Bad Parenting 101: The Big Poopy and the Bad Word

There are a few moments in your life that really stop you in your tracks and make you really reevaluate everything.

I had two of those moments.

Today.

I'll not give them in chronological order, because I just don't feel like it.

The "first" incident occurred this afternoon. Eden had woken from her nap, crying.

Now, for those of you who know my little Eden bean, you know this is not normal. If happy had a face, it would be Eden's.

I knew why she was crying...

You see, I did something deplorable.

I gave Eden...milk...

I don't know why the universe thought it was funny for my kids to not tolerate cow juice. It's not funny to me.

Or to Eden's bottom.

For inside her tiny body, a giant ball of Eden Doodle was struggling to make its way down through her little intestines and out the escape hatch.

It was a no-go.

So, Jeremy, being super innovative, decided to take matters into his own hands and help the matter along.

He looked at me as he grasped Vaseline smeared Q-tips in his hand and said, "We are never telling anybody about this..." ....which is why I am blogging about it today. Because I'm perverse like that.

Eden was less than pleased with what followed.

Well, our little experiment on Eden failed to work.

So Jeremy called the pediatrician and asked them what to do.

Enter Parent-Administered Enema, Stage Left.

I remember getting one as a kid.

It was awful.

So, it was with no small amount of motherly empathy that I held Eden still while Jeremy read the instructions on the enema box, winced and approached Eden.

Her face was total happiness and suspense, almost like she was asking herself, "Is that a prize?"

No, Eden bean...it's not.

I won't give all the grizzly details, but suffice it to say, home enemas don't really work a whole lot, they just make your baby cry, and then shun the parent who did it to them.

After it was all over, Jeremy tried to kiss Eden and she turned her face away. Thinking it was a fluke, Jeremy tried to kiss other side and she did it again, making it very clear that his fatherly advances were unwelcome, thank you very much, and keep that stupid enema bulb to yourself.

"You are doing it next time," Jeremy grumbled, disgusted and disillusioned with life.

I raised my eyebrows.

"No, I'm not."

"YES," he hissed. "YOU ARE."

And then he walked off.

"No, I'm not," I retorted, winning the argument.

Earlier that day, we decided to go to Costco.

Joshua hates Costco.

Mostly because he ends up getting in trouble and we end up holding his hand the entire time while he shouts bitter epithets like, "IF YOU HOLD MY HAND THE WHOLE TIME I AM GOING TO SCREAM REALLY LOUD!" or "I DON'T WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND! YOU ARE MAKING IT ALL SWEATY!"

He has even resorted to saying, "I don't like holding your hand."

I had had enough by the point he had declared that that I glared at my tiny man and said, "I don't like holding your hand either..." and that gave him something to think about.

Well, since we were at Costco, and since we brought Josh, the universe was bound to close in on itself, and, boy, did it ever....

Jeremy, who's tolerance for insubordination/mutiny is extremely low, had, indeed, grappled with our son and was dragging him about by his hand, muttering threats of what would happen to Josh if he didn't stop being a lunatic, and it had all come to a head with Jeremy making the final naughty parent bluff of "YOU ARE GOING TO GO HOME AND BE IN YOUR ROOM FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!" to which Joshua  replied with:

"D*** IT!"

A part of my soul crumpled, ignited, burned for a moment, and then floated to the ground in sooty, black ash.

What had my innocent boy just uttered?? IN PUBLIC???

Nobody seemed to notice.

Maybe the world is used to 7-year-old boys swearing in the middle of Costco when they are being sentenced to the ultimate punishment.

Keep in mind, Jeremy and I are not swearing people. It's against our standards, and, honestly, it's just not pretty. So, we hastily took account.

"I have never said that in front of Josh....out loud....." Jeremy said, looking around to see if anybody noticed the blatant lack of good parenting skills we had displayed.

"I have never said that in front of him, either," I said, feeling slightly saddened that I had said it out loud at one point in my life, and don't ask me when, because I'm not going to tell you.

The light turned on in my head about the same time it did in Jeremy's, and we both concluded that it came from two specific movies that Joshua had seen.

Both rated PG.

Yeah.

I think PG stands for "Parents, please guide your children from this movie."

Bleh....

As we walked out of Costco, Jeremy said, "I really want to take a bar of soap to his mouth..."

"That's just mean!" Joshua exclaimed.

We'd probably go to jail if we tried.

Boo to jail.