Kids. The Not-So-Glamorous Side.

So I always like to "keep it real" and tell not only the wonderful things that my children do (as there are many!), but also the things that might make one wonder why they chose to have kids. Don't get me wrong---I NEVER think that (well, for more than 5 minutes at least)....it's just as my sweet little girl gets older and more, ahem, vocal, I'm learning that there are times I wonder what in world made me think I was qualified to raise a mini-me. I mean, seriously. This "sweet" little girl pushes Mommy's buttons at least 5 times a day now. She has truly become her own person now, knows what makes Mommy tick, and knows how to manipulate her Daddy. And she's not even 4 yet!

So I can only imagine what it's going to be like in 10 years. Lord, help me now. I am extending extra apologies and prayers up-front, as I know my patience will get tested and certain choice words just may roll out of my mouth. Behind closed doors, of course. And never in front of my all-too-innocent "sweet" little girl.

So, anyway---back to title of my post. Last night, I encountered two funny/gross/what-the-heck moments that I must share. The first involves poop. Or as Emma would say, "POOPEY." As I'm hanging up her clothes in her closet from doing her laundry, I don't hear anything for about 5 minutes. We all know that's the first sign that something is up. Silence is only golden when they're sleeping. So I venture into the bathroom just as Emma is flushing the toilet. And I see a plastic bag swirling down in the bowl. I immediately grab the bag out of the bowl, only to realize that she had pooped in it. Great. FanTAStic. And, as you can imagine, the poop feel out of the bag and on to me and the floor. I think I'll stop here, as I'll let your imagination finish the story. It's probably better than the real outcome, anyway.

Have you stopped laughing yet? Cause I got another for you.

So, I'm sitting on the couch, stitching up some of the dresses that I'm making Emma. Emma and Drew are playing in the living room, both have a snack in hand. Emma has string cheese, Drewbie has his milk. When I look up I see Emma bent over. With her string cheese down her panties. I immediately say, "EMMA." And she jumps. (You KNOW she's up to no good when she jumps at the sound of her name....guilty reaction.) Upon asking her what she's doing, she says, "I'm putting my string cheese in my privates." It's at the very moment that I don't know whether to burst out laughing or get mad or get scared. So I do none of those things. I just say, "Emma we don't put things in our privates. You can hurt yourself that way." My mom always tells me that you don't make a big deal out of certain things. Like when your kid says a bad word. Or when they're sticking objects up their privates. The bigger deal you make out of it, the more they realize that that's something that gets your attention. And in my case, when you're dealing with little Miss Emma, she caught on to that concept at birth.

Now can I laugh out loud?!? Andy was in the next room, and we made eye contact, and I just know that we both wanted to laugh out loud! I mean, come on---string cheese in your privates?