I changed a diaper. I cannot believe I’ve wiped a human being’s ass other than my own. I’ve sat through entirely too much “Dora the Explorer” and whatever the hell “The Wiggles” are supposed to be, and have sat through parties without booze. I’m like, look, I know the kid’s four, but I’m old, okay?
Fox in Socks was my daughter’s favorite book for a long, long time. I used to be able to recite it all. Even the Tweedle Beetle Battle.
This!
3am. It’s the third bout of throwing up. I begged her to just throw up on me because I could clean up easier.
This summer was what I called Titanic summer. We had the daily sinking of the Titanic every single day. Sometimes it sank twice a day. Poor Jack died so many times this summer. I know every single line to the movie. In fact, once we were in a very very long line and to pass the time we quoted the movie at great length (I can’t recall math formulas but I know that the “Titanic is over 100’ longer than the Maritania and far more luxurious. Your daughter is far too difficult to impress, Ruth”.
Pity me more. The song. THAT song. At least you new-kid-on-the-blockers had a WHOLE cd. I had…that song.
And lest you think it’s not enough Titanic… “Mom, if I learn the song on the piano, will you make me a dress like Rose’s for the recital?”
She did, so I did (and I don’t sew!).
On vacation, we re-enacted the sinking/door scene. I always get to be the guy parts (gee, thanks) so I “died” at least a billion times in that pool.
We even did two puzzles (1,500 pieces of sheer hell. 70% was solid blue and 500 pieces of an equal hell of Jack and Rose in what seems to be an endless ocean).
The one good thing was that at the beginning of the summer, all the memorabilia from the original release was cheap (heart of the ocean? 10 bucks on Amazon!).
When she was starting to forget the Titanic (oh my little ponies! Your friendship is magic!!), the science museum opened a Titanic exhibit to bring it all back.
One day, she’ll be a teen and say I don’t love her. I’ll just laugh and laugh…
I’m pregnant with my second kid, and for the second time, I have a varicose vein in a very delicate location.
I got raked across the carpet by my sister because I didn’t tell her, or my nephew, that my cat doesn’t want to play.
My nephew (let’s call him D, and he was about 5 years old at the time) wanted to play with one of my cats. Unfortunately, he picked the cat that didn’t like to play with anybody. When D had the cat backed into a corner, I told my sister that this was not a good situation, and advised her to call the child off. She wouldn’t (“he means no harm, he just wants to pet the kitty”). In the end, my nephew ended up with bleeding claw streaks down his arm, went crying to his mom, and my sister asked why I didn’t inform her or my nephew about this dangerous cat.
I pointed out that I did. I gave enough warnings. The child, who cornered my cat, got what he deserved, IMHO. My cat was only reacting the way Nature told him to react.
Sis and I agreed that on subsequent visits, her kids could only play with my cats only if the cats seemed agreeable to play. And there would be no more “cornering” of my cats by her kids, in order to play. She further agreed that if I said “Stop,” then the kids would stop.
No problems since.
Sis AND D learned a valuable lesson, I’d say. You might want to also inform Sis that if a dog is growling, then she needs to pull D back from the dog, even if D means no harm.
Most animals, especially pets, WILL give off warning signs before deploying teeth and/or claws, if humans will pay attention. It’s best that D learns now that not every cat or dog wants to be petted when he wants to pet them. This is one of the things that really pisses me off…people (adults as well as kids) who think that all animals are willing to be petted and played with at any time. Animals aren’t toys or robots, and if you ignore the warning signs, you’re probably going to pay for it in blood sooner or later.
Yeah.
Apart from all the gross out stuff, I read Harry Potter, out loud, doing the voices. All seven books.
I’m an elder sister, by several years, with a mother who shouldn’t have had children.
I’ve cleaned puke, showered and changed into clean pajamas a bro without waking the rest of the house (including the other bro who shared first-bro’s bedroom) and then let him sleep with me, let both bros fall asleep in my bed after waking up with nightmares and then moved to the floor (they were getting pretty big, the last couple of years before I left for college), prepared innumerable mid-afternoon snacks, organized whose turn is it to prepare the table for meals (and whose to take things off), made sure we all had wearable clothing…
and reproduced laterally. I love my nephews, but sometimes I also love knowing that whatever amount of fuck-upped-ness they end up with will be only a tiny bit my fault.
I’m in Big Brothers. I generally like the movies I’ve had to take them to- including ones I didn’t expect to such as HOP and The Smurfs.
BUT
Spy Kids 4 & Happy Feet 2- both PAINFUL!
This is why I often went shirtless when my daughter was still mainly bottle-fed. It’s easier to wipe myself off than to clean a shirt every day.
If my husband was on the Dope, he’d say…
Cleaning a poo-splosion off of our daughter on his wife’s 97-year-old grandmother’s bathroom floor, with nothing except one plastic bag and a container of baby wipes to do it.
My aunt and cousins had just showed up at grandma’s house, and I picked Mimi up to hand her to them (Mimi was about six months old) when I saw a wet brown patch on the back of her onesie. I panicked and carried her into the powder room, calling my husband after me. It turned out that not only Mimi’s whole diaper, but her WHOLE ONESIE, was full of liquid baby poo.
We did give her a bath and launder the onesie, of course… but the logistics of getting things to a point where THAT was possible must have been a nightmare. Hubby took over, bless his heart.
Multiple kids means multiplying the gross stuff. I’ve done it all except for catching the vomit in my hands. My children have my gift of a stomach that gives plenty of warning before it lets loose and I was able to teach my children from a young age that vomit goes in the toilet. (also they got to witness my good example through frequent morning sickness. I had a child who knew the toilet was for sick before he knew it was also for pee.) I’ve had to clean up my bathroom before but seldom have to clean it up anywhere else. I honestly feel very, very lucky about that. No sarcasm. really.
My current way I show my love: I tolerate Mine Craft YouTube videos for 30 minutes at a time. Sometimes longer if I’m really feeling the love.
Amazing what moms will do for their kids that they’d never do for themselves.
You should have made them watch Hyperbole and a Half’s Cat Safety Propaganda video :).
TMI alert: (Yes, even for this thread)
Urinated in a ditch by the side of the road in a rainstorm so bad it was blowing sideways. . . to avoid waking a child who had finally, finally, gotten comfortable and fallen asleep in her car seat. And did I mention it was COLD rain? It was the drive home from a Christmas visit. My flanks are shivering just thinking about it.
Dude, you are either Trooper of all Millennia, or that child is fussy as shit to get to sleep.
That must have been an interesting experience. Are you male or female? (Just wondering about the effects of the wind.)
Reading this thread, I’m suddenly feeling very lucky that my daughter doesn’t seem to be a puker. Fourteen months and so far we’ve had nothing more than the occasional small overspill of milk after a feed. At the other end, only maybe half a dozen leaky diarrhoea nappies.
Long may it continue!
TruCelt, is it wrong of me that I find your little tale quite a bit less disgusting than some of the other stories in this thread? 
Dudette. And it was a nine hour trip. And she was really, really trying to be pleasant but she was just so STUCK in that thing. So once she finally fell asleep I just didn’t have the heart, you know?