Carseat or Toxic Landfill?

I feel like it's my job as a woman, wife, mother, and friend to share my nuggets of wisdom (when appropriate) with others to help them feel 'normal' or avoid unnecessary grief.

For example, many of my friends who had their first baby after I had Kennedy know the 'I don't even want her story'.  Similarly, Chad and I made it our mission to tell new parents that newborns sleep amazingly well in the hospital only to come home and forget how.  We seriously felt like some great people let us down by not telling us that our first night home from the hospital with a baby would be about 15 minutes on this side of the destination hades.

So, here's my newest wisdom. Those of you who figured this out and didn't let me in on the secret are on my Christmas list under 'Memaw's fruitcake'. That's not good, folks. 

Back to the nugget of wisdom...buying one of those 250 in 1 convertible carseats is a bad idea. First of all, those of us in Texas know that with the fairly recent law changes, kids need to be in a carseat until they go to high school. Well, maybe not all kids, but when you only have 1 person in 3 generations of family over 5 feet 8 inches tall, your kids can expect to take their booster seat on their first date. 

The convertible carseat seemed so obvious with child 3.  She was the last kid, so there would be no need to trade, upgrade, shuffle like we did with the older kids.  However, the seat is FILTHY. We don't typically let our kids eat in the car. It doesn't matter. Today I completely disassembled the seat. It was absolutely shameful. I hesitate to post these picture because CPS may be able to use it as evidence of unlivable conditions.  

Seriously, she's been using this seat for a little over 2 years. It has been spot cleaned a time or two. How does this happen?  Ugh. 

Here's the best part. Look at the ooey, gooey, sticky nastiness down in the seat. Biohazard is the word that came to mind as I began to scrape and scrub with disinfectant wipes.

Now for the last picture, I will say that I do take the seat out, vacuum underneath it and shake it out often. Seriously, about once a month the seat receives  what I naively thought was a decent 'shake down'. After performing said shakedown outside, this is what I dumped out in the floor while disassembling the seat. 

My thoughts are that a convertible carseat sounds great. Who doesn't love the idea of needing only 1 for all of the ages and stages?  However, the carseat becomes a toxic landfill before the child outgrows it.  

Unfortunately for me, I'm both a tightwad and a little OCD. The filth is gross, but the idea of getting rid of a perfectly safe carseat to buy a new, clean one just won't settle in my soul. Therefore, these tools and a lot of elbow grease had to suffice. 

I must say, the end product really wasn't too bad. 

Carseat looks pretty good, but I'm exhausted. All of those hooks and straps just pop right off. Not a single one just popped right back on though. I think I'll take on this project again in exactly 894 days!  

Those of you with babies and toddlers in your future, consider the reality of the toxicity of that convertible carseat over the course of 1-7 years. Might be ok to get one stage at a time and trash it when time to progress to next type of seat. 

Three

Numbers are an integral part of our daily lives.  I'm sure everyone else is just like us in the ridiculous number of numbers that you encounter every single day.  We have phone numbers, house numbers, passwords. We even have a digital lock on our house with a number to make it open so I don't have to keep up with the key. 

At least once every few weeks, one of our kids will get on a kick about "favorites".  We answer questions about favorite foods, movies, books, colors, and numbers.  The number three has a special place in the list of favorites at our house.  Dale Earnhardt drove the number three car before he was killed.  As early as February 2002, the first NASCAR race after Kennedy's birth, our kids have enjoyed (or endured) countless hours of NASCAR and conversations about Earnhardt and Junior.  Needless to say, when Kennedy was asked what number she preferred on her softball team last month, she immediately answered "three!". 

The number three is significant to Chad because of his hero and Kennedy because she adores her daddy and has been brainwashed.  Taylor is excited about third grade next month.  We do have three kids and are currently living in our third house as a family while I work my third job since college.  However, the number three is my least favorite number! 

BADkid is three.  I love that child with every fiber of my being.  However, she is three.  I can't even recall the number of times (maybe 33,333) I have thought and said, "I don't remember three being this bad before".  Is it because she is the THIRD child?  Maybe it's because I'm in my 30s?  Maybe it's a combination of all of the above? 

Blake Alayne is an affectionate, tender, loving child for about 20 minutes of each week.  Beyond that, she is wide open and will test every single thing you say to her every single time.  If you've seen her in action, you probably said something really disgusting like "she's so cute".  You probably heard me say something really honest like "only because she doesn't live at your house".  Seriously, I love her, but she is wearing me out.

Here's a tiny glimpse into my morning at the grocery store.

Get out of car and unbuckle kid who has taken off her shoes.  Tell her to put her shoes on.  Take doll and blanket away from kid and repeat that she must put her shoes on her feet.  Wait 2 minutes because she has decided to squeal "my caint!" instead of bend over and pick up her shoes.  Explain to kid that she can take either the doll or the blanket into the store, but not both.  Give up reasoning with kid.  Throw doll and blanket back in car and head for the entrance.  Hold kid's hand in a death grip across parking lot as kid tries to pull hand away and continuously repeats "I big girl.  I listen!"  Get buggy.  Explain to kid that she must hold buggy.  Kid darts off away from buggy.  Put kid in seat in buggy as kid demands "I big girl. I listen. I walk."  Pick shoes up off floor and toss into back of buggy.  Quickly zip through store and buy only the necessary items while repeating the phrase "sit down" at least once every three minutes and resorting to spanking.  Check out, open car door and let kid get in while putting groceries in the truck.  Return buggy to holder, tell kid to sit in her seat to buckle.  Kid tries to climb into front seat of car, grab kid, explain danger of playing in car, put her in seat, turn around because someone spoke, kid tries to escape, grab kid, hold into seat while buckling as she screams, "My do it my se---elf!!"

In our world with the three year old, everything takes three times as long and requires more patience than I can accumulate in three weeks.  Some days I feel like the only time I can relax my guard is when she is sleeping, which only happens briefly.  My BADkid spends so much time and energy getting into mischief and demanding things be her way that when she finally crashes, she is "throwed outta gear" like this.  (Yes, those of us living life with a transmission mechanic actually hear and use phrases such as that).

I do love this BADkid.  I sometimes even sit and chuckle as I think of all the cute, precious, funny things she says and does.  As I was finishing this post she woke up from her brief nap.  She stretched, climbed up in my chair, hugged me and said, "I wuv you sooo much."  Of course I said, "I love you soooo much too" as I silently thought "One day she will be four and "they" say I'll miss this, but right now I'm thankful we only have to endure 365 days of THREE!"