|SI, Grandma, and DD|
And, when you're first pregnant, blissfully oblivious of the realities of parenting... before it's really sunk in that this is genuinely the rest of your life... other parents try to warn you.
You hear the stories constantly. Themes, repeating. Endlessly, it seems.
And one of them does make a mark.
Painting with poo.
You know it's probably going to happen, but what do you care? You don't have to worry about that... after all, it will be MONTHS before your baby is coordinated enough to do something so... gross. It might be years before they get the idea.
But eventually, they're going to get the idea. And it's probably going to happen in some sorry, hapless kind of way.
|Grandma and the monkeys|
But... well... I have found that grandparents are a little more reluctant than mommies and daddies to lay down the law. Particularly when it comes to punishment. And naptime.
As you may recall, naptime is a frequent source of drama in our home. Just not usually to the extent of yesterday afternoon.
I was out of the day yesterday. I had Spanish class, some errands to run, and a chiropractor/acupuncture appointment. (Amazing- acupuncture is the only thing that has ever done my SPD any good.) I got home at about 3:30 pm.
As I was ever so laboriously climbing the three flights of stairs to our condo, I thought to myself... the girls didn't wake up this morning until 9am- I bet they're still napping! I bet I can go through that door, and SIT DOWN for about ten minutes.
|She's a pro. She can handle this, right?|
Help? Help with WHAT?
You see, the previous day DD finally- FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME- pooped into the potty. She's been peeing in the potty almost every time for two months now, but only poops in her diaper during nap or bedtime. With the exception of a handful of times that she's pooped in her underpants. Which sucks for everybody.
After she pooped in the potty, I screamed with delight and did a dance and sang a song and gave her TWO m&ms. It was quite the to-do.
As Grandma explains it, she did not want to poop in her diaper again. So, after almost two hours of refusing to nap for Grandma, she removed her diaper in order to poop.
All over her bed.
She was so traumatized, she began screaming and screaming and screaming. That's when Grandma came in and saw the mess. I walked in the door about five minutes later. By that time, DD's hands had been somewhat cleaned off, but the telltale signs of poo were everywhere.
|Grandma and the monkeys|
It was a nightmare of fecal proportions.
SI was just standing in her crib (she had also refused to nap) narrating the scene to me. "DD pooed in the bed! DD pooed on her frog! DD sad! DD have poo on her blanket!"
As DD calmed down, she began to see the humor in the situation. Sadly, as of that moment I did not. As she repeated, "This funny, mommy!" I emphatically replied, "NO IT IS NOT."
Ominously, DD giggled.
It took Grandma and I about half an hour to sort things into a facsimile of peace and quiet. At that point I told the girls they needed another hour of quiet time, put them back to bed, and sat down with a glass of water.
|The much beloved Grandma of poo related disaster|
Me? I took a nap and left Grandma with the monsters.
But this morning? This morning, the two of them were spitting onto DD's bed and "drawing" on the wall with the "bubbles."
Right where the poo had been.
Once again, I will choose to blame the whole catastrophe on Grandma. Because then I can keep telling myself that *I* would have been better at getting them to shut up and lay down for nap time, and the whole poo debacle would never have happened.
But who am I kidding? I've known since I was first pregnant with my monsters.
Since all the other mommies in the world warned me...
Some day, they said to me then and I say to you now, your kid is going to play with their own poo. And it's not going to be pretty. And it's going to be disgusting for a whole host of reasons you cannot yet comprehend. And you're going to marvel at how any species so obviously dumb could claw their way to the top of the food chain.
|Grandma reading to the monkeys|
Dear Lord, I hope it doesn't get grosser.
And if it does, I hope I can still blame it on Grandma.