Alright ya'll. Here is the first part of a book I've started to attempt in writing. Please be kind :). It's supposed to be a funny outlook on parenthood and I thought I would give you all the first glimpse. Enjoy and let me hear your thoughts at the end!!
I’ve Been TODDLED
She was breathtaking. A little angel sent down in the form of a newborn babe. Anxiously I peered over to the little life form screaming at the other end of the room. I let out a sigh and smiled at my husband. The hard part was over.
As I took her into my arms, I looked into those eyes for the first time and got a slight feeling of uneasiness… she was literally looking at me like she was smarter than me. You know that look? The one with a slightly raised eyebrow and pursed lips? That was it. It was like she was saying, “Just wait until my body catches up with this brain.” I brushed it off, she’s just a baby, my beautiful baby.
She was a dream. She smiled, giggled, grew immense amounts of fat in the correct areas forcing old ladies to pinch her little cheeks and comment on how adorable she was. I was a proud Momma, quick to show off my baby girl to any who were willing to offer their admiration.
We squealed with delight at her first smile, first giggle, first round of contagious laughter. I beamed with pride at all the firsts; rolling over, crawling, words. She was the picture of perfection. The “ideal” child in my eyes. The April that she took her first few steps, I could not hold back the frenzy of emotion I felt for that child. She had made it. My baby was grown up, and I had to step back and look at her. With a lingering tear I smiled at the prospect of a new journey we would be starting. I was ready for it, with my valuables out of reach; I jumped head first into the world of a toddler.
Little did I know that within days, I would want to build an extra room onto our home. This room would have four walls that were completely padded and soundproof. The lock would be on the outside and there would be one small window that would be bullet proof. That’s it. It seemed like the only logical safe place to put the unhinged child.
For all you mothers whose children sit quietly through church, go right to bed, and eat their fruits and vegetables… I give you my deepest condolences. Despite my daughters uncanny ability to get into every single thing she is not supposed to, I get to laugh, cry, smile, yell and ultimately FEEL motherhood. I have found I am not alone. Every single time I sit in a room with other Mothers, these secret stories come out. The stories you laugh about until you cry because you know EXACTLY what they are talking about. Here are few lessons we Moms have picked up along the way.
BRIBERY… The one and ONLY way to train a child.
CARRIE!!! GET UP HERE NOW!!! I turned off the T.V. and ran upstairs to answers my husband’s call. I was a bit perturbed knowing that Tayler was sound asleep and was sure that he had awakened her. I ran upstairs to the abhorrent smell of fecal matter plaguing the hallway into Taylers room. I slowly turned the corner to see a sight that would burn it's way into my memory forever. Apparently Tayler hadn’t been sleeping. Apparently she had turned the light on, and taken off her poopy diaper. Apparently she had found it to be as entertaining as sidewalk chalk and crayons. Why you may ask? Her room was covered in it. Pretty smiley face pictures drawn on her newly painted purple dresser. Stripes on her bedspread, door, and walls. There were dots spotting the carpet, and even worse she had painted herself with it.
As I scrubbed poop art off the wall and heard Loren filling up the tub to bathe Tayler I didn’t realize this would be the beginning to an era I would happily skip with any future child. With this experience, began the era entitled, “potty training.”
A few days later, with a final wipe of one especially disgusting diaper, and days of applying safety pins to my daughters onesies to avoid the afore mentioned incident, I decided it was time. For months my daughter had been showing signs of readiness for potty training. Uneasy at the formidable task that lay ahead of me, I went to the local Wal-Mart, purchased a package of Elmo underwear, and a large bag of Skittles. Everyone said, “Go all or nothing.” With the best of intentions I threw on those “big girl underwear,” smiled at the prospect of not changing another diaper, and went merrily on my way.
Five pairs of underwear, and two hours later, I slapped the diaper back on and claimed that she was definitely NOT ready.
We waited a few weeks, and went about the task again. I went and bought another package of underwear realizing that eight pair was just not going to cut it and I was not about to do two loads of laundry every day.
Day One: “Tayler, do you need to go potty?” The answer was a vigorous “NO” head shake. Within TWO minutes, she came waddling towards me in the distinct style of a 20 month old who had just wet herself. Softly I calm myself, “Don’t get mad, the book says you’ll revert their progress.” Three hours later… we were out of pants. “No problem” I think, ”I’ll just let her run around in her underwear.” A little while later, I ran into another problem. Puddles. Apparently the pants caught whatever urine there was trickling down her leg. It was too bad I realized this after stepping into my first “warm” urine foot bath.
Day Two: Still out of pants. Every half hour I ask Tayler if she needs to go potty, the answer is always the same. Skittle or not she refused to hop on the porcelain throne. I think to myself, “This cannot be right.” So instead of asking, I place Tayler on the potty every half hour. I’m desperate, 14 pairs of Elmo panties were stinking up my laundry room and I refused to give in this time. I give her a skittle just to SIT there for two minutes. Pretty soon I hear Tayler yell, “I go Potty!!” A smile spreads across my face as I sprint to the bathroom to be of assistance. “Ah Ha! Finally success!” I run to the bathroom where I see Tayler sitting on the potty with her panties still pulled up and an outstretched hand pointing to the bag of skittles. She had gone potty alright, right through her last pair of underwear while sitting on the potty. At that point I thought, “Who actually needs underwear?”
I’m sure my neighbors must’ve thought I was the crazy mother whose child always ran around half naked. I tried for the most part to keep her indoors for modesty reasons, but somehow she always beat me to the door and yelled “COME IN!!!” when the door bell would ring. However, it seemed to be working and she had even gone #2 in the potty a number of times which she learned quickly produced bigger prizes. Suckers. Four or five times a day I would hear Tayler yelling from the potty “MOMMY, POO POO!!” usually to find nothing in the potty. I was fine with this, after all… it had been a several days since I had picked up one of those disgusting logs off the carpet.
It was bliss, my first child happily potty trained by 21 months. It wasn’t near as hard as I had thought it would be. Maybe I’m just a better mother? My friends and their nightmarish stories of potty training drifted into the back of my mind while I patted myself on the back.
Then it happened, like they all said it would. Reversion. One morning I walked into my kitchen to find DIARRHEA on my COUNTERTOP. You have to understand… I was nearing the end of my second pregnancy at this time and could barely brush my teeth without the urge to vomit. Having to clean up the liquid fecal soup off of my kitchen counter, had to top the list of the most disgusting things I have ever done in my life. I felt like calling up the Discovery channel and applying my house for the TV show “Dirty Jobs.” I think to myself, “Maybe she hadn’t made it to the potty in time?” I ran to find Tayler, (who still wasn’t wearing panties most of the time), with green liquid running down her legs and another warm puddle of excrement awaiting me on the carpet.