Tummy Trouble

09 May
Last night we got home at a decent time, I walked for a little over for an hour, Tim hung out with James, and fixed dinner while I was on the treadmill.  After wrapping up my walk, I came upstairs to find James sitting on Tim’s lap.  Thinking that this was very sweet, I sat down to stretch.  James hopped of the couch and came booking over to me to cuddle.  I wrapped my arms around him to get settled in for a rare moment of snuggle time, when James burst in to tears.  He was squeaking he was so upset.  I looked up at Tim and he shot me the “I have no idea” look.  I asked James what was wrong and he said hatingly between sniffles “my butt hurts Mom”.  Nothing is sadder than a small child with constipation. 
We’ve been working on potty training and adding constipation to the mix doesn’t make it any easier.  James has realized that going potty is one of the steps towards becoming a big boy which he has been resisting.  He freqently starts to cry as soon as I get into the bathroom and asks me to change him like a baby.  The desire to be a baby or a big boy changes with the wind. 
For example, we went to a  picinic recently and horseback riding was a big attraction.  We waited in line for over an hour, in hot weather, for a five minute ride.  The look of absolute joy on James’s face pretty much made the wait worth it.   We managed to get him up on a pretty good sized horse, and as Tim took him around the ring, they went by the ponies which were resting, tied to a fence.  As James rode past, he very seriously told Tim “ponies are for babies, I don’t need a pony Dad”.  Horse = big boy.  
Tonight we go shopping at Costco, then home to veg on the couch while watching the Olympics hopefully, while eating ice cream.  The ice cream is for energy for Saturday; I intend (heavy emphasis on intend) on walking 20 miles.  Maybe my friend will let me use her hot tub afterwards…man hope so.  If not, I’ll drown my pain in ice cream.  Maybe that’s why I’m not losing any weight 
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Posted by on May 9, 2009 in Ramblings


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