ANOTHER MOLAR THIS WEEK. It has been hell, to say the least.
It peeked through on Tuesday, and has been hurting him all week.
Hence, these Haiku.
Molar makes its way
Gouging, grinding, tearing gum
Poor lil’ man in pain.
Trying hard to help
Nothing I do makes it end
Ice cream is like gold.
He tries hard to sleep
His mouth objects to slumber
No solace tonight.
Please sleep just a bit?
Oh no, he’s screaming again.
Padded room awaits me.
Nothing else from the day, or any past day was in my heart. Nothing else danced through my mind. Complete solace, and the feeling of tender love and total rightness of being just sat with me.
My eyes were closed and I could feel Braden’s sweet baby breath on my neck. His little arm was wrapped firmly around my neck, making me feel loved and important. As the sounds of his breathing and the soft, sweet murmurs of baby sleep drifted up to my ears, I opened my eyes and looked down at his sleepy little head.
One of those big, fat boulders of emotion that you never see coming before it’s too late rolled and crashed right into my face.
My heart swelled. My mind tripped over itself. My chin trembled a little. And my eyes got teary.
I was thinking of something John said to me weeks ago. When he said it, I really understood. But when I thought of it in that situation, I really felt it, too.
He came out of Braden’s room, after putting him down for the night. He said, “I just looked down at him, while he was sleeping in my arms, and I felt so much love for him. I thought all of a sudden that God must have held Jesus like this once, before He gave him up for us. I couldn’t do that! I couldn’t give Braden up. I love him too much. That’s how much He loves us.”
It was very poignant.
And I sat in that dark room and thought about this warm body I held to my chest. I thought of the blessing of this child in my life, and of the many others I am allowed to experience daily. And I felt humbled, and grateful.
I often write about the aggravations of motherhood. Mostly, I’m just trying to vent about the reality of being a parent, and hope that I’m putting enough of a humorous spin on things to get some laughs. I hope you’re laughing… and if you’re a parent, that you’re nodding.
Don’t let any of it fool you, though.
This is the best gig I’ve ever been lucky enough to land.
All the poo in the world was smeared into my living room carpet last night.Ok. So maybe not ALL the poo. But it sure SMELLED like all the poo.
Oh, before I go deep into this, I’m going to be a nice girl (please be appropriately shocked) and warn you that if you are squeamish about things like stinky, smooshy DOODOO, then you might not want to hang around for long.
And if you can stand reading about it, but seeing a picture would make you toss… well. Yeah. I’m postin’ pictures on this here biznatch.
So. Have I thinned the crowd? Oh COME ON PEOPLE. If I see you leave the room, I SWEAR I’m handing out Atomic Wedgies.
And you there, mister. I know you LIKE them, so that goes opposite for you. No wedgie for you if you leave.
*points at misguided pervert #52*
By the way, as some of you will recall, this is definitely not the first time we’ve had a Turdrageous Experience around here. And it’ won’t be the last, I’m sure.
Anyway…Last night, I made the IDIOTIC mistake of assuming that since my lovely, sweet-smelling son had already massively unloaded into his diaper right after dinner, that another fecal catastrophe would not be scheduled for the span of about, oh, let’s say AT LEAST 10 minutes.
I took off his diaper, did the necessary cleaning, and decided that he could have a good long run around with no pants on.
See, Braden is insanely vulnerable to getting diaper rash – and when I say rash, I mean awful, horrible, make-you-want-to-curl-up-in-a-ball-and-die-just-from-being-the-witness-to, weeping, oozing, bloody wounds on his sad, poor little tender biscuits.
If you look at my kid’s ass the wrong way, it turns red.
So we always give him at least 5 minutes of air drying time… and whenever we think “the time is right” we allow him to run naked.
When your kid takes a huge dump, you tend to think the time is right. You don’t expect another one for awhile.
My advice here for anyone thinking the same way: Don’t be an idiot.
And especially don’t think this when you just fed your kid beans and barley soup.
He ran joyfully to the living room and began playing with his toys, uttering the sweet little Toddlerese gibberish and squealie laughs of baby happiness that make a Mama’s heart feel happy.
I excused myself to check e-mail in the next room.
I could hear his little exclamations of joy and discovery.
Less than 5 minutes passed, and there was a bit of quiet. Then footsteps.
He came into the room. So did the odor.
I made eye contact with him. He turned around and started heading out again, quickly.
I deposited him in the bathtub, but before running water, I checked on the carnage in the living room.
Yes. What you are thinking. It’s true.
That’s CRAP on his cheek.
This is the excitement of Thursday night around here, folks.
I got excrement smeared on my arm last night. What did YOU do?
13 Things I COULD Do While Braden Naps:
- Get some sleep myself, for crying out loud.
- Take a shower. I take a shower once a month, whether I need it or not.
- Eat lunch. One that doesn’t include the words, “Twix” or “Snickers.”
- Laundry. HAHAHA!
- Kegel excercises, so the thought of doing laundry during free time won’t make me pee myself.
- Clean up Braden’s toys. I’m thinking he already has too many. Maybe he’ll “lose” some soon.
- Make a grocery list so I can buy real food and stop eating Halloween Candy.
- Try really hard not to put “more candy” on the grocery list.
- Clean the various metal pieces of the stove top with a brillo pad. DELIGHTFUL.
- Feed Shawn, the poor puffer fish who hasn’t been fed since, like, 1974.
- Issue a challenge for you cool people to guess why I named him Shawn.
- Daydream about my long absent husband.
- Utterly waste my time writing blog posts, checking e-mail, IM’ing, reading brilliant posts by amazing women, playing with photo-editing software, reading humor sites, staring at F’burner obsessively, thinking of ways to make my page look better, obsessing over why my ads aren’t showing anything but public services announcements on the main page….
Braden has WAY too many nicknames. It’s a wonder he even knows his name is “Braden.”
We’ve called him:
Wiggle Bean, Sweetie-dee, Poopdee, Poopteenie, Boogerdeenie, Bubba, The Boy, The Balls…
And, more often, Baby “B” (or Baby-bee). There are 2 reasons:
1) We call ourselves “Mommymee” and “Daddydee”
2) He’s Baby “B”raden.
So when I was deciding what he would be for Halloween a month ago, and getting totally overwhelmed by all the insanely cute choices, I took a minute to think, “What would be really fitting for HIM?”
And this is what I came up with:
Hello… this is Braden James.
Mommy is currently passed out asleep, drooling, and I took the opportunity to get online and try to contact some friends out there…
If you are a Mommy or Daddy… this post is not for you… don’t you have a diaper to change, a bottle to fill, or a shower to take?
I have been inspired by Amy’s Revolutionary Sleep Training Guidance.
Now I would like to give some advice of my own to other young minds out there.
Here are some things any Toddler can do to break a Mommy’s spirit. This is quite a comprehensive daily plan. Please bear with me. You will definitely find some useful information here.
[Please note that these things also work on Daddies. My Mommy is the Parental Unit I harass more frequently because she is available to me for such harassment more often, so I will be referring to "Mommy" throughout. Just insert "Daddy" if that is more appropriate in any given situation.]
Work any and all of these things into your daily routine:
>Do not act happy when you wake up in the morning or from naps. If you used to act happy/play/talk, etc. that is GREAT. The switch from that to sudden, shrill crying everyday instead will be a great attention getter.
>Your breakfast is not exactly what you wanted to have. Scream like a Banshee. Throw food. If you can hit your Mommy, that’s a bonus.
>Throughout the day, when Mommy introduces a new activity, act like the activity is pleasing, then, with absolutely no warning, dissolve into hysterics.
>Whenever you are done with a drink cup/bottle, hurl it as far as it can go. If possible, hit Mommy in the face with it. Hard.
>If your Mommy tries to lay down on the couch and rest a little, while watching you play, as soon as she is horizontal, run over and slap her in the face real good with both hands. When she recoils and stares at you, smile as cutely as possible.
>Have no less than 6 tantrums during the course of the day. It doesn’t matter what they are about. In fact, it is better if it’s impossible to tell what they are about.
>Any time you are down on the floor for more than 3 seconds, run to Mommy and cry to be picked up. Once you are up, squirm to get down. As soon as your feet hit the floor, cry in an utterly abandoned fashion, and crumple helplessly in a heap of tears.
>The food is never prepared fast enough. NEVER. React accordingly.
>Your lunch is not exactly what you wanted to have. Scream like a Banshee. Throw food. If you can hit your Mommy, that’s a bonus.
>Nap Time is RIDICULOUS. Sure, you are tired, but you should choose when you sleep, and where. Whenever Mommy tries to put you down for a nap, wail and moan about it. You will, inevitably, fall asleep, because you’re so tired from all this hard work, but before that happens do your best to complain, wiggle, squirm and fuss until you can feel Mommy’s pulse elevating.
>The sooner you can wake up from Nap Time, the better. Don’t forget to scream, as per the first tip. Also, if you can take short rests during the day, you don’t even need Nap Time.
>You want to go outside at all times. ALL TIMES. If the door is even slightly approached by anyone in your presence, FREAK OUT. Give it all you’ve got.
>If you do get to go outside, once you are out there, make it clear that you had no desire to go outside and act like your Mommy is such an incompetent moron that you are about to have a mental breakdown just from looking at her.
>It is understandable if you want to have some fun outside. Outside really is wonderful. But just make sure that you mix in some displeasure, at least mild displeasure, periodically, and cling occasionally. Just to keep her on her toes.
>Hard toys are great for bashing Mommy in the face. Anything will do, as long as it is not even remotely soft.
>The diaper area is the Pit of Hell. If your Mommy tries to keep taking you there, start whining on approach, and by the time you are placed there, buck around wildly, scream, and try your best to roll/clamber/climb/jump in any direction you can.
>If the diaper scenario is repeatedly tolerated with no reaction by your Mommy other than firm resistance and singing, etc. then you must get specific and it must be brutal. Try launching yourself off the diaper changing area with reckless abandon, as if readying to do a belly flop in water. There is, of course, no water, so crash into the floor, full frontal. Make sure to bash your face into the floor, cutting the tissue that connects inner-upper lip to gums. Blood will flow freely. Scream like your head has just caught on fire. CLING.
>Your snack is not exactly what you wanted to have. Scream like a Banshee. Throw food. If you can hit your Mommy, that’s a bonus.
>If Mommy has to pee, and you can follow her, try to climb in her lap while she is doing it. If she won’t let you, wail and moan about it. Run off crying real tears.
>Whenever Mommy is trying to do ANYTHING that doesn’t involve attending to you directly, you must either: cling to her legs crying and trying to climb up, get under foot and trip her, or try to push her out of the way over and over again. Persist ENDLESSLY with whichever of these you choose, until she gives up and attends to you directly.
>Make sure you are as accident-prone as possible all day long. Stumble, trip, fall, waver, and wobble all day long. Bash your head into anything you possibly can. Look for things you can pinch your fingers in. Bite yourself if you have to.
>Your dinner is not exactly what you wanted to have. Scream like a Banshee. Throw food. If you can hit your Mommy, that’s a bonus.
>If you are teething (and ESPECIALLY if you have some teeth already) your Mommy’s neck and shoulder are GREAT places to clamp your jaws down. Do it as hard as you possibly can, and with no warning. If Mommy reacts with an exclamation of pain, act as if she has frightened you and cry immediately. This will turn the tables on her, making her the aggressor.
>If you can get your hands on anything remotely expensive like a cell phone or camera, throw it as hard as you can, preferably so that it lands on a firm surface, like tile or marble flooring.
>Bathie time is incredibly fun. There is not much you can do to ruin it. You can attempt to frightfully immerse yourself occasionally, but most Mommies are too fast for this to cause a real issue. A real winner, here, is to push out a poopie in the bath water. Do NOT give any advanced indication that you are going to do this. Also, if you have toys to play with, it is a good idea to throw them at Mommy.
>Bedtime is at your leisure. If Mommy tries to put you down before you feel like it, resist every step of the process. Towel-drying hair is to be accompanied by the scream of a thousand pins being driven into one’s eye. Pajama donning should not be achieved in under 10 minutes. If she gets an arm in the sleeve, remove it immediately. Intense kicking during “pants application” will help slow the process.
What to do throughout the night is a WHOLE other topic. Amy gives great direction in her 12 Step Plan. Make sure you check it out.
Footnote: In order to truly destroy your chosen Parental Unit(s) you must employ the “Mix-It-Up” Technique. This means go with The Plan for a few days, then switch to “Perfect Child” mode for at least 3 or 4 days. Sometimes, PC mode should last a week or more before you bring The Plan back into action. There are even times when PC mode is required to last for months at a time. But always bring The Plan back into action.
Every time you bring The Plan back into action, the Parental Unit(s) will be immensely shocked and disturbed. For some reason, after the end of each installment of The Plan, the Parental Unit(s) believe it will never come into action again. This proves they are naive idiots.
Varying things this way will cause significant damage to the stability of the Parental Unit(s)’s mind(s), thereby giving you more power to mold them to your will.
Good luck, and Onward, Soldiers!
The Boy definitely drove us wild last night.
Last night can only be described as:
HOLY CRAP, THAT WAS THE SUCKIEST NIGHT EVER.
Well, actually, I can remember much worse nights, in the beginning, when Braden was singing like he was auditioning for The Opera from 10pm to 4am, nonstop. And that was definitely worse.
And he didn’t even get the part.
But last night was an out-of-the-blue ass-kicking.
When we were about to give The Boy his Bathie, he felt ‘too warm’ to us, so we took his temperature.
Rectally. I don’t know about you, but jamming something into my kid’s Pooper is one of my absolute favorite things to do. (I also like jamming scissors into my ear, putting my hand over an open flame, and stabbing myself in the eye with a sharpened stick.)
And, YAY! It was 100.7.Ruh-roh!
We instantly started The Panic Routine.
“What do you think is wrong with him? Should we call the doctor? He can’t have the flu! Does he feel too hot to you? Should we check on him again? What could possibly be wrong with him!?”He has been having Ultra-Mega-Baddie Teething just lately. I have read that sometimes kids run a fever when they teeth… granted, this has not occurred with Braden as of yet, but who’s to say it happens every time?
By the way, Molars = SUCK.
In fact, Molars have 2 purposes:
1) Grinding and tearing food.
2) Making a parent’s life a living hell.
I originate in Hell!
Satan is my Master.
We gave him some baby Ibuprofen (Mmmmm, the brand name tastes best, apparently – thanks, Braden!), did the Bathie, and put him to bed feeling less warm.He cried out several times, and we checked on him periodically even when he didn’t cry out. Around 1am we checked on him and he felt normal to the touch. Woo-hoo!
Early “Woo-Hoo’s” are a bad idea.
We laid in bed talking, laughing, and acting like goofballs until 2am. That’s the Lotus & John Show, regularly scheduled. Then we decided to turn off the bedside light and go to sleep.
Lights off.Braden starts howling.
I’m gonna cut the story from Long, Whiny, and Boring to Somewhat Shorter, but Still Whiny:
He cried, whimpered, fussed, fidgeted… screamed. We gave him more Ibuprofen and changed his diaper. Got up with him over and over, eventually holding, rocking, singing… then putting him down and whispering, patting, rubbing.
No sleep for us until after 5am.
And then he still got up at 8am. You know, because he likes to “rock and roll all night, and party every day…”
Why did I give up drinking again?