Bad, bad mama, or How to Become a Human Burp Cloth

The girls asked me to make paper fans for them tonight.  I was preoccupied with other things (see below) and so I whipped out two folded-copier-paper fans and absently said, "Ok, now go play."  About a half an hour later, Ellie came out of the kitchen to show me that she had decorated her fan.  I don't know why the sight of glitter didn't set off alarm bells, but I only checked into the situation on Ellie's third trip into the living room to show me her fan.  It must have been the sparkling shower I got when she waved it at me.  I looked up at her  only to see she had completely bedazzled herself.  Oh, but wait, there's more.

Tessa , her young accomplice, was a shimmering vision as well.  I believe they managed to get the glitter to adhere to their skin with the glue stick I later found.  Faces, arms and hands sparkled in the lamp light.  Tessa's scalp shone like a Vegas Showgirl.  She showed me the soles of her feet and I panicked.  They were completely gold.  I jumped up and ran to the kitchen.

The floor reflected a rainbow of color as I moved through the room, not knowing where to step.  The table glinted under the CFL, and there upon it was the completely empty bottle of micro-fine iridescent glitter dust, and the last few shakes of fine gold glitter.

*****

Allow me to share with you another mess.

Jonah has been doing so much better since I went on the elimination diet.  I have learned to navigate my way through the perplexing world of food labels with a lot of help from friend Erin, and I have grown accustomed to rice cakes, sunflower seed butter and coconut milk.  Some of the stuff ain't even so bad.  It wasn't until I figured out that corn had to get the ax that Jonah had finally begun to have pretty, yellow, sweet smelling poop (yes, I said sweet.  Get over it.). 

About two weeks before Halloween I had begun the process of reintroducing foods one by one at four day intervals.  I began, as any ice cream lover would, in the dairy aisle.  By the end of that same evening, Jonah had lovely vermilion green poop.  *Sigh*.  No dairy.

Next, of course, was chocolate.  I don't believe any explanation is needed.

Strike two.  Forrest green.

Next on the I-could-survive-if-only-I could-eat-this list was Gluten (read: donuts, sourdough bread, gravy...).  I thought we were going to slide by with this one, but on day two, some rashy little bumps popped up in a few places on Jonah's cute little face.

Strike three.

But then I started to doubt my methodology.  Was I waiting long enough in between?  What if, (hope, hope) I just hadn't given the dairy and chocolate enough time to clear out?  We had a party coming up that evening, and I decided I would try wheat products again.  Of course, by noon it seemed silly to wait till that evening, and so I sampled a gluteny goodie right then and there. 

And then another.

By evening I had convinced myself that even though Jonah's diapers were mother nature's kaleidoscope, that as long as he was still happy, what would be the harm?  I mean, what's wrong with having a Technicolor tush?

And with that thought, the dam that had been my resolve broke.  I became a food trollop, sampling every sweet and savory item that came in the door.  I even ate things I didn't like so much, just because I was "taking a break" from the food thing.  (Erin, if you're reading, I hang my head in shame).

The next day....Jonah was fine.  Poop the color of sunflowers, of clean school buses, of French's mustard! 

And the day after that was the same.  And, lacking evidence that anything I had eaten had so much as caused an odiferous toot, I... oh, I can barely say it... I kept porkin' out.  I even remember the feeling coming over me that it was a little sad that I wouldn't need to be on the diet, seeing as I had lost my last 5 pounds of preggo plumpness and might even lose more were I to continue.

"Se' la vi!"  I told myself, finishing off some of Guy's crisp pumpkin cobbler.

*****

  Of course, I know you see what's coming.  Indeed, Jonah is allergic.  Boy is he.

On day three his diaper skipped right through the greens and went to red... as in blood.  He then began screaming.  We are on day two of that.  Oh, and the rash, you ask?  Well, thank you for asking.  It's back with a vengence.

And he has begun spitting up all over. 

All over me. 

I am a big ol' burp cloth.

And I deserve it.

Why did I fool myself into thinking that it had been a coincidence that he had reacted after I ate known allergens?  Why did I not take it fully to heart all that Erin has taken time to teach me?  I guess I didn't think it would really be that bad.  I was like an alcoholic that is in denial.  Yes, we really do have a problem here.

*****

Now this is where my two stories collide.  My girls knew better than to adorn my entire kitchen and their entire bodies with glitter.  And it had all started out so innocently, but in no time went completely out of control.

The girls are grounded from glitter.

and I made them clean up the mess.

  I washed Tessa's hair four times, and her scalp still sparkles.

I am cleaning up my act, too.  I know Jonah doesn't know what I am saying, but I have apologised to him all day long.  His face looks clearer tonight, and after a pretty bad scream-fest, he is now sleeping on the sofa beside me.  The blood is gone, thank heaven.

Indeed, Thank Heaven, but shame on me.  We have prayed to know what to do to help Jonah, and I selfishly let myself ignore heavenly counsel, all for an appetite.

Bad, bad burp cloth.