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Life is not about getting to the destination, life is what happens to you on the way there. 

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Eat poop elmo!

I was thinking about all the good and bad things about my kids this afternoon. The good things are easily counted and consist of the sappy things like "I wooooooooove you mom" and finding shriveled up flowers on the counter because they forgot to give them to me before running off to do somethign else. The good things are notes from middlechild that she leaves all over the house saying "mom I love you" and I find in surprising locations (in a cup on my desk, under my pillow, taped to my computer monitor).

Wanna know what's REALLY fun? Mess with your kids' heads. Once I shaved Firstborn's hair into a mohawk and pretended I was going to leave it like that. He was at first shocked, then worried, then angry - then he realized I was joking and trying really hard to keep a straight face. One of my favorite stories involves firstborn when he was starting to learn how to spell. He hated spelling. So I would make him spell out words around the house. "What's that? d-o-o-r" Then I would reverse it on him. "What does h-e-l-l-o spell?" During one of the reverse sessions I asked him what b-o-o-g-e-r spelled and it was so funny to see the gears in his head put it all together buh.... buh... boo... booog... Booger! {jaw drop} Booger???{giggle giggle}. That was good.

Even the bad things are good. I have so much blackmail fodder you would not believe. There was a baby-ceiling fan incident with each of my kids. There was the varnish incident and the hose incident. I can't forget the q-tips (what a SCARE!) and then there was the bloody head incident for two of them, there were the slings for two of them and a nebulizer for one of them. And I can't forget youngest and the dog chews, middlechild and the vaseline, or firstborn and elmo.

Firstborn and Elmo really ought to take first prize. He was only about 18 months old, but already walking and talking. (he was my first, I really worked with him - you might have called me an over-zealous mom back then, but I was sure he was a prodigy)

Anyhow - Firstborn had a stuffed elmo doll that would say things like "Hug elmo" and "Elmo loves you" and "Elmo wants to play!" if you squeezed it. Firstborn squeezed his "mel-mo" ALL THE TIME. I once tried to take out the batteries but firstborn was very upset until I fixed "mel-mo". Mel-mo had been stiched up repeatedly because of tears and once mel-mo did the splits so vigorously that he lost the sound box from his tummy!

Firstborn was sleeping in his crib and would sometimes wake up for breakfast around 6am. Usually he'd scream and fuss to get me over there to get him up and changed and eating breakfast. One morning he didn't scream and fuss. Oh the blissful sleep I got that morning! What ignorant sleep! I woke up to hear him happily chatting away with mel-mo and mel-mo occasionally saying his usual "hug elmo" "elmo loves you". I luxuriated in those sheets until the odor hit me - it was faint at first and I knew firstborn had given me a great gift to clean up this morning. I delayed getting out of bed for just another minute and listened to elmo sing his "Elmo loves you" chant over and over and over. The odor got stronger and so I got up and went to get firstborn out of bed and there was firstborn - naked from the waist down, feeding his poop to elmo. Who knew how much fun poop could be? It was all over the walls, on the crib slats, all over the sheets and blankets, in every possible crevice and ALL OVER firstborn. He was oblivious to the odor - and just sat there - poop oozing through his chubby baby fingers, chatting and feeding mel-mo.

After the scene was cleaned up and mel-mo run through the wash on the super-hot-boiling-death-for-bacteria setting (ever smell hot poop? eeeeyyyyyeeeewwwwwww - to this day I will never forget it - and to this day the phrase "hot damn" always brings a vivid flashback - don't ask me why) I couldn't help laughing at the irony of it all. The entire time Firstborn was feeding poop to mel-mo, mel-mo kept saying "elmo loves you! Hug elmo! Elmo wants to play!" Somehow I didn't think you wanted to play quite like that, did you now, Mel-mo.

Ahhhh, good times.


Blogger Jen said...

Even in high school you had a warped sense of humor, I think that's why we hung out together. Blackmail is sweet.

6/10/2005 07:37:00 AM  

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