About Me

San Francisco, California
I am Ethan and Chase's Mama and my man's Sugar. I have flown a plane, driven a race car, and been pushed out of a train. I have swum with dolphins, climbed the Untersberg, and thrown tortillas in more than one location. I have great arms and a law degree. I hate housework. I can't iron. I love my dustbuster because I occasionally allow my kids to eat off of the floors. I wish I were taller and for my boys to grow up in a peaceful world.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Ethan discovered the toilet yesterday

My son Ethan turned one three weeks ago. No longer a baby, he toddles around exploring everything. Yesterday he discovered the inner world of the toilet.

He already knew how to flush. He loves to flush. In fact, he flushes repeatedly whenever given the chance to do so. He knows that flushing causes the water in the bowl to swirl, which is apparently too enchanting not to splash about. And so he did. He plunged his little hands right in and delighted in the sound and feel of the whirlpool before him.

Ew. I know. But it gets grosser.

Mind you I did not intend to allow toilet play. I had a toilet lock on the thing. Ethan broke it off days ago. My husband is out of town and I, having my hands full flying solo for the week, have not had the energy to replace it. I bought a new toilet lock. I just have not put it on yet.

We were in the bathroom because it was bath time. E loves bath time. I put down the bath mat, started the water, and stripped him down. In his sweet nakedness he checked the bathroom accoustics by shouting "ta - DAH ta - DAH sshhhAAA" and selected bath toys. He threw his duck that looks like a cow into the water. That's right, my son has a bath toy with cow spots, little horns and a cow bell, but it's shaped like a duck with a beak and ducky tail. Yeah. Because life is not confusing enough. Anyway, I leaned in to check the water temperature and that was when he made his move. He turned with the lightning speed that all young children possess and whoosh flushed the toilet. In the next instant his hands hit the potty water. SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH! Water sploshed out onto the seat, onto the floor, onto my pant leg.

Nooooo! No hands in the toilet! I yelled as I struggled to grab his wrists to tug him away. I wanted to lift him into the tub, but I did not want to touch the potty hands! So I faltered and struggled and right at that moment...

he pooped. On the floor.

I started screaming. I don't care how many diapers a person has changed. Poop on the loose is still scary.

There was toilet water on the floor and on me. There was poop on the floor and on him. The potty lid was still open, inviting more play time. At that moment I became one with the yucky. I let him play in the toilet, damnit. Hell, I had to grab some wipes in the other room so I just let him go for it.

I did get him in the bath eventually. And thankfully we have a tile floor so clean up was not as bad as it could have been. In the bath Ethan kicked his leggies. He poured water out of cups. He submerged his cow/duck. He grinned up at me with his four-teeth-toothy grin. Bliss. Love.

So I spend most of my days cleaning something up. If I had a holster for my dustbuster then I would wear it. It has taken a year for me to accept that my "important" job does not come with a pay check or promotion or other career opportunity. It comes with wipes (not earth friendly) and bottle upon bottle of Baby-ganics or some other expensive earth-friendly cleanser. (Balance, see? With the earth, I mean. Not yet with the life.) But surprisingly, at the end of yet another marathon day of mothering, teaching, feeding, playing, bathing, and (sigh) cleaning, I am usually satisfied. I have found that the messes can be worth it. Ethan is happy. I am learning to be happy too.

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