Hello, I’m Type A. I like to be prepared. My purse is a fully functioning mini-house, complete with band-aids, snacks, stamps, change of clothes. Who am I kidding, it isn’t a purse as much as it’s an overnight bag, or so it seems. I’m also a list-maker, an organizer extraordinaire, and a compulsive organizer. I live for white plastic-type baskets to organize things in, or using my day off to reorganize toys or furniture. I know – it’s a sickness, people.
Even now with five children, I continue to read all the parenting books, visit all of the websites and more. Information knows no boundaries with me. When it comes to how I want to raise my children, I was, am and continue to be an informed mom through and through. Luckily, I wasn’t thrown too many curve-balls off the bat (uhm, pardon the pun). Eat (aka “boo” or “boob”), burp, sleep, play, bathe and change – lather, rinse and repeat.
Enter in solid foods. Suddenly, the odorless poo goes from ‘odorless’ to ‘odor-full’. Couple that with the sheer enormity of it. My goodness, her poor little diapers never did anything to warrant that complete dessimation. Enter bananas into the equation. Never a good thing for my children, it seems, as suddenly it makes the ‘new poo’ disappear. And by ‘disappear’ I mean, constipated. Horribly.
So I call my husband, amidst my 8 month old’s tearful pleas to get it out by wailing and kicking me. That’s right, I speak infant. Comes with the territory I guess, but I digress. He hurries home to be the ‘leg holder’ while we try to urge it out using vaseline and a digital thermometer. Fun times, my friends, fun times.
Needless to say, now that ordeal is over, we’ll be backing off from bananas for the time being. Can we say, ‘helloooo prune juice!’