Written by Michelle
I’ve had my share of “not so stellar” parenting moments–particularly challenging instances when I fear someone is watching, listening or witnessing what just happened. Moments when words roll out of my mouth and I instantly cringe and desperately want to stop time.
Did I just say that? Did I really just do that?
If only it could be that easy.
Yes. Let’s start with four letter words…
Last week I hit an ultimate mother low during our never-a-dull-moment night-time ritual.
Bedtime is a hectic time in our home. It comes with the proverbial meltdowns, whining, running, random scantily clad giggling kids making bolts from one end of the hallway to the other. There’s scrubbing, wiping, teeth-cleaning, hair detangling. And “did you really clean your hands, ‘parts’ and hair in only two minutes?”
As we prepared the kids for their showers, my six-year old volunteered to help my two-year old get ready in the bathroom by herself.
While I stood outside the door allowing Alejandra to be the “big sister” this was the conversation that unfolded:
Alejandra: “Izzy is that caca?” (Our wonderful word for poop).
I hear Alejandra say again: “Izzy, I think that is caca on your arm…and on your face.”
Still, no word from Izzy.
More emphasis came “…and that is caca, and THAT is caca…and that THERE is caca! Izzy, why do you have caca all over?”
WHAT? Cue heart palpitations and shortness of breath. Oh GOD!
I blasted through the bathroom door.
I was frantic. MORTIFIED. Stupefied.
I reached over (but did not touch) my angelic two-year old. In my horror, my gut reaction sounded like this:
“Oh my goodness, THAT IS SHIT!”
As soon as it slipped out of my mouth I grew aware of my audience. Six little pairs of innocent, inquisitive, HUGE brown eyes.
Have you ever seen Finding Nemo?
My kids, unrehearsed and in unison (for what seemed like FOREVER), began a ridiculously unforgettable rendition of the Finding Nemo birds. Instead of the word “mine” guess what they used.
What do you mean sh*t?
What is sh-t?
Did you say sh^t?
Flustered, nervous and feeling cornered, I announced even louder as if they had clearly misunderstood what I said:
“SHED! SHED! SHED!”
I even spelled it for them: “S.H.E.D.”
“That’s what I said! Like when you shed skin. It must be because it’s dirt.” I try pointing to Izzy’s arm for emphasis.
My birds stopped squawking.
I QUICKLY redirected everyone, but I stood there with my heart-beating and a dirty two-year old staring at me. Nodding and pointing to her arm, Izzy confirmed in her raspy voice, “It’s shed!” She smiled.
Inside I’m thinking: This is some crazy shed, Izzy. Come on, let’s get this shed off of you.
My apologies to my children’s future English teachers. In our home “shed” is a noun and a verb.
What can I say…