Well, I say bullshit.
It gets better, that’s for sure. Every stage Liam has gone through thus far has me overwhelmed with his awesomeness in a truly fantastic, head-over-heals, “wow – I love you” kind of way. But keeping a small human alive and raising them to be a large human never really gets easier. In fact, I would argue that quick a few things get harder. Much, much harder.
Thus, I give you:
Things that have begun to suck a bit
1. Diaper changes. Dude, a baby just lays on the changing table, you wave your magic wand and the new diaper is on. Putting a diaper on my now 18-month old son is like trying to wrangle a revved up octopus that’s had too much caffeine. Arms – legs – body parts all over the place. Stop being suicidal and trying to leap off the changing table and let me wipe your poop!
2. Bath time. Sit the ‘ef down in the tub. That is all.
3. Playtime. Yes, playtime can be hard, too! Liam loves his lawnmower and his stroller. He runs all over the house pushing them. But lately, I find myself saying far too often “we don’t lawn-mow the cat” or “strollers are not for ramming dogs” – really? You know what else we don’t do? Dance on books. ‘Lil stinker…
4. Meal time. Oh, you don’t want your Mac ‘n cheese, you want my steak? Eh. Too bad. Eat your dinner.
5. Meal time. And by “eat your dinner” I don’t mean slyly throw it to the dogs when you think I’m not looking….
Welcome to toddler-hood. That is all.
Question: How many times does your toddler need to pee in the tub and watch you drain the water before you just refill it and decide you no longer care?
Answer: Two times.
Yup. That’s it. Mommy had a long day. A little pee never hurt anyone.
That moment when you decide on a whim to cut your toddler’s hair for the first time because it’s so long you can practically put it in a ponytail and you just want the mullet to be gone…
The picture speaks for itself.
Sorry, Liam. In the process of setting up a real haircut for you…
Epic fail this morning.
While carrying Liam and my coffee and locking the front door, my high heel somehow got stuck in the storm door, pulling me backwards and off balance. In an attempt to save us, the hand holding the coffee scrapped HARD against the door frame. My efforts were futile. We still wiped out. Somehow I managed to land in a sitting position on the concrete steps, saving Liam and not tearing my pants (which is a good thing, because I currently own just one pair of dress pants). Whoop! The bad news: my wrist immediately bruised dark red with “pinch” marks and hurt like a biatch.
I took Liam’s boo-boo bag to work for my wrist. Yeah, this sucks. It’s going to look awesome for the formal wedding we’re going to this weekend.
Is it bad that after we fell, my first thought was “no one saw us, no one saw us.” My second wasn’t much better: “Are my shoes ok?”
Happy Mom-fail Monday.
So this little guy bit my stomach last night. That’s right, my stomach. My post c-section “flap” to be exact. Don’t raise your eyebrows at me… if you’ve had a c-section or are intimate with someone who has, you know what I’m talking about… I’m actually smaller than I was pre-baby, and more muscularly defined (thank you, kickboxing and running!) but that pesky flap remains, no matter how small I get. I’m over it.
However, it is now posing hazards to my health, in the way of razor-sharp toddler teeth. (And he didn’t bite me out of spite or anger. Just more of a toddler discovery of the many uses for his teeth.)
So, this incident has made me aware of two things:
1. Perhaps it is time to talk about appropriate uses for our mouths:
- Appropriate: Eating crackers.
- Not appropriate: Eating mom’s stomach fat.
- Appropriate: Giving kisses.
- Not appropriate: Seeing how many teeth indentations you can leave in mom’s memory-foam.
2. It might be time to push it harder at the gym and say ADIOS to my c-section flap. It will probably go away just in time for baby #2 (NO, I’m not hinting at anything), but hey, such is life.
Warning: this is another poop-post. So if you can’t handle it, or you’re eating lunch, probably best to just move on.
My potty-mouthed toddler problems are improving. The husband and I have made a greater effort to watch what we say. This, combined with not making a big deal out of it when “oh shit” comes from the mouth of our babe, has brought Liam’s swearing down from 20 times a day (I’m not kidding – daycare kept track) to 0! Yippy!
As shitty as I felt about my son’s fowl language, my experience with shit paled in comparison to one of my besties.
Last week, I got THE. BEST. TEXT. EVER. from her. “OMG – my daughter just pooped in my hands! LIKE IN MY HANDS! I CAUGHT THE POOP!”
Whhhhaaaaatttt!? I couldn’t help but laugh out.
Not only was my bestie’s situation literally super shitty, but (sorry, bestie) totally hilarious!
Lesson-learned from the bestie: be careful when letting a toddler air-dry after bath time. Silver lining: at least she has quick reflexes?
Liam has a new phrase (along with many new words) and I guarantee he picked it up last week during our wonderful stay-vacation at home together.
What’s the phrase, you might ask? “OH SHIT.” Yup – Oh, shit, indeed. And he even uses it correctly. He says it when he falls down.
Daaaaaaammmmnnnnnn ittttttt. Where on earth would my 16-month old pick up bad language from!? FUCK.
There were a lot of choice words said last week, by both me and my husband. Our awesome daycare provider had a week of much-deserved vacation, so I took the week off of work and hung out with the babe. It was a blast! We played outdoors when the weather was nice (huh, more on that coming up) played lots indoors, read books, snuggled, and I got to pay so much more attention to him than I normally do and realized what a big boy he has become. He likes to climb and run and dance,he loves to sing and loves saying “banana,” “up” as he climbs the stairs, and “sit down” as he mocks me when I ask him to please sit down in the tub. :)
Moving on to “oh shit” -
So, we live in the Midwest and last week, basically the entire middle region of the country got trounced with storms and RAIN. LOTS OF RAIN. I don’t know anyone in our area who escaped with a dry basement. Ours survived only because my husband is awesome and rigged a crack (that’s getting professionally filled next week!) with a ginormous Miller High Life beer can that drained the incoming water in a HUGE plastic storage container. But even though he’s a genius, there were many choice words through the torrential rainfall, severe thunderstorms and frickin’ tornado warnings.
Thus, my toddler now says “oh, shit.”
SHHHHIIIITTTTT! He’s still friggin’ cute, though.