Shake that Healthy Butt, Baby Got Back...

okay. so one of you readers has the evil eye. cheshm shod! in other words, my little girl was jinxed and i guess it's partly my fault for posting the picture of her adult-like poop in all its glory in my last post. last night was one of the roughest mommy nights of my life. i was up every hour tending to my severely constipated child. there is nothing sadder than seeing your child suffer and in so much agony because of a big, hard boulder of a poop refusing to come through. we had to administer a home made enema at 4am to no avail.

so this morning, i had to wrestle A into the car seat. (my brother-in-law advised that i should refrain from using the kids' first names to save them from future embarrassment and isolation.) she refused to sit on her bum. at wegmans, she refused to sit inside the grocery cart (and the cart with the kid-mobile attached to it didn't sway her either). clearly, her rectum was in some serious pain. i get an email from alex to pick up a prescription from the pharmacy, that will require another butt insert of sorts. i pray like i prayed before taking the LSAT, the MD bar, and right before giving birth to D and A. please god. please let A poop so i don't have to put anything up her cute little butt and further traumatize her.

we waddle our way up to the pharmacy counter and are told it will take 15 minutes to fill the prescription. we meander through wegmans in a sleepy stupor to kill time and as luck would have it - happen to stumble upon the diaper aisle, when A lets out a loud shriek, followed by a whimper, "mommy poo poo." there's no mistaking the smell. my baby has finally let out the hardest and biggest poop of her life. right then and there, i grab a bag of pull-ups, tear it open and remove one to replace A's diaper. there's no time for wipes. i am changing my baby's diaper right then and there in the middle of the grocery store and i don't care whose watching or how unsanitary it may appear.

seconds later, A is back to her normal, jovial self. we pick up the prescription anyway for future reference and make our way to see the "choo choo." needless to say, i have never been so happy to see and smell my kid's poop. although, i must admit, after just having changed A's 4th poopy diaper of the day, the jubilation is starting to wear off.

on a serious note, don't you think my kid could totally be a butt model?

Holy Shit!

this post should come with a PG-13 disclaimer. i'm sorry for the graphic nature of the above picture. please do not be offended, but this is the reality of a persian mommy doing her best to potty-train her 2 year old.

this morning i woke up with a mission: to begin potty-training anais. i felt her daily announcements of her farts and number 2s were her way of letting me know, "mommy i'm ready to be a big girl now and this full diaper is cramping my style." so...when she woke up this morning, i took off last night's diaper and let her roam free. picture a baby chimpanzee. a few minutes later, i heard dina and anais in the bathroom together. dina had to go #2 and encouraged her little sister to do the same in her princess toilet. i thought to myself, how cute, the sisters are bonding in the bathroom over poo. two minutes later i hear dina yell, "mom anais pooped on the toilet! come look!!"

i run from the kitchen (where i was in the middle of making chocolate-chip pancakes) with so much pride and excitement - finally my daughter had taken her first successful dump in her little toilet. i'm skipping in the hallway, singing and clapping, "yayyy ana...good job ana!!" and arrive at the doorway of the bathroom to find the above monstrosity.

clearly i had misunderstood. anais pooped ON the toilet, not IN the toilet. (thank god it didn't happen on my beloved persian rug.) needless to say, this is not going to be very easy or pleasant. we are definitely not getting a dog anytime soon. how do dog owners do it? do they really get desensitized with picking up poo? does it become second -nature? *shaking head* in any case, anais is now rocking her stage 6 pampers cruiser diaper and i have no intention of potty-training her in the near future. anais can be ready, but i'm certainly not.

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

I guess I’m not the kind of mom I thought I’d be:

I thought I would:

Have 5 kids

Raise perfect kids

Never raise my voice

Never lose my temper

Never leave a diaper on too long

Never turn on PBS Kids so I can check my email

Set up weekly play-dates

Be gung-ho about arts & crafts

Prepare nutritious home cooked meals every night

Have a spotless home, with color-coordinated bins for my kids’ toys

Look fit, skinny, and stylish with no sleep

Have loads of energy

Maintain composure and not appear desperate when husband comes home

Go back to work after spending a year or two with kids

Enjoy family vacations

Be the kind of mom my mom wants me to be

Be the kind of mom my mom was to me

Throw fabulous dinner parties

Never throw away my kids’ drawings

Never rush through bedtime stories

Update baby/scrap books

Never be so happy for nap time or bedtime

The reality is…that I’m exhausted. And sometimes I lose it. I mean really lose it. The frozen foods aisle of Trader Joes is my savior. My husband and I love each other too much to have a 3^rd kid. Dina is moody and whines more than my soon-to-be-2-year-old. Anais still doesn’t know her ABCs and 123s and loves to announce her daily farts (Ana gooz). I cannot get rid of 10 pounds of baby weight (which is sitting pretty in my mid-section). I would rather go on a vacation with my husband or girlfriends. I can’t wipe the huge grin off my face when my kids are tucked away in bed. In fact, I'll admit it - at times, it can be the highlight of my day. I often look like I belong in a zoo when my husband comes home from a 12 hour shift and I practically throw the kids at him when he walks through the door (unless I’ve put them to bed at 7pm).

I think it's time I let go of the guilt.

Like Fingernails on a Chalkboard

my daughter dina had surgery on friday. watch the video and you'll see why. it actually sounds 10 times worse when you hear it live and in person. especially when you're tossing and turning in the bedroom next door and using the pillow to cover your ears to no avail. (note to self: next time you buy a house, make sure the master bedroom is on another level from kids' bedrooms.) as i was saying, dina had her tonsils and adenoids taken out on friday. and no it wasn't so we could get a better night's sleep. she has sleep apnea and trouble breathing at night. when she wakes up in the morning, she feels like she's had a horrible night's sleep. we're driving home from the hospital, and dina falls asleep. the snoring begins. i was a little surprised. but alex assured me it's because her throat is very swollen.

so i took care of dina by myself on friday and sunday. i waited on her hand and foot. i felt like i was wearing a popsicle tool-belt. and what thanks do i get? a big bouquet of whining. i know my kid just had surgery, but the whining is killing me. there is i don't want to take medicine whining. there is i am in pain whining. i want to watch tv whining. i'm hungry whining. i don't want to take a bath whining. i don't want to share with my sister whining. i want ice-cream whining (i must admit, i can relate to this one) i don't want to eat what is on my plate whining. i don't want to leave the park whining. and the list continues.

is it normal for 5 and 1/2 year olds to whine? what is the cure? i've tried ignoring it. i don't cave in. (insert scarlett o'hara's voice here) as god is my witness, i will not be manipulated by my 5 year old. i've told her countless times to ask for something in a "normal" voice. i thought we were way past this stage. when will it end?? if she's still whining in her teens, i'm assessing a 'whine fine' and treating myself to a massage with all the money i collect. my kid is not a very pleasant person when she is sick. (her poor future husband) i think she is secretly enjoying the attention. she is a drama-queen and what did i go off and do? i signed her up for acting camp. *shaking head* there you have it. in case you were wondering...my #1 pet peeve is whining.

addressing my mother: *stomping feet* i reaaaally reaaaally hate it mommy. and i'm so tiiiiiired. HELP!

Ode to Ice-Cream

A compilation of photos that illustrates the concept of "like mother, like daughter..."

in this last photo - dina asks for a moment of silence...to honor the greatness that is ice-cream. amen.

So you think you can dance?

my swearing-in ceremony takes place tomorrow at the virginia supreme court. basically, i can now practice law in all virginia courts. i can't help but think if the field of law is the path i should continue to take.

looking back, i initially wanted to become a solid gold dancer. as i got older, my taste evolved. next, i wanted to become an actress. a soap opera actress to be exact. see i wasn't allowed to have boyfriends. in my mind, the only person i would ever kiss in my lifetime would be my future husband, so i was desperate for a loophole. and as far as i was concerned a soap-opera actress was the way to go. i knew part of my job description would entail kissing a see of men and to get it just right would take many many takes. sorry mom, you see it's just a part of my job. well, needless to say, that dream was quickly laid to rest.

you'll never guess who my idol was in elementary school. barbara walters. i wanted to be a journalist/news broadcaster. i watched 20/20 as a 6th grader religiously until my parents crushed my hopes again when they informed me that i would have to "sleep my way to the top." this was incredible news to a 12 year old. i was left with the gross impression of ms. walters as a slut, whoring herself out to get to where she was.

my parents were still trying to steer me in the direction of becoming a doctor. see every persian parent drills the following acceptable professions in their child's brain from a very young age - doctor, lawyer, engineer, and dentist. god forbid you should want to become an artist or musician. if you are a doctor, you have probably made your iranian parent's life. they can brag to all their friends and take huge pride (and credit) for their child's success. it is like a broken record in my mind, "taraneh - you shood be a doctor because a doctor is needed everyvere. all countries need doctor. you never know vhere you end up. and you can buy vhatever you vant, vhenever you vant." (iranian parents are unable to pronounce the letter w and "th" so washington is pronounced vashangtone and the is pronounced da) i would have loved to become a doctor. i love the sight of blood. no really. i can't seem to get enough of alex's stories of the patients he sees in the ER - their symptoms, diagnoses. but alas, i didn't love chemistry. i didn't love physics and all of the other science courses. so that meant dentistry was out too.

all of the engineers i knew were geeky men who wore really nerdy glasses. so that was immediately crossed off the list. and so i was left with the field of law. and i loved to argue with my parents and did win the occasional fight (which usually meant a curfew extension or permission to attend a high school party). i went to college - discovered mock trial in my senior year and was hooked. i love love love cross-examining witnesses. it's really my forte. my husband never stands a chance with me. i was good at it. i got awards and shit too. so i figured i'd go to law school. but not before i fulfilled my one important wish of backpacking through europe. i put off law school for a year and worked like a dog in a corporate law firm and saved up money to make this trip happen. i even passed up going to the univ. of michigan law school (a top 10 law school that offered me admission to start in the summer, but not the fall. assholes). nothing was going to keep me from spain.

i went to law school and really enjoyed my classes. i did a clerkship upon graduation and moved to philly for 3 years. when i returned to maryland, i got a job as a prosecutor, which i absolutely loved. i would be perfectly happy doing the same thing in virginia, but the job market is shit. so i'm sitting here thinking about my past answers to "what do you wanna be when you grow up" and trying to figure out if any can become a reality. solid gold no longer exists. the view isn't hiring and i can't get that image of barbara walters on her knees out of my head.

anyway, i'm seriously considering going back to school to become a high school english teacher. i loved being a TA in law school. it was truly rewarding. i know the pay is shit, but i can see myself really enjoying it. and how awesome would it be to have summers off with the kids? be home on columbus day and all the other random holidays? we shall see what happens.

here is another list of possible occupations for my girls given their current interests:

Anais:

• make-up artist - she has ruined 2 of my cherry chapsticks thus far with her continuous applications
• shoe model - she loves to wear high-heels around the house and give us all a headache in the process
• hair stylist - she loves to brush (and yank) my hair (and ears).
• telephone operator - girlfriend loves to talk on mommy's cellphone
• nanny - she is so maternal and lovingly pushes her baby around in baby stroller a few hours a day

Dina:

• chef - she loves to cook with her dad
• acrobat - the girl is a monkey-bar addict
• ice-cream store owner - this is her current response to what do you want to be when you grow up
• mathematician - my 5 year old can add and she hasn't even started kindergarten!
• stylist - she has a unique fashion sense and very strong opinions about clothes to the point that i can no longer pick them out for her.

My Rock and a Proposal

i know my husband is a doctor and is likely immune or desensitized by now what with all the "diamonds" he's encountered in his career, but still my image has been tainted. confused? let me clarify. we all have our names for that wondrous part of our bodies that stretches out and tears during childbirth. whatever name you use was started generations ago by your great-great-great grandmother and just stuck. while growing up, my mother referred to mine as "belleryawn" which in farsi translates to diamond. don't be jealous. i think it was their way of having me put my diamond on a pedestal with a big "do not touch" sign for all the world. my mom informed me on a daily basis that only my husband could touch my diamond, only he could know - it's color, cut, clarity and worth.

the point i'm trying to make here is this: my husband is used to seeing many 'diamonds.' he probably sees 10 a day. and i know he's utterly grossed out by it. he tells me so. and he probably won't ever admit it to me, but i'm pretty sure his presence during my 2 natural childbirths grossed him out. my friend has this theory and I couldn't agree more. here is the proposal: men should stay in the waiting room instead of getting a front and center seat of your diamond. in the waiting room, they are worried for you. they're pacing back and forth and thinking about you. they are imagining you as their heroine - their noble wife who commits brave deeds and possesses unbelievable courage. the husbands will picture us guiding their precious baby into the world. in their heads, we'll have this super determined look in our eyes and there will be no shouting or hysterics. in fact, our mouths will be tightly closed. they would never bear witness to the wild barbaric creature that we truly are during that time. they would hold this rosy image of us forever.

because when they're in the room with us, in their minds - it really is about how they feel, their hunger or discomfort or impatience (of course they would never admit this). and not that this has ever happened to me (pinky swear) but you know they will never look at you the same if you take a dump in the same place where their kid's head is about to pop out.

i will always wonder if alex got turned off by my births. for 9 months (times two) he put up with my whining, complaining, fat ass, and general unpleasantries. looking back, i now wish i had left him with a more sparkling image of me and my diamond.

p.s. the above picture is the only knocked up pic of taraneh you will ever see. i gotta make sure i don't taint your image of me. shoooot.