New Blog
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A brilliant collection of my innermost thoughts, ideas and feelings layered with dry humor and a sarcastic bottom line.
Parenting is hard. Waaaaaaaaaaaaa, I know. It's wonderful and great and fun and life-changing, but it's also hard and tiring and heart-breaking. You know, since I have exactly 1 child, I'm total authority on the subject, right? This morning Ethan started crying at like 6 a.m. We brought him in bed with us (mistake) and I finally got up with him at around 6:45. I really would've liked to stay in bed for another 30 minutes or so. That would've been very, very nice. He had a nightmare diaper, complete with earth-tone colored poo (silty clay?) and highly offensive stank. He felt a little warm to me and his cheeks were flushed, so I gave him a dose of children's Motrin. He fussed over what to eat for breakfast. He wanted a waffle, then a quesadilla, then cereal, then a cereal bar, then peanut butter on graham crackers, then NO waffle, NO quesadilla, NO CEREAL NOPEANUTBUTTERNOGRAHAMCRACKERSGETTHEMOFFMYHIGHCHAIRNOW! So I decided to make him some whole-wheat pancakes, to which he happily agreed. I groggily mixed the batter, substituting cinnamon applesauce for the oil, and added it to the skillet in sleepy blobs. While they were cooking I wondered, why don't I cook breakfast more often? Why don't I cook more in general? I always wanted to be the kind of mom to prepare home-cooked meals every night. And I am clearly NOT that mom. I slid 2 pancakes onto Ethan's Winnie the Pooh plate, spread a little Smart Balance spread on them and poured on the syrup. I carefully cut each pancake into little squares, retrieved a kid fork from the drawer and stumbled over to his highchair. "Um, no pancake... I wanna waffle! Or quesadilla!" he exclaimed. THIS. This is exactly why I don't go to great lengths to prepare meals anymore. I brushed the pancakes into the trash with a sigh.
Spirophita tagged me a few weeks back to do the "5 Things Most People Don't Know About Me" thing. I love getting tagged! It's like being picked to be on someone's dodge ball team in middle school (thanks Spiro!).
You never stop learning from Sesame Street. Over the weekend Drew and I were watching an episode with Ethan, and the letter of the day was A. They ran through the usual: apple, ant, armadillo, and alcoholics anonymous. Next, they showed an acorn. "A is for ACORN!" said the voice in the background. Drew turned to me, stunned. "Acorn? It's acorn?" he questioned. "Um, yeah.... what the hell are you talking about?" I asked. "All this time I thought it was EGG-corn. You know, cuz it's sort of shaped like an egg..." he confessed. Our thirst for knowledge will simply never be quenched.
Jesus Christ. Ethan has had this HORRIBLE obsession with taking his diaper off during nap and night time the last two days. We've had 2 poo situations and 2 pee situations, so far an even score, each significantly more disgusting than the last. We were up at 2:30 a.m. this morning stripping the urine-soaked sheets from his mattress and re-diapering his naked ass, and then we were lucky enough to enter his room this morning at 7 a.m. to find the same mess, only this time involving poo. Between that and trying to potty train the new pup, my entire weekend has pretty much involved nothing but bodily excretions, NONE OF WHICH WERE FROM MY OWN BODY.