The Pill
After we had our first child, we wondered why anyone who already was a parent needed birth control. Our daughter soon became known as "The Pill" around our house. No other form of birth control needed: just insert into home one newborn that stays awake for six hour stretches at a time. When we finally got her to sleep 3 months later, we looked at each other and my husband said, “Sex or sleep?......We’d better sleep first, we might not get another chance!” That’s how bad it was. Eventually we got a handle on the sleep deprivation and the other option was higher priority. We lived in a very small apartment with just a front room, a kitchen and a water closet; emphasis on closet. I mentioned once to my mom that it was very hard to find romantic time alone with my husband in these closed quarters. Her advice was, "She won't know what is going on, just cover up and go ahead." Usually my mom gives really good advice, but this has to be the worst advice I ever got. In her defense maybe past generations of babies weren’t as alert as this one? My mother in law mentioned once that in her day they would give poppy tea to babies to quiet them. What? Isn’t that opium? That explains a lot.
In any case, we weren’t entirely convinced about the just go ahead advice, but out of desperation, we decided to try it one evening while the baby was playing with pots and pans on the kitchen floor. As we covered ourselves on our little futon in the front room, we hoped she would just stay in the kitchen until we were done. In the middle of our little romantic encounter, we hear the pill crawling around in the room. Trying fervently to believe my mother that she had no idea what we were doing and wouldn't care, we continued, with baby babbling in the background. The next thing I know, my husband cries out in pain, "Ouch!" The pill had picked up his tennis shoe by the shoe lace and swung it around, hitting him on the head! So much for that idea…
Then we entered the tempestuous preschool years. One day I was taking a load of wash down stairs to the laundry room. My husband was lying on the couch, watching a football game. As I went by, he said, "Hey, will you wash my pants too?", then took off his blue jeans. He continued to watch his game wearing just his shorts on his bottom half. I imagine the next commercial break, he would've put on new pants. When I came back up from loading the washer, I started to work on something in the kitchen. My darling daughter was trying to impede my efforts and started to have a melt down. So I picked her up, carried her into the living room, and started to hand her over the top of the sofa to my husband, telling him to take care of her. She managed to wriggle right out of my hands and slide out of my husband's grasp, kicking and screaming as she made a nose dive for the floor on the other side. On her way down, she started biting anywhere she could and bit down right around his crotch and caught a small piece of skin on a certain appendage. She kept sliding to the floor, teeth clamped down on the only thing that wasn't air. My man let out a very loud wail of excruciating pain. He shot about 10 feet into the air. I still had no idea what was going on. "What's the matter?" I exclaimed. "Red faced and saucer-eyed, he gasps out. SHE- BIT- ME! Then points to the magic spot. Next my daughter found herself picked up by one "wing" and sent on her way to her bedroom. Every time he took a step behind her the pain shot into his hand and she got a little swat to help her on her way. I tried not to look on the funny side, but I couldn't help thinking of the Rudyard Kipling tale "How the Elephant Got His Trunk". Too bad hubby wasn't in the mood now! Sorry honey, I've got a you-know-what ache.
Somewhere along the line, we discovered Walt Disney videos. Although the pill still wasn't sleepy at night she would watch these videos for hours on end. Thank heaven! I overheard my husband telling his friends," I love Walt Disney!" And thanks to Walt, she eventually got younger siblings to continue challenging us.
