Nuthouse

Social media is a pretty amazing thing. Our global reach with social media is broader than it has ever been. Social media can also be a dangerous rabbit hole. We've all done it. One minute we are just checking our notifications on Facebook or Instagram and the next minute we are watching, with bloodshot eyes, another hilarious video featuring an adorable little girl speaking hardcore life truths. Social media is exceptionally good at showing only one side of a person's life. Of course, most people don't want to see pictures of the REAL things that are happening to us on a daily basis. No one wants to see my kids at the dinner table, literally GAGGING down the food I made them, only to trigger their over-active gag reflex, shooting the regurgitated food all over the floor. That's just gross. But, I do think it is refreshing sometimes to get a glimpse of something relatable. We are all going through it. A messy area of our life that just does not get the spotlight it deserves.

It started out like a typical Tuesday night. I came home from student teaching, made dinner, and got the kids settled so I could work on lesson plans and grading for the next day. My husband needed to go to Lowes for who knows what, and his brother had come over to go with him. I assured him that I could totally handle the kids and my work for an hour while he was gone.

My youngest was about 6 months old. He was sitting up and scooting around a little on the living room floor but he couldn't get too far. My middle child was playing quietly in his room. My oldest was immersed in an intense Minecraft building sesh. My very excitable (pee-happy) Goldendoodle was napping peacefully on the couch. I settled in to get some work done. All was well.

No sooner had I opened my laptop than I was summoned:

"Mommmmmmmmmyyyyyyy- can you wiiiiiipe meeeeeeee?" came a small voice from the hall bathroom. While still feeling quite calm I made my way to the bathroom so I could help my child wipe his butt. Unfortunately, it was not an easy job as it seemed he had waited to physically walk to the bathroom until it was too late.

I yelled from the bathroom for my video-game loving son to watch his brother while I finished the dirty job. Here is a word of advice: Don't ever trust a nine-year old boy playing a video game to watch his 6 month old brother. Rookie mistake.

I had just finished cleaning child #2 when child #1 came to me with a worried look on his face.

"Mom....are babies supposed to eat ashes?"

"WHAT?!"

I rushed into the living room to see my bouncy baby boy COVERED in the ashes he had dumped on himself from a bucket we kept beside the fire-place. Not only that, but he was happily scooping the ashes into his mouth as he rolled around in them.

"You were supposed to be watching him!" I yelled. I picked him up, ran to the bathroom, and threw him in the bathtub. My mind was racing.

"Can babies eat ashes?"

"What if he breathed them in?!"

"Is this going to be the cause for a lung cancer development down the road?!"

"Should I call Poison control?"

"Maybe I'll just Google it first..."

I yelled for someone to grab my phone so I could inevitably scare the shit out of myself by Googling all of the horrible things that could happen to babies who eat ashes, and then end up calling Poison Control anyway.

"Yes, hello, my son just ate a bucket full of ashes and I am wondering if I have just caused him certain death?" I am pretty sure that is how the conversation started.

During all of this my very excitable puppy had woken up and was tearing through the house because of all the commotion. Child #1 was crying because he was blaming himself for this sudden turn of events, and child #2 was oblivious and most likely pooping in his pants again.

Once I had been assured that child #3 should not have any lasting damage from his binge eating, I realized that I should probably actually wash the ashes off of him. I needed a cup.

Okay. The kitchen was 10 steps from the hall bathroom. Surely I could run at full tilt to grab a cup and then come RIGHT back. There was barely any water in the tub so child #3 should be okay.

Let me stop right there for a moment and say I KNOW THAT WAS A BAD IDEA. I HAVE HEARD THE HORROR STORIES. BUT, I was totally overwhelmed at the moment and was not thinking clearly. The good news is, I had the brains to run to the kitchen to fetch a cup to rinse him off with. At least I did not mosey. The bad news is, I didn't anticipate that my lovely Goldendoodle would have peed all over the kitchen floor.

The moment I sped around that corner at top speed my feet flew out from under me. My arms went flailing and I let out some sort of strange, guttural sound as I landed hard on my back- In a giant puddle of pee. I am not sure if my children had yet heard all of the words that came spewing out of my mouth at that time.

As if on cue, my husband and his brother waltzed into the house at that exact moment. You can be sure I did not greet my dear husband with a hug and a kiss and a "Welcome home honey!" I think it sounded more like "WHAT THE ##%$ WAS SO IMPORTANT AT THE %#$%#$% STORE THAT YOU HAD TO LEAVE ME WITH THESE CRAZIES ALONE FOR THIS LONG?!?!?! YOUR CHILD ALMOST DIED ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS AND IT IS YOUR $%#$%#$# FAULT!!!!!!"

He had been gone for 30 minutes, y'all.

Every child in my house survived that dreadful night. My oldest son still talks about how that was probably the funniest night of his entire life. He replays the image of me flying through the air into a puddle of dog pee anytime he needs a good laugh. Looking back it was pretty hilarious- it took me a while to get there, but I agree now that not only is it funny, but it makes for a good story.

This is just one peek into what my life looks like from the inside out. The images from this night might not have made it onto a social media platform, but nights like these are far more common than the pictures I have of my kids hugging and loving each other. I have plenty of stories that could probably serve as birth control for many.

When you look at us from the outside, we are the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse. (Thank you Chevy Chase). When you look at us from the inside...we are the nuthouse.

Until next time,

XOXO Aly