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Do I detect a hint of minty freshness November 1, 2009

Posted by Erin F. Wasinger in Being a mama, Kind of unreasonable.
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With Dave’s dumb hours, this mama gets to be the enforcer five nights out of seven. Under my regime, she must pick up toys. Her hands and face must be cleaned after meals. She must take baths, she must cut her nails. She must brush her teeth, go to bed.

I’m the bad guy.

So when Dave’s home on Sundays and Monday nights, I sometimes ask him to do it; or some of it.

I do this because when she wants to read a book, Mama can’t do it if Super Daddy’s in the vicinity. Nooooo, not Mama. It has to be Dad. If she wants a snack, it has to come from Dad’s hands, or else no, her head shakes, she doesn’t want it. I do this because she’ll watch TV on his lap. She’ll squeal when she hears the toilet flush upstairs, because she knows he’s on his way down. Seriously.

I do this because, OK, so what. I’m jealous.

So tonight I gave her to him so I could wallow in self loathing for a few minutes. I was doing fairly well with it when suddenly a wail of colic-like proportions erupted from the bathroom. I raced into the bathroom to find my poor baby — MY BABY — on the floor, torrential-downpour-sized tears streaming down her face, WHITE, FOAMING TOOTHPASTE in her mouth.

If you have no children this will not strike you as anything but annoying.

But my husband had her innocent little Elmo toothbrush covered in COLGATE. Adult Colgate. Her baby toothbrush.

Oh, she screamed. It burned her gums, which are already deep pink from teething. It tasted nothing like her bubble gum training paste, with the cute little bear on the package and no warning about calling the Poison Control Center on the back. Oh, my baby.

“ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL HER?!” I hissed — yes, hissed, it was one of my better moments as a wife — while trying to wipe it out with a washcloth before she swallowed it all.

“What? What did I do?”

And just like that: She wanted her Mama.

Redemption.

In better news a quick Google search says she probably won’t die from it. And she let me put her into her big girl bed in her new room, with hugs and kisses. Just for Mom.

Oh, I needed that.

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