In our first issue, Giselle recounted her first six days of motherhood in her raw, no-holds barred way. She’s back, now with a full-fledged toddler and an arsenal of stories to tell. Sit back and enjoy as Giselle offers a peek inside her life with husband Neil, and little guy Quinn.
- When I stubbed my toe with him in my arms, I whispered, “sh*t!”. I don’t know why I whispered it. Then Quinn also repeated it in the same whisper. I tried really hard not to laugh, but he laughed enough for both of us.
- The time he came to me with his hands covered in sticky brown stuff. We all know what it was. Why did he put his hands down his pants? Why did he touch his own poop? Why did he put it in his mouth? That is the question.
- The other day I had to use the public washroom. It was one of those days I didn’t bring the straight jacket (the stroller), so I had no where to put him while I went pee. This washroom had one of those lever handles that is really easy for kids to reach. He ran to the door and opened it while I was mid pee, as I cried, “NOOOOO!!!!!”, while scooching across the stall with my pants down around my ankles. This child gives me small daily heart attacks.
- With the plague of mosquitoes we seem to be having this year, no matter what I do, my child looks like one big mosquito bite. The other day someone asked me what was wrong with him, as I explained it wasn’t a contagious disease. Yeah, Lady. Run for the hills. It’s mosquito-osis.
- I hope I didn’t poison the poor child, when after two months of using mosquito spray, I finally noticed it says right on the bottle in bold letters, “Do not use on children under the age of 12.” Oopsies!
- When he fell down a couple of stairs holding his juice I felt so bad for the little guy, when an hour later, a shiner appeared. Nice going Dad. It all happened on YOUR watch. And it’s especially lovely when people look at you funny and wonder if you are beating your child. RELAX people. He actually DID fall down the stairs. It was also nice when the kid playing next to him at the library also had a black eye. Isn’t that sweet? Two little boys in jeans, t-shirts and black eyes. I am sure it is the first of many.
- My son has the sudden strength of three grown men when I attempt to pull out yet another sliver. Is it boys, or just my son who seems to get at least two per day?
- Another fiasco created on Neil’s watch. Quinn sneaking into the running shower with all his clothes still on, while Daddy leaves him alone for 2 1/2 seconds. Apparently someone doesn’t need to run the shower for one whole minute for it to be warm enough.
- I’ve finally had to just come to terms that it’s summer and there will always be sand in his diaper, in his socks and in his bed, and on occasion we might not have killed all the mosquitoes that got in the house and woke him up in the night.
- The time he got outside in his brand new outfit, ready to go to a party, and thought it would be a good idea to jump around in deep, muddy puddles, and then of course sit down in them. Nice child. Nice. No concept of the work he has created for me.
- The time I showed him how to spit when he got sand and other such things in his mouth, is also the time he later tried it in the house and spit on the floor. Hmmm, I’ll have to teach him that we only spit when we’re outside.
- I seriously need to make a spreadsheet of all the things that end up in his mouth and up his nose. He sneezed the other day and a piece of plastic came out his nose. Ok, dude! Not everything you pick up can go in your mouth! It’s like an automatic reflex! Hmm, what’s this? A rock, a bug, sand, poop? Let’s just see what that tastes like? If only I could get inside that little head of his and know what he’s thinking.
- Yesterday I let him use the front step as his canvas. Blue, yellow, green and red splashes of paint cover my front step, aaaannnnd a little on the front door and a bit on the house, but still. It was fun until he put the blue paint in his mouth. Doesn’t taste as good as it looks does it buddy. To watch him stop mid brushstroke, look up at me and say “artist” made it all worth it.
- I am that mom who calls out to the other moms at the playground, “somebody pooped over here.” There’s nothing worse than seeing the moist streak left behind on the slide from the last kid and then my kid takes a dive face first thereafter.
- The inside of my Jeep looks like a sandbox. The outside hasn’t been washed in who knows how long. Whatever, it’s summer. I’ll just wait until the fall to clean it. Last time I went to the carwash, the loud sprayer scared him and he cried the whole time. Hope that doesn’t create some weird phobia later on in life.
- Probably the grossest thing he’s done lately, even more gross than digging poop out of his own diaper and putting it in his mouth was the time he stuck his hand in a public toilet and then licked his fingers. That one did it for me as I nearly passed out in horror. I don’t seem to have any grey hairs yet, but I am sure one day I’ll wake up with a head full of them. Each with an event attached to it, starting with the letter, “Q”, for Quinn.
Giselle Denis is a professional artist, as well as the mother to her son Quinn who is 2 years old. A collection of her work can be seen at the Wildflower Grill Restaurant. She paints whimsical scenes of flowers, forests and landscapes in bright, bold colors. Samples of her work can be found on her website www.giselledenis.com. She also has a Motherhood Musings blog @http://giselledenis.wordpress.com/
