"Doctor Mommy, Come quick!!"

  So one of Molly's Christmas gifts from Santa was a doll with a doctor's kit included.  Molly loves it, and lately, I have been helping her triage all of the baby dolls in her room.  Of course, this can take some time.  She makes up different diagnoses for each doll.  Nothing too complex, but some have tummy aches, some have ear aches.  You get the picture.  I am Dr. Mommy.  This is what she calls me.

   This morning, it came as no surprise when she called into the hallway,

Molly "Dr. Mommy, come quick.  The babies are all sick..."
Me "Oh no, what's wrong Molly?"
Molly "No! Not Molly...Dr. Molly."
Me "Oh, I see...What is wrong with the babies Dr. Molly??"
Molly "They all have germs in their bellies.  They keep throwing up."
Me "Oh no, that is quite the problem Dr. Molly."
Molly "Yes, I need your help Dr. Mommy."
Me "We might need a nurse as well...Sounds like this could get messy."
Molly "Yes, can you find a nurse Dr. Mommy?"

    Maybe all of that Grey's Anatomy I watched while she was in utero actually seeped into her little brain??  She sounded like she was straight off a medical drama.  I had to laugh.  I wonder if I will have to call her Doctor all day??

"You can judge, or you can help..."

   So this story actually happened a couple of years ago, but I recently had some requests for it to be told again at the nurse's station.  It was PB, you know (pre blog).  So I figured it deserved a post, even if it was a few years ago.  Colin was about 2.5 y/o and Molly was right at a year.  I was overly tired and exhausted (Big Surprise), and feeling like a caged animal at the house.  I needed to get out for a little while.  So, even though it was around 8 AM, I decided to hit the Chick-fil-a down the street.  I figured Colin could play in the indoor playground, and Molly and I could split some chicken minis.  While I never claimed to be Super Mom, or even claimed that I did it well with two little ones, I was never one to stay at home all of the time.  Even after Molly.  Despite feeling overwhelmed, and frequently wondering how I would make it out of the situations with both my pride and children intact, I still went out with both kids.  I made it happen.  Just sometimes...well let's just say, sometimes it went better than others.  This time was one of the latter...

   We all three entered the Chick-fil-a, and for some reason, I decided to head in without my lifesaving device...my double stroller.  I figured it was small restaurant, who needs the double stroller to walk ten feet in the parking lot??  So I throw my sweet little chubby Molly on my hip, and grab my son's chubby little hand in mine, and we waltz into our local Chick-fil-a.  I order our food with very little trouble, and I am very happy to realize that they will bring the food to our table.  Because even the simple things like carrying a tray of food while hauling around two very small children can be incredibly difficult.  I scope out a table right next to the play area, grab a high chair, and strap Molly in.  I let Colin in to the play area and watch as he tries to heave himself up onto the next level of the play space with his stubby little legs.  He seems to be about 2 inches too short for this playground, but he still wants to play.  I am forced to stand at the door of the play area and spot my little dude as he enters the play space.  He is stubborn and determined, so I know there is no getting him out of there at this point no matter how difficult it is for both of us.  Poor Molly is left sitting at the table with a few hashbrowns to occupy her, and she is beginning to get distressed by my partial absence. I am within reaching distance the entire time, but my attention is definitely divided.

    Of course, I left out a very important detail in the beginning of this story.  Due to the early hour, the restaurant is filled with older people trying to enjoy some coffee, and they seemed annoyed by my very presence there at all.  I may have been overly sensitive, but it appeared I had an audience for my every move.  Colin eventually made it to the top of the playground.  Of course, I forgot to consider one very distinct possibility...He was too scared to come down the slide.  I have Molly, and I am not completely sure that I could fit up in the play ground even if I didn't have her with me.  I glance around for any other kids or maybe even a small teenager behind the counter.  Not a one in sight.  I am sure they are all in school.  Fabulous.  I wish I could say that all of the little old ladies were fawning over my kids, and offering to watch my sweet little girl while I attempt a rescue, but that was simply not the case.  I was stranded.  I decided to play it cool, and wait for Colin to decide he could make it down the slide.  The one thing I did have going for me was that he wasn't stressed about the situation.  Thank God.  So I sit, and wait...

    And then it hits me...That horrible feeling.  You know the one.  When the coffee and the greasy food come together in your gut and decide they want out.  Not in a few minutes...but NOW.  I hear my stomach start to grumble, and I shift uncomfortably.  Oh my God...I need to use the bathroom.  My 2 y/o is stuck at the top of the play ground, my baby can't even walk, let alone stand in the bathroom, and I am nearly incapacitated by the cramping.  I am in a cold, diaphoretic sweat.  I can just hold Molly on my lap in the bathroom, but I can't leave Colin unattended in the play area.  In fact, I have no idea how to even get him down, let alone into the bathroom.  I stand at the bottom of the slide, begging him to come down.  I offer ice cream, cookies, a new Thomas Train, all while I dance around with his sobbing sister on my hip.  By this time, the poor thing has figured out that Mommy is stressed, so now she is as well.  By the grace of God, Colin finally slides down the slide.  I grab the poor little guy under my arm.  He is kicking and screaming.  Now that he has figured out how fun the slide is, he wants to go again.  I make the mistake of setting him down for a minute, and he starts to climb back up the playground.  I grab him and exit the play area with a child flailing under each arm.  Both kids are crying...admittedly, I must have been a sight to see.  I heave both children up a little higher, grab my bag, and attempt an exit.  At this point, the entire restaurant has stopped to stare, coffee cups paused at their lips, some even shaking their heads.  I am standing at the door with at least 50+ lbs of baby flailing under my arms, praying someone will at least open the door.  I look around, and I finally just say out loud "You can judge, or you can help...(long pause while I pray someone gets up to help)Well, alrighty then."  I kick the door open, and somehow I get both children into the car.  Not a single soul moved to help me get out the door.

    I rush home, which was luckily right around the corner, and run inside, right to our bathroom.  I left both children buckled in their car seats.  By the time I reached our house, the emergency was at a code red level. There was no time to unhook the children.  I left them tear stained and confused and while mommy ran upstairs in an attempt to maintain what was left of my pride.  The good news, I doubt the children are scarred from that trip.  They don't have any strange aversions to Chick-fil-a.  I, on the other hand, seriously consider my diet, my beverages, and map out an escape plan every time I enter a situation with both children.  Even now...In fact, I can safely say it was quite the learning experience for me...

My life...stuck in a spelling bee

   I don't know if you know what it is like to be around a 3 and a 5 year old all day long, but the endless stream of questions can be mentally exhausting.  They simply never stop.  I know, I know, that is how the little guys learn. And far be it from me not to want to help them learn and thrive in our world.  I want them to be smart. I love that they are curious and that they are so proud of themselves when they spell something correctly.  Of course, in the mean time, let's just admit it...it can get annoying.  We wait so long for them to start talking.  Well, I did at least.  Both kids were late talkers.  I kind of figured it was God's idea of a little joke.  You know, the girl that never stops talking has kids that don't talk at all.  Well, in the end, they are both talking just fine.  In fact, they rarely stop...unless they are sleeping.

   Both kids love to ask how to spell words, especially when we are driving.  Colin is getting pretty good.  He is learning to read quickly, and he can sound out a lot of things on his own.  Of course, now Molly has entered this phase full force.  Spelling and "Why?" questions...The kids had their mid year evaluations a few weeks ago.  One of the things Molly needs to work on is knowing her full name and that Mommy has a name other than Mommy.  While riding in the car the other day, I started to quiz her for a change.

Me "Molly, how do you spell Molly??"
Molly "M-O-L-L-Y"
Me "How do you spell Mommy??"
Molly "M-O-M-M-Y"
Me "Did you know that your whole name is actually Molly Elizabeth Bryan?"
Molly "Yes (giggles)"
Me "What is Mommy's whole name?"
Molly "Mommy Bryan..."
Me "Well, actually my whole name is Heidi Bryan.  Just you and Colin call me Mommy."
Molly "No...You are mommy.  Not Heidi.(giggles again as if I have lost my mind) Mommy, how do you spell school?"
Me "S-C-H-O-O-L.  Let's try to spell your whole name again.  Maybe just Molly Bryan??"
Molly "Yeah...no thanks.  Hmmm...How do you spell chocolate??"
Me "C-H-O-C-O-L-A-T-E"
Molly "That's a long word mommy...can we get some chocolate on our way home?"

   At least the girl has her priorities straight :)  Chocolate first.  Who needs to know their own name if they have enough chocolate??

   

Well...Now I understand...

    As my daughter continues to get older and more verbal, some of her mysterious behaviors are starting to make more sense.  Not because they are any less strange or odd, but because she can finally talk enough to partially explain herself.

    Today, for example, Molly appeared in the living room, sans skirt.  She at least had her tights and panties still on, but was seemingly unaware that she had reappeared with half of her clothing missing.  I asked her about the location of her missing skirt and she simply replied, "Oh, I went peepee..."  It is all so much clearer now.  I suppose it was too much work and effort to get redressed after the potty trip.  I asked her to put on the skirt, and she very politely refused.

Molly "No thank you...I don't want to put it back on..."
Me "Well...OK, but if we decide to leave the house, or anyone else comes over, you have to put your skirt back on."

   I consider it a small triumph that she is still wearing her T-shirt and tights.  Later that afternoon, I pass Molly sitting on the potty in my bathroom.  I was slightly surprised to see her back there, and she could tell.  She quickly explained, "Oh Mommy, I had to poop."  I reassured her that it was fine, and told her to call me if she needed help wiping (dear God, the things we do as parents, but I would rather do that than deal with the disgusting skid marks).  A few short minutes later, Molly was standing next to me with nothing on from the waist down.  She handed me her tights and her panties, and ran off in the opposite direction.  I called her back over to where I was sitting, holding her undergarments in my hand.

Me "Molly, let's put your panties and tights back on, at least."
Molly "No Thank You..."
Me "Come on Molly, we need to put something back on, maybe some different pants or a different skirt."
Molly "Ummmm, nope.  It's all itchy (waving her hand in the general vicinity of her girl parts). It needs some air..."
Me "Well, alrighty then...Perhaps we should consider a bath as well."
Molly "Maybe later." (streaks off down the hallway to continue playing)

   Hard to argue with the girl.  Tights and pantyhose are pretty itchy and confining.  I guess she just likes to let "it" breathe.  Now we know.  Of course, when retelling this story to Sandra, she was quick to point out she heard it somewhere.  She asked me if I ever said that to Molly, maybe when she was wearing diapers, and had a rash.  I don't think so...and I am almost positive she came up with the fanning of the girl parts all on her own.  I know I have never done that, well, not while anyone was watching :)