Free I Want My Epidural Back by Karen Alpert Page B
Authors: Karen Alpert
buys it.)
HOLDEN: Donât turn it on for me.
ME: You canât reach it. Do you want a lift?
HOLDEN: No.
(He tries to reach the sink handle for a while.)
ME: Can I help you?
HOLDEN: No. (big pause) Helpppp meeee!!!
ME: Now go ahead and wash them.
(He puts his hand under the soap dispenser.)
ME: You need water first.
(He ignores me.)
ME: Holden, the soap wonât work without water.
(He still ignores me and starts to rub the soap without water, so I splash a little water into his hands.)
HOLDEN: Nooooo!!!!
ME: You need water. Rub it in. All over.
(He rubs the same spot on his palm for like 20 seconds.)
ME: The tops. Your fingers. All over. Twenty seconds.
HOLDEN: You count.
ME: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Okay, rinse them off.
HOLDEN: Count to 100.
ME: No, thatâs good.
HOLDEN: Count to 100.
ME: 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100. (He has no Fâing clue I started in the middle.) Now wash them off.
(I have to lift him up like Superman so he doesnât touch the soaking-wet counter and get drenched.)
ME: Hereâs a paper towel.
HOLDEN: I wanted to get it.
(OMG, seeeeriously??? Can we pleeeease get out of here already?!!!)
ME: Fine, get it.
(He gets his own paper towel. AFTER I lift him up because he canât reach and AFTER I put him down because themotion sensor wonât work for him so I have to get it for him. Imagine that.)
ME: Now throw it in the trash.
HOLDEN: I want to keep it.
ME: Itâs dirty. Throw it in the trash.
(And he does and we finally walk out. And on the way out he drags his fingers along the wall of the public restroom. The wall thatâs probably been speckled with fecal matter at some time. Awesome.)
HUBBY: What took you so long?
I give him the look of death.
Oh yeah, and this happens multiple times a day.
Let the potty training begin!!
Introducing the newest Olympic event . . . Synchronized Pooping!!!
LA LA LA LA LAAAAAA , just walking to Zoeyâs bedroom to put some clothes away. I walk by my room. Normal. I walk by Holdenâs room. Normal. I walk by the bathroom. WTF? No, wait a sec, to seriously do this WTF justice, I need to increase the font size, bold the shit out of it, and add like a thousand exclamation marks.
WTF?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Zoey and Holden are standing there wiping their tushies with toilet paper. Okay, now I know what youâre thinking. Youâre thinking that the view of young kiddos wiping their own asses is better than a view of the Grand Canyon from a helicopter. And yup, thatâs usually right. But not this time. Remain calm, remain calm, remain calm, I tell myself. There has to be a reasonable answer.
ME: Hey guys. Whatcha doinâ?
HIM: Weâre wiping.
HER: Because we pooped.
Okay, so far these answers are reasonably normal.
ME: You both pooped?
THEM: Yes.
ME: Like Zoey pooped and then waited until Holden was done so you could wipe at the same time?
HER: No.
HIM: We did it together!
HER: Yeah, we shared the potty.
Nooooooo. Seriously? Seeeeeriously??? Iâve been trying to teach you guys to share things for years and THIS is when you decide to start? But I have to know.
ME: (fearful) Whatta you mean you shared it?
HER: We shared it!
ME: How?
HER: We both got on.
Iâm picturing him sitting on the potty with her behind him, you know, like the way they would ride a horse together or the log flume ride at an amusement park, only a totally different kind of log this time. Ewwwww. Are you kidding me? And without pantson. But then Zoey proceeds to show me how Iâm wrong and how actually they both sat sideways on the potty with their backs to each other. Awwww, tush to tush. How cute. NOT.
HER: He pooped, and then I pooped, and then he pooped, and then I pooped.
Plop plop, fizz fizz, holy crap how Fâed up this is. I mean, I always wanted my rugrats to be close and do shit
HOLDEN: Donât turn it on for me.
ME: You canât reach it. Do you want a lift?
HOLDEN: No.
(He tries to reach the sink handle for a while.)
ME: Can I help you?
HOLDEN: No. (big pause) Helpppp meeee!!!
ME: Now go ahead and wash them.
(He puts his hand under the soap dispenser.)
ME: You need water first.
(He ignores me.)
ME: Holden, the soap wonât work without water.
(He still ignores me and starts to rub the soap without water, so I splash a little water into his hands.)
HOLDEN: Nooooo!!!!
ME: You need water. Rub it in. All over.
(He rubs the same spot on his palm for like 20 seconds.)
ME: The tops. Your fingers. All over. Twenty seconds.
HOLDEN: You count.
ME: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Okay, rinse them off.
HOLDEN: Count to 100.
ME: No, thatâs good.
HOLDEN: Count to 100.
ME: 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100. (He has no Fâing clue I started in the middle.) Now wash them off.
(I have to lift him up like Superman so he doesnât touch the soaking-wet counter and get drenched.)
ME: Hereâs a paper towel.
HOLDEN: I wanted to get it.
(OMG, seeeeriously??? Can we pleeeease get out of here already?!!!)
ME: Fine, get it.
(He gets his own paper towel. AFTER I lift him up because he canât reach and AFTER I put him down because themotion sensor wonât work for him so I have to get it for him. Imagine that.)
ME: Now throw it in the trash.
HOLDEN: I want to keep it.
ME: Itâs dirty. Throw it in the trash.
(And he does and we finally walk out. And on the way out he drags his fingers along the wall of the public restroom. The wall thatâs probably been speckled with fecal matter at some time. Awesome.)
HUBBY: What took you so long?
I give him the look of death.
Oh yeah, and this happens multiple times a day.
Let the potty training begin!!
Introducing the newest Olympic event . . . Synchronized Pooping!!!
LA LA LA LA LAAAAAA , just walking to Zoeyâs bedroom to put some clothes away. I walk by my room. Normal. I walk by Holdenâs room. Normal. I walk by the bathroom. WTF? No, wait a sec, to seriously do this WTF justice, I need to increase the font size, bold the shit out of it, and add like a thousand exclamation marks.
WTF?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Zoey and Holden are standing there wiping their tushies with toilet paper. Okay, now I know what youâre thinking. Youâre thinking that the view of young kiddos wiping their own asses is better than a view of the Grand Canyon from a helicopter. And yup, thatâs usually right. But not this time. Remain calm, remain calm, remain calm, I tell myself. There has to be a reasonable answer.
ME: Hey guys. Whatcha doinâ?
HIM: Weâre wiping.
HER: Because we pooped.
Okay, so far these answers are reasonably normal.
ME: You both pooped?
THEM: Yes.
ME: Like Zoey pooped and then waited until Holden was done so you could wipe at the same time?
HER: No.
HIM: We did it together!
HER: Yeah, we shared the potty.
Nooooooo. Seriously? Seeeeeriously??? Iâve been trying to teach you guys to share things for years and THIS is when you decide to start? But I have to know.
ME: (fearful) Whatta you mean you shared it?
HER: We shared it!
ME: How?
HER: We both got on.
Iâm picturing him sitting on the potty with her behind him, you know, like the way they would ride a horse together or the log flume ride at an amusement park, only a totally different kind of log this time. Ewwwww. Are you kidding me? And without pantson. But then Zoey proceeds to show me how Iâm wrong and how actually they both sat sideways on the potty with their backs to each other. Awwww, tush to tush. How cute. NOT.
HER: He pooped, and then I pooped, and then he pooped, and then I pooped.
Plop plop, fizz fizz, holy crap how Fâed up this is. I mean, I always wanted my rugrats to be close and do shit
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