Today's Moment of Zen

Today was a wonderfully lazy day. It was the type of day that is so sinfully lazy that you normally would be embarrassed if anyone knew about it. Ever had one of those? One where you don't want to answer the phone for fear that it's your friend and she innocently asks you what you're doing - or worse yet, is in the neighborhood and wants to stop by in 10 minutes. It was that lazy.



Hubby went to work early as usual but the kids and I stayed home and lazed around the house in our pajamas. At noon I was still dozing on the couch as iCarly, or some equally annoying kids program, played on the TV. My children had wrecked the house... all of the puzzle pieces from every puzzle we own, hundreds of pieces of fake plastic food from the toy kitchen and half of the books from the kids' bookshelf had found their way to the living room. All of the DVDs were out of their cases and were strewn across the floor. But today was a lazy day and honestly, I didn't care if the house was a mess. In between the zzz-s I felt the children pushing plastic jeweled rings onto my fingers, twisting my hair with their sticky little fingers and jabbing a plastic tiara on my head. As my daughter began smearing some creamy sparkle blush on my eyelids my youngest whispered,



"Mommy be happy...she a pwincess now."



I was a princess.



By 1PM, I finally became motivated to get my lazy butt up off of the couch and hauled it into the bathroom to get read for my shower. I had one leg in the shower, testing the water when my son toddles into the bathroom to announce that he had "pooped".



Now let me take a step back to paint the picture... we have been trying to potty train this little angel for a few months now. He wears big boy underwear (read that "Underoos" with Scooby or Spiderman screen printed across the butt) during the day for the past week. But like I mentioned earlier- today was a lazy day and I had not put on his big boy pants yet. Fortunately he still had a diaper so I didn't totally freak and start looking for piles around the house. Lord knows I couldn't have handled that one.



So as any loving, lazy and irritated mom who's bare rump is is already inside the shower would, I told him that he would have to wait. I was already wet. I couldn't go about dripping water all over the house after all. Well, that's when the drama started. This kid, my husband's child, threw himself onto the tile floor and started a huge fit complete with high pitched screams, wails, little fists banging on the floor and incoherent mumbling something about "poop yucky".



I wasn't going to encourage this by being his audience and had already slipped into the shower trying to be quick -but not so quick that he would think that he got his way because of the fit. The fuss continued as I soaped up and washed my hair. Showering with the sounds of screaming to seranade me. Lovely.



It reminded of when the kids were just infants and I would irrationally try to take speed showers for fear that some ungodly thing would happen to them while I had selfishly taken the time to cleanse myself. I would put them in their bouncy seats right outside the shower and keep the door cracked so that I could watch them the whole time. My oldest would scream her head off! She hated being strapped in but more than that she seemed to hate it whenever I would be in water, showers, baths, you name it. Bizarre, I know. I would finally have to shut the door to tone down the ear-piercing cries. To sooth myself and make the situation less stressful for me I would just tell myself over and over that "crying means breathing, crying means breathing...its a good thing." It seemed to work for me. So that's what I was doing now.



"Crying means breathing, crying means breathing, crying means he's still in here and hasn't decided to go whack his sister or climb into the cupboards and throw out my china... crying means breathing... its a good thing."



I used my hand to wipe a circle in the fog on the shower door. There was my little angel still throwing his fit although it was more of a cry and mumble now.



"Mommy mean. I don't like Mommy. Poop Yucky."



He had managed to roll himself up like a taquito in the germy, disgustingly fuzzy bathmat in front of the tub. I shuddered at the thought, shook my head and tried to let that image go. Finally, with the water was shut off , I grabbed a towel and stepped out into the bathroom.



As I wrapped the towel around myself my child pops up like a jack-in-the-box and with big eyes asks innocently "you all done?" I told him I was-all the while surprised that me coming out of the shower was all it took to shut that racket is off! He stood in front of me with those big, brown, innocent eyes and clasped his little hands together like he was about to pray. With the sweetest sing-song voice he could muster ... (I'm all ready for him to ask me to clean him, put on his big boy pants, etc.) my child asks, "Mommy, Can I have a tweat, a lolly... pweaseeeeee?" I nearly fell over. ~Are you freaking kidding me! Does he seriously think I am about to give him a lolly after that crazy Blair Witch behavior!? ~ With my nicest Mommy voice, you know the one straight out of the Love and Logic book, I reply, "I give lollies to little boys who treat their mommies nice and don't throw fits. I might have a lolly for a little boy who eats his lunch and is nice to Mommy. Are you ready for lunch?" At this my child drops to the ground onto his back spread eagle as if he's been shot dead then the wailing begins all over again. I calmly step over him and go to his room to get a clean diaper because clearly it is naptime at our house.



As I begin to take off the old diaper, I reflect on what caused this whole bizarre fit to start in the first place. I start to second guess myself and feel guilty about making this poor child wait in a poopy diaper for 5 minutes. What was wrong with me? I should have gotten my wet self out of the shower, grabbed a towel and changed the kid in the first place. Maybe I really am a "mean Mommy"! As I slowly allow myself to be consumed with this guilt, the diaper comes off..... NO WAY....but yes, the infamous "poopy diaper" is completely clean. Yes, girls that's right.... no poop. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Clean and dry. As I process this fact and look up at my son's face he sweetly looks at me and of all things asks, "What color is it?"



So after the laziest day on earth, the cure to our meltdown was yet another nap. And that, girls, was my (The Princess's) moment of zen for today.