ramblinjaq

without a definite route

what not to touch

on August 26, 2009

yesterday i stayed home from work because i was still feeling a little woozy from some sort of combo dehydration/altitude illsnesses i picked up in santa fe. it was a 6-day trip for work, but any picture or story i will share makes it look like a vacation. so i’m mildly embarrassed to say that i needed a day to rest before returning to work. i also needed a day to snuggle with emmit and jasper. that, i proudly admit.

i made the kids an early dinner, very fancy: homemade mac & cheese, a veggie burger, frozen peas and ketchup. as the kids ate, i decided i could sneak away for some…alone time in the bathroom.

emmit came in after a couple minutes and said something about taking off his diaper. we’re of the slow-and-steady-wins-the-race mindset when it comes to potty training and emmit hasn’t shown much sign of being ready. he doesn’t generally tell us when he needs to go or when he’s gone. we can tell because most of the time: a) he “hides” under the dining room table and b) it is not un-stinky. so i didn’t jump up right away when he came in talking about his diaper. i encouraged him to go back to his gourmet dinner. he left for a couple of minutes then returned.

with an excited and curious look on his face, he reached out to show me what appeared to be a rock in his hand.

a brown rock.

he then turned and left the bathroom. it took me a couple seconds to realize that it was poop. then i nearly fell off the toilet trying to stand up to chase after him. tripping over the pants that were around my ankles, i yelled for him to come back. as i ran water in the tub and cleaned him up, i told him as cheerfully as possible,  “poop is dirty. don’t ever touch poop.”

several hours later as i tucked him into bed, after many hand-washings, a bath and then more hand-washings, emmit excitedly told me, “I touch poop, mama!”

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One response to “what not to touch

  1. julie says:

    Hey. I didn’t have hair until I was two. My mom used Scotch tape to put bows on my head because she didn’t dress me girly-girl and people thought I was a boy. Jasper’s hair will grow. My youngest brother (last of five) wasn’t potty trained until he was nearly five. Every kid is different and weird in their own way.

    You’re incredible. I hate to think that you’re bummed, but I understand. What stress! What worry! I don’t know you all that well, but what I have always seen is someone who carries herself with such style and confidence. Joy. You’re entitled to hiding out to be bummed, and I’m glad that you’re committed to being happy. It’s like all of those expectations that you have about what “family life” will be like… and then stupid things mess it all up and then some. It’s frustrating, and not fair, and all of that. As much as it sucks to read that there are other people out there dealing with unhappiness, it’s good to know that there are other people out there dealing with unhappiness. I love your writing. Thanks for taking it up again.

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