On Saturday Nick was a infuriatingly small eater - with the exception of breakfast. His nutrition for the day looked something like this:
Breakfast - 1/2 grapefruit and Four (count them, FOUR) bowls of Cocoa Puffs. (P.S. I know I'm an evil mother for providing 'treats' for breakfast. I'm over it, now you have to be too.) He was very proud of himself for drinking the milk in his bowl after EACH bowl of cereal. I'm thinking it's not such an impressive feat when the milk is chocolate instead of cheerio-flavored.
After-breakfast-snack - Batman Fruit snack that he snuck out of the pantry. We can only hope he stopped at one. He's become as adept at hiding the wrappers as he is at getting the snacks off the high shelves.
Lunch - Ham and Cheese Sandwich. . . except that it sat, untouched, on the counter until I decided it was too gross to force him to eat it . . . and I threw it away.
After-non-eaten-lunch-snack - Chocolate Chip Cookie he snuck from the cookie jar.
Warm Drink after being outside in the slush - Swiss Miss Cocoa with 'smarsmehwos'.
Dinner - (would have been. . .) Beef Chow Mien and Green Salad.
By the time Max and I had finished eating and Grey was within a bite or two of being excused Nick hadn't taken a single bite. I decided to take action and feed him myself. He was really pretty willing to take the first bite after I bribed him with extra story time if he hurried. Bite in, head turns (towards Grey luckily for me), and all the chocolate goodness of the day came spewing out. Grey didn't get hit but he grabbed his mouth and ran out of the room trying to avoid being the next contestant in the barf-o-rama.
AND . . . dinner's over! Who wants a bath?
SO, while I was on my hands and knees cleaning up the mess, I couldn't help thinking (as I always do on these occasions) about ALL the things we mothers clean up. Most of the messes are a direct result of bringing our own little human monsters home from the hospital. I get that. BUT if you would have told me just how many diapers I would change; how many accidents I would wish the diapers had held in; how many times I would strip dripping sheets from little beds; how many types of partly digested food I would mop up from various surfaces, I have to wonder if I would have been ready to procreate. Now, I'm down to 'it's nasty, but I've seen worse, and where are my puke-mopping-rubber-gloves?'. Before kids, I would have likely been the first one out the door just based on the smell factor alone. What has happened to me, and HOW? Some parts of motherhood just aren't pretty. At least the miracles don't stop when that first cry begins - somehow, if we let it, motherhood molds us into real mothers. Over time our weak girl-arms can outlast the strongest of men as we rock our babies for hours upon end; our wills bend to accommodate the needs of our little ones; our hearts grow and soften; and last, but not least, we clean up the rottenest of messes without running for relief, or tossing our own cookies.
Breakfast - 1/2 grapefruit and Four (count them, FOUR) bowls of Cocoa Puffs. (P.S. I know I'm an evil mother for providing 'treats' for breakfast. I'm over it, now you have to be too.) He was very proud of himself for drinking the milk in his bowl after EACH bowl of cereal. I'm thinking it's not such an impressive feat when the milk is chocolate instead of cheerio-flavored.
After-breakfast-snack - Batman Fruit snack that he snuck out of the pantry. We can only hope he stopped at one. He's become as adept at hiding the wrappers as he is at getting the snacks off the high shelves.
Lunch - Ham and Cheese Sandwich. . . except that it sat, untouched, on the counter until I decided it was too gross to force him to eat it . . . and I threw it away.
After-non-eaten-lunch-snack - Chocolate Chip Cookie he snuck from the cookie jar.
Warm Drink after being outside in the slush - Swiss Miss Cocoa with 'smarsmehwos'.
Dinner - (would have been. . .) Beef Chow Mien and Green Salad.
By the time Max and I had finished eating and Grey was within a bite or two of being excused Nick hadn't taken a single bite. I decided to take action and feed him myself. He was really pretty willing to take the first bite after I bribed him with extra story time if he hurried. Bite in, head turns (towards Grey luckily for me), and all the chocolate goodness of the day came spewing out. Grey didn't get hit but he grabbed his mouth and ran out of the room trying to avoid being the next contestant in the barf-o-rama.
AND . . . dinner's over! Who wants a bath?
SO, while I was on my hands and knees cleaning up the mess, I couldn't help thinking (as I always do on these occasions) about ALL the things we mothers clean up. Most of the messes are a direct result of bringing our own little human monsters home from the hospital. I get that. BUT if you would have told me just how many diapers I would change; how many accidents I would wish the diapers had held in; how many times I would strip dripping sheets from little beds; how many types of partly digested food I would mop up from various surfaces, I have to wonder if I would have been ready to procreate. Now, I'm down to 'it's nasty, but I've seen worse, and where are my puke-mopping-rubber-gloves?'. Before kids, I would have likely been the first one out the door just based on the smell factor alone. What has happened to me, and HOW? Some parts of motherhood just aren't pretty. At least the miracles don't stop when that first cry begins - somehow, if we let it, motherhood molds us into real mothers. Over time our weak girl-arms can outlast the strongest of men as we rock our babies for hours upon end; our wills bend to accommodate the needs of our little ones; our hearts grow and soften; and last, but not least, we clean up the rottenest of messes without running for relief, or tossing our own cookies.
10 comments:
So is he sick, or was he just full of Cocoa Puffs?
I hear ya about not knowing what we were signing up for. When Geoff and I had to rake through baby Isaac's poo diapers when he swallowed a piece of glass, THAT'S when I realized that.
Not sick, thankfully. I think the cocoa itself was the straw that broke the camel's back. :)
I've always known I have a weak stomach. I'll gag at everything. Working with a bunch of boys I've become certain of this. So I've worried I'd be a terrible mother. Tyler always assures me that being a parent changes all that... Even still not sure I'm ready.
We had both children puking Friday night. I am so glad that a strongish stomach was something I got to take home from the hospital.
And as I type this, Isaac is telling me he didn't eat his Captin Crunch because he's body's not hungry. And Eric actually bit Isaac because Isaac was on his blanket.
Is it too much to ask for a daughter?
This is what I thought and felt when reading this.
So true!
I've been there.
I know exactly what you mean.
DISGUSTING!
Barf o Rama...thats a funny word(s)
Hilarious!
Poignant.
Funny, yet again.
I love it when you write Wendy!
I loved this post Wendy! Thanks for sharing something that we have all experienced, most just can't put it down in words like you!
I'm attempting to potty train my almost three year old with constant spit up on my shoulder from the babe - yeah, I can relate. It's a dirty job but bring it on.
My hat comes off to you - I would have beat Grey out the door when the "cookies" were tossed.
Kiera & Wendy -- what I thought was, "here is further proof as to what I am not a mom yet." Wow.
As I am at the beginning stages of being a mom (10 months) I look up to you. I know my day will come when I will have to clean up the barf. But for now I appreciate your honesty and openess about the wonderful things we get to do as moms.
By the way I am sorry about Duke. I remember when you and Tyler would drive the dogs around in your bronco. It is so sad to lose those animals we love.
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