Category: Motherhood Moments

Motherhood Moments: Do You Smell Something?

My heart goes out to the single parents out there.  Mountain Dad is on a business trip this week which leaves me the sole adult in Big E and little g’s life. I’m once again reminded of all the things Mountain Dad does on a daily basis that I take for granted.  Just his presence in the evenings gives me a break from the constant clamour for attention from my two tots.  With Mountain Dad around there’s another adult to play with, jump on and cry to. With him gone I get to be the playmate, jungle gym and comforter for everyone.

The business trip could not have been at a worse time.  For one thing, our truck is in the shop, thanks to me sliding helplessly into a van and SUV two weeks ago.  On top of that, the afternoon before Mountain Dad flew out Big E suddenly announced, “I’m going to throw up!” Which he did…all over the couch…and the floor.

That one pukey moment led to many more. The first day he couldn’t even keep down water, which meant a lot of worry…and laundry for me. I wouldn’t have minded so much; everyone gets sick sometimes, but I had to cancel an awesome Moab mountain bike adventure I had planned with a single mom friend and her son. Thanks to being sick, instead of exploring Arches National Park we’ve been trapped indoors, watching a lot of Mighty Machines and slowly going stir crazy.

Last night, I put Big E in the tub and started making dinner.  Little g also wanted a bath so I got her undressed and ready to go.  Right before I plopped her in with Big E, she did something amazing.  She saw her dirty shirt on the floor, picked it up and walked into the other room to throw it in the hamper. Unfortunately her tiny arms missed the goal, but it was the thought that counts.

“Good job, little g!” I said. I’ll encourage any sort of cleaning up effort by my kids.  She smiled, picked the shirt up and threw it again.  I herded her toward the dirty clothes bin in an effort to show her where the shirt actually should go.  She got it in there once, but then promptly picked the shirt up and walked back toward the bathroom.

“MOM! G is throwing her shirt in the tub!” Big E yelled from his bath.  I hustled into the bathroom.

“No, no, g. Bring that in here,” I said. She smiled and tried to throw it back in the tub. I gave up, if the shirt got wet it was no big deal, it was going in the wash anyway. Besides, the kitchen timer had rung so I left to check on dinner.

When I returned, Big E was splashing by himself, g was back by the dirty clothes bin and a familiarly unappetizing smell was in the air.

“E, did you poo in the tub?” I asked.

“No, I’m just swimming,” he said. I followed my nose out of the bathroom, down the hall and to little g.  She smiled and giggled, holding her dirty shirt out to me.  Her naked baby body was cute as could be, except for a streak of brown running down her leg.

“EWWW!” I cried and whisked g back into the bathroom, attacking her poo streak with baby wipes. Once cleaned, I did what I should’ve done originally and put her in the tub. She laughed and splashed with her brother, not realizing the grossness of the gift she had left somewhere in her brother’s bedroom.  Armed with more baby wipes and some cleaning supplies I hunted for the missing poo.  It didn’t take long to find.

As quickly as I could, I cleaned up the mess, depositing the dirty baby wipes in a garbage bag.  The whole ordeal was disgusting, but nothing I hadn’t dealt with before. Maybe that’s the mark of a jaded parent, you’re no longer surprised to find a pile of your kids poo on the bedroom floor.  The funny thing was, I think it was easier to clean it up that way than the daily wrestling match I normally have.  My wiggly one-year-old does not like laying down to get her diaper changed.

Maybe I should just let her walk around naked all the time. Then again, maybe not.

Motherhood Moments – My Daily Dose of Chaos

There is a moment in every parent’s day where, despite our best efforts, chaos ensues.  It could be during dinner, or perhaps when trying to get out the door. There’s no telling when it will fall, but without fail, every day there is a moment of mayhem that is beyond your control.

Today it was bath time…and the dinner that preceded it. During dinner little g would not stop crying no matter what we tried.  She is at the point in her life where she has strong opinions but does not have the words to express them. Instead she communicates with “UGH!” or “WAA!” while thrusting her tiny hands toward her desired prize.  During dinner we assumed the constant “WAAAAA!” was for hunger, but no matter what food or drink we gave her, she was not satisfied.  Finally, I took her out of her high chair to sit on my lap, assuming that what she wanted was to be held.  Even that did not stop her struggle.  She wriggled off of my lap and said “BEBE!” while grasping for the baby doll that was on the kitchen counter.

I sighed and got the doll for her, assuming that would bring relief.  Instead she toddled back to me and yelled “UGH!” while making grabby hands for me to pick her up.  Apparently, sitting on my lap wasn’t enough; she wanted to sit on my lap and eat food off my plate all while holding her brother’s baby doll. (Sidenote: The baby doll was given to Big E when little g was born so he would have his own baby to take care of while I took care of little g. The idea was that he would have less incentive to harm his sister.  If you’re uncomfortable with the idea of a boy having a baby doll, get over it.  It’s basically a life size action figure.)

While little g was eating my dinner, Big E decided to pour lemon juice all over his.  Mountain Dad and I, all patience gone between us, declared that dinner was over and started cleaning up. As part of that effort, I plopped the kids in the tub.

Normally bath time is play time.  E and g will splash and play in a jovial way.  Today started out no differently.  Excited by the water and the toys floating around them, Big E and little g poured water out of plastic cups, made rubber duckies swim and knocked toy frogs into the water.  Soon, however, I saw them drinking the bath water and spitting it out. I don’t like the idea of my kids drinking each others germs or soap, nor do I like them spitting water at each other and incidentally all over the bathroom. I declared STRIKE ONE and gave them a warning.  They went back to playing, the new game involving slapping tummies and then slapping the water.  I would’ve been fine with that, except that more water was splashing out of the tub than staying in, so I declared STRIKE TWO and gave them a warning.  Finally Big E decided to lay down in the tub, pushing g to the corner. He proceeded to kick his sister, pushing her head down to the water, while splashing the water out of the tub and all over me.  STRIKE THREE! STRIKE THREE! GET OUT OF THE TUB! Little g have drown! He got water everywhere! Instead of getting out like requested he laughed his naughty ‘you can’t catch me’ cackle and refused to get out of the tub. I grabbed his shoulders angrily and dragged him out of the tub, drenching my shirt in the process.

Since I had ended bath time so suddenly he, of course, started crying.  His crying made little g cry, which made me want to cry…or scream…or break something. I restrained myself, shed my wet shirt and started drying off my kids in just my bra.  Big E, in a traditional four year old mood swing quickly forgot that he was upset so that he could run to his room, and jump on his bed buck naked instead. Little g was still crazy upset, screaming with all her tiny lungs’ capacity, while I tried to wrestle her into a diaper and pajamas. I was still half naked and livid at E’s bad behavior in the tub.  While I’m trying to calm g down and get her into some clothes, I see Big E out of the corner of my eye.  He jumps off the bed, stops his running and stares at the floor.  Too late do I realize that he is staring at the stream of pee that is flowing from him freely, right onto the carpet.

“E!” I screamed.  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” We are past the point of potty accidents.  He knows very well how to get to the potty in time.  Fury rushed through me as I grabbed him roughly for the second time in two minutes.

“I had to go pee,” he said, with a cocky smile on his face.

“TIME OUT, right now! Get back in the bathroom!” I threw him in and closed the door behind.  My heart pounded and my jaws clenched.  Behind me little g redoubled her screaming efforts, no doubt because my outburst had scared her.

I felt out of control and I hated myself for it.  As an adult, I know how to control my environment in order to remain calm and happy. I understand the situations that set my temper flaring and I avoid or control them as needed.  AS a parent, however, sometimes I can’t control it.  I can’t force my son to not pee on the floor. I can’t force my daughter to stop screaming and be happy.  All I can do is the best I can.  In that moment I just walked away. I went into the next room, and got myself a dry shirt, abandoning my screaming children to self destruct on their own. When logical thought returned I decided the best thing to do was to get everyone to bed as soon as possible.  So what that it was only 6:20 pm?

I went back to g and calmed her down as best I could.  I gave her the baby doll and a pacifier, then wrestled her into a diaper and pajamas.  By then E was saying, “Mom, I’m cold!  I need my towel!” and I realized that in my haste I put him back in the bathroom buck naked and he was too short to get a towel down from the shelf.  I took some deep breaths and opened the bathroom door.

“E, that was very naughty.  You know you don’t pee on the carpet! Why didn’t you pee in the potty?”

“I just felt the pee coming,” he said and shrugged. He picked up his towel and started whipping it around the room.

“What do you say to me?” I asked.  He wasn’t getting off that easy.

“Sorry, Mom,” he replied. I told him he had to get into pajamas without any complaints and he lost his soccer ball and two bedtime stories as well.  After he was dressed he helped me clean up the carpet and by then we had both calmed down considerably.

Now, the house is quiet.  Both g and E are asleep. The clock ticks and the fridge hums, but other than that it’s silent.  A calmness washes over me as my frustration and impatience silently dissipates. I can feel the night eraser doing its work. The kids are tucked in; the house is dark and quiet.

I begin to see my mothering mistakes lessen in their magnitude.  Hope, that perhaps I can be a little better tomorrow, seeps into my mind. I am left with the essential me, and I find myself thinking of little g’s laugh and Big E’s active mind.

Every day has its struggle, but after the fight, wrongs I’ve done are swallowed up by the night.

Island Park, Idaho – Day 3 Sickness Strikes

Nobody likes being sick, but it’s especially annoying to get sick when there’s something important going on.  That’s what happened on day three of our Island Park, Idaho snowmobiling adventure.  I woke up with terrible nausea, diarrhea and a headache. Soon little g also showed her colors by puking twice by breakfast time.

Not only was Mountain Dad out of commission from the previously mentioned cracked ribs, now little g and I were out of commission due to an unfortunate gastrointestinal assault.  This snowmobiling adventure was slowly plummeting down to the worst vacation ever.  Mountain Dad was NOT snowmobiling on the hundreds of miles of trails nearby. I was sleeping not-so-soundly with a crying baby at my side, trying not to throw up on her.  It sucked.

Luckily other adults were there, my sister and brother-in-law, to take care of Big E.  The only silver lining I can think of for this day was that Big E was entertained by playing with his cousins and did not try to jump on me and Mountain Dad constantly.

At one point I forced little g and I to go outside for some fresh air. After extended baby wrestling we were both exhausted. This is how she felt about getting snow clothes on to go outside:

Once we got outside it wasn’t much better.  She promptly flopped to the ground in the exact same position and cried long and loud for the whole two minutes my patience could stand.  We went back in.

The culmination of the day was at 9:00 pm.  Little g had been asleep for a few hours and we snuck into our shared room to go to sleep ourselves.  All of a sudden little g lets loose with what sounded like a poo-xplosion.

Mountain Dad said, “It sounds like g blew an O ring.”  Oh how I wish it had been poo, that would’ve stayed contained in a diaper and pj’s.  Unfortunately, when I shone the light in little g’s direction she sat on the mattress of the port-o-crib with vomit completely surrounding her.  She had laid in it, had it in her hair, got it all over her pj’s, the blanket, the mattress, and the frame of the crib.

The smell was disgusting, we were all tired and cranky but of course we had to clean her up.  She screamed through a bath, we sprayed off the crib, rinsed out the blankets and moved everything into the bathroom so we could breathe.  Despite all of the cleaning up there was still a lingering vomit smell.  We settled everyone down, again, and when we finally fell asleep that night we all hoped for a little bit better day in the morning.

Island Park, Idaho Day 1 – Packing

I believe in many feminist ideals.  We are strong humans with skills to rival many men out there.  I support women’s sports and agree that women should be compensated the same as men for the same job.

With that said, in my personal life, Mountain Dad is still responsible for the traditionally male roles of car maintenance and heavy lifting. I didn’t realize that I took him for granted in those areas until this last weekend when I was expected to do fill his role as well as my own.
This last weekend we went to Island Park, Idaho for a snowmobiling vacation. The way things worked out I was in charge of packing up clothes, food, snow gear, snowshoes and the snowmobiles and driving the truck and trailer through the Salt Lake City airport to pick up Mountain Dad. Friday I spent most of the day doing laundry, finding outfits, matching gloves, and loading everything into the truck.  It is shocking how much stuff we needed, but after meticulous planning I was sure that I had thought of everything.
While taking the seemingly endless trips back and forth to load up the truck life plummeted into chaos. On one return trip I found little g crying and Big E half naked.  Apparently he had peed his pants and when it was suggested that he put clean pants on he refused.  Little g could not believe that I had deserted her and was loudly complaining about it.  My sister-in-law Chelsea was there helping to feed, clothe and comfort them and it was still chaos. Because of the time constraints I did what I often do in these situations – ignore the madness and complete the task at hand.  Luckily Chelsea is a competent feminist woman and got things settled.
I finished loading the truck and turned to the most intimidating part of the day, hooking up the trailer.  Normally I am Mountain Dad’s assistant in this particular task.  He drives the truck in reverse, carefully lining up the hitch with the trailer attachment while I stand there waving my hands at him to tell him which way to go.  The last time I drove the truck with a trailer I ended up jackknifing the thing and paying for body damage so, needless to say, I was a little nervous.
I had asked a neighbor to help, and was grateful I had since I couldn’t even unlock the trailer lock.  It apparently requires a special wiggle or twist of the wrist that I get to impatient to handle.  Once the trailer was unlocked and the tire chalks removed I cautiously drove the truck into place.  My first attempt left the truck and trailer a good three feet apart.  My second attempt blocked the road, much to the concern of oncoming traffic.  My third attempt luckily was successful and my neighbor helped me lock the trailer onto the hitch.
There I was with the truck bed packed, the trailer hooked up and everything ready.  I had planned and prepared and felt a surprising sense of accomplishment for having loaded up everything without my husband.  It was hard and I did it!  I was awesome!  With kids in the car we took off to pick up Mountain Dad at the airport and begin our awesome adventure.  Big E and little g fell asleep fairly quickly and the ride was going swimmingly.  It wasn’t until I picked up Mountain Dad that I realized that I forgot a very important item – night diapers for my three year old.
So much for my feeling of accomplishment. We ended up stopping at Walmart in Blackfoot, Idaho.  Oh well, one extra stop is worth not having an extra week’s worth of laundry and a suitcase that smells of pee.