Naked Mornings and Other Short Stories for Brave Parents

Navigating through parenthood is tough. Navigating through parenthood with multiple children has proven to be quite interesting.

My collection of short stories from my adventures with Abishai in the last few months.

Diaperless Summer

These days, it's hit or miss if I end up sleeping in my bed.  Most mornings, I find myself waking up on the couch with Hope after falling asleep from one of our middle of the night feedings.  Usually Abishai toddles out into the living room and is eager to start his morning.

One morning this past month, Abishai greeted me with a bright, happy smile.  Leaned up against the couch, his eyes widened as he gleefully shouted, "Mommy!"  Still groggy, my eyes fluttered open as I reached to give him a hug and kiss.  My hand reached out to feel his bare back.  Hmmm... he must've taken his pajamas off.  I went to lift him up onto the couch beside me only to find my hand gripping onto not only a bare back, but bare legs, and a bare butt.

I jolted awake, quickly grabbed for my glasses to confirm my nervous assumption.  Yes, he was naked. Absolutely, butt naked wearing nothing but his Crocs.  Lying on the floor next to the couch (where he obviously disrobed) was his overnight diaper, flayed open like a fish. Now, asking a 1.5 year old anything about their activities is like putting your hand into a grab bag-- you never know what you're going to get.  I frantically asked Abishai if he had peed or pooed anywhere in the house.  With confidence he replied, "Nooooo", slyly smiling at me.

Great.  Fantastic.  Who knows what liquidy (or not so liquidy) substance has been planted onto any flooring in my home. I found no evidence that he lied to me... although the truth remains a mystery. For now, I took Abishai through Diaper Necessity 101 so he completely understands that going diaperless is not an option... at least until he knows how to climb onto the toilet by himself.

Viking Manners
In the last few weeks, Abishai has really made progress in learning to feed himself.  Now that Hope has arrived, I've really had to rely on him to be independent so that our mornings can not only go smoother, but in a timely manner. Every morning he asks for cereal and milk- more specifically, "ser ser n muk".  I can confidently leave him in his high chair with a bowl of cereal to feed himself and ask for more while I feed Hope.

He, like all humans, loves to drink the sugary milk. Now this is all fine, except that, he only wants to drink the milk if he can drink directly from the bowl.  Most civilized individuals wait till all the cereal is gone and the leftover milk can be politely sipped from the bowl. Abishai, being the vibrant toddler that he is, doesn't wait for that moment.  Instead, he likes to take generous gulps of the milk throughout his meal.  This has lead me to police his cereal eating like a hawk. Then, to top it all off, he ends his meal by banging the (hopefully) empty bowl on his tray to announce completion-- as if he's in some kind of eating contest.  Sometimes he does that and he just wants more and proudly announces, with spoon held high in the air, "MOH! MOH!"

Here's a video showing one of the moments I slipped while on watch:

PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN, MOMMY
The title of this last one is in caps because, really... "PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN, MOMMY" is what I should always scream to myself anytime I have the urge to give Abishai a "trim".  Abishai's "bangs" (can I call them bangs even though he's a boy?) grow fast and tend to fall into his eyes often.  He never seems to notice or care, but I catch myself constantly brushing his hair to the side.

One morning, the OCD part of me took over and I pulled Matt's shears out.  "Just a trim," I thought. Just enough so that it doesn't dangle into his eyes.  How hard can this be? I wet his hair while he sat on the toilet watching Elmo on my phone and went to work.  There I was, mimicking what I've seen my hairdresser do hundreds of times, pinching hair between my fingers and just snipping away.  Great. Done.  Looks good and now it's out of his eyes.  So, I jump in the shower and he patiently waits in the bathroom unmoving.

As I showered, his hair dried.  I open the shower door, grab my towel, and glance up at him. NOOOOOO!!!  Your dad is going to kill me!! The "trimmed" hair had dried and now shrunk into straight doll bangs.  Yes... doll bangs.

Thankfully, the woman that cut his hair before was able to take him that morning and rectify my idiocy. I was saved.  Matt didn't kill me and I will never touch cutting shears again. Ever.