Giant Baby

Giant Baby or G.B. likes to poop in the bathtub.  I never had a “poop problem” with C so I am unsure of how to deal with it now.   

C and G.B. take baths together every night after dinner, it’s part of our “bed time routine”.  Apparently pooping is also a part of Giant Baby’s bed time routine.  Everyone in the house is completely disgusted by G.B.’s addition to the routine except for G.B. of course.  C is especially upset by this new habit of Giant Baby’s as it has turned one of his favorite past times into a nightmarish ordeal.  Poor C.  If I leave the boys alone in the tub long enough to grab p.j.s and a diaper there will be an incident.  C will inevitably yell, “Mom!  Giant Baby pooped a poop snake in the bath tub!” or “Mom!  Giant Baby pooped some marbles!”  I never want to hear those words come out of C’s mouth again.  God help me find a solution to this problem!  When I got pregnant with G.B. I never thought that I would have to clean poop out of a bath tub so many times!  I went through a bottle of bleach in a span of 2 weeks!  

Last week G.B. pooped in the tub a total of 3 nights in a row!  That is just unacceptable!  One night my husband changed a poopy diaper of G.B.’s right before bath time and he still pooped in the tub!  There has got to be a solution to this horrifying problem.  Giant Baby doesn’t seem to mind it though.  He seems almost pleased with himself, like it’s some sort of accomplishment to successfully poop in the bathtub that many times.  After an incident I have been known to ask an obvious question like:  “G.B., did you poop in the tub?”  His standard response is “Da.”  G.B. thinks he is Russian; “da” means “yes or yeah”. 

G.B. is fascinated with all things “gross” or “dirty”.  Maybe that’s why he poops in the tub.  Unfortunately the nastiness doesn’t end there.  Oh no, Giant Baby takes it a step farther.  I wonder if he will always be an habitual line crosser” like his mom.  I hope not.  Last weekend G.B. touched his poop!  I almost cried when I saw him pick it up.  Before I could even react to the situation he already had it smeared behind his freshly washed ear and in his neck creases.  I was mortified.  Not only did I have to rescue C from the contaminated water but I had to drain it and re-wash G.B.  I know Giant Baby loves to take baths, he always gets upset when they end, but this is no way to prolong them.  After scrubbing the poop off of G.B. I took him out of the tub and dressed him.  Unfortunately he STILL smelled like poop!  So I used almost half of a box of wet wipes in an attempt to rid him of the stench; it didn’t work!  Finally I found a solution!  Anointing oil!  Hallelujah, thank the Lord.  I rubbed so much anointing oil on Giant Baby’s face and neck he looked like a greased pig.  But at least he didn’t smell like one! 

This past Wednesday I had to take C to the doctor because he got croup.  While we were waiting for Dr. R. to write out a prescription C told him, “My baby brother likes to poop in the bath AND bite me on the butt.”  Dr. R. stopped writing and smiled up at me as if to say, “Interesting…”.  The way C so candidly told his doctor about his brother’s unflattering habits made me giggle.  Wow, thank you C for reminding me of the humor in every situation.  While the poop problem is disgusting and the images tend to “haunt me” it is really not the end of the world.  Some day this little problem of ours will eventually go away.  Until then, I will laugh at our bout of “bad luck” and remember that I am blessed to have 2 healthy, precious, baby boys.

I Love You, You Little Nut

He calls himself “old man”

I dropped my old man off at preschool this morning and thanks to my grandpa picking fat baby up beforehand we arrived somewhat early.  As we pulled into the parking lot I couldn’t help but chuckle; my O.M. was very opinionated about his appearance this morning.  He simply had to wear his cowboy hat which he crookedly squished to the top of his head and a whistle on a yellow lanyard hung around his neck.  Before I had the chance to unbuckle his car seat he gave his whistle one last ear-piercing blow and beamed up at me; I love him.  Once unbuckled, he took my hand in his adorable, little one and waited for me to lead him inside (we don’t walk through a parking lot without holding hands, he might “get hit by a car and die” – as he so candidly puts it). 

As we approached the church (his preschool is located in a church) O.M. decided it was time to “race” inside!  As we “raced” my heart melted at the look of determination mixed with joy on his sweet, little face as he ran toward the door.  After congratulating him on his win, we made our way down the whimsically decorated hall to the restrooms for a quick wash and then we were off to his classroom. 

March is officially here!  It looked as though my O.M.’s teachers had been busy taking down any trace of February left hanging in their class.  Bye-bye pink and red, bye-bye hearts!  Hello green and yellow, hello shamrocks!  After signing him in, I hung up his red pullover and Buzz Lightyear backpack in his very own little cubby, complete with his precious picture and name tag.  

O.M. and I made our way from his cubby to the table situated in the center of the room where Mrs. P. was rolling out freshly made, green play-doh for the preschoolers to play with.  O.M. took a seat at the table and quickly grabbed a small, yellow, play knife to shape his mound of play-doh while I grabbed a small mound of my own; I couldn’t resist!  The play-doh was still warm and it smelled wonderful, it had that comforting smell that only homemade play-doh has.  My family loves play-doh!  As I was mindlessly rolling the beautiful, green play-doh in my hands O.M.’s teachers started to giggle to one another. 

Mrs. F. asked Mrs. P.  if she had told me the story that O.M. told them last week; my heart sank a little.  As Mrs. P. explained that she had not told me the story I began to feel a little nervous.; I quickly interjected.  “It wasn’t an inappropriate story, was it,” I asked?  “Oh no.  Nothing like that, it was actually cute.  We wrote it down for you.  You should put it in his baby book,” explained Mrs. F.  I was totally relieved!  Sometimes my incredibly imaginative son says the most inappropriate things!  How inappropriate can a 3-year-old be?  Apparently very inappropriate; he comes by it naturally of course, I am his mother.  Let me give you an example.  My son LOVES soda.  He doesn’t get it much but when he does, look out!  One particularly sugary afternoon, maybe a month ago,  O.M. was running around the house telling wild stories as usual.  But one story in particular caught my attention; brace yourselves and bear in mind, he had no idea how disgusting and strange his comment was.  He said, “Mommy, sometimes when I drink soda, candy explodes out of my pee pee into my mouth and then candy explodes out of my butt into the potty”.  Now you understand why I was having a mini panic attack when his teachers casually informed me that O.M. had told them a story.  Anyway, O.M. told his teachers about a little incident we had at home last week while preparing for a weekend in Grand Lake with my in-laws.

O.M. and fat baby were in the tub and I was at the sink curling my hair.  It had been a long and tiring day and it was only 4 p.m.  I was letting the boys take a long bath so I could finish my hair and so they would be content and in one place for more than 5 minutes.  O.M. and fat baby were playing together so well!  I actually thought to myself, “I am one lucky mom”!  Then, as if someone flipped a switch, they were fighting.  O.M. took a toy from fat baby, fat baby splashed O.M. in the face, the list goes on.  I tried my best to squash the brewing bath-time brawl and get on with fixing my hair and for a short time my plan worked.  Then O.M. started aggravating his brother again.  Luckily, fat baby seemed to ignore it.  I warned O.M. that if he kept aggravating his brother he would be sorry but my warnings fell on deaf ears.  Just as I turned back around to face the mirror I heard O.M. scream at the top of his lungs.  I looked over to see him stand up and turn bright red.  Amidst the hysterical crying and blood curdling screams I managed to figure out what had happened.  Fat baby finally had enough of his big brother’s antics and decided to take revenge into his own hands in the form of his own type of corporal punishment.  He bit O.M. on the butt!!  My sweet, baby boy has always been a bit of a biter but this was over the line even for him! 

Apparently having “a chunk bitten out of his butt” scarred my old man so much that he felt it necessary to share his horrifying experience  at school.  This is how he told the story to his teachers: “I was takin’ a bath with fat baby and I kept pokin’ him and pokin’ him and I didn’t stop so he bit a chunk out of my butt!  My baby thought my butt was macaroni and cheese”!

After leaving the preschool I got in my car and headed to work.  I smiled the whole way there, thinking of what a creative, funny, special gift I have in my O.M.; I am looking forward to the laughter-filled years ahead. 

Thank you God for choosing me to be his mom!  Guide me in training him in the way he should go, teach me how to nurture his creativity and show me how to love him.  But most of all, let me always see what a blessing he truly is!  Amen!