Gavin is hiding under his bed with a load in his pants. He claims he is
"not done pooping" and told me "I want you to go out in the hallway."
I've told him before that leaving poop in his pants will make his butt
sore (actually, we go right for the gold and say it will make his anus
sore. Much more dramatic. And accurate). But I am not going to beg him
to let me wipe his butt. I have diaper cream. I'll wait.
Speaking
of poo (and I am, it seems, always speaking of poo), Gavin is in
diapers full time again. He's technically in Pull-Ups but those are
actually diapers and anyone who thinks otherwise is kidding themselves.
They're just diapers you don't have to get a kid flat on the floor to
put on is all. It's interesting though that twice Gavin has declared
spontaneously on his own that he needed to pee and then went in the
bathroom and did it all by himself. Both times we had company over so I
have witnesses (Cheryl, Sara, please back me up). And then two other
times he has pooped in his pants and I found him in the bathroom
changing and trying to clean himself. Thankfully neither time resulted
in stepped in feces tracked across the bathroom and all over tarnation,
though. He is woefully inept when it comes to wiping, though that's to
be expected at this stage. From what I've heard about boys they start to
get better at it around the time they start college.
Gavin has
been playing with this little Matchbox food truck I bought him awhile
ago. He calls it his taco truck even though it says hamburgers on the
side. But he can't read. And the only food truck he's ever really eaten
from was a taco truck. Today he rolled the truck up to me and asked me
if I was hungry. He then told me that he sold mango, strawberry and
pineapple tacos and spinach donuts. Sounds damn good to me. Who wants to
help raise the seed money for this venture?
I've been a single
mom now for over a week. Frankly I think I'm pretty good at it, but
that's only because I am not working this summer. For single ladies who
have a kid (or kids) and a job (or jobs), I honestly don't know how you
do it and I am so sorry that we live in a country that does not consider
raising children an actual job and offers shit support to families.
Family values, my ass. In any case, that is not to say that I in any way
wish to stay a single mom. Gavin has two moms, just one of them in in
Peru (or "at Paroo" as Gavin would say) right now. She'll be back soon.
Gavin and I are both looking forward to her homecoming so long as she
brings us the present we asked for (which is her arriving alive and
well).
Of course, not having a break from Gavin at all save when
we go to the gym and he hangs out in the Kids Club is taking its toll. I
could use a break. Sometimes I just don't want to have to hear, "Play
with me, Mama D" every five minutes and "When you gonna be done (with
whatever it is you're doing that is not allowing you to play with me
including things like going to the bathroom or showering or making
dinner)?" And then there's, "What next?" which is what Gavin says at the
conclusion of every activity or event we do together, reminding me that
this is a never ending job. A very often rewarding job, mind you. But
Jesus, what a job.
Speaking of Jesus, that's been one of Gavin's
new catch phrases. A week ago at the park Gavin and his friend Colin
were playing on a slide and since only the two of them were using it,
they had free reign of the thing. At some point they went off to do
something else and when they came back to the slide there were other
kids playing on it. Gavin's response? "Jesus. Oh, Jesus. There's kids on
the slide." Later, at home, Gavin heard a rumble outside and went
running to the front door saying, "Jesus, it's the garbage truck." Now I
readily admit that he got this from me. And I would be lying if I said I
didn't think it was hilarious to hear him say it. But I also know that
it's probably not the best habit to instill in my child and so I've been
encouraging him to say "Gee whiz" instead since it sounds like Jesus. I
haven't made a big deal about the Jesus thing because I'm afraid if I
do he will also make a big deal about it by saying, "Oh, Jesus" forever.
Or at least all the way through grade school.
Thankfully not
every cute thing Gavin says is potentially offensive to millions. We've
been going on walks every evening, which is something I usually do with
Henri after Gavin goes to bed, but since Stacy isn't here, that's a
no-go. Gavin's favorite thing to do on the walk is to pretend that he's
the Big Bad Wolf and that I'm one of the three little pigs (or maybe I'm
all three rolled into one?) and he chases me and I'm supposed to run.
Now this might come as a huge surprise to many folks, but I am not a
runner, despite my physique. I do not like to run, though pretending to
run is worse than actually running. The Big Bad Wolf shtick is getting
old quickly, except that while he's chasing me he yells, "Run in your
life" instead of "run for your life." And it's fucking adorable. I have
to admit that it breaks my heart a little bit when he outgrows certain
verbalizations. Like the day he started saying "ketchup" instead of
"keputch." Or when he started calling me Mama D instead of "Dirt."And
there are many more I can't think of (but would happily to be reminded
of by my wife or anyone else who reads this). Also, when we're about to
leave the house he says, "Off to go," a conglomeration of "off we go"
and "ready to go." He also says, "Ready to rock and roll" when we're
ready to go, which he got from me. We often sing it in a high-pitch
warble, often in unison, as if we were truly rock stars ourselves. Which
we are. To each other anyway.
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