness, I didn't have time for make-up.  Now it was time to get the sleeping Baby Girl to poop on my skirt and start another crisis of its own.

Sometimes homeschooling is too easy.

Pookie and Bun put together this world puzzle that Grandma W. gave them for Christmas.  

It was part of their homeschool history lesson for the day.  

They sang the continents song they learned from the K12 program they were in.  Actually we all sang it . . . about 12 times through.

and

They talked about different climates and landmarks.

and 

They talked about which was their favorite continent.

PLUS

They got along!

Guess who's 18 months??

Hey Buddies, did you hear who's 18 months now?

Do you know what is SO EXCITING about being 18 months?

More baths in the kitchen sink?

(Tater on left, Squdge on right)

Do YOU get excited about your babies turning 18 months?

Sleeping like a baby

This is a fairly female post.  Terms in it may offend your senses.  However, there's no swearing.  You'll never find swearing here.  It's just female.  You have been forewarned-- you three guys that read my blog.  ;)  For something a little lighter, read the previous post. 

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

From the time my Pookie was a newborn I had heard of babies that "sleep through the night." 

Surely they don't exist, it's just an Urban Legend.  I'd reason with myself. 

My newborn certainly didn't sleep through the night.  Not at birth, not at three months, 6 months, a year, or even 18 months!

It wasn't until I was pregnant with my Gabbers that I learned the term "sleeping through the night" means five uninterrupted hours for the exclusively bre*stfed baby.  This, however, also means you're likely to resume ovulation. 

So I was okay with my baby not sleeping through the night.  Periods?  No thank you.  I'd rather not.

Then I had Bun and Hammy.  Two more non-sleep-through-the-nighters.  I was fine with it.  really.  Because I co-sleep with my babies.  There I said it world.  We co-sleep with our babies!  It helped everyone get a better night's sleep.  I have a king-size bed which makes it easier.  I'm also a no-nonsense bed maker. 

Translation:  I do not have half a dozen lovely decorative pillows and layers of fluffy comforters on my bed. 

If I did, they'd end up all over my room when enthusiastic little boys caught eye of them. 

Tater & Squdge and a poor innocent book

Then I had the twins:  Tater & Squdge.  These two due to posterior tongue-tie and tight jaws and my poor milk supply (at least at first) could not nurse.  They slept the longest though-- four hour stretches, usually waking at the same time.  Danny would change and feed them while I'd pump more milk-- at least for the first six months.  He was probably more sleep-deprived than me.

Then, because I stopped pumping at six months,

along came Baby Girl-- a sweet little blessing we are so glad to have a part of our family.  And guess what?  She sleeps through the night.  Seven to Ten hours!  And we did not Ferberize her. 

Now I live in fear of Aunt Flo returning. 

The Book of Nikki 2:11

And 40 days and 40 nights did the Nikki toil and tarry without chocolate nor fizzy drink.  And she did survive and hardened not her heart but did lift her eyes toward heaven in thanks to her Father.  And all was well.

"Do you think because I'm on the phone you're not going to get in trouble for that?"

My sister, Leslie, is 16 months and three days older than me.  She was a pretty good sister growing up.  I only have a few unhappy memories of her.  Like when she got mad at me (I was probably 12) and she kicked me out of our room.  She scooped up all the clothing that was hanging in my side of the closet and dumped it on the closet floor declaring our separation.

Anyhow, I love my sister-- as I do my two other sisters.  I talk to Leslie on the phone once or twice a week.  I probably talk just as much on the phone to my youngest sister Rachel, but not to Erin.

Erin is busy.  Think of my busiest day ever that I've posted on my blog, add a little caffeine to it, and half a dozen checklists more, and that's Erin's day.  every day.  But she is like the aerobics/photographer/scrapbooking/crafty/more-awesome- than-Martha Stewart- type of person.  every day.  really.  So I don't get to talk to her much.

This post is about Leslie.  Today isn't her birthday or anything.  I was just thinking about calling her. But I have already had it up to my eyeballs with little people naughtiness today.

And for some reason, whenever I talk to Leslie, my kids go into uber-naughty mode.

When I talk to anyone else on the phone, my kids interrupt me like half a dozen times.  per kid.

Some of the time I walk away from the kids while they're interrupting me and I'm gesturing wildly at them that I'm on the phone! and giving them the threatening eyes.  That doesn't work.  They gesture back to me as if to portray to me with charades what it is they're asking me.  All this of course happens whether or not Danny is home.

But not when I talk to Leslie.  When I talk to Leslie on the phone, they're programmed to do all the naughty things they ever wanted to do.  So she hears at least once per phone conversation,

 "Do you think because I'm on the phone you're not going to get in trouble for that?"

My solution?  I try to act like I'm talking to someone else.  anyone else.  But they're smart little people.  And they're on to me.

More than the Spirit

Dear Journal,

Today we had an amazing Relief Society lesson.  I felt the whisperings of the spirit bear testimony of the truthfulness.

Baby Girl slept peacefully in the sling while I played the opening hymn on the piano.   I have just been called as the Relief Society pianist-- a calling that I love.  I don't play the piano much at home these days.  Life's a little busy.  I might go a whole week and sit down only once at home to play.  So to be guaranteed that I will be playing the piano every Sunday after Sacrament meeting and Gospel Doctrine, well, it puts a little extra spring in my step.  Playing His holy hymns only brings me closer to Him.  And that's a great place to be.

I wanted to stay for the entire Relief Society meeting and not leave to feed or change Baby Girl.  But she's almost three months old.

Sometime between two and three months old with each of my seven children, they um . . . how do I put this delicately? . . . forget how to poop.

Being exclusively bre*stfed, they have soft stools and usually poop two to three times a day (some were more often).

Well, starting with Pookie I called the doctor very concerned when it had been three days with no sign.  The doctor said, "Oh, that's perfectly normal.  Some babies only have a BM once a week."

"But not Pookie," I responded.  "He goes at least three times a day... until now."

"Yes, but babies this age start to realize they have to push to make it happen.  They also must learn to relax at the same time.  This is the result.  A baby going three times a day suddenly might go to once every couple of days."    I'm paraphrasing this.  It was nine years ago.

So about this age they all have done this and then there's an explosion.

Today the pressure was building during Relief Society.  Like I mentioned above, it was an amazing lesson.  I didn't want to miss a bit of it.

When Baby Girl started fussing and squirming, I got up and stood in the back of the room with her over my arm to help her feel comfortable.  The gas started.  Other than the person giving the lesson, the whole room was silent.  There was no question where those loud noises were coming from.

I just heard the funniest thing. Let me set it up for you.

I'm sitting at Danny's laptop with my back to the boys who are watching Pookie take his turn on The World of Goo at the "school computer", while I'm reading my friend's post about external links opening in a new window, when I hear the following conversation between my 3 1/2 year old and my 5 year old:

Hammy:  Why the babies (twins-- who happen to still be in their highchairs from breakfast) are sleeping?

Bun:  They are little guys who need lots of sleep to grow.

Hammy:  To grow up?

Bun:  Yes, babies need to sleep more than us to grow tall.

Hammy:  And Daddy sleeps too.  (he is sleeping off a sinus infection right now)

Bun:  Yes.

Hammy:  Daddy sleeps to grow taller too?

Bun:  No, we grow more taller, Daddy grows more this way (hands out at sides spreading out wider), and Mommy grows . . . *hesitant pause*. . . more beautiful every day!

How to make each link open in a new window

This was a potential WFMW post that has been on my mind for some time.  Nothing exciting, just useful, and delivered on a Saturday.  no extra charge.  :)

Why is it important to make each link open in a new window?  Well, without your reader having to right-click which doesn't always work (like if they have it disabled so you don't steal images or something), but you don't want them to leave your blog when following a link, this comes in handy.

I like to right-click and open a new window if I'm not done reading something but don't want to forget that I want to read that new thing too.

On my blog, I have been manually entering in target="_blank" for each link in every post under the Edit HTML tab to make my links open a new window for you.  But sometimes I forget and then go back and add it in.  Attempting to explain this to you, not in person, just threw me for a spin.

But someone much html smarter and gads more creative than me figured it out in such a way to make it simple.  And you don't have to do it for every link like I had been doing.  Enter the html code ONCE in the right place, and you're all set!

Okay, maybe it is a little exciting.

Here's her link.  I did it on my blog so you needn't worry about accidentally leaving me.  I get worried too about you leaving me.  Now we'll be together.  always.  And I didn't even have to take any IT online courses to find this out!

7 out of 10 dentists don't have 7 children under 10

Nothing starts off the day like minty wintergreen toothpaste.  I was in the laundry room shortly before 8 a.m. and smelled the refreshing smell of minty wintergreen toothpaste.

"Aaah.  That is a pleasant smell," I smiled to myself as I unloaded a warm load of clothes from the drier. It didn't take more than a moment's notice before that pleasant thought quickly changed to fear.

Why does my laundry smell like minty wintergreen toothpaste??

I peeled the baby sock from the drier, chucked it in the trash and announced perhaps with a little too much glee, "I am sorry to inform you that all children will no longer be allowed gum.  I found some in the drier and that is not a good place for it to be."

I was met with a chorus of, "I didn't put gum in the drier!"

"Well, of course you didn't," I responded.  "But someone maybe dropped their gum in the dirty laundry basket while they were changing, or put it in their pocket, or spit it in the dirty clothes, but somehow, someone's gum made it through the washer and into the drier.  So no one under the age of 10 will be allowed gum from now on."

"Phew.  That's less than a year for me," Pookie replied.

Dear Journal, I like this boy...

haha.  Actually he's a middle-aged man who's going to be 35 this year!  Perhaps this stemmed with my brother-in-law being engaged, maybe because I have love on the mind since his exciting news, or maybe it's the upcoming holiday, but whatever the reason, I am in love with my Danny, my eternal companion today more than ever before. 

Now mush aside, I promised I would write in you more, Journal, but life ran away with my time. 

I'm congested.  still.  Being congested since July makes me wonder if this is the new me.  Will I EVER get my sense of smell back?  Is this some cruel way to get me to lose weight since I can't taste things very well?  Nah, it just makes me bummed and then I shovel in the junk.

Baby Girl is going to have her tongue-tie clipped.  again. 

I am driving the scout carpool this month.  This works out fine since there's now only one other boy I need to pick up.  Not that we couldn't squeeze a few more kids into our 12-passenger van.  This cub scout doesn't need a booster seat like my little scout.  One day, (I tell myself) my Pookie will reach the weight and height of a child that doesn't need a booster seat either.  At nine years old he weighs 43 lbs.  If only I could be a fat donor . . .

My neighbor, bless her heart, decided we're having a game night/pizza night on Friday.  I'm not exactly sure how that will work out.  Sure, we do game night with our kids with exciting turns in Star Wars Life, Princess Memory, and Chutes & Ladders (which is the devil's game and I LOATHE it).  But her kids are too young to even understand Memory or CandyLand.  They are 2 years old and 15 months old.  So, yeah, not sure how this is going to play out . . . Come on kids!  Let's see who can fall asleep first!

I quit the overly regimented public online homeschooling program we were doing with the oldest three.  And now I can b-r-e-a-t-h-e.  Well, not really, cuz I'm congested.  See above. 

I am glad to be doing my own homeschooling now.  And my kids are enjoying life more now that the crazy shrew left and Mommy's back. 

And just to brag, dear journal, my Hammy read his first book this week.  He only needed help with two words.  It was a phonics reader.  But I was quite pleased.  shh!  He reads better than Bun.  Don't tell Bun. 

The twins learned how to do push-ups today.  Funniest. thing. ever.  Maybe I can catch them on camera.  Which reminds me . . .

My desktop computer decided it wasn't going to be my friend anymore.  It squeals whenever I powered it up.  So, I'm typing on my laptop.  In the morning, I'm going to ask Danny to tell me how to upload/download whatever my pictures from the camera to the computer.  Then you can see us again. 

Now I've got to finish packing up the supplies to send back to the school program mentioned above. 

Happy Groundhog Day!