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by Lori Ann
“God made dirt and dirt don’t hurt” — this playground chant was popular when we ate outside on nice spring days, especially if an especially tasty treat fell to the ground. 10+ years later and the chant comes back to mind frequently these days as I realize how futile (and scientifically speaking, harmful) it is to keep Tigger away from every bit of good-old-fashioned dirt.
Unfortunately, the local Grandmas don’t agree, and “dirty” will probably be Tigger’s first word in Chinese.
by Lori Ann
No, we certainly did not find all of the above items under the couch at one time. No, Baba is not right 90% of the time when he answers “probably under the couch” to any “where is …?” question. No, Tigger does not hide plastic bottles like a puppy buries bones. No, there is not only one actual toy in the collection we found.
And, in case you weren’t sure: yes, this is a “Not-Me Monday*” post.
What did you absolutely NOT do today?
^_^ Saruskabeth ^_^
Reading over that last post, I remembered a post I made on my facebook site a few years ago. So here it is, just for you. I know, I know, great first impression of the new Mama Wit blogger. What can I say?
You think its cute now...
We had just moved into a new apartment, and I was so proud of Payten’s apparent smooth adjustment. My proof? He had been, barely a day after moving in, playing quietly in his room for longer than he would at our old house! I was putting the last plate in the dishwasher when I smelled it. And knew that this was not some harmless butt odor, and that the smell itself had not simply escaped the cotton confines of 15 month old Payten’s diaper. I ran into his room, and there he sat. Smack dab in the middle of his brand new road rug in a spludge of poo, picking the corn out and EATING IT. He had taken off all his clothes (except his shirt, which was hanging, twisted, around his neck and left shoulder.) including his diaper, which was spotless, and done the dirty deed right where he sat. Any thoughts of “He doesn’t know its wrong” flew right out of my brain when, as soon as he saw me standing, mouth agape, in the doorway, he began frantically attempting to scoop his poop into his immaculately clean diaper. Some strange variation of “Payten” escaped my throat, and he ran, whimpering, running his poopy hands along the walls, a/c vent, and finally resting them on the couch, with his equally poopy face pressed into the pillow.
I followed, still not feeling anything but shock, and led him quietly to the bathtub, which i filled and (after shaking his filthy hand over the toilet) sat him in. He sat there, huge eyes, an almost-pout on his dirty lips. He stared at me, and I stared at him (from the doorway, of course. Pregnant mommies and poop-monsters do not mix.) and suddenly I began to laugh. I was laughing at the terrified look on his face, at the quickly darkening water. I was laughing at the irony of how I had been so grateful of how he was behaving. I laughed because I had no idea how to deal with discipline in this situation, and because I did not know where to even begin cleaning it up. I laughed, and he cried. He cried, “Mamma…. mamma? oh, mama.” and I cried.
I washed the two of us, both sniffling, and tried to smile. When we were through, we sat together, quietly, his big blue eyes watching my green ones. He held my face and I hugged him. We went together to clean up the mess. I cleaned the gross, and he scrubbed the stains better than I knew he could.
After we’d done all we could, and put everything away, he went back to the room, and I followed. He got his favorite stuffed Pooh Bear, whom he calls his “baby” and pointed at the wet spots on the carpet and walls. “Nuhnuh.” He said. He then brought the bear to me, along with the still-clean diaper. So we diapered the doll and put some pants on him and told Payten’s baby, “Don’t take your diaper off. That is a no-no. Tell Mama if you have to potty.” Payten nodded solemnly, and gazed at the spots on the carpet.
“Hey, dude… you know I always love you, right?”
Grin. “Yup. Lubb-ooh. Kiss?”
Oh, yes. Kisses fix everything.
He was quickly back to his normal self, screaming happily to his reflection in the entertainment center, pouting and pointing at his High Chair to let me know he was hungry.
He’s now fast asleep in his highchair, face first in his mashed potatoes. He’ll need yet another bath, but I think I’ll let him sleep for a moment. Learning Life Lessons takes alot out of ya.
Today’s adventure taught me something, too. There will be many times during parenthood where you’ll face challenges you never imagined. And there will be situations that leave you baffled as to where to begin. But you’ll face those challenges, address those situations, and you will move on. The poop is only the beginning…
Guess how old this little cutie is?
Just a quick note to say that I’m laughing over how my pregnancy ticker at the bottom of the blog currently reads, “51 weeks and 1 day pregnant.” Oh, how thankful I am that it is not so!
Before we go in for our gender-revealing ultrasound this Saturday, I thought it’d be fun to compile some gender predictions based on everything from intuition to science to old wives tales. (No, I don’t put a lot of stock in these!)
MobileMe Gallery – Innocent Culprit
Just having a little fun with our new MobileMe gallery. Check out this video from a few after we were married. Don’t worry, we’re still just as goofy :-)
Mama Wit 