Always Naked

It has been way too long since I have posted here. For that, I apologize. I have to tell you, though, that nursing school has consumed my life. Add to that working part time and taking care of a one-year-old... and my dance card is full. Still, I want to make an effort to post here more. I have been getting this urge to document my son's early years in as many ways as I can... and this counts, right?

I am going to write about something happened tonight that will disgust most of you. This is not for the weak of stomach or sensitive of heart. You have been warned.

The Bug has a very serious rash on his bottom. In fact, it has progressed to be almost two open sores, one on either butt cheek. I hold myself extremely responsible for this, even thought i did not occur while he was in my care. I feel responsible because I am busy. Because I am in school. Because that's how you feel when things happen to your kid when they aren't with you. Guilt is a mother's best-known companion. That concept is pretty messed up, but still true.

Anyhow, the point of that little tangent was to lay the foundation for why my son was diaperless. I was letting his butt wounds air out a bit. And, truthfully, I have never met another child that loves to be naked as much as my child. Seriously. Always. Naked. When sans diaper, Buggy often pees on the floor. The good news is, I have laminate floors. The bad news is, the kid pees like every five minutes. Still, cleaning up little puddles of pee doesn't bother me much and he never poops.

That is, he hadn't pooped. Until tonight.

I was in the kitchen making dinner and Bug was playing on the floor in front of the cabinets when, suddenly, I hear the telltale grunting noises of an impending poop. Oh. No. Not now. No, please not now. But it was too late. I was running for the diaper and the poo was running down his leg. My child busted a grumpy right there on my kitchen floor... and stomped in it. So, I scooped him up and tossed him in the tub. With clean child tucked under my arm, I returned to the kitchen to clean up the offending mess... only to discover that the dog had done it for me. Ok, yuck. But it get's worse.

I replaced Buggy back on the floor with some cheezits, still free-cheekin' it. He had to be done pooing after the massive crap that had just come out of him... right? I tossed him some cheezits and went back to cooking... until I started to get whiffs of dookie. I turn around to find that, not only has Bug pooped again... but, to my horror, he has dipped his cheezit in the poop and has managed to stuff it in his mouth. I can feel the room spinning, the earth stop its rotation for a moment. He has poop smeared ON. HIS. MOUTH. It is stuck IN. HIS. TEETH. Ultimate mommy fail. Honestly.

Commence whirlwind of numb bathing and cleaning. He is now sleeping soundly and he smells wonderful. I, however, will not be able to eat for weeks.

Frogs and Snails and Puppydog Tails

Little boys and little girls are different. They simply are.

I find that little boys have inherent qualities that seem to want to come out no matter what you do to try and delay their emergence. My angel (I use that term loosely) is only 10 months old and he has the clear personality markings of a boy. Let me make you a list.

To begin, my son has decided that it is his job to put every item he can hold between his  fingers into his mouth and attempt eat it. This includes (but is not limited to) lint, fuzz, string, scraps of paper, dog hair, pieces of cloth, and dirt. Most recently, he added an eye booger directly off of the dog's face and a Boxelder bug to his repertoire. I am not proud of this. Both were instances in which I saw the horror occur and dashed over to attempt to dig the item from his mouth only to discover, with great disgust, that both items had been ingested. Simply? Yuck. But, I have to tell you that Spencer was elated with himself. I think he maybe even enjoyed the bug.

Another issue I seem to have with my son is that I constantly have to pry him away from making out with the dog. Again, yuck. It started innocently enough with the dog licking him in the face when he was perhaps 5 months old. He giggled, we giggled. It was all in good fun... until he started letting the dog lick IN his mouth... and started actively licking her back. Ugh. I am raising a germ-obsessed ragamuffin. Clearly.

My son has chronic stinky feet. I give him a bath, and 10 minutes later his feet smell like he has been wearing an athlete's week-old gym socks all day. Worse, when I sniff them and tell him how terrible they smell, he has the nerve to laugh. And I am talking LAUGH, not a giggle or a snort. A full-out belly laugh that lights up his whole (usually sticky or snot-covered) face.

He likes being dirty, he plays in his own vomit, and he thinks farts are hilarious. He knocks things over, kicks things on purpose, and enjoys spitting with a remarkable enthusiasm.

Plain and simple: My son is a boy. Through and through. A mama's boy (for now), but a boy nonetheless. And I love him. Right down to his putrid-smelling toes.

Accidental Heartbreak

This is not my first go-around in the blogsphere. Not even my second or third. It would appear, however, that this is my only surviving blog these days.

My old blogs (one a personal blog and one the tale of my family's journey through the NICU) were both inadvertently deleted. And, I have to confess, I am quite heartbroken. The Bug Chronicles (the blog about our NICU journey) was unspeakably important to me. At the time, it was an outlet for all of my fears and worries for my only son. After, it became a place for reflection and a place to share with others in similar situations.

I guess the only thing to do now is look forward and move on. So, I hope to be able to use this blog as a way to document our lives in a stark and honest fashion, to express the difficulty of juggling motherhood and nursing school and working and marriage, and to share the joy of all of these things at the same time.

I am sad, but I am hopeful. We'll have to see where things go from here.