Captain's Log

Captain's Log (i.e. Mother's Log)
March 1, 2012

8:30 a.m. - I'm finishing up my shower.  My daughter is playing on the bathroom floor while I take my shower. (I still don't trust leaving her out in the living room with my son when I can't hear or see them.)  I'm drying off when I hear my daughter fussing.  Her fussing turns into cries of frustration and then cries of pain.  I open the shower door to find that my daughter has taken apart my sons training potty (even though she knows she isn't supposed to) and somehow managed to get her foot stuck in a hole in the base of the potty.  She is in obvious pain and is inconsolable.  I try to remove her foot but it is really jammed.  I run through the house naked, fling open Anthony's door (who is sleeping, he just went to bed since he works night's), and yell up to him telling him I need help and that our daughter's foot is stuck in our son's potty.  The flinging of the door and the tone of my voice was no doubt enough to give the poor guy a heart attack and I'm sure, upon being given the information of the situation, he initially thought he was dreaming some strange dream.  Anthony came down to help.  Her foot was really jammed in this thing and for a moment, we thought we weren't going to be able to get it out.  But sure enough we did.  He foot was a little red and ended up slightly swollen around the back, but she was otherwise okay.

10:00 a.m. - The kids and I enter the grocery store.  My son requests that we use one of the ginormous car carts (you know, the ones that look like a car and have steering wheels).  It was a perfect idea since this cart had two seats.  This way they could both be seated and I wouldn't have to worry about my son walking around pulling things off shelves (it has been known to happen).  My kids are seated next to each other in the cart.  My son puts his arm around my daughter.  It was a very sweet moment.  So I, being the pathetic, sappy mother that I am, pull out my camera and snap a picture of them in the middle of the grocery store.  It would honestly be the ONLY nice moment shared between them all day!

11:00 a.m. - Back at home.  My daughter is napping and my son is watching Mighty Machines.  I take the free moment to contemplate the hilarity and ridiculousness of this morning's incident.  And then I wonder:  What would I have done had Anthony not been home?  I seriously couldn't get her foot out by myself.  I guess you call the fire department, right?  But that just seems a bit much.  "Yes, 911.  Help, my daughter's foot is stuck in a training potty and she can't get it out!"  I am certain that, since I have been told many times that I sound like a child, the dispatcher would have thought it was a prank call.  Yep, I can see it now, "Call the fire department.  Bring the Jaws of Life...!" 

11:30 a.m. - My kids eat us out of house and home.  After eating grapes, sweet potatoes, turkey, butter bread, and yogurt, they still demand more food.

2:00 p.m. - My daughter's nap time finally arrives, and not a moment too soon.  My son has spent a good portion of the last hour and a half in time out.  That time is a blur of stealing toys, hitting, and pushing each other down.  I start to wonder what on earth happened to me kids and where I went wrong with them so soon.  Then I start to feel like a horrible mom.  A good portion of my bonus day with them has been spent being angry with their behavior and being a referee between the two.  I know they don't act like this for Grandma.  Oh well...such is life.

5:00 p.m. -  We attempt to take the kids out to eat but just before we leave, my son throws a major temper tantrum (for seemingly no reason) and gets so worked up that he nearly starts hyperventilating.

5:30 p.m. - We are finally at the restaurant and settled in.  I ask the waitress what's in the kids quesadilla.  She informs me that it has chicken and cheese in it.  My son then feels as though he should inform that waitress that the "salsa place's" quesadilla has just cheese.  Also, my daughter sweetly says "Hi" to our waitress every single time she walks by.  It never got old.  If you know my son, you know what a slow eater he is.  My daughter was getting restless waiting for him to finish up.  I put her down and let her stretch her legs (we were at the back of the restaurant without anyone around).  She used her new found freedom and new found ability to walk to make a mad dash to the men's restroom, laughing the whole way there as if she knew she shouldn't be going in there.

6:30 p.m. - My daughter is in the bath.  I'm her bedroom, which is on the other side of the bathroom, getting her room ready for bed when I hear, "Awwwwwwwwww..." in a very frustrated tone.  I go to the bathroom to see what's wrong and am told that my daughter has pooped in the tub.  It was the first time it's ever happened, but frustrating none the less since Anthony had just drawn her water and put her in.  "At least it's formed", I say.
"Yea, but what are we going to scoop in out with?", Anthony asks.  After some discuss, we decide on our tool of choice.  Before Anthony could scoop it out, however, my son had to come see what all the excitement was about.  When told what had happened, he demanded to see the poop.  I leave the room and leave Anthony to do the fishing.  That's when I hear my son say something about "crumbs" floating in the water.  Yep, the fishing didn't go so well and now there was just poo everywhere.  Time to get some clean water.  Seriously, how does this stuff happen to us?

One thing that this day taught me is that any and every possible crazy thing can happen when you have little ones.

Sincerely,
The Captain