Pee pee and poo poo will rule your life, but not like you think

You will change your vocabulary. You'll say crazy shit in a sympathetic whiny voice like, "oh no, honey. Did you get poop on your penis? I'm sorry. No don't cry. Don't worry, mommy will wipe it off."
"Oh no, your testicles too? Ok, it's okay, we'll fix it."

And this will be in a porta potty and you'll think, "I'm going to burn the entire side of my body off when I get home because I have never ever let this much of myself touch anything in a port-a-potty before for a REASON. And then you will wipe shit off of a tiny penis... and testicles.

When you're prepping for baby, you'll think of changing diapers but that's not the shit no one tells you. No one tells you, you'll stop 4 times for potty breaks on a 35 minute trip when you have a one and 3 year old because the 1 year old is learning from the 3 year old and you have to stop when anyone says "I have to go poop, mommy," because...well... optimism. Diapers might end. And this will effectively make your 35 minute car ride into a 4hour circus akin to the scene in European vacation (see how I worked Euro-pee-an in there?) "Look kids, big ben"

Then at some point, you'll decide to let them pee on the ground instead of going into a single other establishment and they'll find an old TV and have a party of peeing on it.

Then you'll think you're all clear. That both kids are out of diapers and you're done but then the now 2 year old will say, "no, I didn't peepee on the heater, Magnus did it." And he'll be lying. They had a pissing contest on the heater. And they got the idea while peeing on the side of the road.

You will picture terrible things

When my first child was a baby, I suddenly and often had vivid imaginings of terrible things happening to him. I had trouble watching my husband carry him downstairs, but it wasn't just obvious things like this. If this has never happened to you, you may think I sound paranoid or even delusional but it turns out to be quite normal to have fairly detailed near-hallucinations of death when you're a new parent.

I no longer do this quite so much now that he's 4. So that ends and that's nice.

Cockblocking after babies

If there isn't enough cockblocking going on by the actual babies themselves, the worst cockblock around for us married ladies, is when our husband's idiot friends tell them horror stories about vasectomies. We're done. I don't want more babies. The idea of another pregnancy or two years without sleep makes me want to have a sex change and that's obviously a significantly more serious series of surgeries.

But these idiot dude friends of our husbands keep telling them horror stories about having vasectomies, a surgery that is undeniably easier than the smoothest birth. Stop. It.

I mean it. Stop. IT!

You're a cockblocker. I want unprotected sex as far as the eye can see without pills, condoms, diaphrams, or anything fucking else happening to my woman parts. Seriously, two babies were plenty of happening for my vagina. The only things from here on out are parties, panty-less parties, UNDERSTAND?

So if your balls swelled or you gave yourself a rare version of frost-bitten herpies with contaminated ice (I made that up,) that can continue to be Shit My Husband Does Not Need You to Tell Him. He'd also like unprotected sex but you just spooked him.

Remember what he went through to get laid before me? Remember what you went through to get laid when your kids were little? Be a man and kindly shut up.

I had a dream that a pair of sunglasses was pulled out of my vagina by my 3-year-old. Not only that, but then ensued a conversation about why it's not ok to pull things out of mommy's vagina. What. The. Fuck.

Obviously, my vagina's very shiny.

Insies on the Outsies

Please be careful after giving birth. Remember that you pushed a giant human out your vagina. The pelvic floor has been challenged and it's a strong set of muscles that needs you to LEAVE IT ALONE. I have two friends who had full prolapses. I don't think either of these people did anything wrong, but just so you know, it does happen.

My midwife the first time around was adamant that I NOT go downstairs for days after I gave birth. It might have even been a week or two, I don't remember now. My second midwife was also strict about this. For some strange reason, my friends who gave birth in hospitals seem not to have gotten this advice. Both midwives explain that it helps avoid prolapse (when your insides drive their way through your weakened pelvic floor and end up outside.)

Prolapse is NO FUCKING JOKE (although my friends are assholes who tell jokes about it anyway "How's it hangin'?" and such.) It does happen and it presents long term recovery challenges to the mom. I think people are generally ashamed/embarrassed to talk about it so I'm putting it out there. Please don't go run races two weeks post partum, or immediately go to vacuuming your house, or running up and down stairs. Let. Your. Body. Rest.

Because some shit they forget to tell some mamas is your insies can end up on the outsies if you don't.

The Clit is HOW big???

At 34, I learned the shape of the clitoris. I thought it was a little bean-shaped thing but it turns out it's a huge organ, the only one exclusively for pleasure. And I'd consider my sexual openness/knowledge to be well above average. So here it is.

Cliteracy is an Art/Public Awareness Campaign by artist, Sophia Wallace. A video about it is here.
 http://vimeo.com/59497570

Here's a Huffpost Article about her art installment
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/08/28/cliteracy_n_3823983.html

More on Toddler poop

I should clarify that when I made my son pick up his own feces off the floor, it was the third time he had pooped on the floor.  The first two, I was cool as a cucumber.  He started doing it during timeouts.  Timeouts I was probably overusing to correct his behavior.  He's a very verbal kid.  Tonight at dinner, he looked at Rob and said "Daddy, stop making faces at me and be serious.  I'm trying to ask you a question."  He turns three on Saturday. 

The thing about verbal kids is that when they talk to you so much, you start to forget how little they still are.  How they need to be held and babied and led very, very carefully.  And, I'm a little sleep deprived most of the time and A LOT sleep deprived some of the time.  So I had a little poop coming my way.

The truth of it is, I'm glad he started shitting on the floor.  It made me take stock.  I had to realize that he needed me to spend time telling him we were spending time together, focusing on spending time together.  I had to give him extra hugs.  I had to stop using time out so much.  I wasn't using it right.  I started sitting with him in it and showing him how to take deep breaths to calm down. 

And we went back to sticker charts for all the potty-business.  So now life is good.  I can't tell you how many times I've dug a hole and held him over it so he could poop.  (with a baby in a front carrier to boot!)