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truett

literally a crappy post, motherhood

Wholly Crap!

August 11, 2009
Yes, it looks way cuter than it actually is.

Yes, it looks way cuter than it actually is.

So, my kids have developed a new game, which is to see who can produce more poop in a day. It used to be that Kirsten was hands down the champion in that division, since breastmilk makes her defecate 6-7 times a day, which she tries to reserve for the times her diaper is off. Occasionally, when she is all out of poop, she can produce foam from her ass. Oh, trust me, I didn’ t think it was possible either, until I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES.

Ever since Tru started taking the ancient Chinese herbs, his bowel movements have also been miraculously multiplied. I’m attributing it to the detoxification process. Instead of the usual package he delivers once a day, it has recently gone up to a record 6 packs of poop. All I can say is that I hope this detox is doing some good to his system. Or else I’d be cleaning extra crap for no reason at all.

So the other day, in the midst of the mayhem that goes on in my house, Tru somehow managed to smear his crap all over the back of his romper. It also had to happen when I was momentarily otherwise engaged with feeding the little one so I could only watch in horror as he made patches of crap stains all over my living room with his ass. See, I’ve heard of finger painting but this is a real first. I was all like “Tru, Nooooooooooooo, don’t sit down!”, but of course the shock from my outburst had him landing flat on his ass. He then got up, crawled a few steps and sat right back down again. Rinse and repeat. Until my living room was covered with a layer of ass-shaped crap designs. If you ask me, it trumps his last masterpiece.

Not to be outdone, Kirsten had her own version of crap-smearing. After numerous accidents on my bed, I’ve shifted her nappy changing area to the couch in the living room. The good thing is that I don’t have to keep changing bedsheets but the flip side is that my faux leather sofa is now infested with all kinds of bodily fluids. From experience, I’ve learnt to anticipate the jet stream of poop that flies out during her nappy changes, but after 5 minutes and nothing, I thought it wasn’t going to happen. But just as I swiped the diaper from under her bum, lo and behold, a fresh stream of mustard mash gushed out and almost hit me in the eye. It’s only thanks to my ninja reflexes that I’m still alive at this moment. Inevitably, the shit hit the fan (except that it was the floor, stool,  remote control, and some parts of my body).

I suppose it could have been worse. Tru could have been around when it happened (he was sound asleep) and he would have had a field day grabbing it and smearing it liberally on multiple surfaces. For that, I am eternally grateful.

I used to be terrified of cleaning crap but 2 kids in, we’re now practically best friends. Like real tight.

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kids inc

Eeny Meeny Miny Moe

August 7, 2009
Guess Who

Guess who..mommy is going to pick?

One of the downsides to having 2 kids so close together is that my boy is forced to grow up a lot faster than he would otherwise have to. At 14 months, he’s still very much a baby, but with the arrival of an even smaller baby, the contrast makes him seem like a giant of a child.  I often find myself thinking that he’s a big boy, then I stop myself short and remember that he’s just barely made it into the stage of toddlerhood.

To be honest, if things were a little different and I didn’t have Kirsten around, I’d still be babying him till he was 12. But with 2 kids, he’s just gotta learn to deal. We all do.

Only thing is, while he’s been amazing these past weeks in making room for his little sister and having to play by himself and coming to terms with the fact that Mommy’s not all his anymore, there are days where I can tell he’s struggling to adjust. And it shows up in different ways. One day he’s clingy and needy and stuck to my hip and another day he’s refusing to let me carry him. Also, after months of sleeping on his own without fussing, he screams bloody murder every time I try to put him to bed. I need to hold him and snuggle for a good hour before he’ll be contented enough to drift off to sleep.

That’s the dilemma though. On any given day, both kids will be demanding for Mommy AT THE SAME TIME and God forbid they have to wait a fraction of a second for me to magically appear. Much as that is a boost to my ego (I’m hot property), it breaks my heart to have to decide who’s turn it is to get me first. At first I was all like “of course I have to attend to the smaller one first since she’s a baby and all”, then I realize that they are both still babies and it’s not really fair for Tru to have to wait all the time. In fact, Kirsten is probably too small for a little bit of crying to do any permanent damage, but Tru’s at an age where he might actually remember that Mommy wasn’t there for him because she was too busy taking care of his baby sister.

So I’ve kinda developed a system to assuage the guilt. Kirsten gets first dibs if she’s hungry (which happens like MOST OF THE TIME and you don’t want to mess with her when she’s hungry) and all other times, I’ll attend to Tru first. When I’m particularly insane ambitious, I’ll try to tackle both at the same time. Although there’s that one time where I hid under the kitchen sink until they both stopped crying and fell back asleep.

I’m totally kidding. About the kids falling back asleep part. I was hiding under the sink but the screaming went on for hours. I think I must have been the one to fall asleep.

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Father Inc

Yes, Superdad Can.

August 1, 2009

Hi there, I’m Superdad.

This post is going to be rambly and somewhat lacking in humility because I am in the midst of manifesting the full awesomeness of my powers – the Wife has just gone out to do her hair and eyebrows and potentially some shopping, leaving me alone with Truett & Kirsten.

I have successfully cleaned, bathed, fed, and put to sleep a three week old baby and a year old toddler all by myself, without the use of tranquilizers.

More reasons why I am super? Well..

1)      I am faster than a speeding bullet in preparing the milk, changing the diaper and attending to the Wife’s every whim and fancy,

2)      I am more powerful than a locomotive in opening stubborn bottle caps of baby food jars and,

3)      I can carry a month’s worth of groceries from the car all the way to my house (up a flight of steps) in a single bound.

I have been hailed as the sexiest man alive and am known as an extremely , ahem, fruitful individual, thanks in no small part to an overenthusiastic colleague who yelled “ WOW! YOU ARE DAMN FERTILE” at the top of her lungs -the entire office was shaken – when she found out we were expecting Kirsten barely 5 months after Truett was born.

A bit of background here on my powers. I am an ordinary 28 year old dude but in my quest for extraordinariness, I turned  to equipment for that little bit of extra.  I guess I’m kinda more in the Batman vein of superness with all that gear (except that I won’t call myself BatDad, if I’m not wrong it sounds this place in the middle east or something. Ok, I’m actually trying to be witty here – I do know where that is, alright? You think I don’t know my South African geography?)

While I haven’t actually gotten down to using a Man-Boob like Greg Gaylord Focker, I do need my Brest Friend’s help in feeding Kirsten – somehow the ergonomics of a man’s arms just doesn’t do it for babies and the avoidance of milk spittle on me is great incentive for me to not mind looking somewhat ridiculous wearing it.

I do need the Miracle Blanket to induce Kirsten into a deep sleep or at least bind her like she’s some psychiatric patient so she doesn’t claw my eyes out.

I need my idiotic laundry dryer that has just died on me to save me the pain of hang-drying indoors so much so that my house now looks like a quaint shop selling antiquated undies.

But with the powers combined (and the equipment in place), I AM Superdad.

Question is, does the “super” even matter?

I’ve been talking to the Wife about how as Asians we tend to be brutally raised in a typically dysfunctional family with Dads that are aloof and at times outright violent in their parenting methods – and yet we turned out quite alright, pretty normal except for the occasional violent scream at an unwary stranger. Does it matter whether we are super or not? Perhaps Hitler’s Dad was a super dad for all we know.

Yet looking at the Wife and the two angels, it really doesn’t matter whether it matters or not, because I’m not quite raising baby Jesus himself. It doesn’t matter if they don’t invent the cure for Aids or the real iPhone killer or even appear in the local newspaper with half their body cropped out of a file photo.

I’m just enjoying the journey and trying to make it as easy for the Wife and as memorable for the kids as possible. And if they do turn become Stalinist one day at least they’ll look back and wonder “Boy, with the kind of childhood I had, how did I become this messed up?”

Kirsten is crying- Excuse me while I go put on my Brest Friend.

P.S Next week’s post is going to be so awesome it’s going to change your life.

P.P.S  No, I mean it, it really is awesome.

P.P.P.S  Tomorrow’s Super Sunday Giveaway is  awesome too.

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