I often feel like I am living out these crisis scenarios where a split second decision means the difference between survival and permanent psychological damage. It's as if I'm in some Mom Boot Camp training where I'm being presented with impossible situations and I'm expected to either fight or curl up in a corner and wait for dishonorable discharge. If I were dropped into the Amazon with nothing but a butter knife I think I'd have better odds sometimes. It's like life is trying to weed me out as one of the weak ones. Does she have the guts to make it? Or will she crack?
Here's an example. The other day, after finally getting the baby down for her nap, I anxiously opened the box which held her new play pen. Her grandma had gotten it for her for Christmas and it had just arrived. I couldn't wait to get it out and set it up because I had picked it out, mostly for its many unique features. Now, I was up against a deadline because I had an appointment later in the day. However, I was pretty confident that with the baby fast asleep I could focus and get it done. No such luck.
I no sooner started undoing the contents of the box, when the first wave of hazing began. Mandie and Maggie were barking to come in from outside so I dropped what I was doing to go and let them in. Just then, I heard noises coming from the baby swing. She was waking up. I let the dogs in and peeked my head into the other room to check on her. Some stirring but nothing to be alarmed about just yet. So, I went back to the box. I started wrestling out the contents. Suddenly I was overwhelmed by the smell of shit. I looked down to see Mandie standing next to me, completely unaware of herself. She had crapped outside and apparently had brought it into the house on her back end. It was all over her.
Then the baby really began to fuss. Definitely awake now. With pieces of the play pen in my hands I stood there frozen for a split second. I could here the voice of a drill sergeant in my head. "The dog has shit herself! The baby has too and now she's pissed! You're knee deep in it now soldier! What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO?!?!?
So, I dropped the play pen, grabbed the dog, threw her in the tub, grabbed cleaning and sanitizing supplies, scrubbed her ass, rinsed her off, cleaned the tub, scrubbed myself up, grabbed the baby and off we went for a diaper change. But on my way through the kitchen I tossed a bottle in some hot water and threw away my rubber gloves. Oh yeah. And I even got the play pen put together before the appointment rounded the corner.
Not all crises are such successes however. Sometimes, you barely escape with your life. Just the other night, Chris and I had returned from shopping, baby in tow. We all were hungry and tired. The baby was very unsatisfied with our parenting skills for the moment but Chris was trying to feed her while I unpacked groceries and tried to fix him something to eat. About halfway towards bedtime for Mariella, the dogs came in from outside and thus began the unraveling.
Chris was wrestling Mariella to bed and left a half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table. Mandie walked past us and left behind her another trail of stench so fowl that the Christmas tree sagged. She had poop on her back end again. Almost as if it had been rehearsed, Maggie took the sandwich from the plate on the table and ate it while Mandie dragged her butt across the living room carpet, leaving a skid mark at least a yard long. The baby continued to scream as she and Chris came back out of the bedroom. When he noticed that his sandwich was now lying prey to Maggie on the floor, he started yelling, too. Then the smell caught him and the poop stain on the carpet struck him dumb. Mariella continued to cry. Just then, the sergeant in my head started getting in my face again.
"Sweet son of a bitch, soldier you've got a dandy of a bullshit situation on your hands now! You better get your shit together soldier or these bastards are going to chew a hole right through your ass! The dog has spread shit like peanut butter all over the goddamn carpet! The other dog is tearing through that sandwich like a lion on a gazelle and your husband is about ready to string them both up by their tits! And the baby is ready to walk out and find new parents! Whatcha gonna do soldier?!?!?! WHATCHA GONNA DO?!?!?!?!
You know, sometimes you just have to put down your arms and admit defeat. Surrender without incident. Because sometimes you just can't fight it. The shit is going to hit the carpet and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop it. Chris got the baby settled and into bed while I made him a new sandwich. Then I got down and cleaned up the stain on the carpet and got Mandie cleaned up again. Halfway through his sandwich, Chris took a deep breath and sighed. He looked over at me on the floor and said, "It's been a hell of a night."
I smiled and took a deep breath, too. I couldn't even say anything. I just nodded and kept scrubbing. I knew that tomorrow was bringing more and I was going to have to regroup and be ready to face it. Because I'm a soldier and that's what we do.
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