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superdad

kids inc

Strike 3, you’re out!

May 26, 2009

Tru had a bad case of the runs all of yesterday. Two packs of poop a day is standard fare for him (a huge one after his morning milk feed and a mid-sized one during, yes DURING his lunch) considering how much food and non-food items go into his system.

But yesterday, he gave mama 4 packs of funky poop to spice up my otherwise boring Monday.

I put him down for his afternoon nap after getting him all fed and bathed (2 packs of poop – check) and as usual, he was performing his daily battle cry in his cot for a good 20 minutes. I didn’t think much of it, having drowned out his shrieks as ambient sound, but this time, the shrieks got increasingly loud until until it started sounding like a siren.

When I went in to check on him, I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or bawl. The little guy got his thighs stuck between the poles of his wooden cot and his legs were sticking out, flailing wildly. (note: he’s been eating TOO MUCH FOOD!) And thanks to his incessant wriggling, his diaper had gotten loose so the crap was smeared all over his mattress and there he was, looking all helpless sitting in a pile of poop.

It probably sounds hilarious now, but right there, I felt like I had utterly failed as a mother. I would have taken a photo, but it would break your heart, and I might get hauled off to prison for child abuse.

So I cleaned him up and hugged him real tight and apologized like a million times. I felt so bad that his poor thighs were all red and sore, but he started giggling and held my face, which made me feel even worse cos he was such a sweetie-pie for consoling me after I left him stranded.

Strike 1 for mommy.

Then in the evening, I was at the library tutoring my student so Superdad had to take over the night duties. 10 minutes in, I got a call saying that Tru was SCREAMING uncontrollably, and he refused to drink his milk (IMPOSSIBLE) and could not be pacified at all. Apparently Superdad lost some of his powers and also his sanity, and my two boys were in a frenzy of panic together.

Great, a mother’s worst nightmare.

I wrapped up my tutoring session and flew back as fast as I could, beating 3 red lights on the way back (I’m a totally safe and law-abiding driver, serious).

Anyway, back home, Tru was alternating between kneeling down and squatting on the bed wailing so Superdad had a stroke of genius. It’s probably his ass that hurt. When he opened up his diaper, the poor boy’s bum was all red and swollen like a baboon’s bottom. Actually it was covered with brownish-green poop, so he couldn’t really tell at first, but my little trooper who has a bum of steel was screaming for dear life, so it was pretty obvious he was in real pain.

A quick wash, a generous dollop of diaper cream and a lot of hugging later, he finally fell asleep.

Strike 2 for mommy.

All in all, not the best of days.

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motherhood

Momday Blues

May 17, 2009
Photo from youandmemagazine

Photo from youandmemagazine.com

Most people have no idea what moms do at home on a daily basis. I must admit, it seems so easy and relaxing as compared to say, a sewage clearance guy who has to wade through 15 inches of crap all day. Or a shark feeder. Now that’s a tough job.

Moms, on the other hand, have a pretty easy life. I mean, how tough is it to take care of a baby? Just shove some candy into their hands and make them watch TV all day while we take a nap or play some computer games.

This is the kind of conversation that sends me into epileptic fits.

Dude: What exactly do you do at home all day? It must be very relaxing being a stay-home mom.

Me: Well, I mostly sit around sipping my latte and chilling out. Watch a little Oprah, then head out for some scones and pastries.

Yeah, right, you misinformed moron.

My day begins at 7 (sometimes 5.45) when my kid starts shouting. I make his milk, feed him, wipe his ass. Then I make breakfast, drive the husband to work, rush back, cook lunch, do the dishes, do the laundry, clean the house, iron the clothes. In between, I’ve got to tell stories, sing and juggle to make sure Tru is sufficiently entertained. In short, I’m in a frenzy for most of the day until he goes to bed at night. Then I have my only decent meal of the day, write my blog and try to get rid of the ringing in my ears. And the madness starts all over again the next morning.

Plus, I’m carrying a 32-week-old child in my giant stomach, which just makes all of the above a lovely walk in the park.

So it’s not any wonder that I get Monday Blues just like any other job. I haven’t had an off-day, a public holiday or any sort of break in 11 months and I’m about as high-strung as a nervy kid on coke. I don’t think I’ve ever been screamed at this much in any other job. Just the slightest slip-up and my little man makes his displeasure known through one of his pterodactyl shrieks.

And the whole time, there’s absolutely no one for me to scream at or gripe to in return.

After a nice weekend with Superdad in action, the thought of Mondays make my heart sink and my stomach churn just a little. You’d think it gets easier as the days go by, but I wake up every Monday morning to the unmistakable feeling of dread that hits me like a ton of bricks.

So it begins. Another week that seems to stretch on forever. With any luck, I’ll make it to the weekend in one piece.

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i embarrass myself sometimes, stuff best described as not safe for parents

Technology, the bane of my life

April 22, 2009

I have a love-hate relationship with technology. I love it because it has made my life a lot easier as a mom (I can’t imagine how mothers used to survive without the assistance of modern technology). But I hate it when it fails me.

I’d like to think otherwise, but on the scale of technology idiots, I’m probably way ahead of the pack. I’m bright enough to recognize the giant (usually red) on/off buttons to work most devices, but when it comes to customizing complicated settings and troubleshooting for problems, it will usually involve some hair grabbing and guttural howls.

There’s nothing more frustrating than having some technological device fail you in the middle of something important like say, preparing a meal. Cooking a decent meal for Tru is tough enough, (I’ll save my culinary exploits for another time) and it is too much to ask for all my kitchen appliances to cooperate?

As usual, the husband and I were puttering around in the kitchen trying to whip up a pot of nutritious porridge for Tru yesterday (it’s a two-men operation) when my blender decided to commit kamikaze midstream. Halfway through the carrots, it let out a final screech and died. It then decided that it could only dice tiny pieces of food one at a time, which is more painful than having to chop it by hand (at least my hands won’t go on strike).

It was just terribly frustrating, to the extent that I considered flinging it against the wall and letting it go out in a blaze of glory.

Die, you pathetic excuse for a blender.

Good thing there’s Superdad to the rescue. After struggling with the accursed appliance for a few minutes, it suddenly resurrected from the dead and sputtered to life. And that’s how I decided to let it continue its miserable existence. But I assure you, it will not be so fortunate the next time around.

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