I'm sorry everyone! My computer is down for a few more days. I will start posting again when it is fixed. Hope everyone is well. Don't worry Shan... the kids have not taken over the house and held us captive!!...yet :) Love to you all, Kadi
When is the last time you went to the movies and actually got to watch the whole movie? If you are a mother, you're answer is probably, "I can't even remember back that long." The last one that Daniel and I saw without kids, was Incredible Hulk (about 4-5 years ago). Even though I enjoy taking the kids to see movies, I am the kind of person who hates missing parts. So Monday, when the kids begged me to take them to see Ratatouille ( or Rat Patootie, as Aiden calls it,) I was a little hesitant. Why spend 37 dollars on admission alone, to see a movie that we can buy in a few months? Then I can watch the whole thing after they all go to bed, without 50 interruptions. But, I gave in. I figured that if I only took the 5 oldest, it wouldn't be that bad. We stopped and got our candy and drinks at the store (saving almost 30 dollars.) I made sure that everyone used the potty before we sat down. I distributed and opened all snack items to avoid mid movie favor requests. I was very determined to see the whole movie. I knew that my preparations were going to pay off this time. I even brought jackets to stave off the extremely cold theater temps (contrary to outside temps of 105 degrees.) Nobody had any reason to bother me during my movie going experience. But, Murphy's Law always prevails....
About 15 minutes into the movie, Aiden requests a potty break. I begrudgingly escort him to the restroom, leaving the other 4 with a stern warning NOT to get out of their seats. We get to the bathroom and I choose the last stall (has less germs in my opinion.) Aiden mounts the toilet and proceeds to sit, and sit, and sit. "Uh, what's the problem," I ask sweetly. "I can't go poop!", he replies, frustrated. I advise him to just relax (despite my growing worry over the other 4 kids). He does finally relax and go when FLUSH!!!! The automatic toilet goes off and scares the crap out of him. He jumps 10 feet into the air, and lands on the floor. I explain the way the toilet works and he hesitantly sits back down. I have to assume that the poop went back into his body, because there's none in the toilet. Great...now we have to start all over. I am panicking about leaving the other kids alone in the theater, and trying to coax Aiden to hurry. But the damn toilet keeps flushing every few minutes and impeding his progress. Finally, after 30 minutes, we are done. I rush back to the theater to find the kids, still entranced by the genius of Pixar. I feel extreme relief to find them unharmed and unaware of our long absence. Aiden returns to his gummy worms, and I sit down, anxious to know what I've missed. Ten minutes later, Aiden returns to my seat. "I meed to frow up." I quickly tell Marlie to keep an eye on the boys and signal to the man next to us to get out of the way. He must have heard Aiden, because he was quite expedient in moving. I run with Aiden to the restroom. We go into the same stall. Aiden runs to the toilet and thrusts his whole head into the bowl, embracing the lid with his arms. I scream at the top of my lungs, "NOOOOOOO!!!" I can just picture millions of germs invading his little body. I can't touch him for fear that those germs would transfer to me. I have to talk him into letting go of the toilet and just standing over it. Little kids are so ignorant to the dangers of public restrooms. He does not end up puking, but insists on sitting on the toilet again. An unproductive fifteen minutes later, I suggest we leave. He won't budge. I can't grab him because of his contaminated arms. We argue for five more minutes before I realize that if I just walk out of the stall, he will surely follow. Then I realize that he needs a bath because of his toilet hugging. I gag as I lift him to the sink, knowing the germs were traveling to my body. I could have stayed home in my own clean bathroom and done this for FREE. We reenter the theater and take our seats. I kid you not, within five minutes, all of the other kids have to pee. So once again we visit the restrooms. I get back in time to see the very end of the movie. As we make our way back to the car, Aiden says, "I yike Wat Patootie." I am perplexed, "What? How could you? We only saw a few minutes of it. We saw more of your patootie than Rat Patootie!, " I say laughing. "Mom," he looks at me with his signature smart alec expression, "A wats gotta do, a wats gotta do." Interpretation: A rat's gotta do what a rat's gotta do! Apparently he did see some of the movie.
Sometimes I feel like I'm completely out of control, as a mother. I wonder if my kids are just humoring me, by pretending to let me have control, and then laughing at my pitiful attempts behind closed doors. For instance, my daughter Ella, who is a very independent little person, insists on potty training herself. Every time I try to help her along, she refuses, and then back pedals. But potty time is so frustrating for me to endure because it involves way more patience than I have. I honestly think it requires way more patience than Ghandi himself had. Ella will announce the need to poop. We head into the restroom. She proceeds to try and remove her clothing. It usually triggers a meltdown when she gets stuck, but I have to stand by and merely observe. "Noooo, I do it!!," she will insist. By the time she has disrobed, she's already peed, and half ends up on the floor. I clean up the puddle as she hoists herself onto the pot, falling off at least once very time. We sit for several minutes as she contemplates the meaning of life and other such pointless queries. I cannot push her to poop, though, because she insists on sitting and visiting. Sometimes she'll request a particular family member to keep her company. Half way through her fecal deposit, she tries to prematurely dismount, smearing the seat with poop. "Uh oh, poop Mom. I have to keen it, " she informs. By this she means taking a baby wipe and smearing the poop all over the toilet lid. Then she usually tries to wipe her rear, making an even bigger mess. I am now trying to remain calm. I can hear the other kids getting into things and fighting in the kitchen. I try to leave. Ella protests, "Noooo, Mommy. You sit down!" What choice do I have? If I leave, she rebels by finger painting the bathroom with human waste. I yell at the kids menacingly (as they snicker...knowing I'm completely indisposed.) Ella tries to remount the toilet, falling again. Upon finishing, she takes the toilet paper (not nearly enough) and has to wipe her own tushy. Once again, poop scrapes decorate her hands. We (I mean she), flushes and tries to chase the swirling poop down the bowl. I loose my temper and yell at her. She cries, and makes her way to the sink, "I meed to wash my hans." She tearfully lathers up, flinging bubbles all over the mirrors and cabinets. Water cascades down her stubbly little arms and down to the floor, as she rinses. I race to grab the towel before she starts flinging her drenched hands around in search of a towel. I have to place it by her so SHE can do it. More frustration resurfaces as she tries to redress. After five minutes of grunting and trying to button, she finally lets me help. By now, thirty minutes have slipped away, and the house is in complete shambles. The kids have found my secret candy stash, and have devoured all of my good chocolate. But Ella is satisfied by her accomplishment. She marches out to the living room, bursting with pride. "I did it!" I sigh and start cleaning the rest of the house. It is obvious to me that I have lost control of potty training. The scary thing is, Ella is only two, and I can't help but to wonder what the future holds for parental control once she can drive!
