Knock Out

I kid you not, Tres is having a hard week.

Yesterday she got whopped in the eye by her golf club-wielding older sister and just a few minutes ago she made the unfortunate choice of standing in the doorway as the Great Dane was being let into the house.

Yep. She was plowed.

It doesn’t matter that the dog wasn’t trying to run her down, it’s just the dog is ridiculously stupid. Best-natured family dog ever, and I’d HIGHLY recommend the Great Dane as a pet, but oh, my, that dog has rocks in her skull.

So there Tres was, sprawled flat on her back in the middle of the doorway with her legs waggling in the air, howling at the top of her lungs while the dog rummaged around in her crate, trying to get the pillow in just the perfect composition, clueless she was the cause of all the noise.

Of course I ran to get Tres and she was fine after lots of snuggles, kisses and the bribe of a nibble of chocolate, but the whole episode made me think about how I react when I get bowled over.

Let’s face it, all of us get the wind knocked out of our sails every once in a while.

Our grand hopes, dreams and ambitions don’t work out quite like we planned.

Our families aren’t picture perfect like we planned.

That job didn’t work out like we planned.

Our financial situation isn’t turning out like we planned.

When I find myself sitting in the middle of the floor on my behind from an intentional or unintentional knock out, there are a few things I’m training myself to do:

1. Re-evaluate why I had the plan in the first place. What was my motivation for setting the goal in the first place? Maybe it’s not working out because I’ve changed or the goal isn’t relevant anymore. Taking stock of what’s brought you to this place is the first step of deciding which direction to walk as soon as you stand up again.

2. Stand Up and Start Walking. I choose to move. I resolve to go confidently in the direction of my dreams. There are statistics all over the place of people who fail but don’t give up. Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Edison… people whose names are embedded in history could have stopped earlier in their careers and be seen as failures. But they got back up and started moving. I want to be like that.

3. Smile. Life throws curveballs. Lots of them. I’m doing my best to keep smiling and seeing the quirky, funny and lighthearted aspects of our day-to-day. And you know what? Because I’m role modeling for those little girls, sometimes I smile even when I want to cry. I want them to see a mom who had a fighting spirit and refused to be defeated. So I’m going to smile. (and sometimes my teeth will be gritted, too.)

4. Treats Help, Too. There are times when I think a solid dose of sugar therapy is quite alright. Usually I choose Fruit Gushers but right now I’m craving Milk Duds. It doesn’t really matter what the treat is, but when I’m a little insecure and a $1 bag of candy can help, I think that’s a good investment. Now, if only I could still find a pina colada Eegees. Then life would be seriously sweet!

What are some of the tips you give yourself when you get knocked down?

 

Uno and the Poopy Feast

At the prompting of a friend who wanted to recall the details of Uno’s poop munching escapade, here it is, a flashback from April of 2007:

Earlier this evening I heard a person describe a certain cheese ball as “particularly offensive to all five senses.” I loved the description but, having no cheese ball at hand to identify with, began to wonder if there has been anything in mothering that I have found “offensive to all five senses.”

A little bit of thought and I remembered a story I’ve never written about before…

Lizard and I were driving home from Phoenix to Sedona with Uno when she was about 14 mos. old… She had been fussing in the back seat but I really didn’t want to stop to change what I knew was a stinky diaper.

We had been on the road for almost two hours and were about 25 minutes from home so I decided that even though the aroma wafting up toward the front of the car was nasty and she was complaining I would turn a deaf ear and just book it home before stopping to change the diaper.

Bad lapse in judgment.

We were driving along and I suddenly realized that it had gotten mighty quiet in the back seat. So, I asked Lizard to take a quick look and see what was going on. He complied and reported that she was eating. No cause for concern and a plausible reason for the silence.

Until I realized that I hadn’t given her anything to eat.

LIzard realized this at the same time that I did and took another look – then veered wildly off the road to a sudden and complete stop. I began to screech, not knowing why he would do this but that it had to do with my firstborn, lovely child! He gritted out:

“You don’t want to know. I promise, you don’t want to know!”

Well, that piqued my interest beyond all belief and I whipped around in the front seat to discover Uno covered in something… that turned out to be the contents of her dirty diaper.

She had reached her hand up into her shorts and pulled the pooh out, wiping it all over her clothes, the car seat, her face, her hair… it was everywhere. The stink was astonishing – the whole affair was truly offensive to all five senses. (Taste being the sole province of Uno, however.)

I tried to help Lizard clean her up, but three months pregnant with a sensitive stomach is not the time to try to be diplomatic and stand for equality in the messy parts of parenthood.

I was retching and hopping up and down on the side of the road – Lizard finally told me to just go away and stay away after I vomited my driving snack of Nacho Cheese Doritos all over the ground.

For the record, semi-digested Doritos are also a gruesome sight.  It was next to a cat claw bush.  Just awkward.

That experience is burned into my memory and Uno will live to regret doing such things! We’re just waiting until she’s 30 and we let her date for the first time!

The most humorous aspect of the story for me came after Lizard had cleaned everything up and we were back on the road for the 25 minutes to the house. I was quizzing him on how he had realized what was going on, etc. and asked what Uno had looked like when she was eating the pooh.

“Actually – pretty satisfied!”

 

Why Having A Toddler Is Like Being at a Frat Party

This is a complete steal from the blog, Suburban Snapshots from June 2010.  It travelled around Facebook like a virus and made me laugh out loud a few times.  Hope you enjoy!

10. There are half-full, brightly-colored plastic cups on the floor in every room. Three are in the bathtub.

9. There's always that one girl, bawling her eyes out in a corner.

8. It’s best not to assume that the person closest to you has any control over their digestive function.

7. You sneak off to the bathroom knowing that as soon as you sit down, someone’s going to start banging on the door.

6. Probably 80% of the stains on the furniture contain DNA.

5. You’ve got someone in your face at 3 a.m. looking for a drink.

4. There’s definitely going to be a fight.

3. You’re not sure whether anything you’re doing is right, you just hope it won’t get you arrested.

2. There are crumpled-up underpants everywhere.

1. You wake up wondering exactly how and when the person in bed with you got there.

Your additions?