Parenthood: The Glamorous Life

This morning at work, about two hours into a series of analyst briefings, I realized that I'd completely forgotten about Avery's parent-teacher conference. Not that I could have made it anyway because meetings had gotten scheduled over it. But still... I only remembered at all because my mother emailed me to ask how it went. My mother. Emailed me. From Paris mind you. My mother who is in Paris on vacation remembered a parent-teacher conference that my husband and I had completely forgotten about. There is really nothing to say here but Total. Parenting. Fail. FAIL!!!!

UPDATE: This is to say nothing of the utter absurdity of a parent-teacher conference for a 16 month old. I mean honestly. But daycare is a rare and special butterfly of the most ridiculous order

Of course, because the day was already going so well, Mark called me at work late this afternoon to inform me that he had to work late. Suddenly, I was relegated to taking the bus home rather than running because I needed my laptop to do -- you guessed it! -- more work after Avery went to bed.

Immediately upon arrival at the house, I went to free the dog from her crate only to be greeted by Cassie, swamp monster edition. Paws covered in mud from the dog park, clumps of mud hanging from her belly. So into the bath went the swamp monster, and out came a soggy holy terror who insisted on wiping questionably clean paws all over the carpet. I'm just not going to look too closely.

Immediately after dog bath, it was time for dog dinner. Avery did an excellent job of feeding Cassie. Then she did an equally excellent job of removing all of the food from Cassie's bowl one handful at a time while the dog looked on, distraught. We have a terrible dog, but in this respect, I have to give her credit. She's fucking patient.

After about 10 minutes of this, I decided for some reason that now escapes me that transferring the food from the dog bowl into the scoop and back again was not an acceptable activity. So I took the dog bowl and scoop away. Which resulted in a total toddler meltdown. We're talking running through the kitchen, dining room, and living room in a circle, wailing, shouting "no!" and occasionally hurling herself to the floor, prostrate in fits of rage. The cycle was broken only when I got her to focus long enough to hear the word "dinner." Which she barely ate.

Then we proceeded to bath time. In recent weeks, Avery has decided that the tub is the best place to drop a deuce. I don't know why I thought tonight would be an exception. Perhaps I thought that the God of working parents would take pity on me. Perhaps (and more likely) I was just fucking deluded. Either way, I was wrong. I turned around to get Avery's toothbrush, and when I turned back, there were two logs bobbing along through the water, and a couple of stray raisins that had wound their way through her entire digestive tract somehow completely unscathed.

I immediately scooped her out of the tub, getting my pant leg covered in poop water in the process. Naturally, she still had shampoo in her hair, so there was no way of simply wiping her down and getting on with the bedtime. We had to find another water source. So we proceeded to the master bathroom shower.

Now, a 16-month-old cannot go into a shower by herself. Just not going to happen. So I quickly stripped off my now poop-logged clothes while Avery stood slippery, wet, and soapy, on the bathroom floor, screaming her face off while I waited for the water to heat. We got in. She acted as though I was trying to kill her as I washed the tear-free soap from her head. We got out. She screamed while I toweled her off first, even as I froze my butt and dripped all over the floor. No sooner had I started to dry myself off, I hear a splatter only to look down and see a steady stream of pee hitting my bathroom floor. Super. Just fucking super.

Okay, so there's shit in one bathroom and pee in another, but what the heck, let's close some doors so the dog doesn't decide to sample any of it and proceed to the next step: diaper and Nosefrida. For those of you unfamiliar with the Nosefrida, check out the link. Short story is that it's an instrument that allows you to suck the snot from your child's nose by placing one end in her nostril and the other in your mouth. Yep. That's right. Ask Avery and she'll tell you that I'm trying to suction out her brain -- in other words, more screaming of bloody murder. Meanwhile, I have to remain calm as I literally vacuum snot from my child with my mouth.

Once Avery was down, I back-tracked through the toilet bowl formerly known as my house, wiping up pee with the dog towel, thoroughly cleaning the tub and the couple of dozen bath toys that Avery puts in her mouth every single night of her life, and rinsing out the Nosefrida.

And now, I'm going to go have a glass of wine. Or five.

Happy parenthood!


Popular Posts