It’s Not All Mary Poppins

Awaiting my order

I was not born with three arms. Contrary to the children’s beliefs, I do not have an extra eye in the back of my head, either, though I am content to let them continue in this misapprehension.

Given my calling in life, these lacks are clearly an oversight on someone’s part, but I do my best despite my handicaps.

In truth, I don’t really need eyes in the back of my head: my ears do just fine.

That sudden silence?
The desperate stillness?
That intake of breath before the wail?
All bad. Well, that latter may or may not be bad. The longer the intake, the worse the wail. Which may or may not be proportional to the level of injury. If no wail follows the bump and the intake, this is very, very bad.

I can usually determine if the resulting injury will be mild, moderate, or severe by the quality of the “thud” that preceded it.

A happy murmur, a steady roar, the bam-bam-bam of trotting feet?
All good. Loud, but good.

So. Eyes in the back of my head? Can’t argue they’d be useful, but I get by without them.

That third arm, though? Just think how much easier it would be to change a diaper while leading the crew in a rousing round of “Three Little Monkeys”. I could probably zip two snowsuits simultaneously; I could certainly hand out snack to three children at the same time. I could write someone’s name on their craft while tying someone else’s shoe.

The list goes on and on and on.

It would have come in very, very handy useful about a half-hour ago, when I was on my way upstairs with a basket of clean laundry. Clean laundry, folded only that moment on the dining room table. Clean, folded, still a little warm from the dryer. Nigel leaps into my path. But I do not spill the basket. I merely sidestep and stop.

“I peed, Mary!”

He’s still fresh enough into the potty training that his output requires celebration. We peer into the pale yellow depths and we cheer and clap and hug. And then, since I’m going upstairs anyway, I may as well take the potty with me to tip in the toilet upstairs. Yes?

Sigh.

I will not burden you with the details. Let us just agree that it would have been very, very useful to have that that third hand right then.

I’ve put in my order. I’ll let you know when it arrives.

February 22, 2008 - Posted by | daycare, eeewww, potty tales

9 Comments »

  1. Ohhh….I am so sorry for you. Did the laundry need to be rewashed?

    Comment by Redhead Mommy | February 22, 2008 | Reply

  2. Hmmmm, I can see potty and basket of laundry colliding in some awful mid-air dance. You did have to do the laundry over, right?

    Comment by Sheri | February 22, 2008 | Reply

  3. Any mommy or one with rug rats could have stopped you at that last sign, we already know the punchline!

    eewww…
    Sorry Mary!
    Have fun doing laundry!

    Comment by Jennifer | February 22, 2008 | Reply

  4. ooooohhhh…..what is not said here…..is so rich!

    Comment by gwendomama | February 22, 2008 | Reply

  5. Occasionally, the habit of efficiency can let us down.

    Comment by Z | February 22, 2008 | Reply

  6. Oh, yuk. I am convinced that those six-armed Shiva goddesses are really the goddesses of motherhood.

    Comment by kittenpie | February 22, 2008 | Reply

  7. I’ve always thought of myself as a pack mule. There are times I over do it and regret it later.

    I’m sorry to hear about your laundry, ugh.

    Comment by mamacita tina | February 22, 2008 | Reply

  8. Hello, MaryP

    Bubbles is 2. He has expressive language delay. More to come on that.

    I tagged you, btw.

    gwendomama

    Comment by gwendomama | February 23, 2008 | Reply

  9. […] chortle at that. Yes, indeed. Chalk dust is the least of it, really. Really. […]

    Pingback by Everyone can use some sometimes « It’s Not All Mary Poppins | March 31, 2011 | Reply


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