There are disgusting things we have to do as parents that we know before getting in to the whole having a child thing. Wiping poopy baby asses, getting peed and puked on, having food thrown at us.
We do them all without even thinking twice out of love.. and.. well.. because if we don’t- we’ll have to sit and listen to a screaming child until we do. It’s better just to suck it up and get it over with.
Then there are the things that blindside us as parents. Things we NEVER imagined we’d have to do. Horrible, gag-inducing nightmare worthy things.
Sucking two inch long boogers out of a screaming infants nose? Super fun. Having them squirm until you accidentally poke them and cause a nose bleed? Even better.
How about when your baby is the spit-up-guru, and while you think you’ve checked every spot to clean it off of them.. somehow you miss the folds in their fat little neck, causing the spit-up to essentially curdle. It is honestly one of the worst smells i’ve ever encountered, and turns their neck red like a freaking yeast infection. Yummy.
Bloody diaper rash. Need I say more?
As i’ve mentioned before, Holden, Thomas and I have started traveling down the path to the holy grail- a potty trained child.
I won’t lie and say that i’ve been completely dedicated to it (as in, sitting his bare ass on the mini-potty every 30 minutes), partly because he can’t walk and I think it would be easier if he could take HIMSELF to the toilet… and partly because i’m just lazy. There, I said it.
Still, i’ve been occasionally taking him to the potty to get him acclamated to the idea since he has shown NO interest in the past in using or even sitting on the thing (a.k.a, screaming when I plop him down). I don’t want to terrify him of using the bathroom.. so it seemed like the smart way to go.
Slowly, he’s begun to get used to being on the toilet, but still isn’t using it.
All the books say you’re supposed to KNOW when you’re child pisses and poops. I have a pretty good handle on when he goes #2, but either he beats me to the punch and craps himself before I can get him to the potty.. or I get him to the potty right around poopy-time and he just doesn’t go. It’s almost as if i’m scaring the shit right back into him.
Today was the second day in a row of getting poop-fright. Except today, he was literally grunting and pushing so Thomas and I KNEW he had to go when we stuck him on the potty.
As usual, he freaked out and didn’t go.
So now he had a huge mutant turd building up in his colon that he desperately needed to pass.. but since he’d waited so long, the poop got stuck.
Where am I going with this and what does it have to do with the disgusting things we have to do for our kids? Oh, you just wait. I’m getting there.
Upon getting Holden off of the toilet- we realized that one of the reasons he’d been screaming bloody murder all day was because of how constipated he’d become from not shitting when he was supposed to.
Unfortunately, this was not the first time this has happened to us (don’t remind my husband of that, I think he has nightmares).
With this realization, along with the fact that I seriously don’t think we could handle one more minute of Holden screaming regardless of what he was doing.. We decided there was only one option:
We had to make him poop.
In the past, suppositories just didn’t do the trick. The only thing that works… is literally forcing the poop out of him.
What do I mean by literally?
Finger. In. Butt.
Don’t let me fool you. I’m not the one taking these invasive measures. It’s all Thomas. I can’t stomach having my finger in my kid’s anus massaging the shit out of it. Thomas is the poop-hero of this story.
This time was much worse than usual. Usually, a little rectal stimulation does the trick.. but not this go-round. The poop ball stuck in his butt was so big from not pooping that it literally wouldn’t budge without… how do I put this.. reshaping the poop while it was stuck so Holden would be able to move his bowel without tearing his poop little anus.
Who ever thought they’d go into parenthood and have to literally pull poop out of their kid’s ass? We certainly didn’t. That’s love right there, people.
I most certainly would never do that for anyone but Holden (yeah, I know, i’m not the one who did it. I guess if I HAD to…. I might).
And for the record, no, Thomas’ poopy finger isn’t coming anywhere near me until he’s scrubbed it like an OCD sufferer.
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Special… as in.. ‘Do you think he’s been eating paint chips?’
I have no issues with admitting Holden is a weird little kid, but some of the things he does makes me raise an eyebrow and give thought to the fact that he may one day be the child who sits in the back of the classroom eating chalk and banging his head on his desk.
Could it be another one of my many irrational fears? Probably… but if you have kids, can you honestly tell me you haven’t wondered the same thing from time to time?
Take the way he ‘dances’ for instance. Imagine Stevie Wonder playing the piano, swaying his head back and forth.. Then imagine a 1 year old doing that with a huge dopey grin on his face. It’s cute, and it makes me smile, but in the back of my head i’m thinking he’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket.
Do all toddlers eat weird things? Sure. Holden goes out of his way to eat lint off the floor.. to eat styrofoam peanuts out of a shipping box. If you kill a fly and it falls to the ground- he makes a bee-line for it (see that? I made a funny!). You can’t give him a book.. or he’ll tear it apart… with his mouth.
He licks shopping carts.. he licks people, he licks the sliding glass door and laughs about it. He also bites everything.. HARD.
He laughs at commercials that are NOT meant to be funny. Maybe he just has a terrible sense of humor- but I don’t think I could give birth to an un-funny stick in the mud without there being something terribly wrong.
His first non-baby word was BUNGHOLE. That’s right.. bunghole..
and no one in this house uses insults from the 90s. No clue where he got it from, but I think the fact that he calls random strangers at Wal-Mart “bunghole” is pretty telling in itself.
Maybe my kid is just strange… goofy..
but if he can eat flies, lint, paper and other random inanimate objects- he could definitely eat paint chips and turn into a drooling Stevie-Wonder dancing weirdo.
Yesterday I wrote about the perks of pregnancy.. but there is a dark side to the magical joy of growing your very own demon-spawn. I’m never one to gloss over the bad stuff, so let’s get right to it. Put your reading glasses on, because this is going to take a while.
I’ll readily admit I got lucky when it comes to stretch marks. My stomach is basically in the free and clear (minus one ugly one on my bellybutton from a piercing-scar gone wrong). I’ve seen pictures that would make expecting-mothers scream in horror.
Almost no one is safe from getting them. You might think you’re doing good during your 6th month of pregnancy when one morning you wake up, look down, and your tummy looks like an over-stretched balloon. Ugly purple and red marks going in all directions.
Regardless of what the commercials say, Palmers Cocoa Butter DOES NOT WORK. it just doesn’t. It doesn’t stop that horrendous itching you’ll experience either.
I went to a store called “The Body Shoppe” and bought the most expensive cocoa butter I could find. In lotion form, in body wash form… in every form you can think of to ward off looking like a zebra. I oiled myself up like a Thanksgiving turkey..
Unfortunately, I missed my ass. I don’t know how.. i guess I was just so focused on the part of me that was obviously expanding the fastest that I didn’t even think twice on my poor rear end.
It now looks like a roadmap. Again, luckily.. mine are white and not pink or purple.. It just kind of looks like I laid in a tanning bed the wrong way, wrinkled up my skin and missed some (read: a lot) of spots. Whoops.
Also, for a few months after pumping, my boobs looked like starbursts. Ugly white stretchies all around the nips. Those were fun to look at.
Try telling the women who end up with terrible stretchies that they are just “battle scars”, then duck- because you’ll most likely get a swift kick to the head.
or “just kidding, you’re not really in labor!”
Some women describe these ‘fake contractions’ as just uncomfortable.. but for me, from 6 months on they were pure hell. I had them just like regular contractions, constantly. Was put on medication to stop them that made my heart race, body shake, and caused migraines.. in and out of L&D.. Non-Stress Tests to make sure Holden was still ok.. etc etc
Basically, they suck. There’s no two ways about that.
And they make your stomach look like you have a tumor instead of a baby growing:
Braxton Hicks also made for quite a few false alarms towards the end of my pregnancy (those.. and accidentally peeing a little and assuming it was my water breaking).
I was never told what I was having were in fact BH, so when I went into REAL active labor, I was blindsided by the intense pain. BH are NOTHING in comparison to active labor.. I just wish i’d known that prior to being induced, would have saved me a total freakout in L&D.
Touched by a stranger
Get used to having your vagina stared at by strangers, ladies. I can not honestly count the number of hands that have poked and prodded my cervix during pregnancy. I consider myself pretty shy when it comes to being naked (I hate it, to be exact), so growing used to the nurses and doctors at my OBGYN was a huge feat for me.
Totally different story on all of my trips to L&D for monitoring.
Big fingers and short are by FAR the least fun of them all. A petite women shoving her hand as hard as she can into your snatch to try and check the progression of your cervix? Total hell.
I actually had a complete meltdown when my doctors thought I may have been in actual labor at 26 weeks and a random man at the hospital wanted to shove a strip in my cooch to see if I was leaking amniotic fluid. WASN’T HAPPENING. It’s one thing to have 100 different women sticking there fingers in there, some random (and extremely young) looking male doctor? No way in hell.
Once you’re IN labor.. well.. you stop caring who sees your vagina and what’s coming out of it. You just want the baby OUT and don’t care who has to see every bit of you in order to get it.
There’s no escaping the preggo-waddle. Your body just isn’t sure how to handle all the weight protruding from the front of your body.. so it makes you waddle like an emporer penguin.. or like you have a poop in your pants.
It’s the worst in the last trimester. People see the waddle and immediately tell you “Man you’re about ready to pop, you look so uncomfortable!”
DUH! the HUGE stomach didn’t give that away?
You’ll feel like a crazy old woman with alzheimers. Suddenly, you can’t remember what you did yesterday, what you were supposed to be doing now.. your age… maybe even your name. Pregnancy is like having a constant ‘brain-fart’.. and I have bad news for you.. I’m over a year post-partum and my brain still hasn’t fully recovered.
Get used to the idea of getting fat. It’s a given during pregnancy. You’re going to gain weight whether you like it or not (unless you are already over-weight, then you are lucky and might not gain any at ALL other than what’s growing and floating around inside of you due to baby). No matter how little or healthy you eat, the weight is coming. Your ass WILL get fat, your thighs WILL get big.. cellulite will start popping up in places you never dreamed of having it. Hell, even your face gets fat.
It’s easier said than done to just accept your new found fatty-status. I know I was completely horrified when I stepped on the scale at my OBGYN and was told i’d gained 10 pounds in 1 month (even more horrified when I was told to ‘stop eating so much’).. but your body is going to gain what it thinks it needs to gain in order to grow a healthy baby, so there’s not much you can do other than just embrace yourself as festively-plump and move on.
Sure, they look cute. You can’t wait to wear the flowy pretty clothes you see in all the ads at stores like Motherhood… but they’re much prettier on paper than in practice.
I had a hard time finding ANYTHING that fit, and preggo clothes? they’re expensive.
Finding pants was a thorn in my side. Nothing fit.. And those pants tummy panels were straight out of nightmares. U-G-L-Y.
Size 1 preggo-jeans? too big. It’s like they expect your legs to be built like a lumberjack. I was never even a size 1 BEFORE getting pregnant, the sizing just makes no sense at all.
They also expect you to have size G boobs.. so everything hung off in the boob area, and I wasn’t about to expose myself to random strangers (though i’m SO SURE they would have liked to see lactating tits staring them in the eye).
I ended up going to regular stores, and buying a large size. Luckily, empire waisted shirts are the ‘in’ thing to wear.
The preggo look is so in.
is a crock of shit. Honestly, it’s more like “all-day sickness.”
The first trimester is a permanent hangover after an all-night bender.
Pissing like a racehorse
Not only will you be peeing upwards of 25 times a day (and getting up 5 times during the night), but you’ll find your bladder weakening as your pregnancy progresses. To the point where if you sneeze, you pee. If you cough, you pee. if you laugh, you pee.
basically.. you’re peeing all.the.time
The worst.. is that you’ll feel like you have to pee SO BAD, rush to the bathroom, sit down… and only get a tiny little drop out. Talk about unsatisfying. It’s like after you’ve had a LONG night of drinking and you’ve ‘broken the seal’
Just call me Granny
being pregnant is like being old. Really, really old. Your joints hurt, your muscles hurt.. you’re tired and irritable all the time. I even started developing carpal tunnel in my third trimester (it’s gone now, thank God).
Consider yourself a night-owl? Kiss that goodbye. I found myself dozing off at 8pm every night without fail.
Try and stop yourself from calling people whipper-snappers though, then you may be too far gone.
After giving birth it doesn’t get much better… Your body is going to take a long time to recover.
You can look forward to:
National Geographic Boobs
Remember how I said you’d get porno-tits DURING pregnancy?
Mmmhmm, well, after you give birth (assuming you aren’t breastfeeding. if you are, this will happen later) kiss those bad-boys goodbye.
My boobs went from being perky and fabulous pre-pregnancy, to weird and lacking fullness post-pregnancy.
I honestly can’t imagine the trainwreck my chest would be if I had big boobs beforehand.
Wait.. I can, long, saggy and thin like two strips of bacon.
Your hips expand during pregnancy to widen your birth canal.. While they do get a tiny bit smaller after giving birth, they NEVER go back to normal.
I am having to face the reality of throwing my ‘skinny’ jeans away and accepting the fact that my hips will just never be small again.
Things I could list but left out:
bad skin, pissing in a cup, urine-labs, getting massive amounts of blood drawn, no more drinking or smoking (unless you’re a total moron), bad skin, frizzy unmanigable hair…
I feel like this blog is getting incredibly lengthy and may scare women out of EVER getting pregnant or freaking out those already knocked up so i’ll cut it short and say this:
Even after all that my body/brain has gone through.. After all is said and done.. i’d do it again no questions asked.
Not any time soon mind you… but someday.
All the bad just becomes a moot point because of the wonderful whiny bundle of joy that comes out of you in a big bloody goopy mess.
It’s worth it, I promise.
Yes, growing a human-being in your rapidly expanding uterus is obviously pretty damn cool.. but let’s face it- i’m not good with the sugary sentimental crap, so let’s move right along to the less obvious perks of pregnancy
The boob-fairy never came for me. I was never blessed with big-boobies.. and I learned to love my small boobs (huge floppy tits never really were very appealing to me).
I didn’t even get the small boobs until late in my teenage years. Just like I was a late-bloomer in life, I was a late-bloomer in pregnancy.
When I FINALLY got pregnancy boobs, it was like Christmas morning. I went from a size B, to a C/D seemingly overnight. Not just big boobs, but big, full, perky boobs.. without the hurt on my pocket implants would cost.
They were every boob-challenged girls dream. I felt confident, and hell, even sexy. They of course were trumped by the huge belly that sat underneath of them.. but beggars can’t be choosers.
Sadly, I lost the huge porno-titties a few weeks after giving birth.. and am even smaller than I was before getting pregnant (double damn!) but they were fun while they lasted.
Now I know why women love having implants, big perky boobs are great!
Condomless Sex, yay!
Condoms are obviously a good thing, they protect against unwanted pregnancy and STDs.. but let’s keep it real- they feel like sandpaper rubbing your vagina raw. And lube does NOT work the way the commercials would like you to think.
If you’re already pregnant, the damage is done. You obviously can’t get pregnant AGAIN (and if you’re with a steady partner), so why not let loose and go bareback? We all know it feels about a million times better.
Go ahead and give your hoo-ha a break- assuming your significant other isn’t totally freaked out by preggo-sex.
Or pads, if you choose to use the bloody-diaper (eww). One of the things I was most excited about during pregnancy was that I would NOT have a period for 9 long months. No more period cramps (pregnancy cramps are another story), no more sticking cotton up my snatch to stop the week-long bleeding.. no more unexplained bloating (bloating is exciting during pregnancy because you actually think you’re shwoing when you’re not).
Trust me, it’s fantastic not to have your period. I certainly don’t enjoy having it back.
Playing the ‘Pregnancy Card’
As bitchy as it might seem, I definitely used being pregnant to my full advantage. Don’t want to get up and get a drink or snack? Play the pregnant card, if your husband isn’t a total twat- he’ll get up and get it for you. People will give you their seat if all seats are taken. Strangers go out of their way to make you comfortable or to get things for you. It’s pretty awesome. You feel like a queen. A fat swollen tired queen, but a queen nevertheless.
Solid excuse to be fat
Eating like a cow during pregnancy will come back to bite you in the ass after giving birth, but I won’t lie and say it isn’t fun to stuff your face while your pregnant and not have anyone bat an eyelash (well, except your OBGYN). Most people have heard the saying “eating for two” and take it at face value, so when you’re shovelling down your second serving of cheesecake- people smile and write it off to the fact that you’re pregnant and need the calories.
Gives a whole new meaning to being fat and happy.
What women doesn’t love to shop? During pregnancy, the shopping-spree never ends. Whether it’s shopping for clothes to fit your fat ass (and the ones you buy at the beginning of pregnancy probably won’t fit towards the end, meaning MORE shopping), or shopping for baby.. there never seems to be a lack of the need to shop and spend ridiculous amounts of money.
No more birth control
It’s a no-brainer that you stop birth control when you’re knocked up. If you were taking it before and a sperm accidentally got through, well.. that sucks- but you won’t need it any more for obvious reasons.
No more remembering to take a pill, or sticking a new ring up into your freaking cooch.. no need for an implant under the skin on your arm (um, OUCH!), or to get a “tiny plastic insert” shoved up into your cervix, or even to stick a patch on your arm.
You will have to remember to take pre-natal vitamins.. which might just make you horribly nauseous, but… well… i’ll just keep this as a pro for now.
Being a bitch is a-ok
Some people might argue that it’s never ok to be a bitch… but c’mon, with all those extra hormones during pregnancy it’s hard NOT to want to snap at least twice a day and tear someone a new asshole. All you have to say? “Sorry, hormones!” and all is well in the world again.
Ain’t being pregnant grand?
Of course.. there are many awful uncomfortable disgusting things that come along with being pregnant, but i’ll save that for tomorrow’s post. Let’s all bask in the positive glory that is pregnancy right now.
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.
Parenthood is when you start counting the minutes to bed time before 11am.
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