Friday, July 17, 2009
A fact of Life
One year ago. And two years ago.
It is a fact of life that everyone has to pull their underwear out of the space between their butt cheeks on a regular basis. This is something that Manny is learning since the spontaneous decision to turn my back on diapers yesterday.
He had been down for his "nap" for about fifteen minutes when he started shouting for me. I went to his room and he was naked, his cloth diaper wadded into a ball with its soggy insert wadded next to it. Manny has been removing his diaper a lot lately and it dawned on me that perhaps this is a sign. So we put on underwear and besides the small ball of poo that appeared this morning while I was putting Elena down for her nap, we are doing okay.
I am going through a stretching period again. I have several moments a day where I am stunned at the constancy of needs, not including my own! And I keep reminding myself that there is no use in fighting it. It makes things worse. It is so much better just to ride the wave and get a lot of salt water up my nose (which hurts and is frustrating) than it is to fight the gigantic force and drown because I was too obstinate to just accept that I am never going to get on top of this particular wave.
Since the potty training thing was a split-second decision (which seems to be my pattern with big changes regarding the kids), I was a bit busy with other things- trying to bake for New Horizons, feed all the children and keep Manny from pulling every last thing off the counter. When did his arms get so long? I seriously think he might be Inspector Gadget.
By the time 4:00 rolled around, Manny was totally fried. It is exhausting to take your clothes off every 20 minutes to deposit four drops of pee into the toliet for one measly M&M.
Somehow we managed to get out of the house and go to the Queen Anne Farmer's Market. It felt great to be there. My late Grandpa Hal grew the most divine raspberries in his garden and every time I buy them fresh from the farm, I feel like I am honoring him. I have found a few farms that I really like and I patronize them every week.
The guy that sells me delicious cherries is tall and good-looking. I feel like there is a tiny part of him that notices that a tiny part of me is more than just a disheleved, stained, aging mother. This week he advanced our conversation by asking how my week has been. He does recognize me! I thought. Of course he freaking recognizes me. I have the same three children with me every week.
I try to think of how to answer and the first thing that comes out my mouth is weird and awkwardly phrased. "I am surprisingly potty-training today." This almost beats what I wrote in a card to the Canlis family after a complimentary meal during my Taproot days. "Even my dog liked the leftover lobster tail!" I wrote. I am getting flushed just thinking about it. (For those of you that don't know, Canlis is arguably the nicest restaurant in town.) The cherry guy didn't respond except to give me my total. There is the end of that farmer's market romance.
I literally laughed out loud at myself all the way home and stopped laughing when I saw the man sunbathing in his speedo right next to the chain link fence and public garbage can where I often throw away Aslan's poo because I didn't want the man to think I was laughing at him.
Today is Sam's birthday and we are going to go celebrate by getting off our computers and doing something else. 32 years old and fabulous. If it was junior high, I would vote him "Best All Around".