Friday, July 13, 2012

Talking Shit About Milestones

I thought about it.  There's really no other way to effectively title this entry into the book of my life.  So, yes, ladies and gentlemen, we're going to talk shit about milestones.

As a mother, you savor moments in your children's lives that mark milestones... the first time they sleep through the night... the first solid food... the first tooth in... the first word... the first steps... the list goes on and on because life is filled with so many firsts -- even when they're grown.

I had a first today.  A first of epic proportions (in my mind, anyway).  A first that was so ridiculously over-the-top of any other first that I truly believe Benji really "is" the child that holds true to the cliche that "third time's the charm."

Oh yes.

He's the third.

However, it's probably more like "third strike and you're out" now that I think about it.

I should have known that life would be different with three.  You move from man on man to zone defense.  Divide and conquer.

And, while he has learned to adapt to some situations, being two, you can't really expect him to fall into line without developing some mechanism for standing out and being his own person.

And, let us not forget whom his mother is.  She is one who generally stands out (even when she doesn't want to.) So Benji, by default, has the genetic disposition to be a little off the status-quo from the get go.  Let's be frank... he needs prayers.

He's different... that Benji.  He is always ready to leave his mark...

Whether it's his food... on the floor.

His crayola artwork... on the flatscreen.

His Matchbox cars.... across your forehead.

Yes.... That Benji.  He is always ready to leave his mark.  He is a giver.  Indeed.  He is.  We are blessed.

Today, however.  Today was a different kind of gift.  Usually the unexpected gifts are the ones to truly treasure.  Everyone expects a gift on Valentine's Day or their anniversary or their birthday -- those are times when you have to buy the obligatory purchase.  I'm not into obligatory anything.  I do, however, appreciate thoughtful sentiments out of the blue.  Moreover, some of my most favorite gifts were simply because someone saw something that made them think of me... and so they had buy it... for me... because of me.  Those, those are the gifts that I treasure.  Those are the gifts that are truly from the heart.

Benji's gift, however, was from an even deeper place.

Say it with me now... I am blessed.

I had spent the morning in the playroom floor.  I had drunk a considerable amount of water, milk, tea and thus, had to "go."  We had Buzz and Woody on the tube.  We had cars everywhere.  We had snacks.  We had drinks.  He should have been set for the thirty-second pit stop I required to make a visit to the loo.

SHOULD HAVE been set.


I did my business.  I walked out and sat in the chair as Moose (the Rot) was wanting to be scratched.  That's when I hear the pitter patter of little bare feet flopping on the hardwoods running from the playroom to my location.  It's truly an adorable sound.  I genuinely love to hear him run along the floor.

"Mommy.  Mommy.  Mommy."

I can see his outstretched clenched hand.  He has something in his hand he wants to give to me.  I'm fairly certain that it's the Lego car he kept taking apart for me to fix.  So, while still looking down at Moose and scratching him with my left hand, I extend my right for the Lego car.

Benji promptly deposited his gift into my hand.

It wasn't a Lego car.

Oh, it was not.

It was probably the furthest thing FROM a Lego car I could have ever even imagined.


In my hand.

Benji deposited....

wait for it...

...a piece of shit.

You see, we are potty training.  He knows poop is not supposed to be in his diaper.  So he was apparently cleaning it out....

By giving it ... TO... ME!

I looked at it.

I didn't know what it was.

Then I looked at him.

He looked at me.  I think he was proud.  How delusional.

I looked at my hand.  Then, I'm pretty sure I said, "What the hell???" (quite loudly)  I looked down at the piece of crap and screamed, "No... NO NO NO NO NO NO NO POOP GOES IN THE TOILET.... NOT MOMMY'S HAND.  POOP IN THE TOILET."

I bolted up and made my way to the throne to remove the fecal matter from my hand.  


 (nice sound effects, huh?  I have a high-quality blog.  Be thankful it's not scratch-n-sniff.)

I looked at Benji.  I laughed... I sat there shaking my head trying to garner any kind of comprehension as to what had just transpired without feeling like "WHAT THE HELL"...

And..... then I went straight for the bleach.  Truthfully, there isn't much that grosses me out.  But, for some reason, at that moment, I felt the need to bleach my hand.  

We then executed a full diaper change in proper form.  

So, there ya go.  I'm talkin' shit on my blog.  Laugh among yourselves.

Never a dull moment.


chksngr said...

This made me laugh out loud!!! your description is PRICELESS! I heard of a woman who had so many problems with this kind of thing that her son had to sleep in a crib with only a crib sheet in the CENTER of his room, out of reach of all walls and other surfaces...they had to use KILZ so many times she thought perhaps the Home Depot people thought she was

Brandt! said...

hahahahahaha! Too cute!!