Poor Amos. The white stuff on the ground this time is just ice pellets, like an unflavored snowcone that got put in the freezer. No fun at all. Amos’ obsession with building a snowman has passed, I suppose because it was never going to happen so he gave up. We tried to sled down our front hill yesterday with disastrous results. Amos’ boot came off halfway, and we ended up in a gutter with my butt 2 inches deep in melty slush and the sole of my snowboot ripped halfway off. I say, bring on spring!

Amos turned 2 Tuesday, and although he’s great today, I already miss how he was yesterday. I like him in the baby version and could stand to keep him at his current manageable size for at least 5 more years. But we celebrated anyway, with a big cake and grandparents all over the place. I would go into more detail, but I tear up when I think about it. 2!

Cake prep

It's show time---

Not bad.

Perhaps it was revenge for my setting her daughter on the path to self-hatred and negative body image by giving her a Barbie, but Mom on a Wire gifted my Amos with a Thomas the Train sticker book for his birthday. He’s gotten stickers before, but I’ve always hidden them away immediately because I worried they would soon be plastered on my freshly painted walls or my grandmother’s antique furniture. I didn’t really know at what age stickers become appropriate, but I was shooting for the teen years when the threat of grounding or a withheld learner’s permit would keep him in line. Now a quick google search tells me stickers are all the rage among the toddler set and we’re late getting on the bandwagon.

Of course I know it’s silly that I held out this long. If you visited my house you would see signs of ruin everywhere. Our leather couch that was so posh and delicious two years ago is now shredded by cat claws. The custom drapes (left by the previous owners, I’m waaaay too cheap for that) are matted in dog fur. Close inspection of the walls reveals crayon smudges here and there. Amos has gotten pretty good at following directions, but should there be a minor lapse then adding a Thomas sticker to the mix would only add an extra touch of boyish charm.

Of course, Amos geeked out about his Thomas sticker book, and I’m delighted to report that he hasn’t figured out yet that the stickers peel off the pages and can be reaffixed elsewhere.

Slate has a good article about training potties today. I love that the cheap one turned out to be the best. If you’re in the market, check it out.

Looking back, of course, I can see the clues very clearly. First, that horrid stench of rot, which I attributed to a dead animal decomposing under the house. Then there was the general musty smell, which I blamed on the super-cheap rug we bought at the magical, mysterious, once -a-month Dreamweavers sale.  Their stuff is gorgeous, but who knows where it comes from? Then came the cloud of sewage gas, blamed on the insufficiently capped toilet pipe during our homemade bathroom remodel.

Ladies, let me tell you this, a triple whammy of stomach-turning smells over a tw0-month period warrants further investigation. Pronto.

Earlier this week when the washing machine started draining, I heard splashing noises coming from under the house. Worrisome. Last night my husband finally crawled under the house for a look. He emerged 5 minutes later covered in sewage of the worst kind and shaking his head. “It’s bad,” he said.

The main sewer pipe had a quarter-size hole in it, and any time we turned on a sink or washed the dishes or flushed the toilet, stuff just spilled right out on the ground. It was muddy down there, with the worst kind of mud imaginable.

The mood turned grim. I didn’t know how bad it was under the house (and had zero interest in checking it out for myself), but I imagined the worst. Being swallowed in the middle of the night by a giant cesspool lurking beneath the floorboards. My son waking up covered in black mold. A house in need of bulldozing, financial ruin, homelessness. I like to prepare myself for the worst-case scenario. Plus, it’s difficult to feel upbeat when you’re too scared to flush your toilet so instead you cower in the corner of your backyard, praying your neighbors don’t spy you peeing in the mulch pile.

We halted all fluid and fiber intake and started calling plumbers. I am delighted, elated, over-the-moon happy to report that Buck, the best plumber in the universe, has already shimmied into the bowels of our home and replaced the faulty pipe. Furthermore, it turns out that the amount of sludge down there wasn’t nearly as terrifying as first suspected and can be cleaned right up. Buck says a few other pipes need to be cleaned or replaced altogether, but he didn’t seem scared or appalled or worried about it. And he didn’t charge too much, either. I love Buck.

Amos slept through the entire disaster and this morning noticed not a thing out of the ordinary. I was so pleased last night that he hasn’t yet shown the slightest interest in potty training. Sometimes things work out for the best.

My dad and his wife arrive this afternoon for a 5-day visit, which will be so much more enjoyable with running water. Happy ending!

Yes, I’m fully aware that I have a tendency to overreact and hover a bit when it comes to Amos. But (writing in a whining voice) I really was worried that he might bump his little sweet head falling out of the crib. I’ve worked through it thanks to kind words and how-tos from fellow mommy bloggers, and I suppose I can admit that perhaps I was being a bit overprotective.

Unlike Leigh, Cathy and Cindy, those supportive ladies who felt my pain and metaphorically held my hand through the ordeal, my buddy Walt took a different tack.

Walt: “I saw that picture. The bed is, like, 4 inches off the ground. He’d have a better chance of hurting himself if he just stood up and then fell down.” Guffaws. Hilarity. Ha ha ha.

But he’s right. I’m over it. Amos will be fine. Thanks everybody!

Last month I started freaking out that Amos was going to crawl out of his crib and land on his head on the hardwood floor, most likely hitting the corner of the Thomas the Train table on his way down. So Monday we took the front of his crib off, which leaves something like a miniature daybed that’s about a foot and a half off the floor. You can see the photos in my post from earlier this week to get a guage on how high up it is. We piled up some pillows beside the bed in case of catastrophe. He didn’t have any trouble the first two nights, but last night there was a thud and of course Amos was on the floor.

I guess my question is this: I’m trying to avoid spending the $75 to buy the low rail add-on thingy that would go halfway across the side to prevent falls. And none of those $20 bed rails they sell at babies r us and such places are safe to use in this situation because the crib mattress is too small and doesn’t have a box spring; apparently the rails are made for twin beds and larger. Plus, by the time we order the $75 special thing and get it shipped (est. time 2 weeks) Amos will likely have figured out how to avoid falling out of the bed. But I don’t know, maybe he’ll be falling out for years and years. I’ve never had a toddler before so I’m not sure what the process is here. Have any of you had one of these convertible cribs? And if so, did you buy the special rail or just lay out pillows and hope for the best?

It’s incredibly rare that my husband and I have a day without the baby, but when we do we’re never romantic or adventurous about it. When Amos goes to his grandparents’ house, the paint brushes and power tools come out. Rodney took Amos to Conway Sunday morning, and by the time Rodney got back I had the edging painted in Amos’ bedroom. When we first moved in a little over a year ago we went with a pale blue, which I thought would be calming. But instead it felt arctic and gloomy, certainly not fitting for so zesty a character as my Amos. So I spent Sunday giving it a fresh coating of granny smith apple green. Just thinking of the color makes my mouth water, it’s that tangy. But it looks fab. I’ll post photos soon, just not now because I’ve temporarily misplaced the camera.

Rodney had loftier goals for Sunday. He had to finish gutting the closet and half-bath in preparation for combining those two rooms into one fantastic, luxurious second full bath for our house. I know most people around here have at least two bathrooms already and may not appreciate them, but I’ve never had more than one in my adult life and can hardly fathom such an indulgence.

There were some touch-and-go moments. The first was when I put the first slash of green on the wall and panicked, thinking it was too Grinch-like and Amos would never be able to sleep again because of his walls’ florescent qualities. The other came halfway through when I started cussing and begging Rodney to let me hire painters to finish because even though I was doing my best there were drips everywhere and smears on the floor and my back hurt and the apocalypse was surely here.  I am such a baby about these things. Rodney was calm and reassuring, then he put on those silencing earmuffs and got out a big, loud power saw and went to work in the other room. I don’t blame him.

We did have an actual catastrophe when Rodney nicked a pipe and water started spewing everywhere, just like it does on sitcoms. I simply cannot understand why Rodney never freaks out. Surely that would be the appropriate time, right? But he didn’t. He just turned the water off to the house (who even knows how to do that?), then went off to Kraftco in search of silicone tape. He had to crawl under the house to get everything back in order, but he didn’t seem upset about it at all. It amazes me.

Anyway, Amos came home Monday to a brand new room, which he completely didn’t notice. But it looks a zillion times better, so it was worth the trouble. Our bathroom to be is an empty, non-leaking shell, all ready for the plumbers to come do their magic. Not sure when that will happen, but surely within the next year there will be some action. It’s all very exciting. The toilet is still sitting in the middle of our bedroom, but we’re all still fine with that. I may start using it as a planter soon.

As soon as the camera is located I’ll post photos of the new green room. Compliments welcome, no complaints please. I’m not painting it again.