You know, the best skill to learn when you are a parent is the ability to remain calm in the face of your child's pain/horror/fury/whathaveyou. Even though your insides might be exploding from the sheer panic you feel when you realize your preshusss baby fell off the bed and has blood running down his face, even though you want to cry when they try to climb on the oven and end up cracking their head on the floor because hey, the oven isn't actually a climbing gym, you must remain calm. Because you know if you go OH MY GAWD! There is blood running down your face! Or, Good Heavens are you OK?! Or even, WHOA! the screaming and panic from the small one will increase exponentially. And its just not worth it. The crazy oven climber? he doesn't need his mother to freak out about the sound his head made when it hit the tile floor. He needs a calm monotone, that motherly shushing and patting and moomooing in his ear. So that's what you do, you squish the panic and fear and check his noggin for cracks, all the while shushing and moomooing and speaking in monotone.
Well you know what, I REALLY needed a shusshing moomooer yesterday. There I was, just innocently taking a shower, looking very closely at my body wash bottle. I don't know why I was looking at it so closely, have no idea really, but I was and then I flipped open the lid and BLAM! A glob of soap shot straight into my eye. And I proceeded to start yelling. And hopping. And stomping. And yelling some more.
And Norah was in the bathroom for all this, because she is always in the bathroom if I am in there, talking about Mickey Mouse most of the time (and you know, I really don't care what Mickey Mouse did with his balloons when I am trying to poop, Norah) so she was the witness to me losing my ever-loving mind. Thankfully Max was taking a nap, otherwise is head would have been in the shower too because he is also always in the bathroom with me, usually wanting to sit on my lap while I am sitting on the toilet (which, come on, there is something very wrong with that idea) so he didn't have to hear the stream of caveman words coming out of my mouth. But the ever helpful Norah, standing on her potty stool playing mad scientist in the sink while I pretend not to notice so I can have just one shower's worth of time to just think about myself, she's in the bathroom with me when I burned my eyeball out with soap and as soon as I started yelling and stomping she was all MOM! Whatsa matter?! And I was all AAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!H!!!!&%^^^& I got SOAP in my EYE! BLAAAGGGG! Stomp stomp STOMP! And she was all Oh. Well Mom did you know that Mickey Mouse has a balloon that can talk? I didn't know balloons could talk MOM! And I was all OHHH MY GAAAAWWWDD! MY EYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! ABLDHFUASGFYGFIOUAWED*&W^T&E%Q^EYIJ!(backspace!)
This continued for a rather embarrassing amount of time, me yelling and inserting type functions into my expressions of pain and Norah talking about that infernal mouse before I was able to get out of the shower and take my contact out. Soap in the eye is infinitely more painful when it gets underneath your contact and then just....stays there. So I took it out and walked around half blind for a while, though still able to see enough to post three agony filled tweets before attempting to re-insert the soap contact. Bad idea. Still had soap on it. And the eye that was just barely beginning to feel better got all burny again and then my whole face turned red. I kid you not, my eye still hurt 12 hours later.
So I was thinking, if Norah gets soap in her eye tomorrow night when I give her a bath, I really can't say anything if she flips her lid and like...punches a hole through the wall. Because she learned it from her mother, the soap eyed cave person yelling in the shower. No matter what she does after experiencing the soap eye pain I will just continue with my monotone shushing and moomooing, telling her everything will be ok, while inside I am screaming I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL!