Sunday, December 16, 2012

"Is that Chocolate or Poop?"

A couple years ago I saw something in a movie which bothered me greatly. A mother asking her child if the brown creamy substance all over him was chocolate or Poop. I was so grossed out by the question that I vowed to never be so scattered a mother, that I would ever need to ask one of my children this question.

There is a clip of the scene in the trailer below: 

Well my vow didn't even last through my first child. 

This morning I woke up early to get a head start on the day. (Something about this pregnancy makes me have insomnia at strange times.) Anyway, I was all cuddled up on the couch with my good old laptop. The sky out my window was still dark, and I was content with my brilliant plan to finally accomplish something for myself before the crazy day started. When all of a sudden, my Little Giant started screaming for Dad from his crib.

Our child doesn't often wake up during the night, so I waited and listened intently for him to just fall back asleep. 

He did not. 

He was really screaming, for Dad don't forget, as if he had had a bad dream about him or something. But The Rookie (my husband) was so tired that he didn't hear him and wake up. So I woke him up, and we both quickly went in to rescue our hysterical toddler from his misery.

Now we aren't really a co-sleeper family. I like my bed, and prefer not to share it. But in an effort to comfort the Little Giant, and score some extra sleep for my husband, we all tucked into our bed to try and help everyone get back to sleep. 

My plan was to wait for them both to fall back to sleep, and then slip away to continue my blissful alone time until the sun came up.

No such luck. 

Little Giant was either so full of adrenaline from his dream, or so enthralled by the novelty of being in Mom and Dad's bed, that he could not go back to sleep. At first, he would gingerly touch my face from time to time and say "Mom?". It was so sweet, but that soon evolved into him pointing to the parts of my face and saying "Nose, eyes, mouth" etc. Which eventually turned into him asking for a tissue, and I realized that he would probably not be going back to sleep. Still I tried to stick it out, because of how much I wanted to have even the very last bit of my morning to myself. Eventually he began to calm down, and I almost thought I would be able to sneak away and rescue my morning.

And then it happened. 

All of us cuddled up in one queen sized bed under a huge quilt, almost a little too warm and cozy for comfort. I felt a little moisture on my elbow. And the thought came to me...

Is that just sweat? Or is that urine?

I thought about smelling my elbow, and then quickly realized the impossibility of this act. I thought about leaning over to smell my toddler, but was deathly afraid of interrupting his falling back to sleep. 

I wondered, Could I do it? Could I let him fall back to sleep possibly in a pool of his own urine? Leaving him in my bed next to my husband to inevitably soil him as well? 

Technically The Rookie did have it coming to him after the killer gas he was laying down last night which almost literally killed us all...Buuuuuut I am just not that kind of wife. 

So I looked over at LG just to see where he was at in the process of falling back to sleep, and he was...

still wide awake. 

So I picked him up, sniffed him, and sure enough, it was as I suspected, urine.  I took him back to his room, and changed him into new jammies. All the time cursing the fact that we had elected not to use the nighttime pull-up last night, and imagining my perfect mornings' short life flash before my eyes.

For a split second I considered putting him back in his own bed. But I worried that his bad dream could come back and wake him and thus The Rookie again, and we would quickly be back in the same position. 

...And now there was pee in my bed. 

So in an effort to save what was left of my supposedly blissful morning, I brought the Little Giant out to my beloved morning haven, and set him up with a sippy, a blanket, and a movie.

As I sat down with my own drink, blanket, and computer, I realized the gravity of what had happened.

I had just experienced a "Chocolate or Poop" moment. Disguised as "Sweat or Urine". 


Am I really that Mom?  Am I really that scattered? I don't even have two kids, what is going to become of me when the next one is born? 

Wait wait wait...

 I'm a good Mom, aren't I? 

I wasn't neglecting my child, I was caring for him. 

Maybe the Chocolate or Poop situation isn't a sign of neglectful motherhood. Maybe it's just normal, just something we all deal with.  Maybe I also need to stop putting unrealistic expectations upon myself concerning the awkward plights of motherhood. 

So my new vow is to just relax. To remember that whatever weird thing I see other mothers experiencing, I should prepare myself to handle, because chances are, I will experience it. And also to remember that poop happens, sometimes even smeared all over children, but sometimes it might just be chocolate. Either way I just have to bust out the baby wipes and move on.

As I finish writing this, my now wired toddler is jumping around the living room, asking for more milk, and to watch another show. So much for my morning alone, but this lesson has probably been more valuable than my peaceful morning would have been. And there is always tomorrow morning.

....I hope.

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