I Hate it when my Kid is Smarter than I am!



Isn’t it funny how even though we’re supposed to be the ones teaching our
children, we learn so much from them? Maybe it is true that everything we
need to know we learned in kindergarten (or perhaps pre-school). Because
many times, it seems like Kate is much more wise than I am.

A couple weeks ago we were driving in the car with my dad, and I was
telling him exactly what I thought of an aquaintance. I was going on and
on about the mistakes I thought she was making, both professionally and
personally (you know, because I have it all figured out… yeah right!)

All the sudden Kate piped up from the back, “Mommy, worry about YOURSELF!”

Touche, Kate.

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The Clean-Out



Because potty training is such a major milestone in both a child and a mother’s lives, I’ve decided to regale you with yet another tale from that era of my life. I started potty training Joshua a year ago, when he was about 27 months old. I gave up (the first time) three months later, partly because he just didn’t give a crap (pun intended) WHERE he peed, and he preferred to poop in his pants. Actually, truth be told, he preferred, while we were potty training, not to poop AT ALL, and he became chronically constipated from trying to hold it in for three months! So I set out on a quest to get him regular again. Yes, another thing I can blame myself for: my son’s inability to push one out. Ahh the mother’s guilt! It’s so constant it’s almost comforting….oh wait no it’s not.

To prepare for “Operation: Poopshoot” I went to my favorite book, Toddler 411 and got a list of fun fiber foods to go grocery shopping for. I hit Kroger’s, got the stuff and that evening I was “rewarded” for my efforts with a slightly softer than normal poop from Joshua. I could see that he was going, and he looked at me and he said “It’s ok if I poop in my pants.” (Which is what I had been telling him ever since we ceased potty training. Cause I just wanted him to POOP!) And I said, “It sure is, buddy, you go for it!” So anyhoo, a few minutes later I had to change this bad boy, and it was RANK!! And then I tried to cover it up with Lysol and it almost made it worse! Rank poop mixed with Lysol is just not pretty. Yee-ikes.

The next night, my husband Bobby and I got to “reap the fruits” of his high-fiber diet once again when we were enjoying a family dinner at Boston Market (I was ginomrously pregnant and NOT COOKING at the time) and he LAID ONE ON US. Of course being the stellar parents that we are, we had no diaper bag with us. So then we had to go to Home Depot to get some stuff for the baby’s room and Joshua stunk that place up, and by the time we got home, Bobby’s car was smelling pretty….um…toxic. My husband earned big “Daddy points” by changing that poop when we got home. Here are his comments on that event:

Bobby: “That was the nastiest poop I have ever changed in my life.”
Me: “Was it less hard than usual?” (Meaning: “was it a constipated rock poop?”)
Bobby: “It was very soft, and he pooped through his diaper. And despite my best efforts, I got poop on the floor, on my jeans, and on his jeans. And there’s no way you could’ve changed it without barfing.”

Thus began “The Clean-Out,” as I refer to it. Mmmm…misty water-color memories. After that, Joshua began pooping normally in his diaper for SEVERAL more months until he was finally trained. And by finally, I mean ten months after I originally started training him. As a side note, I’d like to say that Toddler 411 didn’t come out until August 28th, 2006. If it had come out earlier I would’ve realized earlier that Joshua just wasn’t ready for the potty yet. But then I wouldn’t have had such a glorious tale to tell, either

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Rewind…7/01/2004 The Great Pumping (while driving!) Disaster



To: Jenny
From: Emily
Date: 7/01/04
Subj: Pumping incident

Cousin,
Remember yesterday when we were talking on the phone and I had to hang up all the sudden? Yeah… I had a bit of a disaster on my hands.

Yesterday afternoon was really busy at work and I didn’t have a chance to pump. I had gone to exercise right after work and I was still wearing my gym clothes when I decided to try my new “pumping-while-driving” trick. I sat in the parking lot and got myself all situated… I had a sports bra on, not a nursing bra, and I had to kind of hitch it up and out of the way. Looking back, I’d say that this created somewhat of a tourniquet effect.

So I drove away, happily multi-tasking. Then you called (and if there’s not a law against pumping, driving and talking on the phone at the same time, there should be)… but while we were chatting I thought to myself “That’s weird – my shorts feel kind of wet.”

I looked down and there was milk EVERYWHERE – the bottles had overflowed. I pulled over as quickly as possible (and hung up with you) and detached myself from the apparatus… but by that point… well, the pump was primed, if you know what I mean.

By the time I got home, I had two huge rivers of milk down the front of my t-shirt. When I walked in the door, I think Andy thought I had exploded or something. He fearfully asked me what had happened. I just said “I promise you do not want to know” and headed straight to the shower.

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