At least they’re talking to each other

            My husband has been having a hard time motivating to exercise.  To be fair, he cannot go during the week, as he is away from home all week.  On the weekends, I fear I have enabled his gym-avoidance because I do not particularly want to be left alone with all three children for a few hours.  However, my parsimony won out over my sleep deprivation: if we’re paying for the damned gym, the man is going to use it.

            So it was that I sent him out the door at 6:45 on a Saturday morning to be waiting at the doors when his gym opened.  I figured he could get a good workout and still spend most of the morning wiping poopy bottoms.  My children had other plans and decided to poop as a team before he returned.

            Lilah was up first, feeding and pooping like the newborn she is.  Zachary got up second, tiptoeing out of his room at 7 so as not to wake his brother on the bottom bunk.  We are very strict about this requirement, but it is usually honored more in name than in practice by the boys who tend to rouse one another so as to get in as much fighting time as possible before starting their day.  I was pleased that Zach decided to show a little respect for his fast-asleep brother.

            “Where’s my Daddy?” he asked, a use of the possessive that always amuses me.  Does he really think he needs to clarify that he’s looking for his daddy?

            He looked sufficiently crestfallen when I told him his father had gone to the gym but would be back after breakfast, so I explained.  “Do you know why Daddy goes to the gym?”  Head shake.  “He goes to exercise so he can be healthy and live a long time.”  That is a project Zach can get behind, so he forgave me for my inability to produce a father on command.

            I fed him breakfast.  By the time we had both eaten, Lilah was ready to nurse again.  Tweedledee decided to play in the other room.  After about five minutes, he came running in, announcing “I need a poop! I need a poop!”

            “Well, then go make a poop.”  Armed with these instructions, he went into the bathroom, picked up a toy catalogue, and parked himself on the throne.  This is how it came to pass that Benjamin’s first sight upon stumbling out of his room was his brother perched on the crapper reading the F.A.O. Schwarz catalogue.  (If we ever unsubscribed from the toy catalogues, I fear the child would suffer chronic constipation.)

            Now, I carried both of those boys for almost nine months, had my abdomen sliced open to remove them, and sacrificed my perky bosom for their dining pleasure, so it will not surprise you that the first words out of his groggy little two-year-old mouth were: “Where’s Daddy?”

            “Daddy went to the gym,” Zach told him.

            “No,” Ben contradicted for the sake of disagreeing with his brother.  “Daddy’s in his room.”  Remember, I was sitting in a glider just out of sight, feeding the baby.  That didn’t matter, because no one cared where I had gone.

            “No,” Zach replied, thrilled to have a chance to argue and poop at the same time.  “Daddy went to the gym so he could exercise and live a long time.  So you can have a daddy forever.”

            “No!  Daddy’s in his bathroom, pooping and peeing on the potty.”  Deciding he had said the final word on the matter, Benjamin stomped off to the kitchen,  No one had asked where I was, so I didn’t feel the need to contribute until two minutes later, when Zachary came running in, sans pajama bottoms, and stuck his tushie at me. 

            “Look.  Did I wipe off all the poopy?”

            Five minutes later, after I had re-wiped the aforementioned bottom and gathered the quarter-roll of toilet paper that he had used without actually accomplishing anything and then left on the bathroom floor, J walked in.  Good thing, too, because Benjamin needed a diaper change.

14 responses to “At least they’re talking to each other

  1. That was a great post!!! Ha! I feel like you are living my past life. Fast forward about 10 years, and you’ll be me. (sorry for the bad news…)

  2. The part I loved about this is that if Daddy could not be found and he was supposed to be home, then he must be in the bathroom. That is exactly where Daddy is in our house, when he can’t be found.

  3. What is it with Daddy? Man Daddies are too cool. 😉

  4. That sounds exactly like my boys. It is ALL about daddy. Hmphf!

  5. Oh man, this made me laugh. Your house is full and crazy, and poopy, just like ours. 🙂

  6. Ah, the poop! One of the lesser-discussed excesses of motherhood!
    OUR daddy’s always to be found in the bathroom, too. Maybe moms should adopt more marathon bathroom sessions. Read a magazine. Catch up on email. Have a door between us and the multiple bottoms that need us!

  7. It’s my goal to have my husband deal with the poo issues on weekends as well… I dont’ always succeed, but there it is.

  8. “Thrilled to have a chance to argue and poop at the same time” made me laugh out loud. ” You just explained my girl’s nature to the letter.

    Oh, the poop. And the girl uses half a role and still doesn’t quite get everything. Our apologies to trees and the environment.

  9. you just summed up a day in my life. But lately my nubby has been taking my daughter with him to the daycare part while I nap at home with my son. I think it’s one of the only times we are all truly where we want to be…

  10. I still can’t get past the ‘you being so generous as to give husband the nod (even a nudge, maybe) to Sat. AM gym workout after you being home with the kids all week’ to even get to comment on the pooping.

  11. Oh boy, three not-quite toilet trained children is about two more than any woman should have to deal with. My mother-in-law, who had four children said she tried (but mostly failed) not to be annoyed when my father-in-law walked through the door at 7 in the evening to the sound of cries of rapture and delight from the children, blissfully unaware and ungrateful for the twelve solid hours of childcare she had put into them….

  12. THAT is a lot of poop for one day!

  13. That was so funny! I was crying and laughing.