It’s all just poop

Poop, poopy, a stinky, a smelly – It’s amazing how often this subject comes up in my day.

“I smell poop.” “Did you make a poop?” “Do you have to go poopy?”

“Mommy, I made poop.  You need to wipe me!” (This is something my daughter insists on although she is 4 and goes to preschool)

“Gia, can’t you do this by yourself at this point.  I’m sure the teachers don’t help you at school,” I exasperatedly say.

“No, at school I do it myself but when I’m home you have to do it!” she stated.

Hmmm, I think to myself, um ok, I seriously don’t have a clever response to this.

“Ok then, bend over.”    

“Mom, now the baby stinks! I smell a poopy”…and on and on it goes with the poop saga.

Growing up the very idea of making a poop was a private bathroom issue that was a solo act, nothing to be shared or spoken about.  This was certainly something I didn’t talk about with others. I never even heard my Mom say that she did this sort of a thing and Dad never used the guest bathroom, it was a very sequestered matter for him and he would never even dream of saying he had to poop.

The funny thing is that when you have small children, any sense of modesty disappears.  We are having our bathroom redone and the contractor was talking to me about the fan he’s going to put in the bathroom.  He said he was going to pick one up at Home Depot and it’s great because the fan he had in mind has a muted motor without the typical loud whirring noise. … “It’s super quiet, and…”

“Wait!”  I had to stop him there…

Super Quiet! 

 “You can’t get that one! How will our guests feel comfortable pooping!”

He’s like “Oh right true, especially when your bathroom is right here.” (close to the kitchen, where everyone gathers…) “People probably ask if you have a bathroom upstairs,” he chuckled. There is currently no fan. 

We discussed the fan and the poop noise more over coffee and came to the conclusion we would try a variety of types of fans, have one person use the toilet, while the other listens and then make a decision.

KIDDING! That would be disgusting! 

Later that day, I was thinking about our conversation- I didn’t even flinch or feel my face  suffer the flames of embarrassment talking straight poop.  Bathroom talk aside, he’s a man, which would have upped the embarrassment factor even more.  I suffered from extreme shyness talking to boys when I was a girl, in fact, even as an adult I found myself red faced and mumbly when I talked to men, other than my husband and family members!  Don’t know what that’s about but the way Arianna cries when little Johnny tries to kiss her in music class leads me to believe she suffers from this ailment as well.

Not so sure about my oldest, Gia.  Perhaps she isn’t comfortable with boys either, as of late, she is a tattle tale, telling on the boys.  She has just figured out a different way to deal with them – make them out to be the bad guys! 

Anyway, the point is, for me, having my girls around, makes me feel completely uninhibited when it comes to matters of the toilet bowl or really any matter.  There’s just something about being a Mom that makes you feel like a lion who can deal with anything that comes her way.  Watch out world- Momma Jill is queen of her castle…yes Tom(that’s my husband), it is a castle:)



Forget me Not

After I finish writing this post, I am going online to purchase some dish towels.  Sounds thrilling, doesn’t it? But we need them. I don’t know where they went. I used to have an entire stack of thirsty dish towels but they just disappeared.

What is going on in my life and home? These are not the only items that have mysteriously vanished.  Plastic measuring cups are gone, socks, and various pots and pans…but the most astonishing disappearing act of all is my with-it ness, my former knack of remembering small details, and my short term memory.

It’s really bad, I stand in the kitchen, open a cabinet, and have no idea what I am looking for! I think I’m too young for this sort of problem…oh wait, I think I read about this phenomenon somewhere, it’s called- The Saga of the Brain Cell Sucking Children.

Today, upon entering my favorite store, Target, it’s actually not my favorite, it’s just those red carts are a nice size and the plastic seems softer than other stores for my toddler’s precious behind. I’m kidding- I’m not that obsessed with my child’s utter comfort ( for some reason, I am envisioning those tiny dogs that people tote around – they are called sleeve dogs, and no amount of pampering is too much.)

I’m nothing like that- you should see us hurdling down the sidewalk on a freezing, winter day- kids have no hats, no gloves, coats opened, summer shoes with no socks! I’m telling you, it’s next to impossible to get them out of the house- I am lucky the kids are wearing clothes at all…There’s something to be said for fresh air- it does wonders for your soul- who cares about frostbite?

So after entering Target- for a return, just a return, but on that topic, who can seriously go to Target for just a return?  I always have at least one thing I need or could use.  Take this afternoon, for example, we needed saran wrap, so on the journey to the paper products aisle, I see all of this unnecessary merchandise that I suddenly have to have.

To go all that way to the store, struggle with the very exhausting act of getting my girls ready, out the door, in the car, into the store, and not buy something would seem silly and wasteful of my precious time. Right?    

Within seconds after barreling through the automatic doors, Arianna just took off running. I think she thought we were at the gym and she was going to make sure she got her sprints in before we hit the weights.  That girl saw a Valentine’s Day display of neon pink underwear and made a run for it…

I was in shock, she has run off on me before but never at the onset of the trip. Gia and I went running after her and found her sprawled out underneath a table of clothes.  It really was pretty comical- she is a crazy little girl. She was just laughing and rolling around, come to think of it- maybe she thought she was in music class.

I got her up and we made it back to the cart area where she acquiesced to sitting with the promise of a cookie.   The rest of the outing was typical- a typical trip to Target with little ones…the whining, the asking for treats, and the embarrassing comments.   

“Mommy- why did that girl say hello to me? I don’t even know her,” exclaimed Gia repeatedly.

“You know what, my Mommy said that Daddy is a bummer head,” said an informative Gia to the cashier.

“Do you need tampons?” said Gia loudly.

I put my head down and push the cart as fast as I can to where I have to go…in fact, I was practically sprinting to get out of there today as my head was spinning, my mouth was hurting from the frozen, permanent smiling, that is often plastered on my face when shopping with the girls.  I have truly mastered the calm mommy appearance while out in public.  In fact, I actually was told from a salesclerk once on my way out of Kohls that she and her coworkers were admiring my peaceful demeanor as Arianna was banging on the glass doors screaming “Go, go, go…”

If they only knew what was going on inside my head…”Please God, give me the strength to make it out of here without falling down.” Or “Please help me bypass those chocolates that look so delicious and would in fact give me at least a two minute mental break from the grips of this temper tantrum!”

Once home and reassessing my trip, I realized I forgot the dish towels! Ugh! Darn it- it’s like the worst feeling ever to have forgotten something after all that trouble! It feels like watching a show on my DVR and finding out the tail end of the show was deleted! Just leaves you so let down… and that is how I felt about these dish towels!

Today its dish towels, tomorrow its toilet paper, yesterday it was toothpaste.

What’s next? I’ll most likely forget to feed my children, oh wait, I sometimes do do that.  “What do you mean you’re hungry? Didn’t we just eat?”

“Mommy- I’m huuuungry….” Oops, I totally forgot we left the house, went to dance, music, and CVS, lured Arianna away from the Hallmark cards…the girl loves a good cry, started a craft, and never ate!

So, my second Mommy truth is…drumroll please

Write everything down; develop an organizational system to remember things you need, obligations to be met, and dates to remember because children occupy all the corners of your brain!  Even when you think you have it all together, you’re organized, you’re on top of things, you totally have this mommy thing down pat, your strolling about in Macy’s feeling exceptionally light and free, and you hear a page, “Jill, will you come get your lost party.” 

Gee- what an irresponsible parent losing their child, you think to yourself… Jill, Jill, Jill –  that name sounds awfully familiar.  Oh My God- that’s me!  

Hiding Out


Yup, she’s in the dryer again. 

After enduring thirty minutes of bloodcurdling screaming on the car ride home, including the embarrassing stop at the gas station where the shocked attendant peered in my car in horror as Arianna rolled down her window and continued to cry.  She didn’t even stop wailing after we pulled into the garage, well after Gia and I were back in our warm house. 

Yes – I just left her out there, I figured she would see the desolate four concrete walls, the mess of boxes and old/ dirty toys and random items scattered about so haphazardly that the scene would inspire an episode of Hoarders, and make a run for it, plus, it was freezing out!

She had been worked up, wanting to buckle herself in her car seat – I simply had no time for the usual “do it self” routine that takes forever! Ok not forever, but I am not a patient momma! Definitely trying to work on that …practicing my breathing and self-created mantra- um, uuuum, uuuuum, caalllm mommmy, caaaalm mommy…sounds pretty leveling doesn’t it?  Except that the mantra often is attempted while Gia continues with non-stop chatter.  She does NOT STOP for a breath when trying to get one’s attention.

“Mommy, look at me.  I have no arms. Mommy, look, I have no arms. Where did they go? I have no arms…” and on and on and on…

I say, “Oh my goodness, where did they go? Did someone chop them off?” Pretending I couldn’t see that they were in her shirt.

She laughs and continues to repeat the same thing, and I sound like a dodo head saying the exact response over and over…this kind of thing happens like clockwork around here!

So I am at times repeating my innovative mantra created to instill a calm disposition… a relaxed momma, while the older child repeats things or asks for things, “Can I have a donut? Can I have a donut? Can we please get a donut?” This coupled with “ahhhhh, scream, scream. Scream…do it self, do it self,” all while tears are streaming down her beat red face.  Then there’s me, “uuuuummm, caaaalm momma….breath in, breath out…”

OH HELL, where’s my dryer to hide in!

Oh wait, it’s Friday, early happy hour —yay! I can extol my joy for alcohol today and not feel shameful because it’s Friday! Only people with problems drink during the week, right? Oh, I mean only people with small children drink during the week- well, that’s me so …hmmm, oh whatever- it’s Friday- cheers!

Just to clarify, I am not a complete impatient tyrant or alcoholic.  It was already a long morning.  It was hectic, complete with hiding behind couches and not wanting to get ready, we made muffins, had a play date with friends, and I was anxious to have a breather after the visit at my brother’s. – I mean she almost had five near death situations as she showed off her new twirling moves to my Mom, who was also there.

There is a reason why my home looks like a house of solitary confinement- furniture is dangerous…at least that’s what I tell the guests who walk in our empty foyer.

“Oh did you guys just move in?”   

“No, we’re just trying to prevent a few trips to the emergency room!”

To conclude this saga, Arianna finally came in from the garage and went to her happy place, the dryer.  I let her stay there for a while and then she was lured out with a promise of ice cream…yea, kind of an off week with eating- too many snacks and unplanned meals and I don’t even have that great of an excuse…and believe me, I have an arsenal of them…just take a look at my husband’s text message history…