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Warm milk, floor peeing and parenting amnesia

March 10, 2010

This morning after I saw milk (warm. milk. i can barely bring myself to write the evil words) in Jarah’s sippy cup, I ended up hurtling an alphabet block tower and dodging various balls and toy cars to get to the bathroom. Afterwords, as I sat sipping a glass of water on the living room floor and trying not to dwell on the fact it was 9:04am so really the day had barely started getting going,  Jarah came up behind me with a hardcover book and banged me on the head.

These are the days I think about how my Grandma Visel had 11 children, my Grandma Taddonio 7. I mean, I didn’t think I was one to shirk away from a challenge but dear god. Seriously? I wish I had a time machine so I could go back and try to see how they survived. My Grandma Visel died when I was ten and at the time I remember thinking she was often really cranky. Now I wish I could say, “Girl, you own that cranky. How about another margarita? On the rocks? Extra salt? Foot rub?”

My mom had 4 of us (here is a look at the pre-Bridget 3, check out the bling ride)

A few days ago I was talking to my Mom on the phone about an upcoming doctor’s appointment I was going to have to attend without Nick as he had a trip to the field pending. I was stressing about Jarah’s inability to sit still for more than .9 seconds, avid interest in hospital sharps containers, and impressible will to resist bribes like dried bananas and juice while in the waiting room.

“How did you take us to your maternity appointments?” I asked my Mom.

“Oh…you were never a problem.” she responded airily.

“What do you mean, Kevin [my brother] alone was like a cross between a pit bull and Tigger.”

“No, never a problem. You guys were always fine.”

That’s when I realized, fully realized, the amnesia inherent in parenting. So now when I hear things like, “Morning sickness, it will pass. Jarah likes to wee on the floor, no big deal he’ll be potty trained soon enough. You haven’t slept in 1.6 years, a drop in the bucket considering you’ll live about 85 years.” Perhaps I can afford a bit more grace.

Someday Jarah will likely call me seething that some future grandbaby of mine has smeared nutella all over his naked body and then rolled around the carpet. I’ll laugh while sipping a giant margarita and say, “Oh dear, YOU were NEVER like that. But don’t worry, it will pass, I’m sure.”

Or maybe it’s just that floor weeing and night wakings pale in comparison to teenage sex, general hatred of parents and illicit drugs…?? Something to ponder.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Petrina Burrill permalink
    May 10, 2010 4:54 am

    fantastic!

  2. May 27, 2010 5:29 pm

    If only more people could read about this.

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