Mr. Mom

Some days, like today, I know that I DON'T know what I'm doing. I feel like Michael Keaton in Mr. Mom where he tries to take care of the house and kids while his wife goes to work, and all he does is create one disaster after another.

There are some days where I am exactly that character. Kevin will come home and ask how my day was and I'll say something like, "crazy," or "hmmm....good." And it's usually because there has been an "event"...some tornado it took me all day to ride out and I avoid bringing it up in case it hears me and wants to come back.

Example: Kellan did not poop for 3 days. That's a long time to build up the reserves. So yesterday, when he finally exploded, I was anticipating it...it came as no shock, but it was HORRENDOUS, needless to say (but I'm saying it anyway because it was HORRENDOUS.) Up the neck, all over the clothes, me and him both had to strip down and get in the bath...Storm over. Back to play.

But today, as I'm wrapping Christmas presents and Kellan is screaming because his teeth hurt, he gets quiet. He makes his "uh-oh" face at me and then I hear it. I drop the scissors and ribbon and scoop him up, run into his room and yesterday starts to happen all over again.

Except today, I wasn't on my game. Poop got on the crib bumpers, the crib, the sheets...you get my point. Kellan got his hands in it, stuck his foot in his diaper...the whole episode was atomic. To really exhibit my lack of control, and in true Mr. Mom fashion, I think it's a great idea to put the crib bumpers in the wash. But did you know that crib bumpers that are an inch-and-a-half thick and wrap the circumference of a crib do NOT fit in the machine without the machine hopping across the laundry room floor?

And now, walking back into the living room, back to my pile of Christmas projects that just make the house look like a mess, I realize that when Kevin gets home and asks me how it went, I should probably explain exactly what "crazy" means.