Flashback Friday!
Golly Gee Whiz, I've done alot of these things. Maybe, at some point in the future, I'll just print them all out and call them my Memoirs. It's making coming up with new material tougher and tougher, I'll tell you that. Oh, I keep a running list of possible topics and all, but I may need a little help from you guys if I start repeating myself.
Now, I don't do alot of toilet humor. But my kids will tell you that 'doody' is funny. Since I haven't done any 'doody' stories to date, and since there's been a great lot of shit in my life this week, I thought I'd share one with you. (I started to say that "I'd pop one out for you", but thought better of it...)
Once upon a time, KID 1 was a tiny babe. I realize, since she's going to be turning 18 in about 7 months, that it seems forever ago to some, but I was there and she was a happy, smiling little ball of fun. I promise.
Being the first of my three girls, in many ways, she was my little guinea pig. Certainly cut my mom teeth on her. Funny how much you DON'T know when you have kids...and how quickly you learn.
Like bathtime. I'd always heard that bathtime was this really fun experience. Bubbles and warm water, splashing and playing with toys. Sounds like a good time, anyway.
I was to learn that most babies hate bathtime at first. They have to grow into it. KID 1 was certainly in that group. (That's her on the left, not digging on the bathtime fun.)
I'd turn the heat up (so she wouldn't be cold) and turn the lights down and put soft music on (trying to make a calm situation), and she'd still scream at the top of her little lungs from the time her bottom touched the water until I wrapped her clean pink body in the towel. It was tough. Every time.
Her dad prefers baths to showers and I suggested to him that maybe it would be less traumatic for the baby, if he took her in the bath with him. He wasn't exactly gung ho about the suggestion, but he agreed to give it a try.
Soooooo the next time I was ready to give her a bath, I turned the heat up and turned the lights down and ran a bath for KID 1 and her Daddy. He climbed into the tub and I handed him the baby.
And she didn't scream.
In fact, she cooed.
I left the bathroom to go get her clean diaper and pajamas ready, and before I got back, I heard a blood-curtling scream from the bathroom. My first thought was that the baby had drowned, because the screaming wasn't the baby. It was her father.
As quickly as I could, I made my way to the bathroom to find my (now ex) husband standing in the tub and holding the baby at arms-length. I could see she was breathing and I didn't see any blood. I implored him with my eyes, as to the problem.
"Look! Look what's she's done to me!! Ew! Ew! EWWWW!!!!", and motioned to the water with his head...eyes full of horror. There, in the tub were three tiny turds (no they were not miniature Baby Ruth bars) and some miscellaneous related...um...debris, and the Baron was completely unhinged. Granted, it doesn't sound like the kind of spa I'd be interested in, but I could hardly see the justification for the fuss he was putting on. In fact, I wasn't able to keep from seeing the humor in the situation, as I was laughing so hard my eyes were tearing.
I took the baby and cleaned her up, while he got out of the tub. He stood there and watched me as I got her cleaned up and dressed and then he indicated that he "just couldn't" clean the tub, so I did that, too. When I'd finished cleaning the tub, he showered and when he got out he vowed NEVER to do that again.
She'd only gotten one shot at him, but she took it. Totally pooped on her Dad, giving her mom one of the best belly-laughs ever.
Oh, and by the way, she's much better about baths now. Like so many other things, they do outgrow it.
Now, I don't do alot of toilet humor. But my kids will tell you that 'doody' is funny. Since I haven't done any 'doody' stories to date, and since there's been a great lot of shit in my life this week, I thought I'd share one with you. (I started to say that "I'd pop one out for you", but thought better of it...)
Once upon a time, KID 1 was a tiny babe. I realize, since she's going to be turning 18 in about 7 months, that it seems forever ago to some, but I was there and she was a happy, smiling little ball of fun. I promise.
Being the first of my three girls, in many ways, she was my little guinea pig. Certainly cut my mom teeth on her. Funny how much you DON'T know when you have kids...and how quickly you learn.
Like bathtime. I'd always heard that bathtime was this really fun experience. Bubbles and warm water, splashing and playing with toys. Sounds like a good time, anyway.
I was to learn that most babies hate bathtime at first. They have to grow into it. KID 1 was certainly in that group. (That's her on the left, not digging on the bathtime fun.)I'd turn the heat up (so she wouldn't be cold) and turn the lights down and put soft music on (trying to make a calm situation), and she'd still scream at the top of her little lungs from the time her bottom touched the water until I wrapped her clean pink body in the towel. It was tough. Every time.
Her dad prefers baths to showers and I suggested to him that maybe it would be less traumatic for the baby, if he took her in the bath with him. He wasn't exactly gung ho about the suggestion, but he agreed to give it a try.
Soooooo the next time I was ready to give her a bath, I turned the heat up and turned the lights down and ran a bath for KID 1 and her Daddy. He climbed into the tub and I handed him the baby.
And she didn't scream.
In fact, she cooed.
I left the bathroom to go get her clean diaper and pajamas ready, and before I got back, I heard a blood-curtling scream from the bathroom. My first thought was that the baby had drowned, because the screaming wasn't the baby. It was her father.
As quickly as I could, I made my way to the bathroom to find my (now ex) husband standing in the tub and holding the baby at arms-length. I could see she was breathing and I didn't see any blood. I implored him with my eyes, as to the problem.
"Look! Look what's she's done to me!! Ew! Ew! EWWWW!!!!", and motioned to the water with his head...eyes full of horror. There, in the tub were three tiny turds (no they were not miniature Baby Ruth bars) and some miscellaneous related...um...debris, and the Baron was completely unhinged. Granted, it doesn't sound like the kind of spa I'd be interested in, but I could hardly see the justification for the fuss he was putting on. In fact, I wasn't able to keep from seeing the humor in the situation, as I was laughing so hard my eyes were tearing. I took the baby and cleaned her up, while he got out of the tub. He stood there and watched me as I got her cleaned up and dressed and then he indicated that he "just couldn't" clean the tub, so I did that, too. When I'd finished cleaning the tub, he showered and when he got out he vowed NEVER to do that again.
She'd only gotten one shot at him, but she took it. Totally pooped on her Dad, giving her mom one of the best belly-laughs ever.
Oh, and by the way, she's much better about baths now. Like so many other things, they do outgrow it.
Labels: Flashback Friday
posted by SuperWife | 7:00 PM
3 Comments:
I really really like this story. ;)
Let's see:
Naked baby picture: check.
Funny tale of baby poop: check.
The website is now ready for an invite for her current and future dates to visit. (And they say a mom's work is never done.)
H -
Gee, I'd have never seen that coming...;)
AaA -
For the record (and you can check if you'd like, you've got the number), I got specific clearance for both the story AND the photo BEFORE I ran with it. (heh...ran with it...get it?) Anyway, Kid #1 chuckled when I suggested it. Something about that kid finds it funny that she did that to her dad. And, hey, I DID use strategic prop placement in the photo. She knows that.
It's not like she worries about her friends seeing stuff on my blog. I've got quite a few naked baby pictures framed in my house (actually, they're bathtub pics hanging in our bathroom...I find that incredibly appropriate, btw), and if anyone's dates come to the house (and it's a requirement) and have to use the bathroom...well, that ship has sailed. Oh, and before you start, I got clearance for THAT, too.
Beyond that, there's the really cool one of her standing in the front yard in her undies and an Indian head-dress that I save for the folks who start getting serious with her. (As you've noted, my work is never done...;)
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