I am aware that the American Association of Pediatrics has some rather prudent guidelines about TV, media, and screen time. Apparently, two hours a day is too much. Kids should be playing, reading, engaging with their environment. I'm cool with the first two, but I could do with a lot less engagement with the environment.
My Personal Assistant's behavior yesterday was so horrible that he has lost TV privileges for an indeterminate period of time. Basically, he can't watch tv or have tech time until he stops asking for it-constantly-at a screaming volume-using phraseology he has not been exposed to under this roof. I am so upset. I really do not know how I will cope.
The following is a true story of what happens when we loose TV privileges. It is not for the faint of heart. You have been warned.
The Assistant overslept this morning and didn't quite make it to the toilet. I found him, naked from the waist down, sleepily washing his hands and air drying his manly bits in front of the heating vent in the bathroom.
Mr. Baby was fussing and I sat down on the couch to see what was going on and keep an eye on the hand washer. Mr. Baby vomited on my lap more than I have ever witnessed a baby vomit. More than I thought possible. Then he did it four more times before I could move. He vomited on me so profusely that all I could do was strip him, put him in his playpen, and shower, because there was vomit in my underwear. Let me clarify: THERE WAS VOMIT IN MY UNDERWEAR.
I stepped out of the shower to be greeted by my still undressed assistant.
"Mommy, Mr. Baby pooped very greenly in his pack-n-play. It is also very greenly and all over my shirt."
While I cleaned that mess up, my faithful Assistant, now naked, prepared "gifts" for Mr. Baby's "get well party". (The Personal Assistant believes in celebrating the little things, and I predict, will have a wide ranging circle of friends in college because he can turn just about anything into a party.) One of the gifts was matchbox cars shoved in a sock he found. A sock that I had just stripped off his brother due to either vomit or poo.
Mr. Baby loudly requested going straight back to bed. So while I rocked Mr. Baby to sleep, my Assistant packed the shape sorter with various objects. Including: random toys, cupcake wrappers, toilet paper tube, the canister of black pepper, my inhaler. These were not easily accessed objects.
While I was sorting out that mess and bleaching the toys, the Personal Assistant sat quietly on the couch...pulling the feathers out of the pillows until the couch was covered in feathers.
I had to use the bathroom. While I was in the bathroom, my Assistant helped by shouted demands at me. I told him to go play and wait for me to come out. He, instead, silently scaled the kitchen cabinets to get to his safe candy stash retrieved one, then ran to his bedroom (where is brother was sleeping) to eat it behind the rocking chair.
I was so livid I silently threw what was left of his sugar free red vine away. He asked for yogurt. I made the yogurt and left the room to count to ten. When I came back, the kitchen smelled of vanilla. He handed me the now near-empty bottle of vanilla.
"Did you open this?"
"Why do I smell vanilla?"
He had emptied the bottle into the mixing bowl.
Somehow, Mr. Baby napped, all the toys in the playroom and playpen made it into the tub to be bleached or the washer to be sanitized, the vanilla was poured back into the bottle, and everyone who was able to eat, did. Especially the Assistant, who ate 3 bowls of yogurt (one purple, one green, one plain) and, by request, a pepperoni and honey sandwich. (Gag a maggot.)
He is now playing tea set with the stuffed animals from the top shelf, because there is literally nothing left in the playroom. I thought him that the stuffed animals really liked tea parties so that I didn't have to play and could wolf down some lunch while Mr. Baby screamed in the carrier on my back because he won't be put down.
Thank God the furnace was fixed yesterday and we have heat again (again) because if I had to spend 2 hours getting a fire going with wet wood like I did yesterday everyone would have been S.O.L. Or I might be in jail, or Thailand.
|Starting with the yellow dog his customers include: T-Bone, Mr. Pricklepants, Caillou, Mr. Bun, Mr. Purple Prickle, and Clifford.|
I am just remembering that somewhere in my house is a pile of pee soaked pajamas. I hope it is in the upstairs bathroom and not hidden somewhere.
Next time the pediatrician asks how much TV we watch, I hope to proudly answer; "We have a two hour a day minimum." I hope he earns his screen time back soon. I need a nap.