Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Three

I mentioned in a recent post, Mommy Needs a Drink, that mothering a toddler can be a pretty tough gig sometimes.  I was thinking of all of the randomness that is three.  So, I have presented a completely unorganized, schizophrenic look at what three looks like at our house.

Three is...
...Loud. Three year olds have the volume control of a drunken college boy at a toga party. 


...Dirt Covered.  Except for his hands, if a speck of mud taints his tiny peach hands, prepare for a shrill scream that makes your spine ache.

...Repetitive.  Each and every day, approximately 90,784 times per day, I hear common phrases such as, "is it morning?" "where are my shoes" "good morning" "where's my dog" "I need a snack" "I'm not hungry!" "I want a SNACK".

...Messy.  In a bodily fluids kind of way.  Similar to the incident described in this post.  Here is a recent text I sent to my husband,
"Next time I hear Little K start bawling during nap time, followed by a screaming, "OH NO I POOPED EVERYWHERE!  IT'S EVERYWHERE!"  I'm going to leave him in there and wait for you to get home.  It was all over his bed, bed rails, lovies, blankets, hands, feet, clothes, back, carpet, pillows, etc.  It was literally EVERYWHERE.  Except for the curtains, although I probably should double check that.  I had to bleach and sanitize everything, AND shampoo the effing carpet.  I even had to bleach the bathtub after I washed him.  I have no clue how that much shit came out of that small of a child or how exactly it turned into shit-mageddon.  But seriously, next time, it's your turn.
I literally prayed while cleaning: "Dear God, please let my child learn to shit in the toilet like a normal human.  Amen.""

In case you were curious, his response to that text was, "Sorry for your "shitty" day."


...Messy in public.  Again, in a bodily fluids kind of way.  Again, the text I sent to my husband best describes the situation.
"Little K pissed on the floor at the library.  I'm not even kidding.  Like a HUGE puddle of pee.  The most pee I have ever seen in my life.  It sounded like a waterfall and looked like he was pouring a pitcher of water through his shorts.  Thank God I stuck my thin black jacket in my gym bag because he wore it as a lovely wrapped skirt out of the library and in the car.  They had just taken him potty at the Y so I don't even know how that happened.  He had to tell the librarian what he did.  Thankfully she was super nice about it.  I was mortified!"

...Unintentionally hilarious.  Little K had his first real non-mommy-given haircut a few weeks ago by a real live 115 year old barber.  The barber asked him if he had a brother, to which he replied, "no".  He then asked him if he had a sister, to which he replied, "Yes! Daisy.  She's black and white!"  I didn't bother to explain.  I'll let the barber believe we are a politically incorrect family that has a molato daughter with Vitiligo.  The barber then gave Little K a gumball for behaving so well during his haircut.  I've never allowed him to have gum before because I'm neurotic and have worried he would choke.  After his haircut, still chomping on his gum, while riding in the grocery cart at the crowded market, he suddenly shouts, "That guy give me a gumball!  It tastes like BALLS!"  My face went 90 shades of red as I yelled, "No!  Gum!  It tastes like gum!"


...Awesome.  Now in to repeating random phrases from commercials, Little K shouts strange things in public.  On his very first day of preschool, Mr. B and I were waiting with him outside of the classroom.  I was a nervous wreck, trying to keep from bawling in front of all of the other probably just as nervous mothers.  Little K's teacher walks by, and he yells, "Ms. Becky!  Ms. Becky!  I need to tell you something!"  "What Little K?"  And, after everyone is staring at us, in his best announcer voice, he yells, "CRISPY BACON HERE!"  (from the "Premium Pretzel Dog" Sonic commercial).  He was very proud of himself.  Very.


...Religious.  One day I picked Little K up from preschool and noticed that he had on socks with his loafers and shorts.  Not a huge deal, but I just don't typically dress my son like a 70 year old retiree, and I know he hadn't had them on when I dropped him off.  Also, they weren't our socks so I was naturally curious.
"Little K, why do you have socks on with your loafers?  Did Ms. Becky put them on you?"
"No.  Because that guy put them on me."
"What guy?"
"Um, Jesus."
I was immediately thankful that we chose to send him to Catholic school -- even though we are Protestant.  I mean, Jesus never helped me with my shoes at public school.  But, as it turns out, there is a male aid at the school, who happens to have a goatee.  Little K didn't know his name at the time, and just picked the name of the another guy with facial hair.


...Oversharing.  I've mentioned more than once that poop-training has been a huge issue for Little K.  I've been convinced for quite some time that he will likely attend college in Pull-Ups.  But, thanks to some advice from my sister, we have made huge strides in the pooping department.  I haven't had to clean up shit off of anything but a bottom in at least three weeks.  This is huge.  The only problem now is that he often tells strangers, "I pooped in the big toilet!" or "I poop like a big boy!"  My favorite, though, is when he holds up whatever recent toy we have bribed him with, and shouts, "See this new ______?  I earned it!  I got it for pooping!"


 
...Lacking an inside voice.  More than once, Little K has announced loudly in a public restroom that his mommy has pooped.  One time in particular, he was shouting (and I do mean shouting), "Ewww Mommy, that's GROSS!  That's a LOT of poop!  Pew that stinks!  That's gross, Mommy!  Yuck!"  I tried my best to hurry up while telling him to please be quiet.  Then his proclamations of my bowel movement just turned into a stage whisper, and none the quieter.
Another time, he told me, "Good job for pooping, Mommy!  Are you going to get a surprise?"  I could hear snickering coming from the other stalls.

...Embarrassing.  Yet another time in a public restroom, I was doing my business when I look up and hear Little K say, "Mommy, what's this thing do?"  He was unlocking the stall.  I was too far away to reach it.  In my sternest voice I say, "Don't. Touch. Anything."  Then... he leans into the bathroom door as it flies open; sending him skidding into the sink area, and leaving me exposed, pants down, on the john, to at least 3 women.  There is no ladylike way to get yourself out of that situation.  None.


...Sweet.  I took my little man to the coffee shop for milk and a muffin -- a sugar free skinny iced latte for me.  As the ladies walked by, he told each one "Good morning!"  Then he sat down at a table, I started to sit across from him when he pulled out a chair next to him and said, "Sit by me, Mommy!"  Little K always wants one more kiss from me at bedtime, and needs a kiss over the baby gate when I drop him off at the gym's daycare -- last week he pushed another kid down because he thought that kid was going to sneak in and kiss his mommy.  My favorite is that whenever I wear a dress (even if it's a just a maxi dress... which we all know is just crotch-less yoga pants), he always tells me I look like a princess.

...Artistic.  During a recent trip to visit my parents, Little K was taking a quiet afternoon nap.  My mom had promised him that if he took a good nap he would get a really great surprise.  She had gone in to wake him up when I heard her yell my name.  My first thought was, "Great, I'm going to have to clean up shit."  When I walked in the room, I saw my son standing, nude from the waist down, covered in red and blue markings.  I had to leave the room to get the laughter out of my system before gaining enough composure to walk back in.  When I did return, I noticed that he had colored not only his arms and legs, but his face, his bottom, his shirt, and his wiener.  I absolutely could not stop laughing at that point.  Until I noticed that he had also colored all over the walls, the bedframe, a quilt, several stuffed animals, and the carpet.  Thank God my mom had bought washable markers.  Little K's only comment about the whole thing was, "So I guess this means I'm not getting my surprise?"


...Sarcastic.  Little K often plays with my foam roller or yoga block.  One day he was riding the foam roller around like a horse.  "Look Mommy, I'm riding a horse!"  "Wow!  That's really neat, buddy!  What does your horse look like?"  He looked at me like I was the biggest idiot on earth, and said with a huge amount of attitude, "Like a foam roller."


Every day is an adventure with this little guy.  But I wouldn't trade a moment of it for anything (well, except for maybe the moments when I have to clean up bodily fluids).

Thank you for keeping me  In Good Company.

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