Mommy Faces Greatest Fear: The Public Restroom

So don’t ask me why these things happen to me, but sometimes they do and last night it did! Remember how last week I was capturing those nomadic poopies while quarantining Daddy? Well Mr. Poopie  was NOT very happy with me; perhaps he didn’t appreciate my letter setting the record straight or the way I destroyed him with only one wipe. Well, last night he brought a sudden attack against me like I never knew existed but NOT while I was at home in the comforts of my own sanitized bathroom. He waited until I was stranded out in the middle of a mega craft store without a stroller. He waited until Daddy had left and I was just standing there holding my little 2YO’s hand to strike me so hard it sent me running to the public restroom like there was no tomorrow. 

I ran so fast across the store, which by the way, why is the restroom when you really need one always located on the furthest side of the store! Poor little-toddler-girl’s tiny legs could barely keep up.

“WHERE ARE WE RUNNING TO?” she shouts.

“The bathroom.” I whisper.

“WHY ARE WE GOING TO THE BATHROOM, MOMMY?” She innocently loudly inquires,  announcing to the entire store what I don't want them to know. The worst part is that a germaphobe Mommy was forced to bring her 2YO, who I repeat was NOT in the sanitized bubble of a stroller but free to walk and talk and touch the walls of the stall while Mommy felt helpless. Thank God, I had my bottle of purell on my keychain strapped to my belt buckle!

I call Daddy on my cell to cry out for help, BUT, of course he does not answer. Has the stomach flu finally gotten me too? Now what? How do you distract a 2YO while you’re having some major issues going on and toddler is fascinated by her new unsanitized surroundings? Let’s see: I told her a made up story about a princess who found a butterfly—which only entertained her for 20 seconds; we counted the tiles on the floor—got to 10 and lost interest; we talked about how dirty and germy the bathroom floor was—tricky, sometimes that makes her want to touch it even more; I praised her repeatedly for what a big help she was to Mommy by just keeping me company and not touching anything; we discussed the princess stickers that Mommy would buy for her for not touching the baby changing station that was sure to be housing an entire nation of E. coli; and finally we established that, No thank you, Mommy does NOT need help flushing because Mommy so deeply enjoys this task herself. Overall 2YO did very well. When we got to washing our hands I felt relieved: I even questioned if this might be a new stage where 2YO can handle being in a public restroom. But wouldn’t you know, just as we dried her hands, she noticed some pink dried soap on the edge of the sink and before Mommy could yell “Don’t touch,” her little arm in one stroke had swiped the pink residue and shoved those fingers in her mouth!

HANDS IN THE MOUTH! Now, the exit strategy was really in effect. Of course as we open the door, there's daddy. A moment too late. Sigh. We run across the store to the door and, yes, I keep my word and buy 2YO some stickers on the way out. Then, to top off the perfect evening, when we get in the car a tantrum arises so mightily that the two middle aged men who were walking nearby slow their steps and stare at me appalled with their cell phones in hand. Their faces said it all: surely, surely, this child who is kicking and screaming is being kidnapped! Should they call the police? One man pretended to walk away but only took five steps and then glared at us through his peripheral vision. The other man's feet were glued to the sidewalk right in front of our car. NO, It couldn’t possibly be that this child just never took her nap, is frustrated cause Mommy prematurely ended the fun trip to the craft store and is thus having a tantrum. Perhaps they never met a melodramatic child before. Or a Melodramommy.

"Excuse me, Sirs, ahem, yes the two of you who have been staring at me!" I yell rolling down the window while driving away (No I didn't really, I just fantasized about it later).
"Do you really think I'd be that stupid to kidnap a child who's so effective at throwing tantrums! Oh, just read my blog. Buh-bye."

Thanks all for voting for us by clicking to the right above this post. We’re now #6 in the humor category!

Posted by Laura

How NOT to Scare the Living Daylights out of Mommy

It was 3 a.m. when I head a cry so terrifying, so passionate, so committed . . . surely something unspeakable, unimaginable, and unfathomable was taking place in my 2YO’s bedroom! With one eye open, the other still in dreamland, I jump out of bed, heart pounding, and begin sprinting with my still-purple big toe toward her bedroom.  Furiously running, I tread through a toy-obstacle-course, dodging baby gates, using storybooks on the floor as stepping-stones, and eventually high jumping over the mountain of once-folded laundry that toddler-girl had unfolded in an effort to “help.” Finally, I make it to her room. 

There she was sitting up in her bed: big eyes, frazzled hair, and mouth still exhorting a yell worthy of  the Guinness Book of World Records for the loudest screams. 

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" I ask, my eyes frantically scanning the room. To my surprise: NO, there were no monsters under the bed; No not-so-itsy-bitsy-spider dangling above her head; No clowns hiding behind the curtains; So what was this terrible culprit causing my little girl to shriek at a volume that made mommy's heart palpitate out of her chest?
“MOMMY! My cover is on da floor. I need you to tuck me back in!”

“Child! Are you telling me that you screamed like that because your cover is on the floor!?!?!?!?!?!?”

To think that last night I stayed up till 2a.m. looking for resources that would aid in teaching my child to read. Instead, I think we need to work on two more pertinent lessons: 1.) how to tuck ourselves back in bed should our blanket fall on the floor. And 2.) how NOT to scream so we don’t scare the living daylights out of Mommy.

Thanks all who are voting for me in the Top Mommy Blogs by clicking the top right button. You can vote 1x per day : )

Posted by Laura   

Top Mommy Casualties Exposed

What the doctors don’t tell you about babies: So on that glorious long-awaited day, when you’re finally handed your glowing, slippery, bright-squinting-eyed little bundle in those very first moments, the doctors and nurses surely don’t warn you about how dangerous a baby can be. No, this post is not about stretch marks and sagging skin, the darkened eye circles from constant sleep deprivation, those hormonal surges that cause pubescent breakouts, nor the sudden hair shedding from 9 months of catch up; we’ll save that for a later discussion—perhaps.

Today is about all those motherly battle wounds—physical wounds—that nobody warned me about. That IF I had known about, I may have taken certain precautions …

1.) A baby’s head is in itself a weapon and a force NOT to be reckoned with:

IF I had known that my little 2YO had a head that was harder and swifter than a bowling ball, would I have nestled my face ever-so-closely into the back of her baby soft curls not knowing that at ANY moment, she would jerk up, lift that noggin, and come smacking down like a wrecking ball right into the bridge of my nose? I might have given a little more room for error.  At the time I thought she broke my nose, and now on those random days when I occasionally scrutinize my face in the mirror, I do question if the ever-so-slight bump at the bridge of my nose was the result of the impact. That same not-so-innocent baby head also gave grandma a fat lip and daddy a bruised chin on several occasions. 

2.) Babies like to pretend they are aspiring Billy Blanks fans:

IF I had known that my little-baby-boy has an inherent ability to perform martial arts, I may NOT have gone to kiss his cheek in the dark and instead gotten kicked right in my eye socket. Yes, I saw stars, and believe me, it wasn’t from looking out the window up at the sky.

3.) The movie should have been called, Baby-Scissor-Hands:

No matter how many times I trim those nails, file, and offer a mani and pedi at the same time, within a day, I am feeling the ramifications of little scratches on my chest and arms. Let’s face it; a baby’s nails are oh-so-cute, but very sharp. 

4.) If only the theme song of Jaws would play when baby is teething:
Perhaps this is why I got the book, Teeth are NOT for Biting, for my 1YO. Need I say more?

5.) Lungs that mean business:
IF I knew that my daughter could reach pitches that I never knew existed, that could actually make my eardrum tingle, vibrate, and almost pop, I might have been more intentional when picking her up to simply position her mouth AWAY from my ear.

So these are some of my battle wounds. And you know what, I’d do it all over again. Ain’t nothing gonna stop this momma from squeezing her little ones and soaking it all up; however, knowing what I do now, I just simply take certain precautions: I approach the baby head with great caution; I try to leave a night light on so I can see the foot coming when attempting to cuddle with baby; and when I stick my fingers in baby's mouth to remove foreign objects I emotionally prepare myself that I will most likely have teeth marks to show for it. I confess that when getting super close to baby, I occasionally consider gearing up with a helmet, earplugs, goggles, gloves, and full body armor. And don’t. Thus, this mommy has herself a lot of bruises, bumps, and scratches to show for it. These are my battle wounds and you know what, I’m proud of them.

What do you wish your doctor had told you about your baby? And what are your battle wounds?

Posted by Laura

Seven Ways To Quarantine Daddy

So it’s 4 p.m. and I confess I haven’t yet brushed my teeth because I dread going into the bathroom to get my toothbrush. I washed my face with shampoo from the guest bathroom. Yes, I’m still wearing the clothes I slept in. The problem? It happened early this morning at 4 a.m. A sound no mother ever wants to hear: a roar coming from a yellow-faced daddy that described all he ate for dinner last night and all day long for that matter in one prolonged breath. Food poisoning? Stomach virus? All I know is that there is no quicker way to get this mother out of bed.  In fact, I’m thankful the ceiling fan isn’t directly above my side of the bed or I probably would have hit my head and been flung into the bathroom while jumping out from under the sheets.

So what do you do? How do you keep the two toddlers as far away from what could be the queen mother of all viruses--the stomach flu? There’s only one answer . . . We must quarantine daddy. Look, I hope you are never in the same predicament. But, it’s always wise to be prepared.

Here’s seven ways to quarantine daddy:

1.)   Get geared up with a mask. If you don’t have one handy, hold your breath when in the same room. Look, breathing isn’t that important right now. Weigh the priorities!

2.)   Bring him a glass of water and toast with a note that says, “I love you. Feel better.” You've got to show some compassion but again I repeat, DO NOT breathe until you are out of the room.

3.)   Barricade the bedroom door so he can’t come out. Look, you gave him bread and water; he has all he needs to survive for the next while. 

4.)   Open all the windows to air out the house. Don’t worry if it’s freezing outside, this will only help the air flow more quickly.

5.)   Grab the Clorox wipes and a can of Lysol disinfectant and begin happy sanitizing.

6.)   Wash your hands! Don’t forget you have to scrub for 30 seconds to eliminate all the germs. Oprah suggests you sing “Happy Birthday” twice. But considering the circumstances, I think a more appropriate song would be, “I Will Survive.”

7.)   Finally, grab the car keys, diaper bag, load the kids in the car, and just drive somewhere far, far away.

Good luck! And, if you have any other suggestions to add to the list, please be sure to post your comment.

Posted by Laura 

Melodramommy Escapes Close Encounter

Yes. That woman. That mother who got out of her car in the parking lot, wrestled the 40-pound double-stroller out of a tiny trunk when she spotted something so terrible in her mommy world, her heart stopped, eyes bulged--even the three hairs on her chin stood straight up—that woman who when she spotted it, in one breath she had that stroller pinned down and shoved back into the trunk all while leaping into the car; in fact, if she could have climbed into the car through the trunk, she would have. Pale trembling fingers gripping the wheel, jiggling keys, a heavy foot commanding a most necessary get-away, all while explaining to the kids there will be no doctor’s check-up today; forget the exciting 2-year-old pep talk given on the drive there on how fun it is to go to the doctor but, of course, DON’T forget the part about how important it is to keep our fingers out of our mouths. 

Yes, that panic stricken woman peeling away and leaving a somewhat apologetic message on the doctor’s voicemail that she would need to reschedule today’s appointment because there in the entrance to the doctor’s office was a man wearing a forbidden blue surgical mask that was screaming, “hi there, I have an extremely contagious disease.  Yes, come bring your two healthy children in here and let me expose them to a wonderful stomach flu or swine flu if you’d prefer.” That’s what she saw. That’s what she did. And, yes, that woman was me.

And that’s how I handle the doctor’s office. How do you? What would you have done?

Posted by Laura 

Melodramommy Meets Urgent Care

As I write my first post, I'm already feeling the effects of the NyQuil I added to my own sippy cup tonight in efforts to combat what I think has been a lingering sinus infection. Here's a story for you of the drama from just today:

So, having my sleep disrupted the previous night from coughing, which made my voice sound a weird mix between an adolescent boy and my great aunt who smoked 30-years-one-too-many cigarettes, I determined that I would finally go to the doctor. The problem was that the weather forecast predicted a snowstorm; not the most enticing conditions to venture out to the doctor, keeping in mind I'd be lugging my 2-year-old girl and 10-month-old boy. Long story short, I find myself at an Urgent Care. Surely, it being a closer drive and not requiring an appointment would get me in and out in time to make it home before the snow. NOT SO.

I get there, lugging in my long double stroller with both canopies engaged to act like shields against any lingering viruses in the air.  I intentionally sit myself on the furthest side of the waiting room, as far away from the pale young woman whose frown greeted me at the door. As I sit there, waiting and waiting, all I can think is: Ms. Receptionist, can't you see I have a crying baby whom I am trying so hard to keep away from all these sick people. Can you call me into the room already? Then, an older looking Hispanic man goes into the restroom and begins a series of flushes that announces to all, stomach flu.  By the third flush, all I can think is GET OUT OF HERE. Six flushes. He walks out of the bathroom, feet dragging, and walks up to the water fountain, which is only 10 feet from me and the stroller, and rinses his mouth out in the water fountain! As I hear the man swishing the water in his mouth, all I can think is, PLEASE tell me this man isn't dancing his post-vomitose tongue in the water fountain where people are going to drink! And PLEASE tell me this isn't happening so close I can hear it!

As I'm listening to this man's clunk of spit hit the metal rim of the fountain, I am so horrified as the reality of this man's stomach virus germs are within reaching distance to both my baby and me!  The secret, silent, germaphobic alarm bells were sounding before I even walked in the room, you can imagine how they sound now!  For a moment, I envision and relive one of the most dramatic, scarring motherly memories that occurred only 7 months earlier when my non-potty-trained toddler endured SEVEN DAYs of vomit and diarrhea that made me give her showers, with yellow, elbow-high rubber gloves to rinse off the remnants and made me feel like I was driving a de-sterilization Nazi camp--keep in mind I also had a 7-week-old infant I was desperately trying to keep healthy and away from the threat. After that passed, we did have second bout of the stomach bug, one that only lasted two days a person, but went through my ENTIRE family. So, here a few months later, is it any wonder why I might be just a little overly sensitized to the possibility of a third GI manifestation!

So I wait for the man to take a few steps to my left, the door is on the right, and I gracelessly grab the stroller, quickly ask for the receptionist to return my health insurance card, and sprint out the door, pushing the stroller with one hand and retrieving the disinfectant wipes out from my purse with the other hand and had everything wiped down before I even reached my car. SAFETY! Upon returning home I washed my hands for so long that I actually have some dry skin cracks on my knuckles. I'm sorry but, sinus infection or not,  I'm not about to stay in the waiting room with my little baby boy when there is a man walking around with a stomach virus, spewing his germs in the fountain next to me.

The moral of this story for all you melodramommies out there:  just don't go to an Urgent care. Avoid it at all costs. And if you do go, wear a radioactive protective suit that covers head to toe, perhaps one with its own oxygen mask and tank, and wear that--don't forget to put one on baby too. But don't bring your baby and don't go unprotected.  And finally, if you should ever be that person who has the stomach bug and is in the urgent care, PLEASE don't be rinsing out your mouth in the public water fountain, ESPECIALLY if there is a woman with a baby next to you.  You think she doesn't hear, but in reality she is listening with every hair on her head standing, head tilting, eyes squinting, stomach pitting, heart palpitating, hands gripping the stroller, and it might take her all day and even blogging about it to get over what you just traumatized her with--that is IF she's lucky.

Well, I'm struggling to stay awake. The NyQuil has set in. Until next time.

Posted by Laura