The underwear monster

Aaron’s underwear.  Hannah’s and Daniel’s.  Mine.  Clean. Dirty.  New. Old. The underwear monster is firmly against discrimination.  At first our undies were only stolen if we carelessly left them on the ground, or in a newly folded clothes pile we lazily didn’t put away.

As we caught on to the underwear monster though, we started making sure our undies were never, ever left out.  As soon as they are folded, we put them away.  When we get undressed for showers or baths, we put  our undies high up, out of reach until it goes in the hamper afterwards.

For a while, due to our vigilance, our underpants were safe.  But the underwear monster couldn’t resist.  She brazenly found new ways of fuelling her underwear addiction.  Despite the hamper being much taller than she is, she somehow managed to steal underpants without detection.  Today alone, I’ve lost two pairs.  They are now so full of holes that I had to put them in the bin.

When the kids forget to close their bedroom door, the underwear monster sneaks in, like a ninja in the night and snatches Hannah’s underwear from its home in a Dora the Explorer hanging pouch thing.  I think it’s supposed to house shoes, but whatever, underwear fits there too.

There is no stopping the underwear monster, she is an addict and underwear is her crack.

The underwear monster aka Rosie

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Copyright 2014 Sheri Thomson

The old man

“Are you seeing this?” Aaron asked me, laughing as we drove along.

“No, what?” I was looking out the window in the opposite direction.

“Over there.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HIS BUTT CRACK IS HANGING OUT!”

“I think his underwear are from 1970.”

We laughed and laughed as we drove past.  It’s not every day that you see an old man mowing the lawn right next to a busy road wearing only his droopy maroon underpants, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and skin that resembled leather.  Only in the western suburbs….

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That’s not water

I keep the bathroom door shut. Mostly at all times. Hannah is big enough to open and shut the door as she needs. The exception of course, is when I’m putting water in the bathtub and getting the kids ready for their evening bath.

Usually Daniel is content  ridiculously happy to stand at the side of the bath and eagerly watch the water  level rise as he flaps and squeals in delight like he’s trying to flag down a passing toy boat.

Not the other day. Hannah was half stuck in her shirt, one arm in, one out, the head hole half up her nose, as she tried to remove 2 shirts over her big head at the same time.

“Mommy, can you help me?” She asked

“Of course sweetie.” Giggling “Are you stuck????!!!!”

Meanwhile, Danny, mischievous as he is, took the mom-is-busy-with-Hannah opportunity to get to Hannah’s potty as fast and stealthily as he possibly could. No worries, it was house cleaning day, and I had scrubbed that potty just a couple of hours before. But I still don’t let him play with it. I don’t want him to think it’s ok. Yuck.

“Daniel, no, we don’t play with the potty!” I said in vain as he lifted the lid and shoved his chubby almost-1-year-old hand inside.

And then I saw it.

But it was too late.

As I rushed over, he turned his head, looking at me with that gleeful I’m-so-proud-of-myself smile that is so big, he has to squint his eyes to make room for his cheeks. He made a joyous noise and splashed his hand  in the pee some more.

All in the space of a couple seconds.

Thank goodness it was bath time. And thank God it wasn’t poop.

Ick.

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The ninja nuggets

Hannah is finally starting to poop on the potty. It’s only been…hmm…I can’t even remember, but way too long. I’ve cleaned up way too much poo. Ick. Sigh.

And by starting, I mean only just. As in the day before yesterday. Seems marshmallows are worth sitting on the toilet for.  Especially the pink ones.

This morning started out well. There was no vomit (because yesterday, there was lots. Ick. I hate vomit. But you all know that well enough by now), Hannah was drinking and eating and playing.

But then I smelled something. Something icky. Something poop-ish. Ick. I thought it was Daniel. A quick smell through his clothes proved otherwise.

“Hannah, do you have to poop?”

“No.”

“Are you just doing stinky toots?”

“No.”

“Who’s making those smells?” Hannah asked me. Usually she admits when she farts. Or poops. Or both. I didn’t think it was her, I thought Daniel must just be farting and not pooping.

I kept smelling it. Hannah’s back was to me.

And there it was. A protrusion from her pants. A clear as day poo coming out (or already out) outline. Ick.

I took her to the bathroom and checked her underpants. A poo nugget had already been freed in there. I stood her on the toilet, one foot on each side and pulled her underwear down, and towards the front of the toilet, in one quick fluid movement. That’s the best way to not get poo on myself, herself, and/or our surroundings. The poo nugget dropped nicely in the toilet without touching anything. Yeah, underpants emptying is a good skill to have. It’s taken me a long time to develop it. Sigh.

“Are you done pooping? Do you need to do some more?” I asked her.

“I need to do some more.” She told me. I sat her down on the toilet, her special I-don’t-want-my-child-to-fall-in smaller seat fitted to the inside of the normal seat.

I stepped towards the door to go get the iPad. Watching Mickey Mouse helps her poop. Whatever works right?

I felt something under my foot. It didn’t feel like a towel. Or clothes. Or a rubber ducky, a bottle of shampoo, a washcloth, a hairbrush, or anything that may be accidentally lying about the bathroom floor (and by accidentally, I mean a toddler and/or cheeky baby put it there).

It felt wrong. Like when I stepped on it, it was one height, and then it shrank as the weight of my foot beat down on it.

I lifted my foot, panic filling me. I knew what it must be. But I was still hoping it wasn’t.

I looked down. And there it was. A squished poo nugget. Ick.

I saw the nugget from her underwear fall into the toilet. How on earth did that one get there? Oh my gosh, I stepped in poo. Human poo. Ick.

I wiped it up with some toilet paper and flushed it away before immediately scrubbing the floor with disinfectant. Seriously, how did it get there?

A few hours later Hannah told me she had to poop.

“It’s coming out of my bottom!” She screeched.

We ran to the bathroom. Part of it was already loose in her underpants. We did the whole standing-on-toilet-seat thing again. Again, the poo went in the toilet and then I sat her down and headed towards the door.

Splat. Oh frick. Not again. 

I picked up my foot. Crap (literally). Those darn ninja nuggets struck again. How could I step on poop TWICE in one day?!?!?! HOW DID THEY GET THERE???!!!! Luckily I was wearing socks. Both times.

Sigh.

Maybe I’m not so skilled at dropping poop from Hannah’s underpants into the toilet. Double sigh.

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Fight with the sun

We were driving home from Grandma’s house when Hannah started making a fuss.

“NOOOOOOO!” She shouted

“NOOOO, GO AWAY SUN!”

I looked in the mirror and tried not to laugh. Her arms were flapping around like she was attempting to defend herself against an entire swarm of mosquitoes.

“GET OUT OF MY FACE SUN! LEAVE ME ALONE SUN!”

It was the afternoon and the sun was getting lower in the sky. Hannah’s car seat is right in the middle of the back seat. There is no front seat to shield her poor little eyes from that blazing Australian sun shining through the wind screen. Sure it would be easier to actually get her in the car if her seat was to one side, but then if Aaron and I wanted to drive Grandma somewhere, we couldn’t. Because how would an 82 year old woman climb over a child’s or baby’s car seat and then manage to fit in between them?

Home wasn’t far away, only a couple of minutes. But Hannah was getting increasingly unsettled.

“Shut your eyes sweetie, then the sun won’t be in them.” I told her as she flapped about.

“IT’S STILL IN MY EYES!” She yelled while they were still closed.

“Put your head down and look at the floor, then it won’t be in your eyes anymore.” I told her.

“GO AWAY SUN, I DON’T LIKE YOU! GET OUT OF MY EYES! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! DON’T BE MEAN SUN!”

She started crying. Crying and flapping and screaming for the sun to get out of her eyes.

I felt bad for her, but at the same time, it was pretty hilarious to glimpse in the rear view mirror.

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Fear of the septic tank

I can’t believe it was a whole year ago that I visited my parents in the U.S.  On one hand, it feels like years ago that I was there, but on the other, it feels like it was only a couple of months ago.

Recently I signed up for Timehop, a free service that you link to your social media accounts. Each day, you get an email with your status updates, tweets, etc. from exactly 1 year before.  Since I was in the U.S. at this time last year, I’ve been enjoying re-living a little bit of my trip each day, and seeing the funny things Hannah used to say before she could speak so well.

But, the daily re-living has made me remember the septic tank. Yeah, you read that right, the septic tank. My parents have one. I grew up with one. And well water. Whenever the power went out, we’d have no water either. But that’s another story for another day….

Back to the septic tank. The septic tank is toward the back of the side yard. That doesn’t make a lot of sense, but, I mean to the side of the house, more to the back than the front.

When I was little, I used to avoid (as much as one could) playing near the septic tank. I gave that side yard a pretty wide berth. When I could help it. When other people were around and walking/playing/bike riding/horse riding through the area, I’d go there too. I didn’t want them to know that I was scared of the septic tank. But I was. Wuss.

I always imagined it to be this gigantic deep cylindrical thing, with a very thin lid on top, and dirt and grass on top of that. I thought that if I stood there too long, or jumped too high, or ran too fast, the lid would collapse and it would swallow me up.
RID-X Septic System Treatment: 2 Dose Powder

I’d fall in with spectacular fashion and be stuck in a huge pile of thick poop, trying to swim, but barely able to even hold myself up.  There was no ladder, and the walls were so high, there was no way I could pull myself out.

I was terrified of drowning, all by myself, in a pile of poop.  No one would find me, I’d be totally swallowed up by the crazy poop monster.

When I visited my parents last year, my Dad said he needed to open the lid of the septic tank.

“How are you going to do that?” I asked him, visions of huge tractors in my head. How else would you open a gigantic lid?

He looked at me funny. Like I was stark raving mad. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

We piled on our coats, hats, and boots (it was very cold over there!) and went outside.  I held Hannah particularly tight. I certainly didn’t want her to be gobbled up by the poop monster.

My Dad grabbed a shovel, dug up a tiny bit of dirt and grass, and then stopped.

Imagine my surprise, when the gigantic septic tank lid that I was scared of all those years turned out to be this:

Not even my leg would fit in there. And then I googled septic tanks, and found this:

Septic tank before installation. Image courtesy wikipedia

That is what I was afraid of all those years?!  I could stand up in that and not even get my head wet! Sigh.

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Waiting for the doctor

It’s so annoying when you have to go to the doctor.  Load sick kids in the car.  Drive 5 minutes down the road.  Hope they don’t spew all over the leather interior of the shiny new-ish WRX. Wait 20 whole minutes the see the doctor of my choice. While waiting, read books supplied by the doctors office, that are probably filled with who knows what kind of germs, and have probably been in a million different children’s mouths. Oh, and read it out loud. With everyone else around me all silent. Sigh. Watch Hannah run wild around the waiting room, trying to open the door, rolling around on the floor, climbing on all the seats….

Once, she was in the seat next to me (for all of 2 seconds).  Daniel was sitting on the floor in front of me, no longer content to sit immobile on my lap. I was leaning forward, making sure he didn’t fall and hit his head on the tile floor.

“Mommy, your butt crack is hanging out!” Hannah shouted loudly, in the silent, full waiting room. I can’t help it, all my pants are too big for me. That’s what happens when you lose 19kgs after having a baby. Yeah, I pretty much wanted to crawl in a hole. Instead, I just said “shhhh, use your inside voice Hannah,” and totally ignored what she actually said.

No one likes going to the doctor. But in this country, we can. Easily. And not just easily, but for free.

Imagine not being able to afford seeing the doctor. Or not being able to actually go because the doctor is 5 hours away by rickshaw, dodgy boat, bus and incredibly crowded train.

I take the kids to the doctor when they have a cold. Nearly every time. I’m all worried like that. Better safe than sorry I think. The doctors always tell me that too. They never mind.

But in Bangladesh, 4,320 kids are dying every day from pneumonia.  Yeah, pneumonia. Something that is easily treated. They simply can’t afford to get to the doctor, can’t afford to pay the doctor, don’t know the signs of pneumonia, don’t want to travel all that way if it turns out to just be a common cold.

With support from Australians through the Vicks Breathe for Life Project, Save the Children aims to train an additional 1,600 health workers and village doctors who will provide accessible healthcare services to 135,000 children in Bangladesh. Save the Children will also reach 270,000 mothers and caregivers through the Vicks program, providing them with the skills to look out for the early warning signs of pneumonia.

As a mommy blogger, I was invited to the launch of the Breathe For Life Project. Yeah, little old (well, not that old) me. My first event as a blogger!  I got to meet Natalie Bassingthwaighte (who is incredibly lovely, down to earth, and approachable by the way). Got to molest a cardboard cut out of Rob the Dentist.  You know, from those Oral B ads where they can’t show his face because he’s a dentist? Yeah, that one. I got a goody bag full of stuff. I got to get away from the kids for a few hours and chat with a bunch of other lovely mommy bloggers. I got to learn how fibre is good for your health. I got a free dental check-up from Oral B. First time at a dentist in about 9 years. Yeah, horrible, I know.

Daniel did fine without me by the way. Apart from flipping out when The Jess tried to give him my milk from a sippy cup.  Apparently he didn’t think my milk should come from anything but my boobs.

How can you help? EASY! For every new ‘like’ on the Vicks Australia Facebook page, they will donate $1 (even if you are not Australian, ALL likes get the $1 donation). For every Vicks product purchased in Australia from 1 April, until the end of the year, 1 donation will be made to the Save the Children Bangladesh project. And who doesn’t use Vicks? I love the baby balsam, and LOVE LOVE LOVE the vaporizer. That thing has saved me much sleep when the kids have a cold. Last winter, Hannah would wake up about a million times over night if she had a cold, but with the vaporizer on, she’d wake twice. At most.

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Copyright 2012 Sheri Thomson

Dr. Hannah

Hannah: “Mommy, lay over there on the couch so I can be your doctor.”

Me: “What do you say?” When will she ever learn to say please without being asked??

Hannah: “PLLLLEEEEEEAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEE????”

I went over to the couch and laid down.

She got out her little, fine, big, doctors kit and came over to me.

Hannah: “You don’t feel good Mommy, I have to fix it.”

Me: “Oh, ok.” I felt fine, but you know, I took one for the team.

She took a white blanket and wrapped it around my arm.  The one that was in a cast only 2 weeks ago.

Hannah: “Your arm is sore Mommy, I’ll fix it for you.”

She took my temperature with her little pretend thermometer.  She gave me some pretend panadol.

And then she got out that funny little thing that doctors use to look in your ears. You know, the one with the cone shape on the end.

Hannah (while looking through the ear-thing at my ear): “Oh. There’s a panda in there.” She said, as if that was a perfectly normal ear disease.

I cracked up.  Yes, a panda. 

She looked in my other ear. “There’s a monkey in here.”

Me (laughing): “How did that get there?”

Hannah: “They scooted in there.” She walked her fingers up my arm, demonstrating as she said it.

Me: “How will we get them out?”

She went over to her doctors kit and grabbed these weird little scissor/tweezer type things.

Hannah: “I’ll use this.” She held it up for me to see.

Oh gosh, this quite possibly could hurt. A lot. Sometimes, she’s not so gentle. Toddlers often aren’t.

She leaned over, put the scissor/tweezer thing in my ear, and very gently pretended to pull out the monkey.

“Got it.” She told me.

Then she got the panda out.

Thank goodness for doctor Hannah.  I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life with a panda and a monkey in my ears.

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Getting Daddy back

Finally, Hannah is potty trained.  Ok fine, she’s pee potty trained.  Not so much poo potty trained.  Sigh.  Those still turn up in her undies.  I can clearly see a large protrusion hanging in her undies.  I can smell the offending object.

“Did you do a poo poo?”  I ask her.

“No, I didn’t do a poo poo.” She told me, clearly knowing that she did.

“Yes you did.  I can see that you did.”

She then reaches her little hand around to her bottom and goes in for a feel.

“NOOO!!! DON’T PUT YOUR HAND IN YOUR BUTT!!!” I yell to her.  Ugh. I don’t want to have to clean poo out from under fingernails.  Ick.

So yeah, still working on that.

Anyway…

A while ago, when she was still learning to pee on the potty, she was often wetting herself around the house.  And yes, it was kinda gross and I was constantly armed with carpet cleaner and a rag.  But she treated pull-ups like a nappy, so the only way forward was to stick her in underpants.  And let her wet herself to get a grasp on what it felt like.  It worked by the way.

Hannah was climbing all over Daddy.  Giggling and jumping and giggling some more.

Suddenly she stopped.  This slightly frightened/surprised/what-do-I-do look came across her face.

“SHE’S PEEING ON ME!!!!!!!” Aaron shouted.

She was standing over his leg, one of her legs on each side of Aaron’s.  Frozen in place like a little deer in headlights, pee rushing out of her, drenching Aaron’s leg.

And I could not stop laughing. I stood there just watching and laughing, and watching some more.  Yeah, yeah, I’m horrible. Whatever, it was hilarious!

“HAHAHAHAHA, I guess she got him back then!” one of my friends said when I told her about it.

Yeah, I guess she did. She definitely got him back for this. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  Still makes me laugh.

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Embarrassing mommy moments

1. You forget to wear breast pads and your baby cries in public (or you think about your baby, etc.).

My graphics tablet is broken, so I had to do this the old school way: with the mouse part of the macbook. Yeah, not easy.

2. You are in the bathroom with your toddler and she announces to the world that you are doing a poo.

3. You’re heavily pregnant and at the shops when you get a bit gassy. And you can’t hold it in….

4. You’re on the bus and your toddler declares that “that guy is funny looking.”

5. You smell like baby vomit, but you’re so used to it that you don’t even notice. Until a someone points it out.

6. You forget that you wrapped a nappy in a towel to carry it back to the car after a morning at the beach. Then you take the towel load out of the washing machine and discover little gelatinous balls all over everything.

7. You keep smelling poop, but all nappy checks come up clean. You follow your nose and discover a poo nugget under the couch. How in the world did a poo nugget get under the couch????????

8. Your toddler has just started potty training and you’re at the shops.  You notice that she’s wet herself but you don’t know exactly when or where. There might be a puddle of piddle somewhere in the store, but you’re not really sure, and too embarrassed to go tell someone anyway.  So you hope there is no puddle, and if there is that no one slips in it, and go in search of the nearest bathroom.

9. You are teaching your toddler the proper names for body parts, and she likes to point males out and say “Mommy, that is a boy, he has a penis and testicles,” and for girls “mommy, that is a girl, she has a vagina.” Loudly. In public.

10. You are wearing a dress, or skirt when your child decides it’s time for hide and seek.  The only place to hide is under Mommy’s skirt.  She pulls it right up as she giggles madly and puts it over her head.

I know there are way more embarrassing mommy moments, so please do share….

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