22 May 2019

Toilet Time

People sometimes talk about the scars of motherhood—things like stretch marks and deflated belly skin. Sometimes they’ll even warn you before that first time you get synchronised projectile fluids out of both ends of your baby. I’d heard a lot of horror stories before experiencing motherhood, but no one ever sat me down for the daily struggle that is toilet time. 

You mamas will know what I mean. As soon as they’re born it’s a question as to whether you take ‘em in or lock ‘em out. Every wee requires a risk assessment between your child’s safety and your own sanity and, if I’m honest, those 30 seconds of sweet sweet serenity usually win out. 

This week brought something extra fun in the plumbing department. I had just sat down for my tiny moment of zen when suddenly, the doors opened. Awesome. Where did he even learn that? 

He walked inside pleasantly and confidently like he’d been issued an invitation for the occasion. Then he turned. Noticing the proverbial elephant in the room, he stopped and stared. 

At first, I was super chill about the whole thing, thinking “welp, he’s gonna have to figure this whole thing out eventually if he’s ever going to get potty trained. Welcome to the facts of life, buddy.” 

But the longer he stared, unflinching, with his head half-cocked like a parakeet, the more my super-chill-mum vibe faded. I began to wonder at what point he was going to start developing some kind of very serious Freudian syndrome. Eventually, I realised there was no way I was getting out of this one with my dignity intact unless I could divert his attention somewhere else.

I looked around. I picked up a loo roll tube and tossed out the now open door.


I tried the same with a spare roll of toilet paper. 

Again, nothing. 

I craned around praying for something to be behind my head on the windowsill. Praise! A scented candle. 

“Oooo baby, what is this?” I croooned, tossing the candle out the door with the rest. 

BINGO! I mumstimated (that lightening-fast, instinctual mum calculator which is both handy and wildly inaccurate) that I had exactly 3.4 second to get business done and get out of there. 

Unfortunately, I was wrong by half. 

As I flushed, I felt a little swoosh brush against my leg. With the swift urgency I once believed only belonged to Olympians and middle-aged Black Friday shoppers, he was at the bowl. His hands gripped over the edge of the inside of the rim and he peered into the gurgling whirlpool below. 

I saw all of this out of the lower corner of my eye, and—as I immediately turned to scoop him up—it was like time slowed down. I could see his little mouth open wide and his tiny tongue wriggle inside like a worm, as it started moving down…. down… down… CONTACT! My baby was fully frenching the toilet seat. 

I screamed in abject horror. 

He looked up at me with a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance. What could I possibly be going on about?

Panicking, I scooped him up and rushed around the house trying to decide what to do. 

Mouthwash? No, there’s alcohol in that. Soap? Uncomfortably old school and also kind of mean. Finally, I just put his head down and started squirting water inside. After five minutes of half-drowning my child, I realised he was swallowing about half of what I was squirting in there which meant I was shooting the bacteria right down his little gullet. 

In the end, only one of us was left with the kind of scar that lasts for life, and I can tell you it wasn’t Ezra.

Fortunately, life isn't all little moments of horror like that one. Lately, we’ve had some really lovely times with friends. We spent Easter Sunday with a picnic at Prior Park with the Guys.

I was very excited about this cloudy apple and rhubarb juice. For you adventurous beverage drinkers out there, save yourself the trouble. It wasn't great.

I have also been craving good Mexican food lately, so yay for Cinco de Mayo. Any excuse to crowdsource guacamole is a major win. Sadly, I didn't get any pix of the actual people that came... which is probably a pretty harsh condemnation on my actual priorities.

Ezra is growing up so fast. I’m having to start to get creative with how to keep his ever-moving buns busy. We’ve started building obstacle courses in the living room and also turned an old box into a twinkly sensory den with fairy lights. He's been a little treat. 

My life has improved massively--or so I thought--since I fully weaned him two weeks ago (fully expressing to the end). Not only do I have many more hours in my day, but I'm finally a normal size again and no longer look like I have floatation devices strapped to my chest. 

Unfortunately, two days ago, ppppfffwwup! They were back in all their busty glory. I also started feeling dizzy and like I was going to throw up and I finally realised, that actually weaning isn't that easy. Even after two weeks of nothing, apparently, milk (and the risk of mastitis) can carry on for 2-3 months after you stop breastfeeding. You have to keep expressing it out which sucks. Majorly.

Ezra also got to visit the dinosaurs again on a trip to the Museum of Natural History in London. This time he was actually awake enough to enjoy it. 

He is currently very interested in all things animal, especially dogs. We haven’t met one yet (regardless of how big they are) that he does like. The louder the better it seems.

That is the face of a little boy cautiously watching an animatronic t-rex while his parents try to take a selfie. 

We’ve also filed for his British citizenship (unexpectedly sooner than anticipated). This is our sleepy boy just after waking up to have his biometrics taken for his application.

All in all, life is grand. I have two of the loveliest boys in the whole wide world. They love books, each other and me. I don't know if I could ask for anything more :)

[Also, I am just as freaked out by the random hyperlinks to Amazon as some of you are... still sorting out why this is happening. You are welcome to buy the excise gear etc linked in the post, just please know I'm not callous enough to try to sell merch while telling you about my kid licking a toilet seat]

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