Posts Tagged ‘ hyperactive toddler ’

Xanax on Mother’s Day? Maybe…

Sunday, May 12th, 2013

On Friday I was thinking that sitting in a corner taking Xanax might be the perfect Mother’s Day for me. This, after Emmett peed on my leg like I was a fire hydrant (he was naked as I was about to put him in the bath). Then giggled.

The day only got better.

I had to take Wayne to the vet. And Emmett. And Fia.  As I was being told Wayne once again is obese, and no longer my Biggest Loser, Emmett took a pack of crayons and threw them at the cat. Of course this spooked Wayne and fur went flying. Once again, Em laughs. Fia starts screaming “Emmett, don’t do that.” The vet looked at me and said, “Let me get the receptionist to start working on your bill so we can get you out of here quickly.”  Clearly I’m their favorite client. I bribed Fia with a lolipop and Em with his pacifier to just sit the f-ck still.

When we got home I gave Wayne a treat in his bowl. I turned my back for a second. Emmett came running out of the room with the ceramic bowl, threw it across the room where it shattered, then began laughing. He may actually be insane. But insanely happy too. This all happened before 11 a.m.

Do I deserve Xanax? Yes. Maybe 5.

Regardless of how I celebrate my day, I figured posting pictures would help calm me down. And it does. So here goes. I’m taking the rest of the weekend off.

Happy Mother’s Day, Everyone!

Okay, so maybe he looks a little like a barking seal in this picture. After all, we were at the zoo. But I just love how happy he looks. Man, did I get a good one (except that he is WILD)! Pure joy, this boy.

Emmett’s first carousel ride. Clearly he hates it.

Fia on her favorite giraffe!

Both of my babies.

At friend Lazlo’s birthday party

Bubble Time

Alone on the high beam–and giving me a heart attack!

Water play!

 I know I’ve posted this before, but I can’t help but do it again: my beautiful boy!

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The Sh-t is (Almost) Hitting the Fan

Sunday, April 21st, 2013

Okay, I’ve written about how hyperactive my boy is. But now he’s taking it to a whole new level. The ceiling. Well, not quite.

I lift weights. I lift babies. I do yoga. I have strong arms and sort of a strong core…at least it’s getting there. I’m almost a hundred pounds more than Emmett. And at least three feet taller. So how is it that he is beating me in a race against poop? And why is it only me? Not his babysitter or his dad?

When I go to change his diaper, particularly when it’s poop, I go armed with toys. I get everything I need right next to me and then the boom, the race is on. Or off  I should say… with the diaper.

He starts to scream and move and twist and turn while poop is hanging off of him. At times I find him dangling upside down as I hunch forward holding him by one leg, shouting “Emmett–NO!” He screams like he’s being waterboarded.

At least once a day I get it smeared on me. How’s that for disgusting? If Fia is home, I have her try and hold down his arms while I change him. She joyfully joins in on the “Emmett NO!” chant. She loves nothing more than having the upper hand. Or at least thinking she does–as feces go flying. It’s a race against the shit clock. No shit.

He is 15 months. I swear if I thought he (or I) could handle it, I would potty train him now. But I fear he’d just crap all over the house and himself. With glee.

No parent should want to take Xanax or drink before changing a diaper. It shouldn’t be this hard.

 

Picture of dirty diaper via Shutterstock

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