Fear and Loathing In The Diaper Pail

Last night Liam had his First Official Poop In The Potty!! Woo hoo!

I always put the potty seat on the toilet when Liam takes his baths, in case he decides he’s gonna go. This way I can whisk him out of the tub and onto the pot, saving me a totally gross and overly involved cleanup job. He usually doesn’t go. But last night, he was got That Look. You know That Look. He just stops what he’s doing and looks like he’s concentrating.

“Do you have to poop?” I said, pulling him out of the tub and plopping him on the seat.

He was obviously cold and wanted back in the tub. He squirmed off the seat (with no output) and was standing on the floor and got That Look again. So I put him back on the seat and firmly held him there with a towel over him so he wouldnt freeze.

Sure enough, he did it! I said, “Woo hoo! You pooped in the potty! Way to go! Awesome!” and generally made more fuss over a poop than most people receive. I let him tear off a bunch of toilet paper and put it in the toilet and let him flush. I told him he should be very proud, because he’s is a Big Boy.

Today he sat on the potty fully clothed, but when he stood up, he said, “Poop!” and sure enough, he had pooped in his diaper. So I think we’re making progress!

Underpants, here we come!

I’m finally in the mood to write about Liam’s surgery last week. I’ve had the time, I just haven’t had the, you know, will, I guess.

Anyway, everything went just great. The afternoon before, I told him, “Tomorrow we are going to a very special doctor’s appointment and Dad and I will be with you the whole time.” Lies, dirty lies, I know, but I wanted to prepare him without scaring him, especially since I knew he’d be getting some amnesia medicine while he was there.

I reminded him again before bed about the “special appointment” and he seemed to accept the idea. We had to be at the hospital AT 7 a.m., so Adam and I woke up at 5 to get ready and then woke Liam up at the last minute and took him in his pajamas.

He walked the whole way and into the Same Day Surgery reception area, which was nice and quiet, where a lady led us through double doors into the suite, which was crazy with activity. At only 6:55 in the morning! Liam got a bed next to a window that looked out over Forest Park and we could see the Art Museum. On the window there was a frosted stencil of the King Louis XIV statue thats in front of the museum. I wonder if the view inspired the window. Each bed had a little TV with all the children’s channels and it was easy to get Liam into Sesame Street while various nurses and doctors came by to poke, prod and ask questions. Then he got a pair of hospital “pajamas” and socks. The nurse put on his hospital bracelet and he didnt like that. “All done! All done!” he complained, while trying to pull off the bracelet. Eventually he got tired of whining and forgot about it. He ended up wearing it until bedtime that night.

Finally, it was getting to be time for surgery while he was playing in a  toy car. The nurse gave him a drink of what they call “Goofy Juice”, a sedative that gets them ready for anesthesia. The effect is like being drunk, with the benefit of an alcoholic blackout. In five minutes, Liam couldnt walk straight and was grinning at everyone with this big, drunk, sleepy-eyed, “How YOU doin’?” smile. It was hilarious.

Then the anesthesiologist and her resident came to get us and we carried him back to the surgery area and we kissed him goodbye and they carried him off. He didnt make a single protest. I couldn’t believe it. That goofy juice WORKS.

We went to the parents’ waiting room and stuffed our things in a locker and read the paper. The doctor was back in about 10 minutes. He said everything went great and he’ll be fine but will be cranky at diaper changes. About 5 or 10 minutes later, a nurse came for us and said he was already up and asking for me. So we went back to the suite, where he was sitting in a gurney while a nurse was playing with him.

He was still souped up, so we had to sit with him for a little while longer while he snapped out it. Then we were told we could take him home. We changed his clothes into his sweats and somehow that brought him back to reality, because he just started hollering, and he hollered out of the suite, down the hall, into the elevator, across the walkway, through the parking garage, into the car and the ENTIRE RIDE HOME. Screaming. We couldnt tell if he was in pain or what, and there really wasnt anything we could do about it, other than get him home and into bed.

We got home and it was conveniently about the time of his regular nap, so we put him down and he slept it off for about 2 1/2 hours. Woke up happy as a clam. Playful, cheerful and asking for the fries from the Bread Co. Adam brought home for lunch. He thinks all fast food comes with fries.

Then we had his first diaper change. Oh, my poor little boy. It was so swollen and red and scabby and there was a little blood in his diaper. It was so sad. He cried and said, “All done! All done!” while we changed him. We were told to put Vaseline on it, but he was squirming so much, it was hard to do and it seemed like touching it hurt him. Once the diaper was on, though, he was back to being happy.

Then came bathtime that night. The doctors said he could take a bath that evening. So I undressed him and he got upset again. I put him in the tub, but he wouldnt sit down, so I picked him up and put him in his pajamas. Then I put him to bed and I went off to cry.

His first three diapers after surgery all had a little blood in them, each time less and less. But he was still freaking out at changes and I couldnt do the Vaseline. I called the doctors office the day after surgery to talk to a nurse about how things should be, because it just looked so terrible and he seemed to be in more pain than they told us he’d be in.  The nurse said everything was fine, dont worry about him taking baths just yet and if we wanted, we could just put the Vaseline on the diaper itself. I felt better after talking to her.

Still, it took until Monday night before he would take a bath. He whimpered a little bit here and there, but otherwise enjoyed himself. He complained about diaper changes for several days as well. But each day the swelling went down and the red turned to pink and the gray silver nitrate the doctor had used to cauterize the wound wore off.

Now he’s back to loving his bath and TELLING me when he goes and getting his own diaper out of the drawer and lying down for his change. Everything is now the normal size and color and there’s just two light pink marks at the points where the skin was fused. That will go away too. Aesthetically, he looks much better than before. No more worries of him becoming the locker room joke or scaring the ladies. Or of it someday hurting him.

So it was tough. Nobody wants their child to be in pain, especially not voluntarily. I did wonder at first if we made the right decision. Seeing him crying and hurting was rough. But everything has worked out so far and he seems just fine. So in the end, I am glad we had it done, although whether I would circumcise another child in the first place is something I would have to seriously think about. 

Liam was very brave and his dad and I couldn’t be prouder of him.

Liam turned 2 yesterday! He had a nice day of watching the snow, playing with his new kitchen set and picking the pineapples out of the shish kebabs I made for dinner. He got a birthday card from his great-aunt and -uncle in the mail and opened presents. Then he had leftover cake for dessert with extra icing and got out of taking a bath. If you’re 2, I’d say that’s a pretty decent birthday.

Jeez I’m bored. I should be taking a nap. Anything I write here is just going to sound cranky and then I’ll get some horseshit comment from someone I don’t know telling me I’m just another cranky old beeyotch. Well, you can lick it, lady.

Mostly I’m just sort of tired. The kitchen still isn’t done, although the floor is complete and the walls have their first coat of paint on. I have to get some cabinets up by this weekend though or I will go absolutely batshit insane.

Liam is refusing to wear shoes. I thought he had just outgrown his regular pair, so I bought new shoes, but he won’t wear those either. So I bought a pair of soft leather pull-ons like he had as a baby, and those are also unacceptable. Getting them on is ridiculous. Try tying the shoes of a moving toddler. Then he shrieks forever once they are on and pulls at them and pisses and moans and screams in the car while you’re trying to drive. If I can help it, I’ll yank the shoes off once we’re in the car, but a lot of the time the shoes are on for a reason and they have to stay on. Eventually he gives up and accepts the shoes. But not without a fight, I tell you.

We’re having the family over for his birthday on Sunday, although his birthday is Tuesday. I have to go root around for more dishes, since most of them are packed away for the aforementioned and oft-bitched-about kitchen remodel. I know I need to hit Crate & Barrel for more wine glasses, since I managed to break all mine. Luckily they’re about $4 a glass and I only need 8. But I need to not break them. This time.

We had the preschool Valentine’s Day party today, which was just like any other day at preschool except they could make Valentine boxes out of old plastic diaper wipe holders if they wanted. And they could have a cookie with some icing. Liam didnt make it to the wipe-holder-cum-love-note-box craft table, but thats fine. He did play a lot without me and without his blanket. I made a point of staying in a corner so he wouldnt see me so much, but so that I could see him and if he started getting that panicky, searching look on his face, I could catch his eye. He’d shout, “There she is!” and run back over to me.

Well, I’m gonna go lie down. And if you’re the stupid moron who feels the need to regale me with your opinion on my poor attitude, I suggest you discuss it with whoever is forcing you to read this.

My parents are planning on buying Liam a sand and water table for his birthday coming up. It made me think of this neighbor kid we had while growing up.

Keith lived across the street. He was tiny and delicate, kinda purply-pale, with bright red hair. As an adult, I probably would think a kid like Keith was beyond adorable. But when you’re a kid, he’s just a ween.

Anyway, when they were little, Keith and my youngest brother were playing in the sandbox in our backyard and Keith threw a bunch of sand in Andy’s eyes. Chaos ensued and we all went to the hospital to have Andy’s eyes flushed out.

A couple summers later, Keith was climbing on the jungle gym in our backyard when he slipped and fell, racking his tiny, little-boy bits on a climbing rung. He literally bent the metal bar. Chaos again ensued and somehow or other, Keith went home.

Years later, when I was senior in high school, I saw Keith in the hall between classes. I guess he was a freshman or sophomore. He was still tiny and delicate, with a purply tinge to his translucent skin, and in no way had he appeared to have begun puberty.

That is what you get for throwing sand.