Welcome to my less than perfect life!

Embracing the imperfections that make my life practically perfect in every way.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

HAZMAT to the bathtub

So I am giving The Nugget her bath the other night.  All is right with the world; she is splashing and playing and having a fine time, which she usually does while bathing.  A few minutes in, though, I hear a little "toot".  And then she says, "poop."

I will remind you all that The Nugget is not potty trained.  She appears to be able to make some sort of loose association with the word poop, but she has never once gone on the potty or accurately alerted me to her need to (or completion of) poop.

So, I say, "Do you have to poop?"  Those of you who read this blog will know that her response was, "Okay."  She then went on to continue splashing and playing, so I assumed that she had probably just had some gas and continued watching her play.

Bad decision.

Pretty soon, The Nugget is making what can only be described as a "poop face".  I go into overdrive, grabbing the potty seat and latching it onto the toilet and whisking her out of the tub and... realizing that I was too late.  Amid the thousand toys that were floating in her bath water, we had the unmistakable reality of poop.

Prior to encountering this situation, I had somehow imagined that if the child ever pooped in the tub it would be no big deal.  I would just scoop the offending poop out of the tub and we would commence with the bath.  Clearly, my imagination left a lot to be desired.  In reality, the poop immediately starts dissolving in the water.  It is touching EVERYTHING in the stupid tub.  I have a sopping wet baby standing in the bathroom (who also takes this opportunity to pee on the floor) and I have to stick my freaking hand into the now contaminated tub water in order to drain it.  Grrrrr!

Lucky for me, some time ago I bought the nugget a tiny toy fishing net for the bathtub.  It did not at all occur to me at the time, but this little baby came in quite handy in this situation.  At least for the big, nasty pieces I could readily scoop them into the net and flush them away!  Now that just left boiling and bleaching and scrubbing, oh my.

Of course, the more pressing issue was my freezing, wet daughter who was by now standing in a puddle of her own urine.  Super duper.  So, I grabbed the babe in a towel, threw another towel down to sop up the pee and shut the bathroom door and didn't go back in there for two days.

Don't judge.  You'd be in no rush to tackle this task either.  Besides, I eventually got to the boiling water and bleach part of the operation.

In the meantime, the big lessons learned from this experience were:

1.  My imagination and reality have little to do with one another.
2.  I need some sort of HAZMAT team on speed dial for these situations.  I am ill equipped to handle them.
3.  I will believe The Nugget the next time she tells me she needs to poop.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Tip. The Sippy. Up.

Okay, those of you who are fans of Young Frankenstein, go back and read the title to the tune of, "Put.  Zie candle.  Back."  Couldn't resist.

Now, welcome to one of my most perplexing issues with The Nugget.  The child appears to be incapable of tipping her sippy cup.  I know some of you are already reacting with, "it's because you are doing it for her."  I admit that we do it for her, but it is because she will. not. do. it.

Not only will she not do it, she appears to be oblivious to the fact that she is not doing it most of the time.  If we give her the type of sippy cup that requires tipping, she will often just stand there sucking on the spout and drawing in air.  She may stay completely content like this for loooong minutes on end.  Until mommy finally snaps and gently lifts it up and explains, for the millionth time, "tip it up."  As soon as I let go, down goes the cup.  Occasionally she will realize she is getting nothing to drink and look to one of us and plead, "help".  But often she just continues to suck the air.

The Mister tells me not to worry about this matter.  And I obsess about it constantly don't, except I find it very odd that she is unable to master this skill.  She never was interested in holding her bottles when she drank out of them and never did.  When we first started cups at age 6 months, I figured she would just grow into wanting to tip them.  I had no idea that well into her 18th month of life she would still be perplexed by this notion.  Of course, we long ago solved the need to be enslaved by her drinking needs by giving her some sippies with straws, but still, I ask you, what is the deal?

The Nugget was born 5 weeks premature.  Sometimes I puzzle over whether this is some kind of bizarre developmental hangover due to prematurity.  She was just recently at the pediatrician who said she was the most brilliant child she'd ever seen developing well.  Her language skills are excellent and she can speak at a two year old level and count to 10 and recognize some numbers and letters.  Her physical development otherwise seems very good, as well.  She walks, runs, walks backwards, holds a crayon to scribble, climbs stairs, uses utensils sometimes and is practically perfect in every way.  Did she just not get the cup-tipping gene?  Maybe it skips generations?

I am already making home school plans because I don't know how I can be sure in the future that she is staying hydrated without my constant attention.  These are the sacrifices a mother has to make.  If I have to continue living with her until she marries, well, so be it.

I am just hoping that she marries someone who is very understanding and will be willing to continue to tip her cups for her into old age.  Otherwise, I don't know what she's going to do once The Mister and I are gone.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Spider Alert!

It's been a couple of years now since The Mister and I moved into our current house.  Previously we lived in a 70 year old bungalo in the downtown area of Indianapolis.  We now live further out in the 'burbs near a lovely park and reservoir.  We have lots of trees and wildlife.  And spiders.  Lots and lots of spiders.

Now, before you spider lovers out there attack, I want you to know that I appreciate the spider for its role in the world.  If I am outdoors and I see a spider, other than possibly shooing it away from my space, I leave it alone.  I want spiders in my garden to keep out the other pests.  Where I don't want spiders is in my home.

In our old house, which had been lived in by the same man for over 40 years, I NEVER saw a spider.  I know that sounds crazy but it's true.  I don't know, maybe we had some spider-eating snake that lived there.  But, if we did, I never saw the snake, either.  I was thinking, old house, lots of spiders and creepy things.  I don't know if the guy before us just sprayed a lot of pesticides or what (we never did), but the bugs were not coming into that house.

Now we live in a brand new house and we are under constant attack.  We see one at least once a day if not two or three times a day.  You open the door to the bathroom and sit down on the toilet, there is one staring at you from under the sink.  You start to run the bath water for the baby, one runs out from behind her tub toy holder.  You think you are going to take the child out to play but one runs in the door when you open it and then goes to hide behind the play kitchen.  They are mostly just wolf spiders, big and ugly but harmless, but I DO NOT want them in the house.  So, I am sorry, but I have to kill the ones that come into the house.  Mostly, I grab some paper towel and squish them as quickly and painlessly as I can (I do have a heart).  Sometimes they are so freaking big I have to get out the vacuum to suck them up.  Then I have to not vacuum for a week because I don't want to clean out the trap because what if they are not dead in there???

The worst one we ever saw, and I ask you to brace yourself, was a spider with babies on its back.  Oh, no, I didn't know this existed, either, until one night when The Nugget was about 3 months old and we sat as a family during the late evening in our living room.  She was resting quietly in her swing.  The Mister and I were watching a movie.  Suddenly, The Mister says, "What the hell is THAT?"

Now, to be fair, The Mister is known to trend a bit toward the dramatic.  I did not initially even move from my cozy spot on the couch.  Glancing around, I saw nothing.  But as his eyes zeroed in, I felt the fear and panic rise as my eyes followed his to this HUGE shadow on the floor.  A big, black shadow right near our fireplace which was just INCHES from our innocent baby girl.

At this point, chaos ensued.  The Mister attempted the usual maneuver of grabbing a bunch of paper towels to squish the spider while I ran back and forth across the living room shouting, "Get it, get it, get it!"  I had not yet realized that there were babies on the spider, I just thought it was really huge.  Needless to say, when The Mister hit it with the paper towel, babies went everywhere!  Ack!

Now it occurred to me to get the vacuum (this was the first time the vacuum trick had needed to be employed in our spider wars).  While we both tried to squelch our cases of heebie jeebies, I threw the vacuum at The Mister who began chasing after what seemed like hundreds of babies.  Fearing they had run into the fireplace, we turned that on and then, for good measure, we cleaned the entire house because we were totally freaked out.  We then spent the rest of our evening alternately shivering and saying, "Ewwww".

All the while, The Nugget slept peacefully in her swing.  One day when she is old enough to appreciate it I will Google the photo of "spider with babies on back" and she will know what we faced in order to protect her.  The brave among you may choose to look it up now but, I warn you, it is not for the faint of heart.

Spiders, if you are reading this, I am sorry I have killed so many of your kind.  I would prefer not to do it.  I just want you to live outside and allow my family to live inside.  Alone.  And if you could please stop startling me every chance you get, that would be nice, too.  Finally, if there is any way I can get reimbursed for all of the paper towel I have gone through trying to rid my house of your kind, I would love that because I use the good stuff and it's not cheap.  But, you know, just the leaving alone thing would be great, too.