After giving birth to Holden, the LAST thing on my mind was getting knocked up again. What was on my mind was the mind-numbing pain coming from all the stitches holding my vagina together, but that’s not the point..
I have a plan.. no more babies until Holden is out of diapers. I’d actually like to wait until he’s in kindergarten so that he gets my full attention until he’s ‘out of the house’ and the new baby would get all of my attention during the day.
That.. and the thought of taking care of two young screaming children terrifies me to the core. I literally think i’d go insane.. Anyways..
Sounds like a good plan, right? I think so.
Regardless of how set in my ways I am, it doesn’t stop me from swooning every time I see a cute preggo walking through the store.. picking out tiny little clothes and grimacing through the diaper and formula section, not knowing which to buy.
And you’d better keep me AWAY from the itty-bitty babies being effortlessly carried through the store while I painfully lug around my 27+ lb one year old.
I start missing the old days. Having that big fat baby belly and having people stare at you and say awwwwww’ (kind of like I do now). Feeling the intense karate kicks from the spawn growing inside your uterus.. Carrying around a teeny-tiny little lump of baby cuteness without losing feeling in your arms or having your back start to hurt after 5 minutes.
Baby fever, in full effect. And once it hits you it is STRONG and unrelenting.
And the feeling doesn’t just go away in the snap of your fingers.. it lasts. Sometimes a few days, sometimes a week. Your crazy once-preggo brain starts thinking how fabulous it would be to make a new bundle of joy. To be able to have a cuddly, bottle-slurping, always sleeping ‘infant’.. because your child is no longer considered an infant, but is now a toddler- and you will never get those days back.
I have a complete lapse of judgement until the thought of stretch marks, contractions, pushing a huge bowling ball out of my snatch, AGAIN, recovery time.. being up ALL NIGHT every night.. OMG will this new baby have reflux? How can I handle two?? Can we even AFFORD another money-sucking formula guzzler?
And then I realize i’m being completely and totally insane and idiotic, and start thanking my lucky stars that my stupidity didn’t take me far enough to utter those 3 words that you can’t ever take back:
“Don’t pull out”
Once those words have been spoken they can not be undone, then you go into the dreaded ‘2 week wait’, and those two weeks are LONG. Full of wondering WHY you ever thought another baby was a good idea, OMG I CAN’T DO THIS and PLEASE let that piss-stick come up negative.
Nope, never got that far.. and I hope to never have a brain lapse that large.
That’s not to say we haven’t had a few ‘oopsies’ (more like.. my period is NEVER regular, leading me to believe every cycle that I could be pregnant, even if the chances are incredibly slim.. because, well.. you have to have sex to get pregnant), which still makes me a pretty big moron because TRUST ME, as nice as another drooling sack of flesh would be..
it will only be nice after another 2…3… maybe 4 years.
Ever wondered what it’s like to have a crazy 1 year old little boy?
Your kid might be the perfect angel, or turn out like one of the Brady Bunch spawns… not in my world.
7:15am– Wake up screaming to high hell… unless i’m in a really good mood- then i’ll just wake up and yell until someone comes and gets me.
7:20am– Scream through my diaper change, for no reason at all.
7:30am– Milk sippy time! Chug until I get tired, and then chuck it half way across the room, pissing both Mommy and Daddy off.
7:35am-8:30am– Crawl all over Mommy, climb up the walls, pulls her hair, snap her bra, try to take face dives off of the bed and watch Fairly OddParents instead of taking my morning nap until Mommy decides she wants to drag her lazy ass out of bed and take me downstairs to play.
8:35am-10:10am– Mommy fell asleep on the couch so it’s time to tear the entire living room to pieces.. and then scream when I get stuck between the couches, or when a toy won’t let me play with it the way I want to, or when I get stuck head first in my toy-bin
10:10am-10:20am– Scream at the baby gate while Mommy makes my breakfast and tells me to ‘GO PLAY WITH SOMETHING!’
10:20am-10:35am– Yay Breakfast! Now I get to throw banana slices and a sippy full of milk at mommy. Even more fun when she gives me yogurt and I wipe my slimy hands all over her.
10:35am-10:37am– scream while Mommy cleans my disgusting face and hands off with a baby wipe.
10:37am-10:45am– Try to hurry and push a poop out while Mommy washes the dishes so she can’t put me on the potty.
10:45am-10:50am- Mommy sits me on the potty anyways. Wiggle, Scream, play with my pee-pee.. rinse & repeat.
10:50am-10:53am– Ugh another diaper change. Screaming, followed by peekaboo with anything I can get my hands on.
10:53am-11:00am– Mommy sticks me downstairs while she checks her dumb computer that she never lets me play with. I would scream… but instead i’ll tear the living room apart again.
11:00am-12:00pm– Mommy sticks me in the baby prison while she rolls around on a huge bouncy-ball and gets all tired. She loves it when I whine.. so I do a lot of that and throw ALL of my toys at her. She throws them back.. I throw them at her again. Fun!
12:00pm-12:05pm– Mommy tries to kick me out of the bathroom while she throws water on her face. I retalliate by tearing my little potty apart.
12:05pm-12:30pm– I get yelled at for whining and tearing the living room apart again while Mommy sits on the couch. When she tries to play with me, I crawl away.
12:30pm-12:33pm– I get stripped naked and sat on the stupid little-potty AGAIN! I don’t know why.. it’s not like i’m gonna end up peeing or pooping.
12:33pm-12:37pm– Finally get changed out of my PJs, scream the entire time just for the hell of it.
12:37pm-1:00pm– Snack time! Goldfish (my favorite) and water. I throw them all over the ground, and then scream to get them back. Why? Because I can.
1:00pm-3:00pm– Nap time, finally. Mommy gets some much-needed quiet time to watch her stupid soap-opera.
3:00pm-3:10pm– Tear the living room apart again while Mommy makes lunch.
3:10pm-3:30pm– Lunch time! I throw my food and beg for Mommy’s.. then when she gives me some I don’t eat it. She does not look amused.
3:30pm-4:30pm– Mommy gives me free reign of the living room! We play, I whine, I play.. then whine some more… maybe take a poop and pee a few times in my pants, play with things i’m not supposed to and cry when Mommy tells me “no!”
4:30pm-4:33pm– Pointless time on the little-potty again. Doesn’t she get it? I’m not gonna use it!
4:33pm-4:36pm– Diaper change. No screaming! Mommy looks happy.
4:36pm-5:00pm– snack time! bananas and graham crackers. More throwing food and wiping my hands on my nice clean shirt.
5:00pm-6:00pm– Normally Mommy would force me down for a nap.. I think she’s finally given up, more play time for me! Which naturally means a lot more whining, and a lot more dirty looks from Mommy.
6:00pm– DADDY’S HOME! DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY! PICK ME UP! OMG SAVE ME FROM MOMMY I CAN’T STAND HER ANYMORE! DADDY DADDY DADDY!
6:00pm-6:45pm– I get to play with Daddy while Mommy cooks dinner. I end up making him mad, I have NO idea how!
6:45pm-7:20pm– Dinner! Not only do I like to throw food at dinner, I like to smear it in my hair.. put it up my nose.. put it in my lap… wipe it into my eyes…
Does not make for fun clean up, so I scream while I get a full rubdown with a cold wipe.
7:20pm-7:50pm– Play time with Mommy AND Daddy! Maybe push out a little poo-nug.. tear apart the living room for the hundreth time.
7:50pm-8:10pm– Bath time! I make Daddy mad by not holding still long enough to get washed… and by peeing in the water.
8:10pm-8:15pm– Mommy gives me a baby massage. I refrain from whining
8:15pm-8:20pm– Start whining when Mommy tries to get me dressed. She tries to quiet me with my binky.. I throw it.
8:20pm-8:30pm– Bed time sippy and snuggle with Daddy in the dark.
8:30pm-8:45pm– Daddy rocks me to sleep in the rocking chair. Sometimes I pass out, sometimes I scream just so he’ll have to rock me for longer.
8:45pm- ??? ZZZZZZZZ, stir, ZZZZZZ, whine, ZZZZZZZ, stir, whine, cry, binky, ZZZZZZZ
That made me exhausted just typing it out. Never again.
And people wonder why I have no time or energy for bullshit.
I don’t know what’s changed lately, but i’ve been getting more spam-phone calls than ever. About politics, cell-phone plans (from my OWN provider), extending my car warranty, the list could go on forever. Not to mention the pounds of snail mail a week I receive of pointless crap i’ll never use or am not interested in.
What I do know is how sick I am of receiving these phone calls on a seemingly daily basis. Especially when Holden is trying to sleep and the call wakes him up. That has become a huge thorn in my side.
Recently I came across a website/service that will effectively add you to all of the Do-Not-Call, Do-Not-Email and Do-Not-Mail lists.. and you don’t have to do any of the legwork yourself.
Check it out for yourself: Privacy Council
Their main objective is to put an end to all SPAM. Sounds pretty good to me. I certainly don’t want to have to make all of the calls myself, I just don’t have the time for that when i’m trying to deal with an ornery toddler getting into everything.
Privacy Council also has an incredibly informative blog about all of the new SPAM out there whether it be by phone, e-mail, website, pop-up,and snail mail and how to stop it. You can find that right on their main page.
Sit back and let them do the work for you, and reap all the benefits of light mail days and no more telemarketers.
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.
God forbid anyone reading this blog ever finds themselves in a situation where their home or business is on fire.
I’ve always felt that it’s better safe than sorry, especially when you have a family to protect, so taking the measurements to ensure your home is protected in case of emergency is incredibly important.
If you’re in the process of building your home or business, take a time out to think about fire-proofing the building.
For over 50 years, KBS has been one of the leaders in finding new and better ways to safeguard and protect buildings from fire. They can create a customized plan to help better manage your new home or building from exposure to fire. In fact, their entire motto is that it’s better to prevent a loss than to recover from one afterward- which is so incredibly true.
Take a few moments to peruse their products to help fireproof your new home or business. A few minutes is much less than months, or even years of trying to rebuild after losing everything in a fire.
With products than span from KBS Sealant, which is a joint filler and can be used internally and externally and can help protect against toxic gas, to KBS Industrial Coating, which can be brushed on to bundles of wires to delay the spread of fire and short-circuiting.. KBS has products to fit all of your needs when it comes to fireproofing.
Easy to use and effective, and so important.. take some time out to look through KBS‘ products.
You can’t ever plan for the unexpected.. but you can prepare for the worst and prevent total loss by fireproofing your home or business today with products from
@AtypicalMiriam I am frightening *and* tall 😂
@AtypicalMiriam He fears me. I am the only female I this house. All penis people live in fear.
Me: Just ripped the ass out of my pants. I mean, they were OLD pants, but I feel like it's because I was bigger than I was 10 years ago. 10yo: Everyone's bigger than they were 10 years ago! I am! Me: YOU WERE AN INFANT 10 YEARS AGO 10yo: ... 10yo: *slowly backs out of room*
Person on tv: Age is just a number! 10yo: Yeah, a number that pulls you closer to death.
Party animal over here pic.twitter.com/OVpKPuu4Yc
Proving to my kids that they ARE Friends goo.gl/fb/QbSSNp
Writing my next book Me: My period inspired a whole new chapter! Husband: Your lack of period inspired a whole book... Me: pic.twitter.com/fpNHwnYeAF
The card my kid made me at school. I truly don't know why I expected anything different 😂😂 pic.twitter.com/T7nai0ycqS