Saturday, February 25, 2006

Things I've learned the hard way

1. Feeding a baby pureed beets will most definitely have an effect on contents emerging from the business end of said baby in the near future.

2. Always tell the babysitter when you've fed the baby pureed beets.

3. No matter how tall or fast you are, the baby will get to the crumbs on the floor before you.

4. I guarantee you, your toddler can open the dryer door. That's why your skirts are still wet.

5. Don't tell the baby what time you went to bed the night before. She doesn't care.

6. No, your perfume does not mask the scent of spit-up. And spraying it directly into your armpits only works for a few hours. And marginally at that.

7. The baby really does wait to pee until you've removed the diaper. He likes that face you make when you're running for cover. The squeal's fun, too.

8. A baby's cry is on the momma frequency during the night. It's like a dog whistle, the daddy can't hear it. But oddly enough the other children in the house can.

9. Don't wear white shirts until your children are 10 years old. Black is slimming, and the pb&j doesn't show. Neither does juice, coffee, spaghetti, ketchup...

10. I know that if something happened to one of my children, I'd cherish every stain. I'd look back with longing to a time when I could spend an hour alone with the baby each night. I'd dig through the laundry hoping to find a blanket that still has spit-up on it. I'd remember every frustrating moment and guard the memories of them carefully, knowing I wouldn't change a single thing.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

"I poopin' a-din!"

Jonah's been trying to pooh for days now. Well, he isn't really trying to go, he's doing his level best not to go. He's holding it in. The boy will. not. go. It isn't constipation, I guess it's called "hoarding" in expert circles. He's actually hoarding pooh. In the Latin, poopus refusus. No matter what you call it, it's clear he has an issue with control. (Can a two-year-old have control issues already? He's so amiable in every other area.)

When the urge approaches, Jonah will stop in his tracks and bend in a contorted sort of freakshow fashion, legs and all. I hadn't realized you could bend sideways until I saw Jonah do it. He holds his shoulders back with his chin pressed down to his chest. He stares straight ahead and lets out a sort of long low mournful moan. Sounds like the letter "n" but with your mouth wide open and the guttural sound coming from the back of your throat. We say, "Jonah, what's the matter?" and he replies, "I poopin' a-din."

Another favorite laboring position is an against the wall & spread 'em affair, as if he's preparing to be patted down by the law. He stands with his hands against the wall, feet shoulder width apart, grunting and sweating with Herculean effort. We say, "Jonah, are you pooping?" and he squeezes out a breathy weary "Noo-oo-o."

Eventually the determination of the *ahem* "oncoming traffic" will overcome Jonah's resolve to staunch its progress, and the matter is taken care of without his consent. He's so alarmed, the look on his face at his sudden inability to control the world around him is so sad!

I've tried everything: suppositories, Vaseline, juice, fiber, everything. I even try to catch him during a labor pain and make him walk around or crouch, or better yet get him to the big boy potty in time for the main event! All to no avail. I just don't know how to make a boy go pooh, short of an enema (which I just can't bring myself to do). But something did finally do the trick. All I had to do was scrub the tub!

That's right. I scrubbed out the bathtub with my favorite cleanser, Lysol Basin Tub and Tile Cleaner. Man, I love that stuff. I made it nice and sparkly, even got the walls, although no one but me would notice that. Then I filled the squeaky clean tub with nice warm water, just on the verge of too warm. I poured in Jonah's favorite bubbles ("mmmm, Momma, dat fmells fwitty!") and, after wiping up the pee spot on the bathroom rug, I inserted the boy.

He played, he splashed, he had a jolly good time. The hot water, the bubbles, the mounds of tub toys, all did wonders for getting his mind off his "traffic" troubles. You should try it if you have a boy suffering from poopus refusus.

He'll poop in your clean tub in no time flat.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

I just peed on my apron strings.

I swear to you, I really did just pee on my apron strings.

Mary-Beth seems to be pretty high maintenance today. She woke up with a wicked cough and her runny nose seems worse today than yesterday. She's probably teething on top of that - jolly. Makes for a whiney, I want UP "I just wanna be loved" baby.

Anyway, I got up this morning at the butt-crack of dawn and managed to schlep my way to the kitchen for my morning cup of git-after-it. I think I'd been sitting there staring into space for only five minutes when I heard the babies in the monitor, Mary-Beth saying "da-da-da-d-d-d-da-da-da" in her little infant version of Morse Code, and Jonah singing his A-B-C's. The amiable nature of their conversation soon turned ugly and I realized I couldn't put them off any longer. I hadn't visited the potty yet (we have kids, we don't say "toilet" anymore, we say "potty") but figured I could sneak in a quick tinkle before I gave Mary-Beth her bottle.

Um, no.

I don't know about you, but I have yet to figure out how to go potty while holding an infant intent on knowing and seeing what you're doing. And at some point in the process I'm going to need both hands at the same time. (If you happen to be a man, shut up.)

I set her down on the living room floor and did my best to make like a tree and leaf, IF ya know what I mean. She went from Nirvana to Armageddon in a nanosecond. Oh my stars, she sounded like a fire alarm gone dreadfully wrong! I decided I'd better just bite the bullet, cross my legs and feed her first. 8 ounces, comin' right up.

When she finished her bottle I went to take the empty to the sink. Of course, Jonah saw that I was in the kitchen, which clearly indicated that I was ready and willing to rustle 'im up some grub. *sigh* Toast with "pee-buh" (peanut butter) and one dish of applesauce, comin' right up.

Finally I was finally able to sneak off to the loo. Great God Almighty free at last! I had to go SO bad that I was piddling like an old lady by the time I got there. I knew I wouldn't be able to haul my skirt down - not in the hurry I was in - so I opted for my patented scoop-it-up-to-your-waist-and-hope-you-get-it-all method. Streamlined, you know.

Then... aaaaahhhhhhhhh. Heaven. For a moment, anyway.

Bang bang bang! It's coming from down low on the door so I figure it's Jonah. "Maw-MAW! Momma? Uh IN!" Which, loosely translated, means "Pardon me Mother dear, I notice you have the door locked which, quite frankly, puzzles me. But be that as it may, might I possibly accompany you into the bathroom please? Silly me, I seem to have left a roll of toilet paper only half unrolled and I feel compelled to finish my task right now at this particular moment... Oh Mother? Mother dear, are you there?"

I didn't hear a syllable beyond "Pardon me" because I had long since turned on the faucet to drown out the noise. By crackie, I was going to pee in privacy and silence for once! I stopped needing help in the bathroom in preschool!

I sighed a long victorious sigh and reached down to scoop up a handful of toilet paper from the half-unrolled roll on the floor and set about my business. I had done it! I'd dared to dream the impossible dream and I had done it!

I don't know how long I sat there congratulating myself. I was roused from my reverie by the sound of a skillet hitting the top of the stove. Doubly scary since Jonah should NOT be able to reach the top of the stove. Prolly I should go check out that noise. (I know, I know! Why does the movie heroine always go check out the noise in the basement??? I hate that, too.)

I stood up and felt two long skinny wet *fwaps* on the backs of my knees. You guessed it. My apron strings hadn't made it to safety during my patented scoop-it-up-to-your-waist routine. Obviously my streamlined method for skirt acquisition needs to be streamlined. *sigh*

Oh well. I got to pee by myself.
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