How I Found Solidarity At Barnes And Noble

I feel lame that so many of my stories start with “Today, at Barnes and Noble”.  What an exciting life I lead.  Other than the park, it’s the only free place to hang out with my kid who constantly reminds me that he wants to go somewhere by walking to the door and demanding, “bye bye!”  There are always interactions there.  A grown up to talk to is my favorite part, but I also like observing everyone’s parenting styles.

A few days ago, Jack and I had to leave early because he wouldn’t stop trying to take another little boy’s juice.  It got to the point where I had no choice, but to leave.  The woman said politely, “He must be thirsty,” which I self-consciously took as “Do you not give your baby beverages?”  I swore to the woman that my child had plenty of fluids that day, and went into obnoxious details about how her son’s cup looked like Jack’s old cup and yada yada yada please-don’t-think-I-severely-dehydrate-my-kid jargon.  The annoying part of all of this is that she was just trying to keep things light-hearted while my little beast was violently trying to rob her.  Still, I couldn’t help but take her comment way too personally.  Of course this woman doesn’t think my child is dying of thirst.  Of course he’s just in a “I want that cup or I will cut you” kind of mood.  All two year olds go through that horrendous phase where they don’t understand that every object on earth is not their personal property.  Why then, do I feel the need to explain myself or the behavior of my toddler?  All anyone has to do is look at him and know that he’s doing what he’s doing because he’s a tiny human-and tiny humans are selfish. Continue reading

The Boy Who Loved Shoes

As I sit at Barnes and Noble, and watch my child and his new friend play together (and thank the book gods for the train table’s return), I realize that I’ve nearly forgotten my melancholy attitude some twenty minutes ago.  Having a moment to breathe, I can step outside of myself and examine the cause of this acute depression.  It’s shoes. Continue reading

Baby’s First Temper Tantrum

First of all, I’d like to apologize for being MIA the past month.  We have been moving and are still in the process of…you know…moving.  Also, if you haven’t noticed, we are right slam in the middle of the holiday season, so….back off!  Seriously though, I’m sorry.  Lucky for you, my husband wouldn’t get off my back about blogging so here we are.  While much has happened in the past month, I am currently in the mood to enjoy a good therapy post about my baby’s newest milestone.  THROWING AN EMBARRASSINGLY, LOUD, OBNOXIOUS, PHYSICALLY HARMFUL FIT IN A PUBLIC PLACE. Continue reading

When Toddlers Attack

As I am writing this, my little angel dumplin’ is chillin’ in his crib, singing happy songs about how much he loves his mother because of my undying affection for him.  He is holding his Momo blankie and thinking of all the fun times he had with me today. Like when he threw that soup can at my head.  Or when he picked up a baseball bat and hit me as hard as he could.  Or, here is the best part, when he grabbed a glass bowl that I was eating from and hit me directly in the nose and I seriously thought it was broken.  His favorite part of the day, I’m sure, is laughing at me as I tried to get him to stay in “the time out corner”.  This escape from baby prison game is THE BEST!  You know how psychopaths on TV like to smile as they’re about to torture their victims?  Well, I think my baby might be a psychopath.  This brings me to a quick flashback story.  It’s the reason I’m here-in this amazing situation.  It’s the reason for my punishment. Continue reading

Flowcharts For Toddlers

After hearing myself say to my son, “No.  We don’t put our hand in the dog’s butt.” and posting said statement on Facebook, I was inspired by my friend Amber to figure out a way to help toddlers answer the more difficult questions in life.  Often, when saying to Jack, “Don’t lick that!” or “We don’t show our belly button to total strangers, darling.”, he has a very confused expression on his face.  So, after way too much time figuring out how to create flowcharts on free online software, I give you: Flowcharts for Toddlers.  The following should be helpful for your child when a challenging situation arises.  Good luck!

Continue reading

Apathy Towards Violence

Today, as my family and I were driving home, we witnessed a woman break a bottle on the back of another woman’s head.  There were four of them.  My husband’s reaction was to pull over and make sure no one was going to kill anybody.  My reaction was total annoyance, as the ladies were fighting in the middle of road, and I wanted to go home.  I felt nothing.  I barely even acknowledged what had happened. Continue reading

A Toast To Second Firsts

As I sit here watching my beautiful little angel puff attempting to eat his Disney pasta and peas, I can’t help but reminisce of a specific moment in my life.  It was right after my wisdom teeth had been taken out.  I was attempting to feed myself some Kraft Mac and Cheese (THE BEST PASTA IN A BOX EVER), but was so  discombobulated that I couldn’t find my mouth.  It was so frustrating.  I was starving and all I wanted more than anything in the world was the delicious, orange, mushy-ness in my pie hole.  Instead, I stabbed my cheeks repeatedly with four tiny knives like a drunken idiot. Continue reading

Why My Job And My Facebook Account Are Equally Important

Today is day seven in a row of BABY.  During the week, I am a stay-at-home mom, but most weekends, I work.  I work for a few reasons.  One, we can use the money.   Two, I need to get out of this house and away from my angel nugget at least once a week.  Jack is my joy.  The moment I leave him, I miss him.  The second I put him to bed, I want to pick him back up and hold him watch him sleep.  When I hear him in the morning, I love walking into his room and seeing his smile as we start our day together.  That being said, as most parents know, I NEED A BREAK. Continue reading

A Day In The Life Of A Full Time Poop Cleaner

You think you know poop?  You might-but I. Know. Poop.  I was even a poop expert pre-baby.  As a nurse, I can tell alot by your poop.  What medications you take, whether you drink enough water, and-any nurse will agree-whether or not you have C-diff.  I’m not kidding.  I can seriously smell C-diff.  NURSES CAN TELL YOU IF YOU HAVE C-DIFF.  They won’t, though.  Because they aren’t supposed to-but they totally know.

I know what you’re thinking.  “THIS IS DISGUSTING WHY IS SHE TELLING ME THIS?!”  Because I want to warn you.  The story I’m about to share with you is all about poop.  Duh.

At home, I am in charge of the cat’s litter box (on weekdays) and of course, my son’s glorious little diaper gifts.  I take the dogs out once or twice a day.  **I feel like my husband will want you to know that he takes the dogs to the park every day-and that I never take them to the park.  Ever.  And that usually, the dogs are with him when they poop.**  Still, they poop sometimes with me.  I am often the one (due to my husband’s weird sleeping schedule) to clean up animal vomit and what-not.

So, here is what went down yesterday.  I brought my one year old son home from a very long car trip to a restaurant (50 miles away) and then to another restaurant (20 miles away) because the former was closed.  I got the pot roast and for the first time EVER it was awful.  I sent it back for some fried chicken that wasn’t ready until we were about to leave.  The point is, it had been a long day.

I get home and put my son down to get things in the house.  I’ve already given him a bath before dinner in hopes that he would be asleep when we get home.  Nope.  He starts to play and then suddenly stops.  Completely frozen in his familiar “I’m taking a giant dump” pose.  I wait.  As I am changing him, I notice his cute little tushy is a bit red.  I decide to let it air out a little before I put some cream on it and get him ready for bed.

This is when I notice that in the other room, the litter box has been removed 15 feet from its original location.  It is overturned, lid off, and the carpet is covered in poop-filled litter.  There is literally NO litter in the damned box.  We have wooden floors, but of course, as is my dog’s want, all of the litter and its contents are directly on top of the only rug in the entire stupid room.  Instead of getting insanely agitated, I decide to just go in there and clean it up before I even have a chance to feel sorry for myself.  Sometimes, when I have to clean up a mess like this, I get angry with the entire world.  Like God told the dog to go dump out the litter box because I deserve punishment for cursing at the lady who wouldn’t get out of the fast lane yesterday.

So, I clean it up.  Scoop the poop.  Throw it out.  Sweep the room.  Vacuum the rug.  Return the litter box.  Then, I go back to the den to get my baby ready for bed so I can CHILL THE HELL OUT.

As I walk into the den, I notice a familiar smell.  I wonder, “Is that just because I just scooped poop?  Nope.  That is definitely toddler poop.  Perhaps, it is from the diaper I changed when we got home.”  (Yes.  I really do wonder to myself like that.)  NOPE.  My sweet little angel has just had diarrhea in two separate locations of the room.  The fully carpeted room.  The child, who JUST took a dump and usually doesn’t take another dump immediately after, has pooped ALL OVER THE CARPET.  Oh, well.  This one is totally on me.  I’ll just throw a diaper on him, put his PJs on and off to bed he goes while I clean this up.  Right?  NOPE.

First, I wipe his precious little behind, then I slap a diaper on him, and as I pick him up to put his pajamas on him, I notice the bottom of his feet.  Both of them.  You’ll never guess what it was.  Kidding.  You will.  It was poop.  MORE POOP.  At this point, it is on baby AND mommy.  To the bath we go.

Thirty minutes later, we are both clean and ready for bed.  I put him in his crib and thank you JESUS he immediately lays down like “Thanks, Mom.  Today was exhausting.  Holla.”

I’m feeling a little better.  Calmer.  Cleaner.  I walk back into the den ready to relax when something mushy and wet on the bottom of my foot quietly reminded me that “UM. DUH. THE WHOLE REASON YOU JUST TOOK A BATH WITH YOUR BABY IS BECAUSE HE DROPPED A MAJOR DEUCE ON YOUR DEN FLOOR .”  I wash my feet.  I clean the carpet.   I am done for the day.  I finally give up on life and go to bed.  Tomorrow is a new day-and hey-shit happens.