Poo on you!

As much as I dream of great time saving family organizing routines in my head the reality is most days are a scrape and grab to get it all done.  However one “routine” I have followed staunchly since the time I went back to work is how I get ready in the mornings.  I'll spare you all the details save for the last and most important one…the dead last thing I do before kissing the boys and walking out the door is put my clothes on.  Before anyone  runs to call CPS I am wearing clothes, just not my wool/cashmere blend dry clean only what the f#*k was I thinking work wardrobe.  Once out of the shower I simply put my pj’s back on…judge if you will…because kids are dirty (at least my kid).  Although we are slowing leaving the days of spit up behind us we now have the new adventure of banana hands and oatmeal face.  I love spending the mornings with my little dude but I have to accept his dirty reality to avoid any undeserved chastising because he put his sweet little sticky hand on my Ann Taylor sweater, I just remove the obstacle.  Fast fwd to today’s failure…I’m guessing you can see where this is going…indulge me anyway. 

I’ve been trying to get to work early, making up some time I’ve had to take for being sick and then M being sick.  So this morning while he’s watching his Baby Einstein DVD (again, judge if you will) I jump in the shower and for whatever reason I think, hey he’s been doing really well and I can avoid any major damage with a washcloth at the ready so I’ll go ahead and get dressed in my big girl clothes.  Breakfast goes smooth as silk and now I’m just feeling cocky, as we head back to his room to get him dressed to leave for daycare I get the whiff that this will be a full service diaper change.  No problem….

It should be mentioned here that for whatever reason this baby DOES NOT TOLLERATE his changing table.  It’s a back arching, alligator rolling, big tear producing experience (if any one has any tips here, please interject).  So needless to say cleaning up a HUGE poop with a squirmy kid is a dangerous proposition any day.  But today, it happened…my nightmare…the ewiest of eww… after 10 mess free months as I’m peeling the diaper away he simultaneously yanks his little leg out of my hand and slams in down…RIGHT IN HIS POO!  My first though is “man if Mike were home he would be pukeing right now” and that quickly morphed into GD of course this happens when I’m in my work clothes…cause I am NEVER in my work clothes right now!  To make matters worse my wipe supply was perilously low, so low in fact I was concerned I might not get him clean BEFORE he fully engaged his little limbs into the fray.  Somehow I managed to compose myself (although not before yelling and scaring the baby, FAIL) and the poo gods were smiling on me as I had just enough wipes handy that I didn’t have to carry his nasty little self to the tub to just shower it all off…Ugg, if I never have to deal with that again it will be too soon!  This is what happens when you break routine…lesson learned! 

Welcome to my world

Well, just shy of 9mos and its happening already.  I’ve had the preverbal door slammed in my face, my kid has kicked me off his blog.  Something about taking too many liberties with my transcription, and my last blog being a little to focused on mommy…whatever.  So here I am.  Probably better to have a place I can clear my coconscious with the added benefit of password protection.

So as to the name for this new little venture.  Over the last few months I have found a lot more clarity about life, my life anyway.  If your twenties are the decade of finding ones self then the thirties must be the decade of acknowledgement,  acknowledgement of who we really are and more importantly what we truly are not.  I have always loved the song Southern Grace by Little Texas.  In my younger, less “ackkowledged” days I had fanciful visions of embodying the genteel lady of which they sang…let’s examine:  “Her voice is like a whisper of the warm air through the pines (HA!) Her smile can reach the sole of any man (Well…) Her heart is strong, her love is true and her touch as soft as lace (Yes, Yes, hello dish pan hands) There ain’t nothing like a woman with southern grace.”  I mean who wouldn’t want to be regarded so fabulously!  Alas, and as you can clearly see in print, there are definite areas where my life is much less Tera and much more Jersey Shore…without the G or the T…plenty of L though!

So here I am, petty coat removed, flaws exposed.  It’s my goal to share with you my daily “failings” (and hopefully a few successes too) in the hopes of throwing the veil back on the challenges of being a woman, wife, working mother, daughter, sister, aunt, friend and failed southern belle.