I have come to accept that I will spend the rest of my life cleaning up bodily fluids.
The 5 year old is so obsessed with not having a red butt from wiping poorly that every time he poops he comes out of the bathroom and finds someone to bend over in front of so they can examine his ******* to see if there’s any poop on it. Strangers, dogs, his own Grandpa.
The 3 1/2 year old has spent this week peeing wherever he happens to be standing. This might be okay on the lawn sometimes, but then he continued to do this in the house. He pulled down his underwear and peed on the doormat. He peed in the kitchen. He peed on a blanket he had put on the floor while I was in the bathroom. He stood in the bathtub and peed on the floor when he was taking a bath. He just loves to see what he can pee on.
Then this morning he made it to the toilet and I thought we were all good, until he came out complaining that he had peed on his shirt and pants. I stripped him down and went to find a washcloth to wipe him off with so that he wouldn’t stink in this 80 degree 95 percent humidity. He squatted down to pick up a car and pooped on the floor. It looked like a giant Hershey’s kiss.
My husband has mentioned with an eager look on his face that he wants to stay home with the boys. I’ll bet he would freak out if he saw a giant poop kiss on the floor, a naked baby, and random puddles of pee everywhere. Does he realize staying home means a load of laundry a day just to keep the house from smelling like boy pee? No, he sees himself playing Mario and doing “projects.” This is why he has to work and I handle my own job and kiss poops when I am “not working.”
Yesterday morning my husband carried a crowbar into the kitchen and proceeded to tell me how to use it to take nails out of boards.
“You slide this end under the nail and pull back this way . . .”
I gave him that look I give people when they say something to me that I don’t understand (something so stupid that I have no idea why these words are coming out of their mouth). I don’t mean to make a face. After 5 kids it comes naturally. And is why I have a deep groove between my eyes.
“Why are you showing me how to use a crowbar?” I finally find polite words.
“It’s not a crowbar. It’s a flat bar” he says as though that explains why he’s giving me the Nail Pulling For Dummies talk.
“You called it a “Wrecker” last week and it’s still a crowbar. And I know how to use one. Do you remember that I told you last night that the boys and I spent an hour taking nails out of the old deck boards? Did I show you the pile after you said you didn’t see it when you walked right by it? Why are you showing ME how to use a crowbar?”
At which point he walked away.
But seriously, does he think I pulled nails with my teeth?
There was a tick on the dog and I had Nick pull it out while I sat on the dog. So far so good, right? Then he brought it over to the kitchen light and examined it closely to see if the head was still attached. What happened next is beyond my ability to comprehend.
He took it down to the basement. Beat it to nothing. Started a fire even though it was 75 in the house. Put it in the fire to cremate it. Filled the house with smoke. And burned sweetgrass to get rid of the smell of a burning tiny bug.
If this is what he does with every tick we find this summer then we are in for a hot smoky time in my house.
That’s what I should change the name of this blog to. The symptoms of perimenopause do not go well with a 3 and 4 year old. Here are some examples:
I got a massage this morning. That sounds relaxing and indulgent, but it’s more work and sometimes painful. She finds the trigger points that hurt and pushes them out. Sometimes I work hard not to hold my breath. She saw my legs today and said “You have as many bruises as my kids.” Yes, and my hormones are so out of whack every month that I bruise easily every time one of the boys jumps on me or ninja whacks me in the legs with a book or a toy drill.
My hair falls out in clumps just before my period for two months now. My doctor said I’ll just be one of those old women with sparse hair. I’m 46! I’m not 62! And it grows back in. NO, my estrogen is just bottoming out every month and my hair falls out. But add to that two little boys who like to hold my hair when they are getting their butts wiped, or lovingly pet me in a little boy pulling hair kind of way.
And then there is the nap time problem. Just as they’ve grown out of taking naps I’ve grown into them.
I got myself a fitbit last week and the one thing I discovered is that I sleep horribly. 7 hours and 3 of that is restless and 45 minutes of that is awake. Then I realized that it’s tracking hot flashes. I wake up, throw the covers off, go back to sleep, get cold, wake up, pull the covers back on.
Any other woman going through this would be like, well, I’ll get 9 hours tonight and nap tomorrow. Not me. The 3 year old sat on me today as I was laying on the couch and kept poking me in the nose to make sure I was awake.
Bald, tired, and bruised. That’s me.
But then I remembered that I have been this stressed out about life before and not had hair fall out in clumps. Maybe shed more than usual, but not in clumps.
It’s been happening for 3 weeks now. It slowed down for a while and then last night I had Child #2 look for bald spots and she found twice as many as before, but I also think she pointed out the same one three different times. She also pointed out places it is just thinning. And told me to change my part or it would show. Also, some spots have stubble and are growing back, but the big bald spot that I found first, right in the front in my hairline is smooth and has no sign of hair growing back EVER.
This is when I freaked out and spent the night wondering how sparse it will get and when I should just shave it off. Also I look terrible in hats. And my face is not made for baldness. I would have to tattoo hair on my bald head. Or buy a wig. But then I’m so clumsy and scattered it would be halfway off my head all day before I would notice. And if I go to see my doctor, will she find the cause or will she say she has no idea. And if they take my thyroid out will I be out of work long because my husband can’t carry us, so I’ll have to go back to work with a big bandage around my neck and tell people not to freak out.
I didn’t sleep well last night.
I called the doctor’s office this morning and they are closed. Because it’s the one day of the year that I need them.
Chores don’t do themselves on Christmas
The cats still shit in the litter box and beyond.
The laundry piles up in the cracks of the couch
Dishes find their way into the bathroom
Where someone unwrapped a gift and
Threw the paper on the floor.
The dog has gone hungry since yesterday afternoon.
I don’t even know where she is.
You probably think I disappeared to play with toys
I’m in the basement sorting trash.
It is quiet down here.
Chores don’t do themselves on Christmas.
The woodbox is almost empty.
My bathroom smells like urine.
There’s long hair in the sink.
There are spiders in the skylight in the bathroom
that will drop on you as you sit.
Chores don’t do themselves for Christmas.
Now get the . . .out of my house.