It's amazing what a parent will do for his or her child.
The pressure has been building at our house for the last week or so, or perhaps even the last month. More specifically, the pressure has been building inside the cute tummy of our tiny little two-year-old, Addie. To put it bluntly, No. 2 has been difficult for Addie for a while now. And for the last week or so, No. 2 just hasn't been happening. When it needed to happen she would seize up and fall out of her chair, but there was never anything to show for the effort. We've been pouring Miralax down the kid for days, but to no avail.
Friday, AB (the wife) finally took her to the Doctor. The Doc prescribed Magnesium, or something that sounds like it came right out of chemistry class (I never did well in chemistry). We received assurances from several folks that this "element" would do the trick. Friday afternoon, AB spent the better part of an hour convincing little Addie to take down the first dose. By bedtime Friday night... nothing.
Saturday morning AB left to hang out with her friend Kimberly, excuse me, she left to "work" with Kimberly and the rest of her friends from Junior Auxiliary in preparation for the Charity Ball, leaving you know who in charge of the kiddos. That's right, me.
Just before her departure, AB cajoled the second dose of Magnesium whatever down little Addie, as production remained at a standstill.
Things went along swimmingly for the first thirty minutes or so. The kids and I relaxed in front of Dora, Diego, Handy Manny, and an assortment of other Hispanic children's show characters. Then, I went to the kitchen to make Audrey a bottle or throw away a diaper or something. That's when it all started to fall apart.
Gracie shrieked that Addie was throwing up. And she was. All over the couch. Luckily, we have these giant throw pillows that are too big to actually use and just take up sitting space. Addie hit it square, so the actual sofa was only slightly harmed. That particular pillow is no longer with us, so don't worry, future houseguests. Little did I know, but the couch was only a foreshadowing of the things to come.
I text messaged AB with the news. AB called the Doc, who said, "This is not good." Apparently, we really needed the Magnesium to work or other more drastic measures would be necessary. Much more drastic. Drastic as in send-the-other-two-kids-up-to-their-Granny's-so-they-can't-hear-Addie-scream drastic. The Doc instructed AB to purchase rubber gloves and get ready. AB relayed the news to me from the safety of the Hillendale Country Club. As I told her absolutely not, she said that the Doc gave us one last ditch remedy that could be made before going to go the glove route -- the silver bullet, i.e., the Glycerine Suppository. The Doc said we couldn't give her too many. They're as mild as soap, she said. The alternative was more than I could bear, so to the medicine cabinet I went, and much to Addie's chagrin, off to the changing table she went.
Thirty minutes after bullet No. 1, AB called from the drug store. She had the rubber gloves and was on her way home. "Noooo!" I couldn't stand it. Insert bullet No. 2. Ten minutes later I was in as much fear as Addie must have been, as the results were not in and AB was on her way home. There was some insignicant No. 2 which required a change, so I took her upstairs, ready for bullet No. 3 - Dad's Last Stand.
I cleaned her off and was preparing for No. 3. Addie was crying. As you can imagine her morning was going quite horrible and she was pleading with me not to use the final bullet. My heart broke for her, but I tried to reason with her that No. 3 was much better than what was to come. I had a moment of uncertainty as she stared at me, standing there, diaperless, with those big wet blue eyes. I was about to reach for the next diaper and/or use the final bullet. Suddenly, she let out a horrid scream and her body lurched forward. The green wall that was at least twelve inches behind her was no longer green. The beast was out! I was so relieved and happy for her that I didn't even care about the new wall color. The object that lay beneath her would later be described as a concrete avocado. It was beautiful.
Meanwhile, Addie screamed that she had to go potty. I though to myself, "It's a little late now," but scooped her up and rushed her to her Dora potty. She sat there for a second and then told me she needed a Pull-Up. I ran for it. Of course there were none in her drawer. As I turned back to look at her she was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, she screamed again. "Noooo!" I thought. This time she redecorated the bedroom and the bathroom, again with a force greater than the Wagner Wideshot Power Paint Sprayer could ever generate. But at that I knew her pain was finally over. And more important, there would be no need to send the other two kids across the street.
Literally, I was overjoyed for her and for me as I danced around her and the new decor trying to keep her on the tile while simultaneously trying to keep the new decor from spreading.
Only a Dad could be delighted dancing around unfettered poo.
Congratulations Addie.
And to give credit where credit is due, the wife did swoop in just in time for an hour of undoing all Addie's new decorations. Thanks, AB.
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