If parenting has taught me one thing that I didn't completely expect, it is that you will need to clean up. Always. This does not end. If you think you are finished, you are in a wondrous state of denial and I suggest you stay in that state.
Here's how it goes. I'll start with a clean house. Let's imagine that it's immaculate.
Olivia wakes up. First thing: diaper change (and often a good pooper in the morning). We most often use cloth diapers, so it goes in the bag (which happens to look almost just like Santa's sac. These "presents" are for the VERY bad children). We then go to get Robin, and often when she wakes up, wants to play, leading to toys to be cleaned up.
Then it's time to get Robin out of her diaper. And here is where I've gotten lucky lately; Robin is potting training so well, that more often than not, she has a clean diaper! Ha ha! That's one freebee for Daddy! But wait, after she goes on the toilet, I help her clean her hands. I'll take that trade off.
Then it's time to go downstairs to eat. That means cleaning bibs, hands, faces, and of course the dishes. Often, the floor might as well be a dish. But we have a secret weapon: Griffin. I have "trained" him to go on his hind legs to eat the leftovers in Olivia's highchair. Unfortunately, our dog is a connoisseur of sorts, and is particular about the floor food that he will eat. For example, popcorn that falls on the floor will not be eaten, unless it's salted.
After cleaning up, each of them want to play. This leads to the pulling out of all sorts of toys. What are toys to them? Everything that isn't fastened down, and some things that are (telling Robin that the headphones are not a dog on a leash doesn't seem to be convincing). All of which has to be cleaned up.
What's that Robin? You had a poop/pee accident? Time for a cleanup. Olivia, you spit up on the rug? Cleaning time. Griffin, you too? Spray and wash time. Then there's washing laundry, folding laundry folding diapers, the floors, the bathrooms and alllll the other cleanings up that goes with a house. If I ever think that I'm done, it's because I've decided to lie to myself for a while. There is always something to clean, and always a mess to be made.
The coup de grace occurred a few Sunday mornings ago. There was a stomach bug going around our house and Robin was the first to catch it. She woke up early on Sunday morning, crying. Jen went to go check her, and there it was. Barf. All over the sheets and her "hand wash only" pillow, plus her Snuggle Puppy book. That was an interesting clean up, and Jen lay down with her until the light came up. And then she barfed again in the afternoon. Not as bad, but still puke. None of it was preparation for the end of the day.
We were having a lovely dinner at Jen's Auntie Sandy and Uncle Gord's and Robin was feeling a lot better. She was eating supper, dessert, and looking like a chipper little girl. Then the ride home happened...
Robin: "Waaaaaahhhhhh!" she doesn't usually cry on rides home anymore.
Daddy: "What's the matter Robin?"
Robin: "Waaaaaahhhhhh!" no answer.
Daddy: "Do you have to barf Robin?" I did NOT want to be right. But as if I was the trigger.
Robin: "BARF! Barf! Barf." There was three.
Andy: "Jen, we need to pull over. Robin barfed." pretty sure she already knew that.
We pulled over and I got out of the car and went around back to access the situation. I now know what it feels like to be in a horror movie. The barf was all over her snowsuit/car seat/boots. I stood there in shock for a moment.
Daddy: "Are you OK Robin?" all I could think to do.
Robin: "Yup." She actually seemed almost chipper.
Jen handed me a towel. All I could think to do was drape it over Robin and the barf. There. Problem solved. We drove home, and I took Olivia inside, saying a silent prayer to assist Jen, who had volunteered to clean up Robin and the mess (like someone "volunteers" for the army I'm guessing). I think I still own Jen one for that act of selflessness. I was told just how many nooks and crannies a car seat has. I did help with cleaning the cover, but really, Jen took the brunt of the job.
Robin felt better the next day, but both Jen and I caught the bug later in the week. Still, Robin's situation was certainly the most traumatic of the events of that week. If I learned anything at all useful - anything at all - from this situation, it's that we need to tell Robin to chew her food more.
m the crawl position to the sit position, which was a little more encouraging for her in pushing her in the right direction.
