Conversations with Malachi

If you’re sniffing a theme, this is a drop in the overflowing bucket (or toilet) of Malachi jokes.

While going potty before bed:
**dramatic sigh**  Mama, is this pee-pee EVER going to come?

Right before the nursery-free Christmas Eve service that Jeremy and I in a fit of over-sugared Christmas spirit genuinely thought our kids could endure peacefully:
Malachi:  **dancing on the chair**  Pee pee pee pee pee pee pee!
Me:  Malachi, no. We don’t do that unless we are at home.  Some people don’t like to hear that, okay?
Malachi:  O-KAY!  Poo poo poo poo poo poo poo!
Me:  Malachi!  No.  I’m serious and you know better.  Stop.
Malachi:  **dramatic pause, followed by a dead-serious stare-down with me, and then broken by  GAS gas gas gas gas gas gas!

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After finishing his bidness, in a super high-pitched voice:
Mama! Wook at those widdle baby poo-poos! Aw, they so cute. I wanna give them hugs.

Passing our neighbors’ lighted Santa sleigh and red-nosed leader:
Wook, Mama!  It’s Santa and Sven!

At a random breakfast:
A-B-C-poop-E-pee-pooooop-H-I-J-poop-L-M-N-O-gaaaaaas!

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Confessions

Apparently I have enough confession-worthy indescrepencies built up to warrant an entire post, so… help yourself.

  1. Tonight we were going to have Orange Chicken a la Pinterest because I remembered that I had a jar of Orange Marmalade sitting around in the fridge from I don’t even remember what, so.  I pulled it out and it was a little bit expired.
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    Juuuuust a little.  
    The confession part is that I was going to use it anyway.  The FDA recommendations and I don’t really care much for each other.  But then when I opened it I couldn’t remember if that’s how orange marmalade really looks or if the fuzziness was possibly something else, so… I threw it away.  Round of applause, please.
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  2. Jeremy downloaded the first 2 seasons of Downton Abbey for me so I’d have something to watch during the day in “all my free time.”  “Hardy har har!” I said.  Even though I requested it, I figured “free time” was no longer a part of my vocabulary. Maybe if I say it real slow….fffffrrrrrrrrr.  Eeeeee.  T- t- t- nope.  Can’t even say it.But, I started watching Downton day before yesterday.  How many episodes have I gotten through, you ask?  Well…..
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    Ten.  10 ninety-minute episodes (sans commercials!  It makes a difference!)  Don’t judge!  While watching I was folding laundry and couponing and nursing and….ok never mind, judge.  That’s the whole point of this post.
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  3. This was going to be a serious post.  I even had the first paragraph written out, but then WordPress crashed and by the time I got Naomi asleep and the Orange Chicken converted to Aplethoraofcondiments Chicken and WordPress back up and running I decided to do a less serious post because it’s faster and I didn’t have time to write a long post AND finish the episode of Downton I had been nursing all day and I have priorities, people.
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  4. I really like run-on sentences.
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  5. I forgot to bathe Naomi for…more than a few days.  I literally just forgot.  She doesn’t spit up that much anymore so there was nothing to remind me, “Hm. I should probably bathe her.” So I gave her a bath and a couple days went by and Imma get back on track, I promise,  but I allowed last night’s dip in the pool to count for her bath (even though she never submerged deeper than her chest).  Mom of the year!  Right here!
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  6. And finally, take a guess at how many cookies Malachi has eaten in the last two days.  If you guessed 6 or 7 – dingdingdingdingding!  You win!  Complete with two that were drenched in blue food coloring because this whole “I want my family to be organic” thing pretty much gets chucked out the window if it means getting through the grocery store without a meltdown.  Priorities, people.  Represent.

An Ode to the Nasty

Things in my house have been all sparkly* and pleasant** lately.  If you are squeamish look away and don’t come back til the next post.  And I realize that this isn’t technically a mommy blog which means I don’t technically have an excuse to talk about poop, but I make the rules around here.

*sparkly = slimy
**pleasant = gag-inducing

Naomi was sitting up whilst being burped the other day (week? minute? It all runs together) with half her teeny-tiny butt on the boppy pillow and half on my stomach.  While waiting for her to burp, I felt something very, very warm and suspicious seeping through all (ALL) my clothes and onto my skin.  I checked and yes.  Yes it was.  Now what?  I held the boppy in place with one arm, picked Naomi up with another, walked to the changing table and pushed everything out of the way with another and no I don’t know where the third arm came from.  Then I dropped Naomi on the table, walked to the laundry room, unzipped the boppy cover and threw it and the pillow in the washing machine, rolled up my shirt, carefully walked through the house to shut the blinds in the dining room, came back, took off every stitch of clothing, threw them all in the washer, came up for breath….  Then I stripped Naomi, wiped down the changing table, changed her diaper, wiped down the table again, THEN put clothes on me, then her, and while all this was happening she puked all over her face/neck/hair.

Malachi’s iron is low again (joyjoyjoy) and thus he is on iron supplements.  He does the numero dos about 4 times a day, always while Jeremy is at work, and I could draw more comparisons between his diapers and tar than you want to hear so I won’t.

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Yesterday Malachi was walking through the house saying “Uh-oh” with his hand stretched out in front of him and when I went to investigate what minuscule speck of dirt my very-OCD child had on his hand I discovered that lo and behold – it was not dirt that was bothering him but snot, stretched between his two fingers because he had apparently stuck BOTH up his nose.

And today when Naomi puked all over herself 2 minutes after being dressed in the cutest of outfits, I told my Mom not to change her because she looked so cute and she pukes 4 or 5 times a day anyways and it would dry.  I know this because sometimes I re-wear jeans that already have dried spit-up on them because my belly only fits into 2 pairs of jeans at the moment.

So in case you had any doubt at all, yes.  Having a child is wonderful and worth it and blah blah blah and you know this because I am the mushy type but anytime someone picks up my girl and says “I love that new baby smell” I smirk and say “You have NO idea.”