Parenting Horror Stories

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Happy Halloween, also known as the day where my four-year old dresses up in an overpriced costume that he doesn't let me choose for him anymore and collects candy from strangers' houses that his mommy and daddy will eat while he is sleeping. Today, I thought I would share some parenting horror stories from real parents because we all have them. And there is nothing more horrifying than explosive poop and projectile vomit! So get those baby wipes ready!

Ozzy, at two-and-a –half, was in the middle of potty-training. I was in the kitchen making dinner and he was happily playing in the living room when all of a sudden the smell wafted in. I turn around to find he had had the presence of mind to pull his pants and underwear down to do his poo. But instead of going in his potty, mere feet away, he shat on the fancy rug (from Harrods no less) in the middle of the living room. Knowing he'd been naughty, he went and found his toy Dyson vacuum and proceeded to "vacuum" up his poo…all over and into the posh rug. Into the toy Dyson. All over his feet. Poo footprints all over my house. I almost passed out with a heady combination of rage and hysterical laughter. Terrible twos indeed! -Jenn, Mom of Ozzy and Maddy

We always hire a college student to pick up my older daughter from school, do homework, and take her to activities. She's basically like her assistant, which is a demanding job in itself. We had just hired a new girl who is SUPER sweet and was just getting her bearings. On day two, my daughter fell asleep after school (which was odd) but it was week one so we chalked it up to exhaustion/excitement. The nanny woke her up to get her in the bath and I was leaving to do a radio show dressed in full makeup, hair, Spanx, etc. All of a sudden, she sprayed vomit ALL over her bedroom. I'm fucking talking all over. The floor, the TV, the dresser. It was like a deleted scene from The Exorcist. The sweet 23-year-old nanny froze in panic and as I moved into action to clean everything I just kept saying to myself, "Please don't quit, please don't quit, please don't quit!" Thankfully she didn't but I'm sure it was the most eventful first week at a job she's ever had. -Rachel, Mom of Ava and Sienna

One night around midnight, when my daughter was eight weeks old she needed a diaper change. I had her on my bed (which is very high) and was changing her. Luckily, my 21-year-old sister who lived with me was coming in from drinking about that same time and walked into my room. As I was taking the baby’s diaper off she proceeded to projectile poop into my face and hair and mouth and all over me. My sister was crying laughing and thankfully grabbed Ande as I ran to the bathroom, threw up and threw away my clothes. Ande is now 10 and thinks it’s the best story ever. -Amy, Mom of Ande, Mike, Nick and Joe

I'm a germ freak. Always have been. My oldest (Cole who Is now 18…OMG) jumped out of his crib and I caught him walking down the stairs chewing on the bottom of a plunger! I can still throw up at the thought! Wait ..I have another one! With my second (Lilly), I used to duck-tape her diaper shut because she dug in to her poop and painted her whole crib and the walls. No matter what I did she found a way to get poop everywhere. -Heidi, Mom of Cole, Lily, Montana and AJ

Judah had explosive diarrhea in my Ergo while I was checking out at Harris Teeter, then someone stole my groceries while I was cleaning him up in the bathroom. -Tamar, mom of Judah and Elijah

I took my four kids to Panera (ages 9,7,5 and 3). I go to order at the counter and the employee asks me if I would please use the "Quick Kiosks" instead. So, there I am attempting to place my order while trying to keep an eye on my kids. My middle two daughters start to get into a throw down about who is playing on the kiosk next to mine, so I grab my 5-year-old by the collar of her coat to keep her from gauging out her sister's eye. Meanwhile, I see my 3-year-old son about 10 feet away from me by the microwave, but didn't think anything of it as my order was almost complete (hallelujah). Next thing I know, two employees run out from behind the counter, one with a fire extinguisher. I see smoke billowing out of the microwave, smell melted plastic and see my son sheepishly stepping slowly away from the microwave. He had put one of those plastic buzzers into the microwave and turned it on!!! When I realized what he did, I went over to apologize to the Panera employee who promptly put her hand up in my face in annoyance. I got my order to go, put my kids in the car and proceeded to cry. I guess we all have those days. -Andrea, mom of Ellie, Lexie, Emma, JJ

My due date with H was January 19th and the stomach flu was going around so leading up to it I was really nervous someone was going to get it. And of course, after I put the kids to bed on my due date, Zach woke up puking all over his bed. Eric was out getting dinner and I was trying to avoid catching it, so I literally stood outside his room telling him it's okay and Daddy would be home soon to help as he sat covered in his own vomit. Anyway, this went on all night and Eric was a trooper and took care of it all. We essentially quarantined him in his room and Eric stayed home from work the next day and stayed with him so I could avoid contact. Of course, fast forward to two nights later and I start feeling crazy nauseous, realize I'm getting the stomach bug and within a half hour my contractions start. We go into the hospital and I am holding a bag in front of me because I know the vomit is coming at any point. We get to triage and they find out that I am definitely in labor, and surprise, he's breached (which we didn't know) so I would be having a C-section 45 minutes later. They start prepping me for the C-section and I start throwing up and it is the worst! Does not stop! Finally, they give me Zofran and wheel me into the OR as soon as I stop puking. They cut me open, baby is all good, and Eric is holding him in the OR while they stitch me up. All of the sudden, Eric screams, "SOMEONE NEEDS TO TAKE THE BABY" and he runs out of the OR because he suddenly gets sick. I am wheeled into recovery, throw up several times on my chest (I can't move my body since it is numb from chest down from surgery), the nurse wipes my chest with those hospital grade antiseptic wipes, and puts the baby on it. We finally go to my room and Eric gets sick all in my bathroom and then passes out on the couch. He sleeps through everything over the next few hours (it's about 2am), and finally wakes up at 6am and feels okay enough to drive home. He walks through the door at home and my mom is standing there with Levi's sheets in her hands because Levi puked all over his crib. They are both incredibly sick all day and my whole family is pretty much banned from visiting me in the hospital. Thank goodness I had a C-section so I stayed as long as I could to avoid my germy house. Seriously, I thought about checking into a hotel with the baby instead of going home. -Lauren, mom of Zack, Levi and Hank

Hayes had explosive diarrhea and was so awesome running to the bathroom and making it to the toilet before letting it fly. This story would have had a happier ending if only the toilet seat would have been up. -Kirstan, mom of Hayes,

I was a 22-year-old new mom with no baby experience. My husband was in the music biz and had to go on the road for a gig when baby T was five days old. His job booked him into the Clift House hotel when baby was five weeks old so I set off for San Francisco to meet him at his swanky digs with baby in tow. We arrive at his gorgeous room and have a blissful, relaxed evening with Daddy on baby duty. That room was worth the five-week wait and the daddy-daughter time was priceless. I wake up in the morning to my sweet hubby holding baby and I'm feeling refreshed for the first time in weeks. He is sitting on the fancy couch, wearing sweats, shirtless, and our babe on his lap. He knew I loved a bubble bath and hadn't taken one since he left, so he encouraged me to go relax in a bath, he's had things covered. I go prepare my bath with the bubbles and oil I brought with me. The bathroom is luxurious and as I step into the bath, before my tush hits the water,  I hear an odd sound from the room and then  "Oh s#*¢!" from my guy. I grab the plush robe and run to the room. My fab husband's chest, sweatpants and part of that fancy couch are covered in exploded, new baby poop. I'm talking our sweet angel went next level on the poop scale. She had on her diaper and footie jammies too. More poop than either of us had ever seen. There weren't enough towels to clean that up so we ended up with him getting in the shower, clothes, baby and all. Only a hose would have worked better. No bath for momma that day. -Lia, mom of Tasia and Jayla

I don't know about all of you, but we have gone through at least 1 million baby wipes since my son was born. Throw up, poop, pee, the kitchen counters, everything gets wiped up with baby wipes!

Do you have a parenting horror story you want to share? Comment below!

The Amazing Mason and His Imagination

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I vent about motherhood all the time. I’m just not one to sugar-coat or keep it to myself. There is no filter on this mommy, but I know that’s what you all love so much about me. Sure being Mason’s mommy is amazing, but I’m also really fucking tired, like all of the time no matter what I do. I wouldn’t mind an all expense-paid vacation to a hotel for just one night ALONE, where I could sleep, sleep more, wake up, and then sleep even more. No one would barge in on me in the bathroom and I wouldn’t have to negotiate any critical, time-sensitive matters such as how many pieces of broccoli one must eat before being allowed to leave the dinner table or how many minutes of playtime one gets before nap time. Or how many stickers one must receive on the poop reward chart before picking out a toy at the store. I complain about my three-year old a lot. Of course I love him more than anything, but most days I feel like I’m raising a tiny terrorist. And on good days? The most adorable tiny terrorist you will ever meet. If three-year olds had dating profiles, my son’s would start with: Mason Schwartz – master manipulator with a killer smile, gorgeous green eyes, great hair and winner of the bedtime battle of wills with the heart-melting phrase, “But I haven’t given you a kiss and hug yet.”

Even though I vent and complain and rant and curse...a lot, there truly are incredible moments. It can be pretty fucking awesome! To remind myself of this when I’m struggling down in those trenches with my bossy, whiny, and tantrum-throwing drill-sergeant little one, I’m going to write about how amazing I still think he can be. And he can be really amazing and say and do amazing things. I used to cringe when hearing parents talk about how incredible it was to see and rediscover the world through their children’s eyes. How cheesy, right?

So fucking true! It’s crazy and beautiful and awe-inspiring and extraordinary to watch my child discover the world around him. And the shit that comes out of his mouth as he expands his vocabulary and interacts with other children and adults? Crazy! Right now I am constantly blown away by my son’s imagination and curiosity. If he sees anyone doing a task, he wants to know how he or she does it and how he can help. And then of course he needs to do it by himself. When he gets home, he recreates the situation in his play room with the toys he has.  Let me explain.

Right now my son has two obsessions: construction and car washes (my husband takes him to the car wash every Saturday after breakfast, before soccer. It’s their special time). At home in his playroom, he takes turns being a “fixer man” and a car wash man. If he’s a fixer man he takes out his digger, bulldozer, mixer trucks, and tools, as well as any of his little people with vests on. If it has a vest on, it’s a construction man. He then proceeds to “fix the roads” which involves him drilling and hammering on the carpet and then pushing his wooden lawn mower over the area to smooth it out. Once the road is fixed and smoothed, his toy cars are permitted to drive over it.

After this gets old, it’s time to build a car wash. He takes his cars, trucks, trains, airplanes, and buses and lines them up in single file to wait to be washed. This is where his imagination and ability to play pretend floors me. He lays his broom and vacuum out, pretending they are the tracks. He drives the first car through, spraying imaginary soap on it, and uses the mop to imitate the rotating brushes inside an actual car wash. When that part is complete, he opens the hood of the car and uses his duster to clean inside. To make sure he didn’t miss a spot, he uses the empty soap brush he asked for at out last trip to Target. Once he deems the car clean, he uses his Finding Dory-themed fan to blow it dry. And just to make sure, he uses a paper towel too.

Lately every chance he gets, he asks, “Can I go make a car wash?” He is always adding new elements to his creation. Yesterday he started using various kinds of blocks to build the actual car wash building. He just blows me away with this stuff and play pretend skills.

When we came home from camp today, he recreated his classroom at rest time. He laid his five guitars (yes we have also had a guitar obsession) in a row and asked me for some blankets and a chair. He told me the guitars were cots and he needed blankets for his friends so they could go to sleep. He needed the chair so he could sit and watch them just like his counselors at camp do.

Two nights he asked forced me to lie down on the couch so he could give me a check up. Fully clothed in his doctor costume, he informed me I was sick and needed to rest under a blanket. Because according Daniel Tiger, when one is sick, “Rest is best. Rest is best.” He was so generous he even shut my eyes for me and confiscated my cell phone so I could “sleep” and get better. “Mommy, you can’t be on your phone anymore because you’re sick.” When he decided it was time to wake up, he brought me soup and mac and cheese (my favorite) from his play kitchen.

When I’m not “sick” he likes to sit me at the table and take my food order. I always tell him I want ice cream and he always says, “Mommy, you have to eat dinner first.” Oh buddy, I wish you would follow your own rules from time to time. And one day you will realize that sometimes mommy eats ice cream for dinner but you are too young to those secrets.

Oh and let’s not forget about his obsession with airplanes and the man who takes his stroller when he boards and returns it when he deplanes. Last week, he pretended that his NYC subway car was a stroller. He brought me the stroller and said, “I a stroller man. I’m putting the stroller under the airplane.” The airplane was my stomach. I was lying on the floor at the time taking a play break. He then returned to my stomach, I mean the airplane, and informed me it was time to take the stroller back. He did this on repeat for at least thirty minutes.

Mason is only three-years old and he has already had more jobs than I’ve had in my 34 years of life—construction man, car wash man, stroller man (if that’s even a thing), guitar player, camp counselor, and chef--sorry, I mean boss chef as he likes to call himself. What an overachiever! The only career that seems to have stuck for me is mom--probably because it’s not the easiest job to quit and it’s a lifetime commitment. I also have a Masters degree and I’m really good at cleaning up shit and catching throw up with my bare hands…but who’s keeping track.