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July 2012 Moms
snickersforeveryone
member
My kid is gross
snickersforeveryone
member
Since the peanut butter incident, I've tried to keep Emily outdoors for diaper-free time. However, today it was just too freaking hot, plus the neighbors were out in their backyard. (They throw us dirty looks if they see Em running around naked, so I try to be respectful of their sensibilities even though I don't like them.)
So I decided that with this rash I was going to let her go diaper free inside and just be prepared for what might happen. We were in the living room (hardwood floor) and I was picking up her toys in preparation for bedtime. I had my back to her for just a couple of seconds. I heard a very wet sounding slap. My brain registered this as a very bad sound. Sloooooooowly, I turned around.
There was my kid, sitting in the middle of what looked to be Lake Michigan of pee. She was splashing one hand in it. The other hand was rubbing one of her board books around in it. Then she picked up the book, turned the page, set it back in the lake, and rubbed it around some more. "There!" she said with satisfaction.
As this scene permeated my horrified brain, I hear the dog begin to throw up (I guess Emily grossed him out too). Before I could hustle him outside, he threw up all over the floor on the opposite end of the living room. More came out of that dog than I would have thought possible. My brain immediately dubbed this "Mt. Everest."
Now I had a problem. Emily thought dog puke was even more fascinating than her self-made lake, and started over to it at a toddling run. I headed her off, told her "no, no", and she u-turned back towards the pee. I dashed in front of her (well, it was more of a pregnant penguin hustle) and fended off her next attempt to play in it. She headed back for the puke! And she was cackling! What?!?! This is not a game, you gross baby! Just because I'm chasing you, making all kinds of appalled squeals....oh......never mind.
Now, let me interrupt the story here and say that I do, in fact, have a baby gate that separates our living room from the hallway. All logic suggests that I simply put Emily on the other side of the gate while I clean up Lake Michigan and Mt. Everest. Did logic ever once make its way into my brain? No, of course not. I think my ability to think logically went on a trip around the time I was 8 weeks pregnant with Emily, and has gotten further away with every passing day. By now I'm sure it's on the beaches of Fiji, enjoying a nice lemon drop martini without me. Rude.
Anyway.
So here I am, trying to convince my child that staying in the exact center of the living room would be SO MUCH FUN! She, of course, does not believe me. As we have covered, the idea of putting her on the other side of the gate does not occur to me. Instead, my brain decides that it would be an awesome idea to give Em a towel and let her clean up the lake while I deal with the mountain. I hand her a dish towel, point her in the direction of the pee, and say, "scrub, scrub, scrub!" She happily begins to blot at the mess. Then I turn my attention to the dog's leavings.
Why do I keep taking my attention off her? Oh yeah, logic is a thing of the past...and I'm an idiot.
I finished cleaning up my side of the living room, and, with a sigh of relief that the tricky part is over, I turn my attention to my daughter...who is now using a pee soaked dish towel to "scrub" EVERYTHING. Pee is on her books, in her hair, swiped across the TV stand and bookshelf...everywhere. As I stand there, with my mouth gaping open at the even bigger mess made by "cleaning", she walks to the center of the room to stand in front of me and puts her arms up. Distractedly, I picked her up while heading to get a much bigger towel.
You guessed it.
She peed on me.
So I decided that with this rash I was going to let her go diaper free inside and just be prepared for what might happen. We were in the living room (hardwood floor) and I was picking up her toys in preparation for bedtime. I had my back to her for just a couple of seconds. I heard a very wet sounding slap. My brain registered this as a very bad sound. Sloooooooowly, I turned around.
There was my kid, sitting in the middle of what looked to be Lake Michigan of pee. She was splashing one hand in it. The other hand was rubbing one of her board books around in it. Then she picked up the book, turned the page, set it back in the lake, and rubbed it around some more. "There!" she said with satisfaction.
As this scene permeated my horrified brain, I hear the dog begin to throw up (I guess Emily grossed him out too). Before I could hustle him outside, he threw up all over the floor on the opposite end of the living room. More came out of that dog than I would have thought possible. My brain immediately dubbed this "Mt. Everest."
Now I had a problem. Emily thought dog puke was even more fascinating than her self-made lake, and started over to it at a toddling run. I headed her off, told her "no, no", and she u-turned back towards the pee. I dashed in front of her (well, it was more of a pregnant penguin hustle) and fended off her next attempt to play in it. She headed back for the puke! And she was cackling! What?!?! This is not a game, you gross baby! Just because I'm chasing you, making all kinds of appalled squeals....oh......never mind.
Now, let me interrupt the story here and say that I do, in fact, have a baby gate that separates our living room from the hallway. All logic suggests that I simply put Emily on the other side of the gate while I clean up Lake Michigan and Mt. Everest. Did logic ever once make its way into my brain? No, of course not. I think my ability to think logically went on a trip around the time I was 8 weeks pregnant with Emily, and has gotten further away with every passing day. By now I'm sure it's on the beaches of Fiji, enjoying a nice lemon drop martini without me. Rude.
Anyway.
So here I am, trying to convince my child that staying in the exact center of the living room would be SO MUCH FUN! She, of course, does not believe me. As we have covered, the idea of putting her on the other side of the gate does not occur to me. Instead, my brain decides that it would be an awesome idea to give Em a towel and let her clean up the lake while I deal with the mountain. I hand her a dish towel, point her in the direction of the pee, and say, "scrub, scrub, scrub!" She happily begins to blot at the mess. Then I turn my attention to the dog's leavings.
Why do I keep taking my attention off her? Oh yeah, logic is a thing of the past...and I'm an idiot.
I finished cleaning up my side of the living room, and, with a sigh of relief that the tricky part is over, I turn my attention to my daughter...who is now using a pee soaked dish towel to "scrub" EVERYTHING. Pee is on her books, in her hair, swiped across the TV stand and bookshelf...everywhere. As I stand there, with my mouth gaping open at the even bigger mess made by "cleaning", she walks to the center of the room to stand in front of me and puts her arms up. Distractedly, I picked her up while heading to get a much bigger towel.
You guessed it.
She peed on me.
This discussion has been closed.
Re: My kid is gross
Could be the next dance craze. Fabulous story lol!
I didn't realize I had written about either one throwing up before, but I guess since I live with it I forget pretty quickly. Sorry!!!
Oh and also, I'm sorry! Sort of. The story kind of made my day.
Sorry mom.
What just happened in my diaper?!