This post is not for the faint of heart. No it is not, but most of parenting may not be.
The girls have started stalling at bedtime, and we usually fall for it. We’re gradually potty training and as such when a child says they have to poopy, you take that child to the potty. Its a fine line between listening to their needs and asserting that it is time for dreaming. Recently, and I’m not sure if by accident or purpose, but they both will request use of the facilities around bedtime. Success rate: ~30%. Which is great, but the ~70% of times when they don’t use the potty can lead one to not believe that the potty needs to be used. So on with my story. I was laying on the nursery floor, like either Kurt or I do most nights, and I must’ve drifted off to sleep, like I do most nights. I woke up to Z stating quite emphatically “giant poopy, mommy”. These are not uncommon words. Kurt had gone to get mexican for dinner, so I was alone. Sitting up, I was accosted by the tell-tale smell that there was, indeed, a giant poopy. Zoey was standing in her crib, with her pajamas mostly off. I scooped her up and carried her to the living room to get her in a new diaper. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light of the living room, I noticed (at the exact same moment as Kurt had walked into the house and exclaimed “what smells like poop?”) that she had successfully removed her diaper and also successfully removed the poop. And was painting with it. Now, dear friends, a couple of things before I progress. 1. I have a pretty weak stomach for things like poop and infection when they are on a clean surface. Dirty diapers are something I can deal with, but if the poo touches me….look the heck out. 2. I’m all for creativity and not limiting it, but painting with poop should never be considered a creative outlet. Kurt helped undress Z and I herded her into the shower. Our first priorities were: clean child and clean bed. She got the bed pretty good too in this Picasso moment. Here’s where the story kinda takes a turn from gross to absolutely appallingly disgusting…while I was soaping up Z and Kurt was stripping the bed and washing all surfaces, Lola was helping herself to an impressive portion of poop. These are the things I wish I had known before getting a dog. GROSS, LOLA!
I’ve said it a few times in the past posts, but I’m still catching up with pics from *cough* months ago. Here are a few from Thanksgiving weekend by my parents house. The first day was gorgeous – warm, sunny, perfect and we spent it at the park. The remaining? Pretty “brisk”. We visited reindeer, avoided Santa like the plague, danced in a gazebo, and played at the park. ’Twas a good visit.