The Perils of Co-Showering

I take showers with my four year old.

Whew! Glad to get that out there. Everybody has an opinion about it these days, and most of those people don't even HAVE kids.

It started when she was a baby. It was just easier for me to take her in with me than to trust that the older three kids would leave her alone (and well) long enough for me to shower. And since I enjoy NOT smelling like baby vomit, I had to come up with SOMETHING! And so the idea of co-showering came into play.

When she was really little, it was a team effort with my husband and I taking turns holding her while the other got clean, then one of us would exit, dry off, and then get her out. As she got older, the hubs bowed out. It may have had something to do with the time that she played ding-dong-ditch with his man parts, but I am not certain, and he's not talking. No really, we made a pact to never talk about that (embarrassing yet incredibly hilarious) moment EVER again.

Shoot! I am totally breaking that vow right now. Don't tattle!

So now it's just us. Me and her. And it is just part of our normal routine. I mean, if you don't make a big deal out of something, the kids won't either, right? And they certainly are used to seeing me halfway dressed as I have been walking around in my underwear since they were born. (Not planning on changing that either. Get over it!)

And several funny stories have come about because of our stance on co-showering. The first being the time that she assaulted the man parts with a giggle. But we aren't talking about that one. (See! I CAN keep a secret, honey!) There was also the time that she pooped. THAT was a treat. Let me tell ya. Nothing like playing hopscotch over turds in a slippery bathtub while trying to avoid tripping over a toddler or bringing down the whole shower curtain bar.

And then there was the time that she peed on my feet.

Good times.

But my absolute favorite story is the one that just happened!

Her and I were showering, like usual, me washing her hair, her playing with cups and other toys, when all of a sudden, she milked me! Or at least she tried too! (I TOLD you she had an obsession with boobs!) Before I could even stop her, that child reached up grabbed ahold of the old milk jugs and gave a squeeze! And I KNOW she was a-milkin' because she was holding her cup up to catch the juice!

Oh Lordy! Will this child's breastfeeding fascination EVER end?

I tried (unsuccessfully) not to laugh so that she would take me serious when I told her that "Cows are for milking, NOT mommies! and that "milking mommy's boobies was NOT appropriate touching" and then I asked her if she would like a good milking when she gets some ta-tas of her own? Of course, she giggled a big "no!" And I don't think she believed me when I told her that I WILL pay her back for all this breast assaulting when she is a tween/teen and has her OWN.

But I will!

After all, I have YEARS to plan the perfect revenge.

photo credit: khunaspix via www.freedigitalphotos.net

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All aboard the Hoo Hoo Express!

As any of you who follow my blog on Facebook (click here) know, my 4 year old daughter, Brennan, is OBSESSED with 2 things.

Boobs
and
Babies.

Pretty much daily, she climbs up into my lap, lays her head on my "pillows" (this is where the boobs first come into play), and rubs my fat "baby" tummy. Minus the baby. (Cuz this mom is D-O-N-E, done!) It is during these precious moments that the baby badgering begins. "Why is your tummy so fat? Is there a bay-bay in there?" Followed by "Well WHY isn't there a baby in there? I really WANT a baby to be in there!" And on my luckiest days, she stops there.

I don't get lucky very often. (I am married after all)

When I can't quench her insatiable thirst for a younger sibling THAT way, she starts in on a new angle... "When I was a baby, I drank milk from your boobies!" She says with a giggle. "Why do boobies have milk ONLY for babies?" (She asks this because she previously was told that the Milk Express has permanently left the station and will NOT return without the birth of another baby. And I am pretty darn sure that she is itchin' for a big swig of good old fashioned boob juice) "Maybe you should have a baby so we can get more milk!" Emphasis on the "we" proves my earlier point. Then the crazy boob rubbing and talking comes in. "Oh boobies! I love you so much! You are so boob-e-full! (giggle) Who is my booby, booby?!!" This lasts several minutes and is quite uncomfortable (for both me AND the boob-e-full boobies), until I finally say "THAT'S ENOUGH" and physically remove her hands and try (usually unsuccessfully) to change the topic.

Epic fail.

All that usually does, is kick the stubborn drama-queen into full gear, and I get the "Well I didn't ASK to be the LAST baby! You had 3 (fingers up to prove her point) other babies before me and I don't want to be the littlest." No luck? She pulls out the cuddly soft side with "God puts the babies in there." matter-of-factly stated. Ooooh no... I know what she is REALLY saying: "Haha woman! I get the last laugh. You have ZERO say in whether another baby gets put in that sucker! I will just pray every night for a baby. And you will be SCREWED!"

When those questions get her no where, she puts the REAL baby questions into play! Sticking her finger into my belly button, she asks, "Is THIS where babies come out of?" "No", I tell her, "That is where babies get hooked inside their momma's tummies. Then after you are born, a doctor snips your umbilical chord off and you get a belly button in it's place." Hmmm. This always makes her ponder for a minute or two before she starts getting deeper and MUCH more persistant. "Where do they COME OUT OF then?"

Well, after several hmms and haws over THAT beaut of a question, the hubs had finally had enough. So the last time she asked, he stated, loudly and with hand gestures that I really wish I could emulate in writing, "They come from your VA-GI-NA!"

Cue hysterical giggles.

No seriously. That is what that statement did. She was uncontrollable! "Daddy is SILL-AY! Huh, momma?! That isn't where BABIES come out of!" "Oh yes it is", the hubs counters. "Babies come straight out the Hoo Hoo Express" Still giggling, she looks at her dad, then looks at me, to see me nodding my head in solemn (well, as solemn as I could muster after hearing the term "hoo hoo express" come out of my husband's mouth) agreement.

Huh. "Can I watch a movie?", she asks. Whew! Maybe, just maybe, the hubs has shut her up on the baby makin' questions!

Naw... She will be back at it again tomorrow. I'm sure. This girl sure is stubborn. I wonder where she gets it from?

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