As I was going through some of my old posts – primarily to see where I was roughly two years ago – I came across this post from December 11, 2010.
I laughed so hard I cried, again. Enjoy!
Today was my first day alone with both kids.
Oh, I know I could have called my mother in law at any point, and she would have come to help. M even suggested calling a friend who lives nearby [purely for adult conversation], but I wanted to give it a go of things alone. And it didn’t really get bad until after the visiting nurse left.
There were a lot of tears today. Some from Butter, a lot from me, and several bucketfuls from Little Bear. I swear I’ve never been happier to see my husband walk through the door with a bottle of wine in his hand as I was tonight.
Because of his NICU stay, Little Bear got orders for home healthcare. We think it’s going to be two visits, but at this point no one is really sure. Around 9:15 this morning, I got a phone call from the visiting nurse to say she wanted to stop by around 11:30. I’ll leave out the part where I was thoroughly annoyed with her wasting twenty minutes of my time asking for various directions to my house, because what part of “the street is closed between where you want to come and my house from EVERY DIRECTION YOU’RE GIVING ME” didn’t she understand? I’ll also leave out the part where 11:30 was really 12:15 by the time she got here.
Shortly before the nurse was supposed to get here, I nursed Little Bear. He only ate on one side, and then he fell asleep. A few minutes later [aka, after I put him down to try to do something around the house and he woke up because OMGMommyWhyAren’tYouHoldingMe24/7?!] he started to chew on his hands, so I tried to nurse him again.
The nurse called 20 minutes after she was supposed to be here and said she was still 10 minutes away. I continued to try to nurse Little Bear. We went through all the pleasantries while she was here. Butter tried to get her attention [typical of a two year old], and SuperMom let him watch Sid the Science Kid so I could concentrate on what the nurse was saying.
After she left, I put Butter down for a nap. Only, he didn’t think he actually needed to sleep.
Two and a half hours later, I decided there was no way I was winning the Nap Wars, so I came up to get him, and this is the part where “I Can’t Make This Stuff Up” comes into play.
I opened the door to the bedroom to find Butter had taken off his jeans as well as his diaper. Unfortunately, we haven’t installed a urinal in his room, so he substituted with a color teaching poster that M had yet to hang up. He proudly told me, “Mommy, I go potty!” I promptly shut the door, because I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I took a minute, grabbed the stuff to clean up what little he actually got on the carpet, and went back into the room. He was pantless already, so I sent him to the potty [have I mentioned that M taught him to pee standing up?] while I cleaned up the floor.
I cleaned up the mess, asked Butter why he did it [“I go potty!“] and went back downstairs to the screaming infant who refused to nurse and/or take a bottle at this point.
Anyone have a puppy that needs to be paper trained out there? Butter can do it for you for the low, low price of a million dollars.
For the record: I cried at first. When I told M about it later, I laughed so hard I woke the
screaming beast baby up.
And if you think I’m not telling this story to every single person Butter ever brings home to meet us, you are sorely mistaken.