This morning was an excellent morning.
My son woke up less whiny than normal. WIN.
My daughter did not detonate a last minute poop bomb while leaving the house. WIN.
……..While we are on the topic of poop, I really don’t think newborn fecal matter should be called poop. It’s not poop. I poop, my husband poops, I’m assuming you poop, even dogs poop… but newborns don’t poop. I have a problem with yellow liquid that stains the skin on contact and smells of old, stale popcorn being called poop. That hasn’t come out of this rear-end in 26 years. There are many types of acceptable bowel movements…. soft poop, hard poop, black poop, green poop that really makes you question what you’ve had to eat recently, poop balls in which case, you know you have not consumed enough water and even the rare occasion of explosive poops, alluding to the fact that there is a very good chance that you are indeed ill. But I’ll tell you one thing, If yellow grainy liquid shot out of this keister, I would absolutely assume that one thing was true……..
I have stage five colon cancer.
It’s just not poop. If the word “shit” could become a word accepted by all of society, then that should be the word.
Even in church.
“Sorry Jane, my newborn just shit herself up to her ears, I’ll be back in 20.” It works. It sounds right. Shit is a crude, dirty, frowned upon, seems tacky when a woman says it kind of word….. all these things perfectly describe newborn poop.
I’m really glad I’ve expressed these thoughts with someone other than my husband. Moving on……
Most importantly, today I went to Target, retrieved everything off my list, tried on some bathing suit tops and neither of my tiny humans had any attitude about it. WIN WIN and WIN. #iamthechampionmyfriend
We love Target, or as my son calls it, the “very heavy balls store“. He is obsessed with the large red balls that are stationary in front of Target. To be honest, I myself have wondered why they are there. What is their purpose? The only thing I can think of is so that a mom, who is halfway leaning into the backseat to hand her screaming toddler some granola bar, doesn’t run her car into the store windows. She would just hit the very heavy red balls. Makes sense. I can see that. Good thinking Target.
Here we are cradling said ball.
ah, yes…… here we are straining to lift the heavy ball.
…… more strainage. Things are starting to get serious.
As we enter the store of very heavy balls, (Don’t act like that is not funny. I don’t care how “mature” you are…. The other day an 85 year old woman heard Von screaming this in excitement and she let out a chuckle under her breath. Couldn’t contain it.) Everything was off to an amazing start. I walked by the swimsuit section, cringed and continued walking. Then I thought, well why the hell not, I need a new suit and both babes are quiet and happy. That’s right, I TRIED ON CLOTHES with two children present. None of the tops worked out and I thought NOT trying on bottoms would be the absolute best decision. My love handles, Larry and Earl, are evil evil beings that are still alive and with us today and must stay contained under some very tight spandex. They really thrived during my second pregnancy. It almost appears as if part of my boob fat began to slide down my body and my hips thought they needed to catch it….. like two little fat shelves………
It’s just…….. unfortunate.
Therefor, no swimsuit bottoms were modeled today.
After test driving the new mom-bod in a couple swimsuits, I decided to switch gears to lighten the mood. On to the food! I picked up just a few things, practiced counting with Von…. It was smooth sailing. Berkley was laughing at nothing, which is normal. We got what we needed and approached the check out lanes. The lady ringing up groceries recognized us and said “hello again“….not shocking since we frequent the mall, er, I mean Target, often. (It’s practically my mall.)
Von likes to “SHAKE!” the breath mints as we wait in line. Normally when it is time to put them back he does, not always happily, but he obeys. Today he was shaking away, laughing, happy as can be, but since there weren’t very my groceries his shake-sesh was shortened. As I pried the mints from his very tight grasp I noticed his face begin to morph. Now, every mom knows and recognizes this slow face-morph, from a normal toddler face to a face that is just not pleasant. The face that tells you “You should run. Run far away from me because things are about to get cray-cray allllllll up in here.” I have two children and I still HATE what follows this face. Outbursts, tantrums, crying in public…… all things that make me sweat heavily. I am still not comfortable with it even though I have had 2 years practice. (Not a lot, but it’s practice none the less…..) Luckily, I have a very sweet toddler that has not put me in many of these situations, but today…. I thought today was THE day.
I slowly put back the mints……… studying my two year old’s face…..
Von begins to morph…….. scowling at me, raises his fists up slowly as if to bring them back down with much much fury, probably ending up in fists being thrown every which way……
And something amazing and very unexpected happens.
Whilst lifting his wee little baby fists into the air, just as King Triton raises his Trident in anger (Disney references are all I have at this point in my life, give me a break here)…… he squeezed out a teeny little toot.
Sounded like a little baby trumpet.
We starred at each other in silence, myself about to burst out with laughter and then he broke. Hysterically laughing.
It was all part of God’s glorious plan, that fart. He threw me a bone today. Or a little bit of gas…… possibly an upset stomach, whatever…. we will address that when we get home. Swimsuit shopping was depressing enough, so God spared me a tantrum. I’ll take that beautiful, perfectly timed fart any day.
A fart saved my day.
If only my husband’s farts were as welcomed. They are not.
– Until the next time this redhead rambles.
Come find me on my Life as a Rambling Redhead Facebook page! See ya there….