Best Mom Tip #159: Use A&D Original Ointment

I spend a lot of my time dealing with other people's behinds. I mean a LOT of time. Most moms do so because of the following reasons:

1. Children poop on themselves, at least for the first couple of years.

2. While potty training, they fail to wipe themselves well enough and get itchy behinds.

3. They somehow fall down and land with their butts on their feet while wearing shoes. That does seem like it would hurt, but how do they manage to do that? (And what do you do when they ask you to kiss it to make it better?)

In all of these situations, they look for Mommy. And, really, I don't want a bunch of other people dealing with those parts of my kids, so it's o.k. But it's also gross. I have a veritable encyclopedia of poop colors (and their causes) that I can never remove from my brain. I know how much of which foods to feed each kid to solve a variety of digestive issues. I don't want to know that about anyone else. I don't really want to know that information about myself.

And I have to deal with diaper rashes. I learned during my first round of kid diapering that you need to sooth the hurt and protect the skin with a moisture barrier to get rid of diaper rash. My kids had unfortunate reactions to antibiotics coupled with weak immunity to sinus infections so I got to try just about everything.

Eventually, I came to use A&D Original Ointment. The ointment creates a barrier to moisture and it is medicated to ease itchy/burning feelings. According to the tube, you can also use it on minor cuts and burns. I've never actually used it on anything else because once a tube of something is used on a behind in my house, it is forever used for behinds only. In fact, it now belongs exclusively to the behind that just used it.

Anyway, the A&D really works. Within a day the rash is better and it eases their little behinds while it works. Also, I kind of like the medicinal smell. Which is weird, but I do. I'd apologize for discussing such a gross subject, but really, what else do I have to talk about? I have a kid on an antibiotic right now and this is my life.

Maybe tomorrow I'll try to kill that damn woodpecker outside my bedroom window and I'll have something else to say.

Best Mom Tip #145: Spend a day with my son

I'm talking about my oldest son and you can't really spend a day with him unless I already know you and you are offering free baby sitting. But, trust me, he is hilarious.

Griffin is not quite three and I'll be amazed if he makes it to elementary school without breaking a bone. I've mentioned several times that he runs around a lot. My brother says that he just runs until he hits something and that seems to be a pretty good assessment.

I have entered rooms to find him on top of our pool table, hiding in the back of my closet, under the dining room table, under a pile of bedding creating a small giggling lump, and standing in his window sill hiding behind the blinds.

This week he used an entire roll of scotch tape to create "reins" for a pair of horses (2 bar stools) that he was using to pull his carriage (kitchen chair). He uses a set of plastic keys to "start" his rocking moose (exactly like a rocking horse, but 50 bucks cheaper). He pretends to put on his fire hat, goggles, jacket, and helmet every time we get into our mini-van/fire engine.

This is Griffin attempting to squeeze through the bars onto the White House lawn while encouraging his sister to do the same thing. He has very little respect for rules he does not understand. Which is most of them.

This is Griffin attempting to push over the command module from Apollo 11 at the National Air and Space Museum. He seems to think that he can do things like this.

Here's the funniest thing that he has said lately:

Griffin loudly passes gas.

Jay: Do you need to go potty, buddy?

Griffin: Nah, dat's just magic.

I've heard it called a lot of things, but a magical wind that comes from your behind is a first.

I love this kid. He yelled yee-haw when he saw videos of paratroopers invading on D-Day. He offers to fight bad guys he hears about from books/tv/adult conversations. He would love to be an astronaut/cowboy/fireman/football player. He also really loves to dance. I cannot wait to see what he becomes....unless he's in jail. That's always a possibility.

Best Mom Tip #140: Cover everything in Lysol

You know what's disgusting? Children.

You know what's disgusting by association? My entire life.

I just scrubbed pee off of the bathroom wall. How my 2-year-old managed to get it higher than the height of his head is quite impressive and I'm sure that gift will win him bets in his teen years. But I don't ever want to know about that.

I don't want to know when other people are constipated.

I don't want to have bloody slobber wiped all over my shoulder because my baby son busted his lip while crawling too fast on the linoleum.

On some days, I manage to forget how gross my life is--I clean things up quickly and work the nasty (and I don't mean the funny/slutty kind) into the sweet and cuddly and it all seems worth it.

On other days, like today, I am so grossed out by my offspring that I am seriously considering going back to work (as a public high school teacher, mind you) just so I will be around cleaner people. That is sad.

I will never be able to touch that bathroom again until after I've coated the entire thing in Lysol. Thus far, I have scrubbed the toilet, the floor, and the bathtub. I've cleaned the sink and the walls. The walls, for pete's sake. I'm glad I had the foresight to use washable paint in there.

I find it disheartening to realize that the only time I will not have to deal with others' disgusting messes are the few years between when they all move out and before they start having their own children. That is at least 17 years from now, so I won't be holding my breath.

Speaking of holding my breath, what is that smell? Ohhhh, it's one of my children. How surprising. Gotta go change a diaper.

Best Mom Tip #139: Repeat what SHE said

Have you ever seen The Office? Of course you have. You don't live under a rock, for heaven's sake. Then you've also seen Michael Scott say, "that's what she said." It's an adolescent sexual innuendo joke that Jay and I use. A lot. I mean a lot, a lot. Here are some examples:

Me: (talking about potty training) It's disgusting and it's so hard.

Jay: That's what she said.

Me: (after a kid threw a towel on me) Why is there a towel on my head?

Jay: That's what she said.

Me: Wait, what? Why would she say that?

Jay: (talking about work) I'm just so tired of this every day.

Me: That's what she said.

Me: (searching through our unfolded laundry) I can't find any underwear!

Jay: That's what she said.

Jay: (commenting on how long it takes to leave the house with all of our kids) It just takes forever.

Me: That's what she said.

Jay: (trying to organize the garage) I can't figure out where to put everything.

Me: That's what she said.

Me: (washing dishes with our broken faucet that sprays water at my stomach) Why do I keep getting wet?!

Jay: That's what she said.

In our world SHE has a pretty bumbling sex life that is confused, chaotic, and possibly involves bondage (what with that towel on her head and all).

But it makes us laugh and giggle and puts our minds in the gutter instead of on our tree-lined suburban street (complete with HOA covenants and reminders to cut our grass).

Throwing in a naughty joke or two draws out the playful side of our relationship in the midst of the nagging problems of parenthood and home ownership. It all comes down to this: Do whatever it takes to make it last...

That's what she said.

Best Mom Tip #138: Buy some dark chocolate

I am incapable of giving up sweets. I can do it for a week or two and once I gave up chocolate for Lent, but that's about it. At the end of the abstinence period I go right back to searching for sugar in my cabinets.

I have tried not buying anything sweet at all so that I won't be able to eat anything bad for me. I just wait for the kids to go to bed before I make up reasons for Jay to need to go to the grocery store and say, "while you're there...buy a half gallon of ice cream and a big bag of M&Ms."

I will also make up sweet things from the dregs in my pantry. Milk and powdered sugar makes a pretty good frosting for Teddy Grahams. Once I just ate chocolate syrup by itself. It was really hard to lick the bottom of the glass. In addition, I have sprayed aerosol whipped cream directly into my mouth like I was a hungover frat guy. Unfortunately, I had to stop doing that when the kids got old enough to recognize the sound of the can.

I've tried buying my favorite sweet things (cookies, ice cream) and just eating reasonable portions. It seems that I do not have an off switch until I feel like I am going to throw up. I will buy a tube of pre-made cookie dough and eat the entire thing with a spoon, somehow convincing myself that they pasteurized it and I will, therefore, not be on the news for dying from salmonella contracted from eating a food that is clearly marked "do not eat dough raw."

I will buy a bag of M&Ms and pound them by the fistful while watching Sister Wives on TV until I notice that the bag is significantly lighter. For instance. (BTW, why did moving to Vegas solve their problem with the polygamy investigation. Is everything really legal in Vegas?)

So my solution is that every week I buy one Lindt 70% Cocoa candy bar. I eat one or two squares at night with my Coke Zero after the kids are in bed. Sometimes I eat one in the middle of the day when I cannot stand hearing someone else say, "mommy."

Sometimes I eat 4 of them and then buy more M&Ms and eat those, too, but that isn't all that often and seems to be tied to potty training.

I realize that I still have some sort of problem with dealing with stress that I am burying beneath a layer of flab and some really wrinkly stomach skin. But at least the flab isn't getting much larger. For now.

Best Mom Tip #137: Run the numbers before you quit

So I mentioned that we're potty training our almost-three-year-old son. There are several reasons why I picked last weekend to start--he needs to be potty trained for school in August, I have spent 11 months with two kids in diapers, I am tired of him telling me I need to change his diaper...--you get the idea.

My husband was supportive, if not actually happy to be spending his Memorial Day weekend in the bathroom. I'm not gonna lie--it was a pretty terrible weekend. He peed everywhere. He refused to poop for three days and finally chose his pants instead of the potty. Jay and I were snipping at each other and questioning whether or not he (our son) was really ready.

At one point Jay said that at least he had finally found a way to make a three day weekend feel longer.

We googled just about everything we could about potty training 3-year-old boys and, basically, the internet is very noncommittal about the best way to do anything. Stupid internet.

I was feeling really discouraged and unsure of what to do. So, dork that I am, I ran the numbers. I took the total number of times he used the potty and divided it by the total number of pee/poop incidents in the day. I even used half increments for the times that he wet himself, but then stopped and finished in the toilet.

On Saturday, he was about 7% potty trained. That was not a great day.

By Sunday he was up to 33%. On Monday, about 55%. By Tuesday he was a solid 80% trained. Unfortunately, the one accident that day involved poop. Wednesday and Thursday continued in the same vein--one accident a day. Friday we had a bit of a setback, but it was mostly because I didn't make him go at regular intervals.

But yesterday...no accidents. Not even one. He pooped in the potty. He told me when he had to go. We went to church and out to lunch today and everything went fine.

I am cautiously optimistic--maybe, one day soon, I will be done thinking about this every day. I'm sure that my friends and family really need me to talk about something else. I know I'm bored with this topic and I'm the one who has to clean it up.

Best Mom Tip #136: Sell your children to the gypsies

Now, my mother says that all the gypsies she saw roaming around Appalachia as a kid seemed to have plenty of children already and that she couldn't imagine any of them wanting to buy another mouth to feed. But I'm sure I could find one or two who might be willing.

Today I told my children that I was going to sell them to the gypsies after our trip to the grocery store. Griffin ran his hand along the shelving on the baby aisle, leaving a trail of baby lotion, pureed peas, and nose drops before I noticed and circled back to clean it up.

Charlotte tried to see how many laps she could run around the cart before we got to the end of every aisle. She also insisted on riding in the cart with the groceries until the weight of the watermelon and gallons of milk forced her out.

In the checkout line, both of my older children needed to use the restroom IMMEDIATELY so we left half of our groceries on the conveyor belt and went to the potty. To his credit, Griffin has not had an accident involving pee since Monday--even at the pool, Target, and now the grocery store. I'll give you a moment to realize that I added the "involving pee" caveat to that sentence.

The poop accident after dinner was made far worse by the fact that the kids had chocolate pudding for dessert and I couldn't tell where the pudding ended and the poop began. If you see me this week and my hands are cracked and bleeding it is because I have been doing my best Lady Macbeth impersonation--there is no amount of hand washing that will ever allow me to feel clean enough to eat pudding again.

So I'm looking for gypsies. I hear they have a new wedding show on TLC...

Best Mom Tip #135: Do the Potty Dance

I know nothing about potty training. I mean, I've read a lot about it and I've talked to everyone I know with kids, but I still feel like I know nothing. My daughter didn't like being wet and dirty and potty trained quickly. This week my son continued to play outside with both pee and poop in and on his underwear for God knows how long until I finally held him down to check his pants. That is a kind of gross that I do not understand.

So we have, for better or worse, been sitting at home for the last two days taking our almost-three-year-old boy to the potty every 15-30 minutes in an attempt to get down to just one kid in diapers. I'm hoping that with the baby graduating from formula to whole milk soon and only one box of diapers to buy we may be able to afford to buy meat again in time for the July 4th weekend. Unfortunately, this dream depends upon a toddler's cooperation and potty training is not exactly what you would call successful at this point.

Although we have had some correct placement of waste, we also have a kid who refuses to poop if he can't use his diaper. For days. He is displaying a level of determination that I think we could use to teach special forces operatives how to hold up under torture.

While I admire his strength of will, I find the entire thing messy, tedious, and a depressing waste of my master's degree.

Finally, after 15 times of peeing on himself in two days, something seems to have clicked. He has been right on target four times in a row now and I have done the Potty Dance for each success.

The Potty Dance is sung to the tune of "Shake Your Booty" and goes like this: "Dance, dance, dance! Dance dance dance! Potty Daa-aaance, whoo! Potty Daa-aaance!"

My cute boy, flush with success, spinning in his Mickey Mouse underwear, looked up at me and said, "Dat make me happy."

Me, too, buddy. Me, too.