Glamor-not!

What are three words that describe being a mommy you ask?

Glamor, glamor, glamor.

Let me share with you a rather glamorous night at our house.

The day started rather uneventfully, just a typically school day. Everyone came home from school, had a snack, started homework, and played.

For snack, Andrew had fruit and fruit juice. He had been complaining of stomach pains due to constipation for about two days so he was on an all fruit and fiber diet. Caroline, on the other hand, had the opposite problem. She was on antibiotics for an ear infection so she had the runs.

Remember, all glamor at our house.

We met Derek at lacrosse practice where he handed me a jar of milk of magnesium.  Andrew, Caroline, and I headed home to start dinner. Grilled cheese, tomato soup, and pickles were on the menu. Fruit and yogurt for Andrew.

Once we got home, I encouraged Andrew as he drank small amount of the medicine. Every few minutes he would take a tiny sip followed quickly by some fruit juice. About thirty minutes later he really started complaining about stomach pains. I encouraged him to sit on the toilet and just “try and go.” Sitting on the bathroom floor holding his hand, I made pushing faces and sounds with him. Well, a few minutes of this, and he became hysterical. Any time he felt some pain, he would have this look of terror on his face and start screaming. I felt like an FBI negotiator trying to talk him down – “Andrew, you can do this. It’s going to hurt for a moment but you will feel much better once you go.”

After several unsuccessful tries, Andrew determined he needed to play with some Legos and wait. I changed Caroline’s runny diaper and decided to call the pediatrician’s after hours service. Maybe they would have an idea. I felt so bad for the little guy since he was in such pain. The after hours service picked up quickly but I only got a receptionist. I left  information giving the reason for the call and waited for a nurse to call back.

In the meantime, I managed to start the tomato soup and started putting together the grilled cheese sandwiches. I got out some plates, started filling cups with water, and managed to start unloading the dishwasher.

As I was putting silverware away, I was startled by Andrew. Running and screaming he made a beeline for the bathroom. I quickly followed but was met by a closed door. I heard a load scream and then nothing for about 3 seconds. All of a sudden there was yelling and singing, “I went poopy! Yeah! I did it!” I, in turn, started dancing and singing, “He went poopy! Yeah!” Once I was allowed in, the relief on Andrew’s face was clear.

For me the relief only lasted a minute when I turned around and realized Caroline had pulled down her pants and was pulling at the tabs of her diaper. Thankfully she only undid one side before I got to her. Of course, she was messy again so I went to change her.

The phone started ringing just as I finished changing Caroline so I ran to get it. The nurse was calling back to find out about our problem. I quickly explained that the situation had been resolved and we were doing the “poopy dance.” Strangely enough, the nurse seemed quite familiar with the “poopy dance” and didn’t need much of an explanation.

Feelings of happiness and joy were plentiful until I noticed a funny smell. I ran to the kitchen where I discovered the tomato soup had burned.

I quickly grabbed another pot, another can of soup, and remade it.  Thankfully, this time I didn’t burn it. I did burn one of the grilled cheese sandwiches but I’m sure that’s the way Derek likes them anyway.

Much later that night, I was awakened by Alex.

“Mom, I threw up.”

Sitting up in bed, “Are you okay? Is it all over you?”

No, it’s not on me.”

Good. Let’s get you some water.”

“I made sure to throw up on the ground.”

“On the new &^%$#@ carpet!!!!!!” I think to myself.

But I say, “It’s okay. We’ll clean it up.”

So… like I said…being a mom is full of glamor.

Constipation, diarrhea, and vomit…those are definitely glamorous in my book:)

This entry was posted in Alex, Andrew, caroline, family, ill, observations, parenting. Bookmark the permalink.

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