This Shit Hit... Everything.

I was a fool to believe that I would be able to write a second blog. (Second? I haven't even posted on the first in, like OMG, forever ya'll.)

But anyhow, here I am attempting to keep up on it.

I want to tell you a story.

Once upon a time, while driving back from a long day of site seeing at Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, my son had an ass explosion. Here's how it went down.

This past week I had my niece and nephew on vacation with me. We took a series of day trips each day. We didn't have any misshaps. Well, maybe just this one.

On Wednesday, we went to the Statue of Liberty. Let me tell you something too. We waited on line for ever to get into the monument, in what felt like 90 degree heat. Veronica was content, My mom, who came along sat with Merrick sat in the shade while we went in and up, and my nephew Gabriel wanted to do anything but stand online. Anything amounted to throwing rocks, nagging his sister, sitting in the dirt with a sour look on his face, and hiding behind trees so I would think he ran off somewhere. It got old quick. Anyhow, after standing online forever, we finally got into the museumy part of the monument. Not much to look at. Then we went in to the second observation deck. It was a hell of a lot of stairs to climb, expecially for someone who put on 55 lbs during her pregnancy. I am down 14 pounds, just so you know. The view was alright, but I don't think I really needed to take the time to walk up all those stairs, almost have a stroke, and see what looked like a pretty ordinary view. My point is... yes I have one... I would have been better off just walking around the Statue of Liberty.

Anyhow, a day trip that we thought would take four or five hours, turned into about a 6 or 7 hour trip. We did have to stop at Ellis Island afterall. On the way home, I heard the unmistakable sound of a pooping 7-month old.

Uggghhh. Ugggghhh.

"Is that Merrick pooping," I asked my niece and nephew.

"Smells like it. His face is getting red."

And then someone who doesn't really believe in the jinx, feels like she may have jinxed herself. Or rather, everyone in the car.

I said, "I sure hope he doesn't overflow the diaper."

About half of a Lady Gaga (Shes always on the radio) song later, Veronica started crying out, "He pooped. He pooped. It's on my hand. Help me!" Veronica is a prissy little girl, who is very into what she wears, so you can imagine the shrieking.

I'm driving the car, so I can't turn around and see it for myself, so I arrange the rear view mirror so I could see what was going on. There's Veronica to the right of the car seat, shrieking with her poop filled hand in the air, crying for help. Ahh, if it were a very cold day, it might have been even steaming. That would have made it funnier. Then came the smell. Gabriel was pushed up against the left door of the car, trying to keep as far away as possible from the smell and I suppose Veronica's hand.

My mom is in the passanger side seat, and she turns around to get a better look and lend a hand. Thank god for mommies.

"Is that the pacifier between his legs on the seat," I wonder.

Mom pulls out the pacifier, which is of course covered in shit.

Now, I'm laughing. My mom grabs the wipes from the diaper bag and begins to clean off the pacifier (as though I'm going to put it in Merrick's mouth after this episode). Veronica is begging for her to clean her hand instead, which mom obliges. She cleans up Merrick's legs as best she can, so Merrick won't put his hands in the poop and continues to sit facing the back seat so she can prevent him from causing any more chaos.

We roll down the windows. The kids faces are out of them, while I exit Rt. 280 into Harrison, where my parents live. It was a good thing we were close. The whole time I am hysterical, but also wondering if the suede car seat cover is machine washable. It's got to be, right?

When we arrive, I have to park down the street from their house. Parking is a bitch in Harrison. I put the Statue of Liberty merchandise bag on my arm, plop Merrick's smelly, sloppy ass into it, and carry him up the street to mom and dad's where there was a kitchen sink and spray hose with his name all over it.

And that my friends, was some funny shit. Sorry. I couldn't help saying so.

Stuff! Stuff! More Stuff!

Hey, how do you spot a mom?

She's the one with all the stuff.

Ha Ha Ha... Oh, Ha, Ha. Okay. It wasn't funny. And you know what? It's not funny? I'm talking about the amount of stuff that Babies R Us, and Pre-School, and Fisher Price, and Bright Stars, and Chicco, and all those evil companies try to convince you that you need in order to be a good mom. You've got to have stuff, is what they want you to think. We're talking about things that take the mommyhood out of motherhood, as far as I'm concerned.

Here's an example. When I was registering at, ahem, Babies R Us, my friend Andrea tried to convince me to register for The Fisher Price Soothing Motions (never have to touch your baby) Glider. This thing was in the same area as all the bouncers. But, it doesn't just bounce. Oh no. This thing does everything. It rocks the baby front to back and also side to side, while playing ten different soothing songs. (Great. You don't even have to sing to your baby.) Singing to your baby is one of the greatest things in the world. The Wheels on the Bus, The ABC Song, Michael Rowed The Boat Ashore, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, etc. etc. The only thing it doesn't do is vibrate, which is why I bet the same parents who bought this, made sure they got a virbating chair as well.

Speaking of vibrations, everything seems to vibrate. The bassinets, the pack n' plays, the sleep positioners, the chairs, the car seats. Yes, car seats.

Call me crazy, but I really wanted to be a hands on mom, so I didn't drink the kool aid.

I didn't buy the wee blocker, which is a a cup that you have to quickly put over your son's penis before he pees all over you while you're changing his diaper. I'm proud to say that I've been pee'd on many times.

I didn't buy the Bumpo Baby Sitter. That should have been a two word product title. A Bumbo Babysitter. Here's part of the product description...

"The product assists parents and caregivers in nurturing a special bond between them and the child as it promotes interaction through eye-level feeding and communication. (Since when can you not be eye level with a baby in a regular ole high chair?) The Bumbo Baby Sitter can be described as the extra set of hands mothers have always been looking for. So, it also says that this seat is to allow a baby with good head control to sit unassisted without tipping over. Isn't watching your baby learn to steady himself and learn balance while tipping over to his side, part of the charm? He's not learning to sit upright with this Bumbo Babysitter. He's being supported in this position. He's not learning shit!

Anyway, there are a ton of products out there that let mommies and daddies off the hook. However, I submit that we should be on the hook. Being on the hook and having to hold, cuddle, sing, bounce, pat, and sway in a figure eight...which by the way the Fisher Price "Look baby, no hands" glider does not do but my son loved and it was the only thing that put him to sleep when he was just born... These things are what mommyhood is about. It's about many things I'm sure, but for now, it's about contact with your baby.

But what do I know? I'm a first time mom with two jobs, and two blogs to maintain. I must have all the free time in the world to actually hold my son. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go read a book to my son, change his diaper (probably get pee'd on), and rock him to sleep while singing one of his favorite bedtime stories, "Down By The Bay." Okay, it's not a real bed time story, but it works, and you know what? I had to try many songs to find some that he liked. Wait. Try many things to find out what works? What a concept.

And I promised myself this blog wouldn't be filled with rants...

What Ever Happened to The Itsy Bitsy Spider?

I am finally old enough (31. Whew!) to say, "When I was a little girl..."

So here it goes.

When I was a little girl, the song went, "The Itsy Bitsy Spider went up the water spout..."

While watching the baby shows on demand that my parents watch with my three month old, I've come to learn that the song now goes, "The Eensy Weensy Spider."

Who the hell is the Eensy Weensy spider. Did the Itsy Bitsy Spider die and leave his estate (One waterspout) to his counsin Eensy? I don't like this spider. Change is bad. And speaking further of change, Who the heck is Farmer Jed. Last I can recall the Farmer with the dog named Bingo (B-I-N-G-O Bingo, that is) did have a name. He was simple, "There was a farmer, who had a dog." Why does he now have to away the limelight of Bingo, the star of the song?

I'm not going to ramble on futher about the songs that are eerily different that when I was a kid any more than I already have. I am only going to say that you now can get an idea of why I've named this blog, "What Ever Happened to The Itsy Bitsy Sider."

Hi.

Welcome to my blog, a chronicle of my adventures in new mommyhood. I will try to write here as often as I can, as my little guy allows me the free time. But what is free time really? Well, I guess I will learn and tell you all about it and more here. Check back regularly if you'd like to.

Talk to you soon.