Like most days, today started off with a “bang!” I was sipping on a cup of tea, folding laundry when I heard Miss M wake up screaming hysterically. She normally wakes up and quietly plays in her crib so I figured something was wrong and bolted up the stairs to her room. There she was, dirty. Why is she dirty? Suddenly my sense of smell caught up to my low-functioning brain and I processed that it was poo I smelled. Yes, poo. She had unbuttoned her sleeper and had one arm and one leg out. She had poo smeared all up her body, in her sheets, blankets and on her teddy bear. Gross. I picked her up and helped her step out of her pajamas. I took her diaper off and it was clean. Well, it had a little pee in it but aside from a faint skid mark, no poop. Weird. How could she possibly have smeared all of her poo all over herself? I ran her a bath and locked her in the bathroom with me so she couldn’t touch anything else in her poopy condition. I finished bathing her just as Mr. C woke up. Squeaky clean and ready to start the day. I fed her and Mr. C a breakfast of bananas and cheerios then let them play in the living room while I ventured up to deal with the “shit show” that was her room. I stripped her bed down and cleaned her crib and anything else in reach. I really should invent a holster for Lysol wipes. I keep a container of them in basically every room in the house but a holster would work well. I was still wondering why I hadn’t found any actual poop. I peeked into the living room to see my two babies happily playing together and decided it was safe for me to escape to the laundry room to wash Miss M’s poopy linens. When I picked her sleeper up out of the pile, it was oddly heavy. I shook it, figuring I must have scooped a book or toy up with it. Nothing came out. Odd. Then I found it. A huge pile of poop squished in the foot of her footed pajamas. This explains the panic. Miss M has a new habit of undoing her diaper in bed and taking her pajama pants off. I don’t know why but I have been putting her in one piece sleepers as much as possible to ensure she stays warm during the night. She must have unfastened her diaper enough that when she stood up, her poop rolled out and down the leg of her pajamas which she then squished with her foot and panicked trying to get it out.
Could it be a sign that we are getting ready to potty train? She is suddenly very aware of when she poops and is somewhat bothered by it. I say somewhat because it seems to bother her a lot when she ends up with a dirty diaper when she’s in bed but when she poops while playing, she couldn’t care less. Maybe we are getting closer to potty training. I wonder? All I know for sure is that there is no way I am fiddling around trying to get a squished up mound of poo out of the foot of her sleeper. I don’t care how broke we are, it’s not worth it. I bring the sleeper upstairs with me and put it outside in the trash can. Amen. Ain’t nobody got time for that! I return to the living room where the munchkins are happily giggling and playing. It’s been a little over an hour since their morning diaper changes so duty calls again.
While I changed Mr. C’s diaper on the couch, Miss M was busy playing in her play kitchen behind us. I was chatting away with my baby boy and then my Mom-radar recognized a familiar sound coming from where it shouldn’t be coming. Miss M was pounding away on the buttons to one of our cordless phones. I don’t know how she got her hands on it. I’m not blaming anyone but I do know that I am fully trained in keeping all phones, remote controls, Kleenex boxes, water bottles, coffee cups, etc. on the other side of the baby gate. Ahem.. Hubby. Ahem. I was dealing with quite the poopy mess (second one of the day and it’s not even 10am!) so started enthusiastically trying to coax Miss M into bringing me the phone. I asked “Can Mommy please see the phone?” She would squeal and hold the phone over her head. Well played. I see it. “Can you please bring it over here?” as I fasten a clean diaper on Mr. C. She runs over with the phone doing that obnoxious beeping it does when it has been off the hook. I hang it up and continue snapping up Mr. C’s onesie.
The phone rings. I ignore it. We only just recently got a landline for emergency purposes. Hubby and I are both exclusive cellphone users but we figured a landline would be worthwhile for emergencies and for there to be a phone in the house should we ever leave the property and hire a babysitter to watch the babes. We have been incredibly annoyed with the fact that we haven’t yet given anyone our landline number and yet the phone rings off the hook. It’s always a wrong number, obviously. I think our phone company reassigned a number too quickly. Actually, I know they did because when we first got this line, we were getting steady collection calls for someone we don’t know. Try telling a collection company that you don’t even know the person they are trying to reach and don’t know why they would have your number for a person you don’t know. Try it. It’s fun. Not.
Anyway, the phone stops ringing and goes to voicemail. As I pull Mr. C’s pants back up, it rings again. The call display reads “Private Caller.” Annoyed, figuring it is going to be this guy who does not speak our language but calls us at least 8 times a day, I answer the phone “Hello?” The person on the other end says “Hello Ma’am. Is everything alright?” What. the…. “Excuse me?” I ask, taken back by the question. “Someone in your household just placed a call to 911 emergency services. I am calling to see if everything is alright before we dispatch.” Oh. My. God. My heart sinks and starts pounding at the same time. Miss M must have dialled 911 in the 40 seconds she had the phone in her hands. You have got to be kidding me. “Everything is fine. I am incredibly sorry, My daughter had the phone and must have dialled accidentally. I am soooo sorry.” The 911 operator stressfully said “Just take it away from her. Please! Just take it away from her.” I tell him I already did and I am incredibly sorry. Excellent. So this is how today is going to be…
After her call to 911 (I still can’t believe it. This is her SECOND offense), Miss M returned to her new favourite pass time of jumping up high on the couch, arching her back in the air so she lands horizontally on the couch. She is trying to give me a heart attack. She is getting pretty good at these jumps though. She arches her back like a gymnast and gets incredible height. I really wish she would stop though. She is going to get hurt. Counting to 3 has been only been successful in teaching her the word “three.” It’s a game. As soon as I say “one,” she waits for me to say “two” and then holds a finger up on each hand and exclaims “THREE!” and laughs. Telling her “no” d0esn’t work. Telling her to sit down just makes her laugh. Timeouts in a play pen worked for a while until she learned that she can hold on to the wall of the playpen and shake it and it will slide across the floor which is extremely entertaining for her. So, if you can’t beat them, join them, right? Little Miss M is now officially signed up for gymnastics. She starts in February. I can’t wait to buy her a little leotard and see her cute, chubby legs and diapered bum in it! Maybe gymnastics will redirect her energy or at least teach her how to safely tumble. Can’t wait.
In the meantime, as far as disciplining is concerned, I bought the book “1 2 3 Magic” that was recommended to me and will be doing some reading on effective toddler discipline at some point. I usually read before bed but have been too damn tired the past few weeks. I also just discovered there is a 123 Magic app as well that I might check out! Toddler discipline, there’s an app for that!
I bring the kiddos into the kitchen to feed them lunch. I slice up an avocado, blackberries, cheese, crackers and some leftover chicken breast. Mr. C gobbles it down. Miss M throws it everywhere. It is stuck to the stove, the table, the floor, the wall. It’s basically everywhere except in her belly. I decide I’m not even attempting to clean it up until they are down for their naps. I see a box of “Almondillos” (the Hershey version of Turtles but made with almonds) leftover from Christmas on the kitchen counter. Hubby must have left them out after a middle of the night snack mission. I shouldn’t eat one. Maybe just one. No I shouldn’t. Okay, just one. After battling with myself, I decide that I have already earned some chocolate today. I’m hungry and don’t have time to make myself lunch just yet since I’m busy playing lifeguard while serving up pieces of avocado, grating cheese, shredding chicken, filling up sippy cups of milk, etc. I open the box. It’s empty. What. The…. This is an outrage! I convince myself that it’s for the best. I didn’t need the chocolate anyway. I spend naptime scraping smeared banana and avocado off of the kitchen floor. One of my new year’s resolutions was to always have a clean kitchen floor. You just feel better when your floor is clean. There’s an odd psychological connection between house and mind and if house is cluttered/dirty, mind is cuckoo. I haven’t broken this resolution yet but I sweep my floor at least 3 times/day and mop it at least once. Two babies throwing/dropping/spitting out food makes for a dirty floor.
It was a cold day and broccoli was on sale this week so I decided to make a big pot of broccoli cheddar soup for dinner. I had both babes in their seats eating a snack while I started to puree my deliciously simmered soup. It was at this very moment that I discovered both babies are absolutely petrified of the food processor. Cue horror movie screams of terror. Both needed to be held to be comforted. I huddled between their two seats and held on to them as they both cried their eyes out and shook in fear. Poor babies. I guess chunky soup it is…
It’s not all crazy though. Life has a funny way of putting things into perspective. I bathed both babies one at a time. A tired Mr. C first, read him a story, put him in his pajamas and in his crib where he screamed and screamed while I bathed Miss M and read her a story and tucked her in for the night. He wasn’t ready to go to sleep but this mama was soooo ready to sit down for the first time all day and just breathe. I went into his room and picked him up. Through teary eyes, he smiled at me and stifled his cries. I cuddled him in the rocking chair in his room and started singing “Baby Beluga,’ a favourite song in our house. (When we first had Miss M, I didn’t know any lullabies but we had received a book with the lyrics to “Baby Beluga” as a shower gift from an awesome family friend. It was the first song I sang to her and she loved it. Consequently, Mr. C has been hearing it since in utero so he is also a big fan.) So, as I started to sing the first verse, “Baby beluga in the deep, blue sea…” my sweet boy, still smiling, looked up into my eyes and placed his tiny hand on my cheek. We locked eyes and he kept his hand there for the entire song as his eyes grow sleepier and sleepier. At that moment, my heart melted and all was right in the world. It is these sweet moments that make all of the chaos worth it. 100% worth it.
A baby covered head-to-toe in poop, an accidental 911 call, screams of terror, homemade soup and sweet, baby boy cuddles. Not a bad balance, really.
Tomorrow is a new day…
andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap-dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart. If you liked this post, please click “Follow/Subscribe” or like my page on facebook to be the first to know of future posts. Thanks for reading! xo