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Thursday, January 2, 2014

I Used to Hate My Alarm Clock...

Since the time when Karl (and then later, when Hana) started sleeping through the night, I've said that waking up because I hear my kids playing or jabbering over the monitor is infinately better than being rudely awakened by the ringing of my alarm....

MOST of the time...

Then there are mornings like this morning when I hear Karl call to me through his monitor, "Mommy!  Mommy!  Get in here fast!  I NEED TO POOP!"  Those lovely words were the first I heard this morning.  Nothing gets one out of bed faster than hearing the word POOP being called  from one's two year old.  Karl is potty trained and does a fantastic job with telling us when he needs to go and also with holding it, but there was an urgency in his voice this morning that sent me rocketing out of a deep peaceful sleep into a full sprint across our house to get to Karl before he pooped his pants.  Now, he's never done anything with his poop (thank the Lord!) if he happened to go in his diaper before I got him out of bed in the morning, but my mom has scared me silly with horror stories of things I did with a poopy diaper as a baby.

Thankfully, I got to Karl in time and we got to the potty together in time but the problem is, my son takes marathon dumps.  I'm not sure if it's a boy thing, or if it's a genetic thing (he must get this from his father) but he likes to sit on the toilet and take his ever-loving sweet and slow as molasses time finishing his business.  I'd blasted out of bed, from a dead sleep, in hopes of avoiding a finger-painting with poop incident, and then I was stuck, sitting on a tiny dinosaur shaped stool, without even having had my morning pee break yet, waiting for him to finish, falling asleep at the wheel.  I'm also not entirely sure that my son requires oxygen for survival like the rest of us do, as he never stops talking to take even the slightest breath.  I got to have a conversation with him about lions, rhinos, how his sister is a baby, the moon being out because it was still dark, and of course, poop (befitting the occasion, I suppose). All that jabbering woke up Hana, who was sleeping soundly in the room adjacent to us, which meant that I was good and stuck being awake now that both kids were up.  The start-gun had fired, my day was up and running whether I felt up to it or not.

Who needs coffee when the urgent call to go poop and a screaming baby are a part of your morning routine? Just another day in the life, folks.  

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