Contraption Complications

I've been having a lot of difficulty with objects recently and the contraptions designed to make my life easier.

Socks

Joel, perhaps training to be a future Beckham (please, God, do not let my future daughter-in-law be Posh Spice II), kicks all the time. In the Baby Bjorn, in the car seat, in his crib---if there's kicking to be done, he's all over it. Consequently, he never has socks. It doesn't matter how form-fitting the socks may be, he'll make short work of losing one, of not both of them.

Strangers love to tell you that your baby is missing a sock, especially when it's windy and cold outside. I usually smile and go into my song and dance about how difficult it is to find socks that stay on. Yesterday, after Owen's haircut, Joel was once again missing a sock, and once again, a stranger let me know it. After the blah blah blah, she told me that the solution to my problem would be to:

1). Go to the fabric store.
2). Buy several pieces of velcro.
3). Sew the velcro onto each sock, then sew the other half of the velcro onto the leg of Joel's pants.
4). Repeat this process for all of Joel's clothing.


Really? Really. Never mind that Joel grows out of his clothing approximately every two days, I. Don't. Sew. Time spent sewing, (or, shoot, glue-gunning) velcro to my kid's clothes and socks is time that I am missing important things, like writing this blog or spending time on Facebook, or reading or showering, or sitting on my ass. I mean, do people really do this?

Mittens
My mother-in-law bought me these elastic clips that connect a baby's mittens to the sleeve of his or her jacket, to prevent the baby from losing the mitten. This contraption is fantastic, if I was the kind of person that remembered mittens to begin with. Since I generally do not, my baby is the one wearing mismatched tube socks on his hands.

Cookie Press
My mother has made these amazing cookies for as long as I have known her---cream cheese, orange rind, a hint of cinnamon. They are transcendent. They also involve the use of a cookie press. When Mom makes them, she presses out charming little trees, reindeer, stars, and angels. I press out red turds. It doesn't matter what I do, my cookies look like ass. So much so that I'm too embarrassed to bring them to a cookie exchange, and I've made boring drop cookies, instead.

Nasal Aspirator
I know how to use the nasal aspirator, but my problem is, I'm addicted to it. I'll stick the skinny end in poor Joel's nose, release the bulb, and I'll almost get the booger out. Almost, but not quite. So, I'll do it again. And again. And again. Joel is squirming, Owen wants to look inside it to see all the cool boogers, and I Can't. Stop. Squeezing. I may need an Aspirator Intervention, because no matter what I do, it'll never be enough.

Penis Holder
Owen initially learned how to pee-pee sitting down. That's what they recommend. Now, as he's becoming more of a pro, he's learned that boys also get to pee standing up. When he pees sitting down, he holds his penis down. When he pees standing up, he still holds his penis down. Consequently, pee either runs down his leg, or dribbles all over the seat. When he's done, the toilet looks like the crusty yellow commode of a Naval Golf Course after a Fourth of July Scramble Tournament.

That may seem like an odd simile, but having cleaned a toilet when I worked at a Naval Golf Course during the annual 4th of July Scramble Tournament, trust me, it's apt.

Anyway, to prevent Owen from painting my toilet yellow, I sit next to him and hold his penis to help him aim it properly. It feels as weird as it sounds.

So, I need a contraption that helps toddler boys aim properly when they pee standing up. I'm sure it exists...right along with the velcroed socks and mitten holders.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think Joel is sounding a bit congested again...good thing I have the nasal aspirator.