Mr.Man calls to me from the general vacinity of the bathroom "Mom! I need you help me!" Puzzled, i replied "Help you with what babe? where are you?"
"i need you help me go pee"
Pee? but he's been doing that by himself for weeks now, I think to myself. I turn as he comes skipping into the living room, holding his penis in one hand, extending the other to me "Come mommy, I hold your hand". ookay, what else is a mother to do? I followed along.
He ran ahead as he neared the bathroom, and as I turned the corner, I saw him attempting to climb onto the seat backwards, facing the toilet tank.
"Whatcha doing big guy?" I ask, confused and bewildered.
"I'm trying to pee like daddy mom, help me pee standing up!"
I...oh...what? Pee, like daddy? Like, STANDING?! oh dear lord no, i thought in a panic, remember a recent conversation I had with friends, all of us thankful our little boys hadn't discovered peeing standing up, and thus limiting our cleaning.
"Mom, help ME" Mr. Man whined, impatient with my momentary lack of attention.
Thinking fast, I plunked Miss. A down on the floor, and lifted up the seats of the toilet in an attempt to reproduce what Mr. Man saw his father doing.
"ok, Mister, now come stand here, aim, and go pee" I coached, not at all sure of the mechanics of peeing upright, having, due to my double X chromosomes, never experience the thrill.
"no mom, not like this, like this!" he proclaimed, pulling down the bottom seat. "ok, Whatever you want kid, just go pee!" I encouraged, thinking ahead to where the nearest stash of rags were.
Still, no pee. We tried a stool, we tried standing *on* the toilet, we tried it all. Finally I had enough.
"Mr. Man, we have a problem. Mommy doesn't have a penis, so this is all new to me. How's about we make a deal - when daddy gets home, we can ask him to teach you to pee like him, until then, pleasure have some pity on your mommy and pee like me, ok?"
thankfully, he bought it.
I promptly retreated back to the living, and called the root of all my problems. "I have a bone to pick with you, you pee stander..."
Where's the Nanny? A slice of SAHM life...
"Hush little baby, don't say a word..."
Miss A's eyelids flutter closed as she nuzzles into my breast and slowly drifts to sleep while I nurse her in the rocking chair in her room. Her lullaby music is playing, and I find myself contently humming along, stroking her silky cheeks and staring dreamily at her face.
My ears perks up when out of nowhere I hear the cry of my oldest, Mr. Man, shouting enthusiastically from the living room "I pooped in my potty! MOMMMMMMMMMMMY!! I POOOOOOOPED!"
Knowing I had only moments before he climbed the stairs to make his proclamation in person, I hastily broke Ainsley's latch, and tried to carefully roll her into her crib without waking her up.
"Moooooooommy!" I hear, the culprit getting perilously close, I suspect almost to the top of the stairs at that point. I draped the blanket over Ainsley's form, noting with dismay she was beginning to wake up.
"shit shit shit" i think to myself, dashing to the nursery door and yanking it open moments Logan can bang on it
"shhhhhhh big guy, baby's sleeping!" I manage to admonish, just as I hear the tell tale whine from inside the Nursery. Dammit dammit dammit!!
I send Mr. Man back downstairs, after a quick butt wipe and a high five, reminding him again to PLEASE stay downstairs so Miss. A can nap. I re-enter the nursery to a very upset little girl, the abandonment allegations shining fresh in her red rimmed eyes. I scooped her up, placing kisses on her cheeks and apologize for leaving her while I dealt with a poop smeared butt. I reassured her that as much as she disliked being alone in her room, missing out on the the smell of toddler poop was preferable! Being only eight months old, I'm quite my words were not as reassuring as my reappearance in her world.
Desperate for a solo shower, achievable only once one child was asleep and the other bribed with a Thomas video, I attempted to rock my little girl back to sleep. Attempt being the key word, little girl was having none of this, thinking her earlier two second slumber was good enough and she wanted to rejoin the world now, thank.you.very.much.mother.
Withholding the swear words that were threatening to burst forth from my lips, I resign myself to another few hours of pit stink. I trudged back downstairs to real life.
They had to sleep eventually, I reassured myself. Afternoon nap time is only 4 hours away!
Miss A's eyelids flutter closed as she nuzzles into my breast and slowly drifts to sleep while I nurse her in the rocking chair in her room. Her lullaby music is playing, and I find myself contently humming along, stroking her silky cheeks and staring dreamily at her face.
My ears perks up when out of nowhere I hear the cry of my oldest, Mr. Man, shouting enthusiastically from the living room "I pooped in my potty! MOMMMMMMMMMMMY!! I POOOOOOOPED!"
Knowing I had only moments before he climbed the stairs to make his proclamation in person, I hastily broke Ainsley's latch, and tried to carefully roll her into her crib without waking her up.
"Moooooooommy!" I hear, the culprit getting perilously close, I suspect almost to the top of the stairs at that point. I draped the blanket over Ainsley's form, noting with dismay she was beginning to wake up.
"shit shit shit" i think to myself, dashing to the nursery door and yanking it open moments Logan can bang on it
"shhhhhhh big guy, baby's sleeping!" I manage to admonish, just as I hear the tell tale whine from inside the Nursery. Dammit dammit dammit!!
I send Mr. Man back downstairs, after a quick butt wipe and a high five, reminding him again to PLEASE stay downstairs so Miss. A can nap. I re-enter the nursery to a very upset little girl, the abandonment allegations shining fresh in her red rimmed eyes. I scooped her up, placing kisses on her cheeks and apologize for leaving her while I dealt with a poop smeared butt. I reassured her that as much as she disliked being alone in her room, missing out on the the smell of toddler poop was preferable! Being only eight months old, I'm quite my words were not as reassuring as my reappearance in her world.
Desperate for a solo shower, achievable only once one child was asleep and the other bribed with a Thomas video, I attempted to rock my little girl back to sleep. Attempt being the key word, little girl was having none of this, thinking her earlier two second slumber was good enough and she wanted to rejoin the world now, thank.you.very.much.mother.
Withholding the swear words that were threatening to burst forth from my lips, I resign myself to another few hours of pit stink. I trudged back downstairs to real life.
They had to sleep eventually, I reassured myself. Afternoon nap time is only 4 hours away!
It's a Whole New World!!!!!!!!
Look MA! I can stand! oh wow, what a new world!
Can't you just see her little mind working "the couch...there's stuff on it! Why didn't anyone tell me about that? Now the toys options are endless, what do I play with first?!"
That's right folks, my baby is growing up. And while I am prouder than a nobel prize winner, I have a deep dark secret to admit. And admit it I will, right here on the world wide wed. the internet superhighway. the vast html void.
The first thing I thought of when I saw her do this was "well shit, the couch is no longer a safe place for the remote control".
Prime mothering moment I will cherish forever.
Can't you just see her little mind working "the couch...there's stuff on it! Why didn't anyone tell me about that? Now the toys options are endless, what do I play with first?!"
That's right folks, my baby is growing up. And while I am prouder than a nobel prize winner, I have a deep dark secret to admit. And admit it I will, right here on the world wide wed. the internet superhighway. the vast html void.
The first thing I thought of when I saw her do this was "well shit, the couch is no longer a safe place for the remote control".
Prime mothering moment I will cherish forever.
Things I never dreamed I would ever say
*Please do not put your finger up the cat's bum, he doesn't like it.
*No, i promise the cat does NOT like your finger up his bum.
*Please do not put your finger up your own bum.
*Please do not use your penis as a button. That cannot feel good.
*See how mommy pees on the potty? Isn't that FUN?!
*Underwear does not belong on your head.
*Please do not pee on your sister.
*No, I am QUITE sure she does NOT like you to pee on her.
*...or poo, oh hell no.
Potty learning has brought a whole new dimension parenting vocabulary!
*No, i promise the cat does NOT like your finger up his bum.
*Please do not put your finger up your own bum.
*Please do not use your penis as a button. That cannot feel good.
*See how mommy pees on the potty? Isn't that FUN?!
*Underwear does not belong on your head.
*Please do not pee on your sister.
*No, I am QUITE sure she does NOT like you to pee on her.
*...or poo, oh hell no.
Potty learning has brought a whole new dimension parenting vocabulary!
Bedside table of a pregnant woman
No, I'm not pregnant. oh lord let me not be pregnant. I'm not. I swear. I don't think...ok, i'm not. yeah, let's go with that. Not pregnant. But, i have been, twice, which means I am without a doubt knowledgeable about being pregnant. And with this knowledge comes the knowledge of the bedside table of a pregnant woman. And when you are housing an 8 lbs little person, with it's 20 pounds of baggage, you need everything within reach, and within reach is the bedside table.
For example
Note the Tums bottle. No self-respecting pregnant woman would be caught dead without one within reach. Especially with the promise of long periods of being horizontal. Being horizontal is not fun with heartburn.
And the water. The cruel twist of fate pregnant woman are subjected to is increased thirst, and decrease bladder room. You do the math.
And the book. While I'm sure not all women are/were as interested in Natural Childbirth as I am, hands down there is a labour/breastfeeding/newborn book on their nightstand. For me, natural was the key, and this book was great. I read it a few times actually. And made notes. And highlighted. And then promptly forgot all about it during my homebirth. Go figure.
For example
Note the Tums bottle. No self-respecting pregnant woman would be caught dead without one within reach. Especially with the promise of long periods of being horizontal. Being horizontal is not fun with heartburn.
And the water. The cruel twist of fate pregnant woman are subjected to is increased thirst, and decrease bladder room. You do the math.
And the book. While I'm sure not all women are/were as interested in Natural Childbirth as I am, hands down there is a labour/breastfeeding/newborn book on their nightstand. For me, natural was the key, and this book was great. I read it a few times actually. And made notes. And highlighted. And then promptly forgot all about it during my homebirth. Go figure.
Wowza
Talk about not blogging! ! Look at my lackluster blogging here, way to be a gemini woman. I'm all about the instant gratification, thinking whatever I write will be so gut wrenchingly funny people will email it to their friends, and their friends will email it to their friends, and so on and so on until my blog gets a million hits and I'm on Oprah. Not that I have an ego problem or anything. I'm just a gemini. with red hair. But I digress...
What was I talking about again? Oh right, this blog...I get going, and then get distracted by life and my other blog, then get discouraged that nobody reads and then stop writing. My apologies to my loyal and loving fans. Or Fan. or....wait, can there be a negative fan number? I was never good a physics. Or math for that matter. What, 1+1=2? I think not. it's been my experience that 1+1=3, but since this is still a realtively PG site, I won't go there. yet. Ratings to be reviews. How's that for a paragraph ? Paragraphs should have something in common, right? i was never one to follow the rules. But right, blogging, that's what i'm talking about. I think. Remind me, oh -1 reader? Geez, so much for showcasing that $40,000 worth of prime education, I can't ven write a paragraph!
SO since this post is random at best, and psychotic at most, let me tell you a story of something I saw today.
Scene: country road, me in my trusty loser cruiser with girlfriend asleep in back. The boys are back at home.
"Boom de la la, Boom de la la, shake that fancy butt..." that's me singing. I like to rock out in the van. I'm cool like that.
All at once, my olfactory senses are assaulted with a smell we all loathe. Skunk. ewwwww. ALL together now children, "EWWWWW".
Up ahead I see a cyclist, she appears to pulling over in the gravel shoulder...and slowing down...and stopping, getting off...bending over...wait a second, she's not...she wouldn't, she...EWWW! she picked up the dead skunk, EWWW kooties!!! She walks the skunk over to the ditch, gently places the carcass in the ditch, crosses herself and says a prayer. over a skunk. riiiiight.
That's my story. Having written it out, it's actually not as funny as I thought it would be. I hate when that happens!
What was I talking about again? Oh right, this blog...I get going, and then get distracted by life and my other blog, then get discouraged that nobody reads and then stop writing. My apologies to my loyal and loving fans. Or Fan. or....wait, can there be a negative fan number? I was never good a physics. Or math for that matter. What, 1+1=2? I think not. it's been my experience that 1+1=3, but since this is still a realtively PG site, I won't go there. yet. Ratings to be reviews. How's that for a paragraph ? Paragraphs should have something in common, right? i was never one to follow the rules. But right, blogging, that's what i'm talking about. I think. Remind me, oh -1 reader? Geez, so much for showcasing that $40,000 worth of prime education, I can't ven write a paragraph!
SO since this post is random at best, and psychotic at most, let me tell you a story of something I saw today.
Scene: country road, me in my trusty loser cruiser with girlfriend asleep in back. The boys are back at home.
"Boom de la la, Boom de la la, shake that fancy butt..." that's me singing. I like to rock out in the van. I'm cool like that.
All at once, my olfactory senses are assaulted with a smell we all loathe. Skunk. ewwwww. ALL together now children, "EWWWWW".
Up ahead I see a cyclist, she appears to pulling over in the gravel shoulder...and slowing down...and stopping, getting off...bending over...wait a second, she's not...she wouldn't, she...EWWW! she picked up the dead skunk, EWWW kooties!!! She walks the skunk over to the ditch, gently places the carcass in the ditch, crosses herself and says a prayer. over a skunk. riiiiight.
That's my story. Having written it out, it's actually not as funny as I thought it would be. I hate when that happens!
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