Monthly Archives: April 2013

Lesson Learned

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

3 men

Remember in Three Men & a Baby when the grandma says, “I think she did a doodle?” when referring to the baby having a poopy diaper? Well, I wonder what she would call a volcano of poo erupting out of the top of a baby’s diaper? A doozle? A poozy? A whole lotta shit? This is what I found myself wondering as I placed my messy, squirmy baby in the back of my car as we were parked in the middle of the library parking lot. I didn’t know what to call this explosion of doo doo. All I knew was that it was everywhere.

It was our first visit to story time today. I was a little apprehensive, wondering if my toddler would behave and sit through it. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and heard my hubby’s voice in the back of my head saying she needs to be around more kids, so I committed to going. We arrived just at 11. As with most children’s activities, things tend to start a few minutes late while moms and kids straggle in. Not story time, they are prompt. Of course.

Hurriedly, I parked the car and threw my baby in the Bjorn before getting the big one out. We high-tailed it into the library where the librarian was already reading the first book. We quietly sat down in the back. Ok, I sighed, we made it. Two seconds later my daughter was shouting that she wanted a bean bag. So an understanding dad handed one down the line for us. Phew. Crisis averted.

Then I smelled it.

The little one had shat herself. And boy did it stink. There was another mom sitting close by and I inwardly winced, hoping she couldn’t smell the ripeness coming from our corner. A squeal of delight from the little one–who isn’t so proud and happy after pooping out their entire insides? Six sets of eyes turned to look at us. I smiled politely and tried to distract her. So I took her out of the Bjorn and that’s when I realized it wasn’t just a poopy diaper. It was a poo geyser and it was raining down on me.

Meanwhile, the big one started pulling books from the nearby shelves, exclaimed that her sister was “6 months” when really she’s 7 months going on 8, and took her sandals off. The librarian wasn’t even finished with the first book and I needed to leave already. But if I tried to leave, the big one would suffer a Chernobyl meltdown and then I’d follow suit and everyone would laugh at me.

So what did I do? Waited until the librarian went through the first book, sang a dang song about owls where everyone introduced themself, then read a second book about owls. The big one listened for five seconds at a time before pulling out more books and whining off and on. It was a complete disaster.

When she finished the book, she explained it was craft time and the kids could make little owls out of pine cones. They were very cute and I was bummed we couldn’t make one, but I had to change the little one. She’d sat in it too long as it was. So I went to put the big one’s sandals back on her but somehow they had poop on them. How, I had no idea. So she couldn’t wear them, she’d track it through the library. I had the little one pressed against my chest, hoping no one could tell she was oozing poop and I half-dragged the big one out to the car with no shoes on her feet. Mom of the year status.

Oh yeah, cause I failed to mention that the diaper bag was still in the car. What would I need with it when we were only going to a 20 minute story time?

Luckily, the big one didn’t have a meltdown about leaving.

At the back of the car, I threw the big one in and set the little one down to notice that I had poop all over my shirt, my hands, the big one’s shoes, and probably my hair, not to mention the baby! I smelled like a porta-potty at the fair. Makes me gag just thinking about it.

After what seemed like forever, I finally got everything and everyone cleaned off just as the parents and kids started making their way out of the library holding their little owls. Damnit, that would’ve looked cute on the windowsill.

So to salvage what ended up being a horrific first story time, we went to the park to look for squirrels. The big one was happy about that and the little one was happy to be clean and I was just happy to be out of that tiny, smelly room.

We’ll give it a go again next week. A little bit of poo will not stop this mummy. But you better believe I’m taking my hulking diaper bag in with me.

How You Doin’?

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

I don’t know what it’s like for other moms, but for me, every time I’m at the playground it’s like a blind date. But I’ve never been on one date in my entire life, so how would I know?

There is this mom dance like a mating call minus the mating. I’m there with my two kids, this other mom is there with hers. Our children run around and play together. We smile. They get along without any incident. We follow each other around, and then finally we speak. She’s new to the area, so am I. She has a 2 1/2 year old daughter, so do I. She seems normal, so do I. In other words, a perfect match. Like if we were on Love Connection, Chuck Woolery would ask if there would be a second playdate and the audience would vote for number 1 and we’d get to go out again for free. Man, I loved that show–so much bad hair (see below).

love

It’s sad and a little embarrassing that I’ve never been on a date. But I married my high school sweetheart, so we’re both completely clueless when it comes to picking up people. At least he better be. It’s obvious I don’t know a thing about dating. I thought guys still said, “What’s your sign?” as a pick-up line. If it was up to me I guess I’d quote Notorious B.I.G. and say, “What your interests are? Who you be with? Things to make you smile? What numbers to dial?” And if she knows what I’m talking about, then we could be friends.

My daughter is a terrible wingman, she leaves me in the dust as soon as she sees the swings. And then I’m the weirdo wearing a baby strapped to my chest pushing my daughter’s stuffed zebra in the swing next to her. Nobody wants to talk to that loony tune.

Before becoming a mom, I never would’ve started a conversation with a random stranger. My shyness was too crippling. But with two young babies, you’re forced to get out of the house and interact with your fellow mums if you want to sustain any shred of sanity. There’s really nothing to worry about as you already have so much in common, first and foremost being that you’re starved for adult interaction.

Awhile back, we were at the playground and my daughter was playing with a little girl who was about her age. They were having so much fun running around together. I waited the appropriate amount of time, assessing the situation before I committed to “getting chummy” with her mom, then we started chatting. She was very nice. Worked a part-time job at a nearby winery, and had good things to say about local schools. My Mom Connection was running high. She said she often brought her daughter to the same playground so she was sure we’d run into each other again–the blow off, perhaps.I didn’t have my phone so I didn’t get her number. Then we parted ways and I’ve never seen her again. The hubby couldn’t believe I let her slip through my fingers….worked at a winery–hell-o, what was I thinking?!? He went on about it for a few days. But I didn’t have my phone, what was I supposed to do? Write her number on my hand like some middle-school crush?

I’ve since joined a mom’s group in our area and am meeting some nice moms and my daughter is getting some socialization, although we have a long way to go. At our last playdate, my darling girl was eating a snack and every time one of the other children came near her, she screamed “NO!” and held her food close to her as if they were going to rip it out of her hands. So embarrassing. Before you think I’m starving her, we have two small dogs who constantly steal her food, hence the reason for her insane outbursts. But these kids don’t know that, they just think she’s  super hungry and stingy.

Maybe I don’t want her for my wingman after all.

Misery Sure Does Love Company

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

misery

Not to say that I’m miserable. Well ok, I am miserable on certain days but if you ask my hubby I’m miserable every day. That’s because he only sees me after I’ve put up with two screaming kids for twelve straight hours. Anyone would be miserable, am I right? He misses all the happy, silly moments that also make up our day.He mostly sees me when I’m at the end of my rope, my nerves shredded from a long day of temper tantrums and meltdowns times two.

Nobody understands my misery situation like my fellow mummy who also has two little ones. I got some much needed time with her this past weekend. She graciously opened up her home to me, the hubby, and our two darling lovelies. Yes, she’s that nice! She willingly agreed to house our crazy clan for a few days. It actually wasn’t as chaotic as you’d think having a 3 year old, 2 year old, 9 month old, and 7 month old all under the same roof. Luckily they have a huge roof!

It was so much fun! All the babies bonded and had fun playing together. And we got to vent/share all our mummy concerns and stories, making me feel like everything I’m going through and doing is normal. So it’s safe to say that we were definitely in good company comparing sleep schedules, fussiness, and eating habits.There’s just something special about swapping parenting stories especially when you’ve known the other mom since she was a kid herself. You still remember when you were in kindergarten together drawing pictures of unicorns and rainbows and now your kids are playing play dough on the dining room floor together. Special doesn’t even begin to sum it up.

The first night we were there, the men were “allowed” to go out to the baseball game what with it being opening night and all. Maybe we were trying to prove something, but we agreed that everything would be just fine without them. We waved off their concerns if we’d be alright on our own with four little ones to feed, bathe, and put to bed. Clearly we were outnumbered, but puh-lease, we could do it with our eyes closed, one hand tied behind our back, and a baby attached to a boob. So we told them to enjoy their night out, guaranteeing us our own night away for later during the weekend. Suckers!

I’m not gonna lie, at one point I thought we’d never get them all to bed before midnight because at any one time one baby (usually mine) was fussing and being ignored. It just can’t be helped when you’re chasing a toddler with sticky fingers and a poopy diaper.

But I’m happy to report that we had them all tended to and quietly tucked in by 8. After feeling like we’d won the World Series of child-rearing, we literally high-fived over our wine glasses and settled in for some more mom talk until our yet-to-be-mom friend joined us and relieved us of spending the whole night wallowing in our shared misery, um, I mean motherhood. We got on to discussing more pressing things like Real H-wives and the last time we bought new underwear, you know, what really matters.