Privacy? What privacy?
I took the boys to the zoo yesterday and Henry was a total dreamboat. Today, he was a Monster. But, let's focus on yesterday.
So, we were in the restroom and made a beeline for the handicapped stall (if I say disabled stall, it sounds like the stall is not working, doesn't it? Hmm, hard to be politically correct here.) Anyway, I go to the stall that is meant for the differently abled, and I take my position saying the normal things:
"Stay with Mama."
"Please don't touch anything."
"NO NO NO NO!" As he heads for the door. (Actually, he didn't really, but it's always on the tip of my tongue just in case.)
My dreamboat son stands close to me, slightly behind me, and says as he peers down into the toilet, "You pooping?"
No, I assure him I am not.
"Oh, you peeing?"
There was a time when I used to be somewhat anonymous going into the restroom, but now it's a play by play for all to hear.
Minutes later I am diapering each child one at a time and while doing so, a woman walks in with a duo glider, much like mine, with 2 kids, slightly different than mine, with 2 very brightly colored and messy lollipops. She maneuvers the stroller into the big stall the whole time instructing them not to move a muscle in case a lollipop touches something. In no time she pushes the stroller back out saying, "Forget it."
Well, I'm going nowhere fast (sometimes in more ways than one) and I ask her if I can help. I show her that I am up to my elbows in diapers, and I just got started. I assure her that I won't run off with her children because, a) I too have a duo glider and couldn't ever handle more than one at a time, and b) there is no way in hell I could manage one more child ( I don't say the latter, but I guess it's pretty well assumed). She is relieved and leaves the stroller by me, and well, she is ... relieved.
I am beginning to embrace the Monster in my Child. I think I'll write a book called, The Monster in My Child. Actually, it would be a short book, more of a pamphlet, thankfully. And I am beginning to love the other people out there who are good, kind, loving people with strong memories of what it was like for them. I was at the co-op the other day - around nap time - and Henry was utterly losing it, and a lovely woman looked at me with a face full of empathy and asked me if she could help me. I thanked her and said no (altho really, I need much more help than she can probably offer - still I appreciate it). Another woman cheered me on saying she understands as she has a 4 yr old at home.
A cheering squad for parents with screaming children is truly needed, and I think welcomed. At least it is by me. Maybe I need some pom poms. Sometimes I find that I need to be my own cheerleader.
So, we were in the restroom and made a beeline for the handicapped stall (if I say disabled stall, it sounds like the stall is not working, doesn't it? Hmm, hard to be politically correct here.) Anyway, I go to the stall that is meant for the differently abled, and I take my position saying the normal things:
"Stay with Mama."
"Please don't touch anything."
"NO NO NO NO!" As he heads for the door. (Actually, he didn't really, but it's always on the tip of my tongue just in case.)
My dreamboat son stands close to me, slightly behind me, and says as he peers down into the toilet, "You pooping?"
No, I assure him I am not.
"Oh, you peeing?"
There was a time when I used to be somewhat anonymous going into the restroom, but now it's a play by play for all to hear.
Minutes later I am diapering each child one at a time and while doing so, a woman walks in with a duo glider, much like mine, with 2 kids, slightly different than mine, with 2 very brightly colored and messy lollipops. She maneuvers the stroller into the big stall the whole time instructing them not to move a muscle in case a lollipop touches something. In no time she pushes the stroller back out saying, "Forget it."
Well, I'm going nowhere fast (sometimes in more ways than one) and I ask her if I can help. I show her that I am up to my elbows in diapers, and I just got started. I assure her that I won't run off with her children because, a) I too have a duo glider and couldn't ever handle more than one at a time, and b) there is no way in hell I could manage one more child ( I don't say the latter, but I guess it's pretty well assumed). She is relieved and leaves the stroller by me, and well, she is ... relieved.
I am beginning to embrace the Monster in my Child. I think I'll write a book called, The Monster in My Child. Actually, it would be a short book, more of a pamphlet, thankfully. And I am beginning to love the other people out there who are good, kind, loving people with strong memories of what it was like for them. I was at the co-op the other day - around nap time - and Henry was utterly losing it, and a lovely woman looked at me with a face full of empathy and asked me if she could help me. I thanked her and said no (altho really, I need much more help than she can probably offer - still I appreciate it). Another woman cheered me on saying she understands as she has a 4 yr old at home.
A cheering squad for parents with screaming children is truly needed, and I think welcomed. At least it is by me. Maybe I need some pom poms. Sometimes I find that I need to be my own cheerleader.
posted by Kevin and Stace @ 4:09 PM
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