Tennis Lessons and Poop Problems

Let me start by saying that when I returned home from my volunteer Youth and Family Counselor gig last night and asked D.Jones what Coops had for dinner, I cringed when he told me “a huge bunch of raw green beans, and a cup full of soy nuts”.  Whoa.  Seriously!?  See what happens when I’m not home for dinner?  I told him in no uncertain terms that the combination, with no other foods, would cause major digestion issues for a wee 3 year old.  D.Jones scoffed at me and said everything would be fine.   Yeah.  Remember this part.

So, today was rainy and hot and humid as a rainforest this morning after crazy storms rolled through in the early morning hours and the sun just couldn’t break through it all.  We lounged around and had a lazy morning with Cooper.  Then the boys strolled up to the neighborhood coffee shop to fix D.Jones’s jonez for coffee that I am no longer brewing at home since I am coffee-free.

We put up all the screens that we hadn’t put up yet this spring, and did some laundry and all the catching up that folks do on weekends.

Cooper took a great nap, and while he was napping, D.Jones and I discussed finally taking him for his first tennis lesson that he has been so excited to try since I bought him his first raquet over a week ago.

When he woke up, we loaded him up and headed to a tennis court not too far from home.  He did great.  Not exactly focusing in an Agassi kinda way, but getting in some hits nonetheless.

While we were at the courts, he said on a few occasions, “I don’t feel good”, but we blew him off in loving parent fashion.  His first lesson went fantastically, and though he wasn’t able to concentrate at first, once he got the hang of it, he got some great shots in!  We were both excited, since at various times in our past, we’ve both been tennis players and have hoped to instill a love of it in Coops.

We were there until almost 6:30 when we decided we should get some dinner.  If we had gone home and I’d made dinner, it would be ridiculously late by the time we ate.  We were close to a restaurant that we know and sometimes visit, that is vegan-friendly and therefore perfect for my cleansing self.  We headed over.

We were approached by a host who offered us indoor or outdoor seating.  By then it was sunny and wonderful out, so we opted for outdoors.  Thank God.

We hadn’t been seated long when Cooper announced that he had to poop.  We looked over at him sitting his chair and he was trying so hard to hold it that he was shaking.   I said “let Daddy take you to the potty, baby”, but being that he’s potty trained only partially, he’s not hip on going number two in public places.  Pee…sure.  Poop?  No way.  He declines.  I tell him that if he really needs to go, he should just go, and it so happens that we have a pair of silky, Air Jordan basketball shorts that I just purchased for him, still in a bag in the Jeep.  I assure him it’s okay to go if he needs to, and he asks Doug to walk him to the Jeep.

They are gone awhile and return all smiles about 10 minutes later, just as our food arrives.  A yummy, crispy looking cheese pizza for Cooper, some vegan sweet corn cakes for moi, and a vegetarian tempeh ruben for D.Jones.  Delish!

Cooper is now sporting no undies and just the new basketball shorts, when he crunches into a ball in his chair and says “I don’t feel good.”  We assess the situation and deem him just fine.  He still seems uncomfortable, but is eating a piece of his pizza and seems fine.

I ask if he wants to sit on my lap and he agrees.

We are eating in peace a mere moments later when he starts shaking again.  I say, “Omigod, I think he’s going to…” and then I feel it coming.  I quickly whip him off of my lap, but not quite in time.  I won’t ruin your next meal with details, other than to say, loose silky basketball shorts and digestion issues from last night’s dinner don’t mix.  And thank God we were seated outside, because, um…the sidewalk and my shorts bore the brunt of the um…”issue”.  

I grab him up and hold him in front of me as I rush past finely dressed diners at the other outdoor tables, who are all staring in horror.  Wow.  So many dinners ruined.  It’s a long trip the length of the block and around the corner of the restaurant where I spot the Jeep and our safe haven, all the while with Cooper yelling a disgruntled “hey!  What about my pizza” as I continue running.

When we get to the Jeep, I strip off Buddha’s clothes, only to realize that we have no backup plan and so I strap him naked except for a t-shirt into his car seat.  I turn the car around ready for a quick getaway for D.Jones’s arrival.  Once the drama has died down and Cooper and I are waiting in one foul, hot vehicle for Doug, Cooper’s adorable voice from the backseat says…and I quote…”Well, Mommy….my poop problems are solved.”  So they are, my boy.  So they are.

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Once we arrived home, Doug offered me a specialty beer that he had just ordered during the week.  I took him up on it, so yeah…I cheated on my cleanse.  So sue me!  Wouldn’t you at that point!?  We had already rinsed Cooper’s clothes in the downstairs laundry tub, and given the boy a bath, and the three of us were sitting on the front steps watching the dark clouds begin to again roll through. 

Cooper was feeling much better and was dancing and spinning around on the front steps while D. Jones did his best Stones impersonation, singing “You can’t always get what you waaant” when all of sudden Cooper stops in his tracks, looks at D.Jones all seriously and says “why can’t you get what you want, Daddy?” 

When we were done laughing, Doug responded “Oh, there are so many responses to that question, Coops…..just so many.”
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Anyway, after quite an evening, I leaned over toward D.Jones and said “I can’t believe that happened to us tonight.  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry”, when D.Jones chuckled and said “ya gotta laugh, don’t you?”  True enough, Doug Jones.  True enough. 

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Perhaps overheard from the Jones residence this evening….

Doug:  Ouch!  Cooper!  Don’t poke me with that pine needle…that hurts!

Cooper (pulling up his shorts just a little like he’s getting a shot):   Poke me, Daddy!

Me:  Does he really remember getting shots!?  Why is he pulling up his shorts and yelling “poke me”!?

Doug:  Oh, by the way…is it Pride weekend?

We apologize to anyone this conversation may have offended, and no pine needles were harmed in the recounting of this scenario.