“Keep your love for one another at full strength, because love covers a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8
In celebration of Mother’s Day this week, and a lack of progress in my book writing endeavor, I have decided to reactivate my blogging in hopes my writing will bring enjoyment to someone. Me. You. Anyone?? Plus, I need to chronicle these stories in case I forget in my old age.
Anyway, as stated before, I grew up thinking I never wanted children. And some days I’m still right. There was no lovey dovey feeling when they handed me my first writhing child, but as luck would have it they’ve grown on me. Good thing, huh? I blame endless entertainment as the bond that holds us all together.
About a month ago, one of my children, who will remain nameless to protect the innocent, had a serious case of the RA*. In babies, they call it diaper rash, but since he hasn’t seen a diaper in eons, I’m calling it the adult version: red, chapped, whatever you want to call it, it’s not good!
This was not the first time inadequate wiping had reared its ugly head, so I had showed him previously my face wipes that he could use to help clean himself up if he suspected the job was too much for toilet paper to handle. They’re the cheap face wipes from the dollar store, but they contain aloe and are better than dry paper on an already tender crack. And they won’t set you on fire like baby wipes.
Not that I know personally.
Okay, maybe I do…
Maybe RA runs in the family.
Said child had complained at bedtime of pain, burning, overall agitation, and restlessness due to the RA. I tried everything I knew to help make him comfortable, but nothing was working. I finally suspected stalling tactics to keep from going to bed, but when he came to me the third time flopping around and actually crying real tears, I knew there was more to the story.
I asked him what he’d done. He said he’d used some wipes. Which wipes? I asked.
So child ended up taking a shower about 11PM, got reslathered with the A+D ointment, and finally stopped being hysterical and went to bed.
But good advice would be not to use Clorox wipes as butt wipes. Just saying.
We went out of town last weekend and stayed in a hotel for two nights. On the morning after our first hotel stay, I have this conversation with the same child:
“Boy, that new toothpaste of yours really works! My teeth even feel clean this morning!” he says.
“I know. I got a whitening one this time and it really cleans your teeth good.”
“I don’t think I even need to brush my teeth this morning, they’re so clean!” he says.
“You still have to brush your teeth.”
“But they’re still clean!” he says.
“No, really, you still have to brush your teeth.”
(Goes into bathroom where father is brushing his own teeth.)
Overheard from father, “Hey, let me see that…. That’s NOT toothpaste!!”
And what was it?
That’s why I love them. Because they make me laugh!
*Red ass. That’s what we call it in my house, although we usually use the abbreviation.