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Chipper The Baby Chipmunk

I have reached another Mommy milestone!  As you’ve may have noticed from some of my past posts about Mommy milestones that I continue to be amazed by not only the daily steps my daughter takes in becoming a real true grown up, what ever that is, but in what steps she has forced me to take to gain an even more mature, hopefully, grown up status. Again, what ever that is? OK, maybe not such a mature status but definitely a more knowledgeable about the inner workings of what it means to be a mom. And I’m not talking about the sweet tender emotional sides of motherhood, but the occasions of complete disbelief that that noise could emanate from such a little body or OMG!!! THE POOP!!!! So it really didn’t come as much surprise to cross another bridge into the uncharted diaper pail of motherhood.

I’ve heard stories about my own childhood about this very thing but I really didn’t know what everyone was really teasing me about.  And I certainly could not picture it, so the thought never crossed my mind until my own child decided it was time to become….The Chipmunk. I know the more experienced moms out there are now laughing your tails off at me saying “is that it?” as you roll your wise mother eyes.  With the big build up I just gave this rather normal scenario why couldn’t I give you something more drastic like pooping in the tub or painting the walls with poop?  Question: why do all the bizarre things that babies do have to be with poop?  Just sayin’! Poop isn’t the only disgusting thing that our kids come up with.  Am I right? What about when they decide they like to wear their food more than eat it?  My daughters turning that into an art form all on its own.

URRP! Hit pause! Rewind! Rewrite! Hit play!

Did I fly off my tracks or what? With that being said let me continue with the story of Chipper, my little chipmonk. Picture this. We are sitting in a restaurant eating nice omelets which we are sharing with our daughter.  She had been greedily stuffing egg into her open bird like mouth which was keeping her rather quiet. Oh the bliss!  But it wasn’t long until we noticed that she had stopped eating… but was still quiet.  Hmmm… Well… We knew she had some food in her mouth, and she does have the tendencies to suck on things for long periods of time (it’s so gross), so we just took this as a nice break from the non-stop baby lingo she chatters at us at all times day and night.  Did I mention that my kid is a chatter box?  And she can’t even form complete sentences.  But she thinks she does and narrates every move she makes for us. All.  Day.  Long.  So the sudden silence was rather welcomed.  We didn’t think much about the food in her mouth assuming it was a small piece of something special she was savoring.  (Eww, gross!) But again, this was normal.

What wasn’t normal was that she was still quiet when we arrived at our next destination.  By then, as I was walking through the parking lot with her in my arms, (hubby missed all the fun by the way) I noticed a small dribble of drool coming out from between her clamped lips.  And just like that BAM, Mommy instinct kicked in and I did what all Mommy’s learn how to do the minute the start to breast feed, (ouch!) I pried her mouth open with my finger.  And out pops this chunk. No! WAIT!  Let me correct myself. This MASSIVE BLOB that I’m sure contained a few dozen tomato chunks all smashed together in a nice paste of egg.  And maybe a cat.  Not that I really want to relive this too much but the blob was the size of her head.  I swear it was!  As I scoop it out with my finger, and with one lofty chuckle filled tongue push from my daughter, the blob bounced off my arm like a wet sponge and hit the parking lot with a huge splat!  I stood there, frozen, staring at my daughter.  I’m speechless… really.  After 30 somthingish years another human being finally rendered me speechless and it was only a miniature human.  I look at the ground at this massive blob and then again at my grinning daughter, who was really more amused by my shocked look than I was appreciating at the moment, and thought to myself, OMG, the stories are true!  Years of hearing about how my mom had fits trying to get me to actually eat my dinner and not save it for winter are true!  My child is walking in my tiny chipmunk foot prints!

Then a car honked at the silent Mommy statue standing in the middle of the parking lot, and then proceeded to drive over my daughters egg and cat sponge, and life went on. And that’s it.  That’s my story.  Yes, I realize that this really isn’t such a tragic or huge Mommy milestone, and definitely not as vile as poop… this time,  but for me it was the realization that my daughter really is a little mini-me.  In all ways. And not just the cute adorable ones.  And all I can really comprehend and say after this is I’m sorry mom for tormenting you with my chipmunk habits and I hope I didn’t spit too much egg in your face.

"Squeeze my cheeks! Come on! I dare you!"

"Squeeze my cheeks! Come on! I dare you!"

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