Monday, July 12, 2010

Baby Assassins

This morning Jack pooped within 3 minutes of me waking up. Nothing says GOOD MORNING like a poopy diaper. We're doing pretty well on the potty training, but poop is a full stop. He's afraid that it will stick to him if he does it on the potty. I'm all "DUDE, YOU ARE POOPING IN YOUR OWN PANTS, THAT SHIT IS ON YOU!!!"

Contemplating my demise

I don't know about you, but I am not very functional before I have coffee. I often pour Jack's milk into his sippy, handing him the carton, and put the sippy in the fridge. I'm uncoordinated and confused for a good 30 minutes after I wake up. Nipper Knapp is out of bed and dressed before I can even open my eyes. He must be part ninja.

Once we got the whole diaper disaster handled, I made coffee, and started breakfast. Oatmeal! Yes, he says, I want oatmeal, or as he calls it opiemeal. I ask him if he wants to watch Super Why while I'm cooking it, and he says yes. He wants to watch the Beauty and the Beast episode. I no sooner get the oatmeal out of the cupboard and he is shouting in this very specific voice from hell "MOM! MOM! MOM! I want to watch the BIG GAAAAAAAME one!!!!" Over and over and over. I shout back from the kitchen, "No Jack, you can watch that episode while Mommy makes opiemeal, or go play, we're not switching back and forth". This falls on deaf ears, and he continues to shout "The Big GAAAAAAAAME" over, and over, until I go into the living room and (calmly) tell him that his options are, watch the Beauty and the Beast episode, or go play. Oh and please stop shouting. He says fine, and settles in on the couch to watch. I go back in the kitchen.

They say they come in peace, and in such cute convincing packages, but I know the truth.

90 seconds later, and I've got the oatmeal on the stove. I hear kitten sounds coming my way. "Mew, mew, mew". Jack is suddenly by my side on all fours head butting my leg. "mew, mew, mew, I'm giving you kitty hugs!" "Oh hi kitty!" I pick him up and let him "help" me make the oatmeal. We finish up, put it in a bowl, sit down to eat it. I get myself some yogurt and granola. "I WANT SOME YOGURT" he shouts. "ok, let's finish our oatmeal and see". He does. "I want BLUEBERRY YOGURT!" ok. I get the blueberry yogurt out. I stir it up and put  it in front of him. I turn to get a napkin and the blueberry yogurt is in his lap. It's my fault, I should have put it in a bowl. Those stupid containers are too tippy tommy for a kid. My fault, my fault, my fault. As I'm cleaning it off his lap, he says "It's ok, it's ok".  "That's right bug, it's ok, mommy should have put it in a bowl for you" Poor baby.

As I take the soppy mess of blueberry yogurt paper towels to the sink,  he says "But MOM, I want APPLE YOGURT!!!". I say no, and place the blueberry yogurt that he asked for, not 3 minutes before, in front of him. As I'm walking away, he makes a little sound. It's very distinct and the hairs on my neck stand straight up. It's the sound of the alien from the movie Predetor. Kind of a clicky warble. OH MY GOD! It all makes sense. He's been sent here to kill me. Slowly. He's a baby predator. Look at that giant forehead! It's not going to be violent, no decapitations or mudbaths, but it's clear, little by little, he's going to kill me. He must a new higher form of predator that has learned to infiltrate and destroy. He's really really skilled. Good thing I'm biologically coded to love him beyond all sense of self preservation.

Here's an article from New York Magazine that Nipper Knapp sent to me this weekend. It's called Why Parents Hate Parenting, All Joy and No Fun. I can't say I enjoyed it. But I did relate. It says a lot about our generation having kids later in life, and how nobody's having any fun, but everyone is smitten. It's sort of depressing and validating at the same time.


  1. Nipper sent me that article too! I can now say that I'm 100% positive I will keep dogs for the rest of my life!
    I don't know how you do it.

  2. My daughter is 16 months old. There are times that I think how wonderful it was when we were all alone and I could read when and how much I wanted when we could stay up late to watch a movie, when we could go out on a whim... I love my daughter and the experience of raising her has taught me a lot. Would I give her back? No. I do however often wish that I did not have to go to work, that I could be a stay at home mom... Would it be easier, maybe not, but right now trying to cram everything that needs to be done into the few hours we have at home each day is not a pleasure either.

    Maybe it's work stress that makes child rearing so unpleasant (still trying to get through the article). You have your stress from work and when you get home all you want to do is relax and unwind and with a baby/toddler/teenager this is near impossible. You want to do things that help you forget about the work stress and other things. Not run after another little human beings who does not know how to do things properly.

    blegh! Who knows what the answer is. We're not unhappy. We just don't think about it anymore and when we do we probably wonder why the choices are so hard to make, which is most probably why we don't think about it anymore.

  3. HA! I adored this.

    I have 3 boys, and my husband sometimes makes it home while I still have some substance left in me. I'm usually sucked dry by 5 PM.

    I say one day they'll find me in a corner, all dried up like a mummy, just with the life sucked right out of me.

    BTW: love your "they say they come in peace and in such convincing cute packages."

    Adorable. Enjoyed this post VERY MUCH.