My son likes to grin when he poops.
In a somehow related story, I am pooped. This work week has been fast paced and I haven’t had a pedicure since the resurrection so I was wearing a pair of close toed heels all week that kill my feet. I’d get rid of them if they weren’t so willing and eager to hide my barney rubbles on a moment’s notice. The most difficult thing in life has to be when exhaustion and motherhood jackknife on the interstate of our intentions…on a Friday…of Spring Break…when all the college kids are crusing back to their dorms hanging from a week-long bender, destroying the flow of traffic. Hang on, John’s playing in the toilet again…
Ok, I’m glad he caught my attention because he had a heinous load in his diaper. Changing John’s diaper is equally as difficult as writing your bank account number on a cantaloupe while it’s rolling down a hill. He refuses to sit still and I’m so afraid of yanking an arm out of socket and ending his pro-football career that I have to continually, gently keep him quasi still. I’ve tried singing to him before and that keeps his confused gaze on me for a bit; once he decides his mom is ‘special’ he’s off to rolling again. I have not changed a diaper yet without getting poop on me. Not one. It no longer phases me.
Where was I? SLEEP!!! That’s where I was. It’s a lie that you can’t sleep after you have kids; you can totally sleep. The only caveat is that sleep will never be when you need or want it. Other that that you’re golden! My worst moments in parenthood so far have come when I’m exhausted. Por Ejemplo, the other night I was completely drained and John was gearing up for the final decent to his crib for the night. This home stretch is for getting out every last bit of energy he has hidden in him so it’s usually us running around, chasing each other, a dance party to malt shop oldies or good old fashioned nonsensical sqealing (you’re welcome neighbors). This particular evening my battery was dead so I got a bunch of pillows, put them in the middle of the living room and showed John how to crash into them so I could lay on the couch and simply clap while he emptied his reserves floof after floof. How pathetic is that?!? “Listen kid, I’m not feeling the mom-thing right now so go entertain yourself while I snooze.” Face palm.
I normally have the energy and the attention span of a ten month old so I can keep pace with J-Busy easily. Although, I am being slowly driven insane by baby books with rhymes that DON’T RHYME DAMMIT (it’s a freaking conspiracy). Other than that I thoroughly enjoy having someone ‘on my level’ with whom to play. BUT functioning at this level requires firing all cylinders, all the time; even the slightest push into over drive will exhaust your reserves and you’ll be off to the park to watch your kid dangle in a swing while you sit still for thirty minutes. It can be a long work day, an emotional experience or something as simple as your sweet husband crawling into bed with you and THEN asking you to get up and go turn off the light…when you’ve been curled up fantasizing about uninterrupted sleep for like ten minutes, so why didn’t he do it when he walked past it thirty seconds ago? And why is he arguing about the technicality of you being physically closer to the switch then he is? Just because he happened to pick the side of the bed furthest from the light switch does not preclude his ever having to get up and flip the light off. I’m pretty sure that’s in a handbook somewhere. What would he do if you weren’t there, just sleep with the light on?? No he’d go turn it off, so why is this particular moment any different? Also, it doesn’t matter that you’re planning to zonk out like a narcoleptic, nobody appreciates their t.v. show being violently turned off. In an effort to curtail this divergence lets move on…..
I had to compromise recently. Red and I are not allowing the t.v. to be on when John is awake…EXCEPT for College Football Saturday. That first weekend when the issue of keeping the t.v. on came up I thought Red was gonna squirt some tears as he plead his case. I really don’t have an issue with it, I never did. But the conversation was too much fun to pass up; it became a moment in our marriage that will be recounted many times over wine in the future.
John’s pushing his high chair across the house and chewing on what looks to be my bra …so I should probably go.