Pride and Poopy Diapers

Sometimes I have to wonder how my kidlet's train of thought works.

Last night at the dinner table RocketMan looked at me and out of nowhere said, "When I get married you won't be there 'cause you're gonna be dead."

!!!!

Fortunately GooseyGirl spoke up for me, "No she won't!"

RocketMan decided that maybe he was a bit hasty after all and revised his statement, "Well, okay. You'll be in the 50s or 60s aisle."

BirdMan spoke up, "Yeah, but if you get married, you'll have to kiss a girl!"

"Well, I won't tell you about it," RocketMan shot back.

GooseyGirl rolled her eyes and said, "We will BE there, brother. We will see you kiss her."

I can tell this conversation isn't going in the direction RocketMan intended and he wasn't going to allow it to continue. The idea that he is going to kiss a girl? Thems fightin' words, padner.

He fought back with the only thing in his arsenal. "Oh, yeah? Well, someday you are going to have a BABY in your tummy. You are going to be a MOMMY!", said RocketMan.

At this point I decide to speak up. "You know, even though you'll be the daddy and you won't carry the baby in your tummy, you'll still take care of the baby, too."

RocketMan then made this weird chauvinistic pig snort/guffaw sound I've never heard from him before. He flippantly looked at me and said, "Daddys don't change the diapers."

Shawn was listening to all of this from the kitchen, while cleaning up some of the dinner dishes. "Son, I changed plenty of diapers. Including your poopy little bottom."

Well, that comment was enough to turn the tide of the conversation. We had finally hit upon the most interesting topic in the house. Not kissing, not marriage, not babies... poop.

RocketMan's eyes lit up, "Daddy, you changed my poppy diapers?"

I said, "Yes, he did. And sometimes it was so bad that we had to carry you to the sink to wash your bottom like a frying pan."

BirdMan nearly snorts his green beans out his nose over that statement. "You washed him in the sink?"

GooseyGirl squealed while giggling, "Did you put him in the dishwasher?"

I looked at them both and said, "Both of your bottoms got washed in the sink too. You were just as talented at making poopy diapers as your brother."

They all LOVED that comment and started belly laughing. I decided to indulge them a bit and tell them a story from their baby days.

"In fact, one time when you were toddlers, I took all three of you to the doctor by myself," I said, recalling how I thought I had everything under control at the time. This was when BirdMan was really sick. He was throwing up multiple times a day for over a month and we were regulars at the pediatrician's office.

"I was waiting for the doctor to come in and I was reading the three of you a story. Everything was fine and I was feeling proud that I could take care of three toddlers at once by myself. Then total chaos broke loose.

First, GooseGirl blew out her diaper. It was a supreme explosion, down her leg and up her back. She was a MESS! Then two second later, BirdMan threw up all over himself. As I turned to grab some paper towels, RocketMan fell off the table," I said.

My kidlets are now laughing so hard they are turning red. BirdMan barely gets a breath and squeaks out, "She had a poop bomb!"

Of course, after hearing the word "poop bomb" they have completely dissolved into gelatinous pools of writhing giggles on the floor. Every few seconds one of them repeats "poop bomb" which just sends them right back over the edge.

In actuality, the poop bomb episode was anything but funny at the time. My mother had offered to go with me to the doctor and I vainly told her it wasn't necessary. After all, I could take care of my own children, thank you very little. Hmmm... there really is something to that whole, pride-comes-before-a-fall thing.

There I was, by myself, in a small contaminated room with three wailing toddlers. I was on the verge of tears myself. Everything had been going so well just a moment ago and then... pandemonium. I crossed my fingers that the doctor wouldn't walk in right at that moment. He always made me feel like having triplets was too much for one person to handle. The last thing I wanted was to reinforce that idea. (Again, with the pride.)

I quickly accessed the situation, worked on RocketMan's boo-boo first, then cleaned up GooseyGirl and changed her clothes. BirdMan was last and I got his shirt changed just as the doctor walked in. Thank goodness he was running late!

"So, how are things going?", the doctor asked.

"Oh, you know, same ol' same ol'," I said, secretly thankful they don't have hidden cameras that would have caught me freaking out just moments ago.

The next time I took my kiddos to the doctor, I took my Momma too.

I'm proud but I ain't stupid!



Tags:
[homeschool], [triplets], [multiples],[triplets]