Showing posts with label Tales from the Throne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tales from the Throne. Show all posts
Friday, August 10, 2018
Potty Training V, Take One
G: Uh, dad? Violet just peed in the grass.
O: How do you know?
G: I watched her do it.
V: I pee in the fucking grass.
O: How do you know?
G: I watched her do it.
V: I pee in the fucking grass.
Sunday, October 01, 2017
Where the Remotes Were
Violet finally revealed where all the remotes have been hiding for a month now: in the tank of her toilet. And to think I was feeling bitter because it's Sunday, everyone's home, and I still don't get to go to the bathroom by myself.
Tuesday, December 06, 2016
I can narrow it down to two possible suspects
"OH! MY! GOD! SOMEONE UNROLLED THE TOILET PAPER, USED IT, AND ROLLED IT BACK UP!" --G
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Callum and the Potty
Whenever the opportunity arises, like any time he is changing, Callum feels the need to stick his penis out the top of his underwear and/or pants/pajama bottoms/swim trunks and then draw attention to it. Even though the rest of us are totally desensitized to this particular brand of humor, Callum cannot be convinced it is anything less than pure comedic gold that bears repeating no less than twice daily.
You would think a kid like that would pee on a damn tree.
At the park:
C: "I have to pee!"
Mom: "Okay, let's go water that tree way over there."
C: "No, I need a potty."
Mom: "But you can pee on a tree just like a bear!"
C, with total utter confusion and sadness: "But Mom, I am not a bear. I am a human."
C, as we hike to the car, and I'm racking my brain for the nearest restroom while loading four children and all their crap: "Hurry, please."
He cannot be convinced. I have tried, and tried. And tried.
Yay for teenagers who can escort their younger siblings in while you park the car. Fifteen minutes later I am approaching the nearest grocery store bathroom, located at the far end of produce, just past the double doors leading to the stockroom. Halfway through the store I can see that not only are the stockroom doors open, so is the bathroom door, with a perfectly framed side view of Callum: pants on the floor, hands on hips supporting his back, pelvis thrust forward, streaming arch of pee.
Right as I was face-palming my damn self a male employee walking by chuckled and tapped the door shut.
No, you're totally right Callum, peeing on a tree on the far end of the park where no one can see would be madness.
You would think a kid like that would pee on a damn tree.
At the park:
C: "I have to pee!"
Mom: "Okay, let's go water that tree way over there."
C: "No, I need a potty."
Mom: "But you can pee on a tree just like a bear!"
C, with total utter confusion and sadness: "But Mom, I am not a bear. I am a human."
C, as we hike to the car, and I'm racking my brain for the nearest restroom while loading four children and all their crap: "Hurry, please."
He cannot be convinced. I have tried, and tried. And tried.
Yay for teenagers who can escort their younger siblings in while you park the car. Fifteen minutes later I am approaching the nearest grocery store bathroom, located at the far end of produce, just past the double doors leading to the stockroom. Halfway through the store I can see that not only are the stockroom doors open, so is the bathroom door, with a perfectly framed side view of Callum: pants on the floor, hands on hips supporting his back, pelvis thrust forward, streaming arch of pee.
Right as I was face-palming my damn self a male employee walking by chuckled and tapped the door shut.
No, you're totally right Callum, peeing on a tree on the far end of the park where no one can see would be madness.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Noooooooo!
Cracker singing in the shower post track & field.
"I really have to pee! I really have to pee! Ahhh! I feel so much better now."
"I really have to pee! I really have to pee! Ahhh! I feel so much better now."
Monday, January 25, 2010
What the Fuck
Thursday, July 24, 2008
One Little Pilot
"Mommy, Daddy, I don't want to be an Astronaut anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to go to space."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to wear Astronaut Pull-Ups. I'm just going to fly airplanes instead."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to go to space."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to wear Astronaut Pull-Ups. I'm just going to fly airplanes instead."
Saturday, July 12, 2008
And This Two Shall Pass
Hello, my name is Heidi. Second-time parent, first-time administrice d'enema.
That means I gave my daughter a shit pill.
It appears that Ollie's first big-girl poop may be stuck in the chute. According to our Ped, she's reached the ripe old age when her cottage cheese-like curdy stools give way to something...uh...more solid?* She wiggles, she grunts, she turns various shades of red and purple, but her little muscles just don't have the oomph. My poor baby!
It's been 11 days people.
The Rx:
-1/2 Infant Gylcerin Suppository, cut "girth-wise"
Manually pinch cheeks closed for 15 minutes to retain pill and prevent seepage. Deisred effect generally produced in 1/4 to 1 hour. (Currently 3h 22m and counting...) If bowel movement has not been passed after 8 hours, repeat. If that doesn't work, call the Ped.
I just love how these things always fall on a Sunday.
*Neither J or I remember this from the Cracker, just the introduction to solids. Yick. Something to look forward to, especially since we are cloth diapering.** I'm totally jonesing one of these.
**Except not tonight, even though I know cloth would handle a blowout better (shout out to my girl Izabela: her diapers can hold anything, and her stiching is a work of art that will make you weep) but because I am as equally fond of our fluffies as I am terrified of what will hopefully come out of my daughter.
That means I gave my daughter a shit pill.
It appears that Ollie's first big-girl poop may be stuck in the chute. According to our Ped, she's reached the ripe old age when her cottage cheese-like curdy stools give way to something...uh...more solid?* She wiggles, she grunts, she turns various shades of red and purple, but her little muscles just don't have the oomph. My poor baby!
It's been 11 days people.
The Rx:
-1/2 Infant Gylcerin Suppository, cut "girth-wise"
Manually pinch cheeks closed for 15 minutes to retain pill and prevent seepage. Deisred effect generally produced in 1/4 to 1 hour. (Currently 3h 22m and counting...) If bowel movement has not been passed after 8 hours, repeat. If that doesn't work, call the Ped.
I just love how these things always fall on a Sunday.
*Neither J or I remember this from the Cracker, just the introduction to solids. Yick. Something to look forward to, especially since we are cloth diapering.** I'm totally jonesing one of these.
**Except not tonight, even though I know cloth would handle a blowout better (shout out to my girl Izabela: her diapers can hold anything, and her stiching is a work of art that will make you weep) but because I am as equally fond of our fluffies as I am terrified of what will hopefully come out of my daughter.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Yesterday's Random Parenting Related Cleaning Challenge
The Cracker snuck some bright aqua blue streamers into his bed and then peed on them.
He has white sheets.
So far I have tried: Biz. Spray 'n Wash. Clorox Bleach Pen...twice. Straight bleach.
Two of our three cats gacked up some of the same streamers. Luckily, I caught it right away and the carpet was saved.
I think I give up.
(Which will leave me with some time to try, again, to get more than a half dozen little purple spots of jelly bean drool out of the carpet without cutting.)
He has white sheets.
So far I have tried: Biz. Spray 'n Wash. Clorox Bleach Pen...twice. Straight bleach.
Two of our three cats gacked up some of the same streamers. Luckily, I caught it right away and the carpet was saved.
I think I give up.
(Which will leave me with some time to try, again, to get more than a half dozen little purple spots of jelly bean drool out of the carpet without cutting.)
Friday, June 01, 2007
Captain Underpants
The other day I noticed that the Cracker had changed his underpants. There were two obvious signs:
1. They were on backwards, which happens a good 50% of the time these days, and
2. Instead of white with little airplanes he was now sporting solid red.
"Why did you change your underpants?"
"Ummm...ummm...ummm...they had water on them?"
"Uh huh. Where are they?"
"I hid them."
"Where?"
"In my woom."
"Where in your room?"
"Under the wocking chair. You know, the blue one?"
"Can you get them for me?"
"Sure!"
I follow him as he scampers off happy as can be. He lays down on the floor in front of the chair, takes a quick peek, and then gropes blindly. Voilà one pair of dinosaur underpants.
"Uh, these aren't the ones I was talking about. This morning you had on airplane underpants."
"Huh."
"Where are the ones with airplanes?"
"Lemme just think for a moment, okay? Hmmm...hmmm... I know! I hid them too!"
Behind his bed.
When the Cracker finishes peeing he always drips. First drips come approximately 10-15 seconds after the stop of flow, second set a good 30 seconds later, and then finally the third and final set no less than another 30 seconds later. J has tried to teach him to "shake it off" and the Ped says it's probably from being uncircumcised. Whatever the case, the Cracker is suddenly far too excited to get back to what he was doing before his potty break to wait for that third final set of drips.
Over the weekend he changed his drippy pee underwear 17 times. He's so good about taking care of business on his own now that we don't even think about the fact that he's slipped away until we hear a flush, at which point it's too late.
After everything we went through with PTing, DPU doesn't send me into a frenzy like it would have 2 years ago, and I'm *thrilled* that he finally prefers clean drawers when not all that long ago he was perfectly happy to sit in poop all day long.
As my Dad points out, at least he's not ashamed to tell me where they are. That is good. I'll point out that I'm glad while he's smart enough to hide them, he's not smart enough to realize how ratting himself out negates the whole point of hiding them in the first place.
Lots of positives here.
1. They were on backwards, which happens a good 50% of the time these days, and
2. Instead of white with little airplanes he was now sporting solid red.
"Why did you change your underpants?"
"Ummm...ummm...ummm...they had water on them?"
"Uh huh. Where are they?"
"I hid them."
"Where?"
"In my woom."
"Where in your room?"
"Under the wocking chair. You know, the blue one?"
"Can you get them for me?"
"Sure!"
I follow him as he scampers off happy as can be. He lays down on the floor in front of the chair, takes a quick peek, and then gropes blindly. Voilà one pair of dinosaur underpants.
"Uh, these aren't the ones I was talking about. This morning you had on airplane underpants."
"Huh."
"Where are the ones with airplanes?"
"Lemme just think for a moment, okay? Hmmm...hmmm... I know! I hid them too!"
Behind his bed.
When the Cracker finishes peeing he always drips. First drips come approximately 10-15 seconds after the stop of flow, second set a good 30 seconds later, and then finally the third and final set no less than another 30 seconds later. J has tried to teach him to "shake it off" and the Ped says it's probably from being uncircumcised. Whatever the case, the Cracker is suddenly far too excited to get back to what he was doing before his potty break to wait for that third final set of drips.
Over the weekend he changed his drippy pee underwear 17 times. He's so good about taking care of business on his own now that we don't even think about the fact that he's slipped away until we hear a flush, at which point it's too late.
After everything we went through with PTing, DPU doesn't send me into a frenzy like it would have 2 years ago, and I'm *thrilled* that he finally prefers clean drawers when not all that long ago he was perfectly happy to sit in poop all day long.
As my Dad points out, at least he's not ashamed to tell me where they are. That is good. I'll point out that I'm glad while he's smart enough to hide them, he's not smart enough to realize how ratting himself out negates the whole point of hiding them in the first place.
Lots of positives here.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
The Bestest Unsolicited Junk Mail Ever
A big thank you to my new friends at Tide/Pampers/Kandoo marketing. The illustrated frog wiping his ass is genius and a delightful treat to unexpectedly find in one's mailbox.
Reward chart and stickers? Oh how you spoil us!
There is just one minor problem: the packet came addressed to yours truly, but my dear husband is insisting on taking it to work where he plans to proudly display it in his cubicle. (Something about checking off everything but "I wiped.")
Reward chart and stickers? Oh how you spoil us!
There is just one minor problem: the packet came addressed to yours truly, but my dear husband is insisting on taking it to work where he plans to proudly display it in his cubicle. (Something about checking off everything but "I wiped.")
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Today's Parenting Lesson
Your child does something they aren't supposed to do. They knew that it was a no-no, but they did it anyway. You know they did it. Hell, you may or may not be sitting right in front of evidence; you may have actually stopped them in the act. Doesn't matter.
"Did you just wipe poo off your tushie with your stuffed bunny?"
"No."
"I saw you."
"Nope, it wasn't me."
"Honey, it's very important that you tell me the truth. I'm not mad, but I need you to be honest with me."
"But I didn't do it Mommy."
"If you didn't then who did?"
"Hmmm...I don't know."
And they are the suckiest liars ever. Their faces are this weird mix of guilt for the act and doubt as to whether or not you’re going to buy what they're trying to sell. Go ahead, ask until you're blue in the face, but the answer ain't changing.
"No."
But, ask them why and the suckers crack immediately. It totally worked.
"Because he's soft, and he was alweady in my hand, and I didn't know where the toiwet paper was."
"The toilet paper is right here, on the roll, where we always keep it."
"Oopsies!"
So, thank you mothers on the internet who've BTDT. Keep it coming.
"Did you just wipe poo off your tushie with your stuffed bunny?"
"No."
"I saw you."
"Nope, it wasn't me."
"Honey, it's very important that you tell me the truth. I'm not mad, but I need you to be honest with me."
"But I didn't do it Mommy."
"If you didn't then who did?"
"Hmmm...I don't know."
And they are the suckiest liars ever. Their faces are this weird mix of guilt for the act and doubt as to whether or not you’re going to buy what they're trying to sell. Go ahead, ask until you're blue in the face, but the answer ain't changing.
"No."
But, ask them why and the suckers crack immediately. It totally worked.
"Because he's soft, and he was alweady in my hand, and I didn't know where the toiwet paper was."
"The toilet paper is right here, on the roll, where we always keep it."
"Oopsies!"
So, thank you mothers on the internet who've BTDT. Keep it coming.
Oh, we're poop trained now
Why didn't I say anything before? Because regression is inevitable. Seven glorious weeks without a single (not one!!!) accident and we're back to dirty drawers.
So now I can talk about it.
"Mommy mommy! I went poo all by myself!"
And you've already pulled up your pants = skid marks. (moan)
"That's great honey. Let's go wipe."
"I alweady did!" Pauses and then sticks out thumb. "But my thumb is dirty.........it has poo on it."
Visible poo.
Now, take that exact same scenario, fast forward a week, and replace thumb with pinky finger, and you have the second time it happened.
I am now attempting to cut his nails every other day.
So now I can talk about it.
"Mommy mommy! I went poo all by myself!"
And you've already pulled up your pants = skid marks. (moan)
"That's great honey. Let's go wipe."
"I alweady did!" Pauses and then sticks out thumb. "But my thumb is dirty.........it has poo on it."
Visible poo.
Now, take that exact same scenario, fast forward a week, and replace thumb with pinky finger, and you have the second time it happened.
I am now attempting to cut his nails every other day.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Not just snacks anymore
Ever been so tired that you just forget everything? Things you've known for years, but in the moment that formerly useless trivia become actually useful your brain just completely fails you?
Like that we could be using Cheerios and Fruit Loops to teach aim?
Why oh why did I totally forget this? Must have been that all of my available resources today (twice today) went to destroying evidence that my son peed on the wall/seat/back of a public toilet.
And the floor. Don't forget the floor.
(I am going to make myself learn to pee standing up. I am never sitting my bare ass down on a public toilet again.)
So what was my excuse yesterday? How about that occasionally the Cracker will ask to take a bath when he's actually already very clean at a most inopportune time and my promise of later isn't NOW so he pees on himself on purpose in hopes that he will get to play with his tub friends?
Actually I think it's amazing I even know who I am anymore, even if I don't know the difference between a pumpkin and a honeydew.
So in my eternal quest to have a child fully able to take care of his own waste needs I've forgotten a few things along the way. Sue me.
The thing you have to realize is that this potty training thing hasn't been a black and white matter. Really, truly, the whole thing is gray. Lotsa gray. I came into this figuring that you're either potty trained or you're not.
Oh no.
And it's been going on since approximately 18 months.
STEP 1: Matching the word to the receptacle.
STEP 2: Agreeing to sit on it.
STEP 3: Understanding what it's for.
STEP 4: Learning to recognize the urge.
STEP 5: Before the urge hits.
STEP 6: Being able to sit still long enough.
STEP 7: Actually agreeing to.
STEP 8: Trying more than occasionally.
STEP 9: Learning to accept that you must stop what you are doing to do business, even if what you were doing was more fun because it always is.
STEP 10: And care that dry pants are preferable to wet ones.
STEP 11: How to hold it.
Followed in no particular order by: dry during awake time, dry during nap time, dry all night long, doing it on the command of your mother, taking care of business all by yourself, and (the one thing I most look forward to) poo in porcelain.
"Ms. X is finally potty trained!"
"Wow! That's great! I can't wait for the Cracker to be there."
"It's the best! You're going to love it! It has changed my life!"
"So how is that going overnight? Is she still sleeping through or does she get up to pee often? Do you get up with her? Does she go back to sleep right away?"
"Oh no, she's only DAY trained."
"Oh. How about naps?"
"Mmmm...she's dry maybe once a week?"
"Uh huh. And what about poo?"
"Oh no, she won't poo in the potty! She asks for a diaper and then does it in that!"
"Okay...well it must be nice to not have to think about it, for her to just go when she needs to."
"Oh no no no! If I don't make her try every hour she has an accident."
???
In the last two months we've made the following pee related progress:-Pee standing up.
-Which lead to (woo hoo!) being able to urinate in potties other than our own at home without a special stool or ring.
But best of all:-Hold our own penis while peeing. (Okay, this is really new and really big. Yes, he made us hold it. And we did because we are first time suckers. Even J. And now that it's on the Internet everyone I have ever known knows. Why did I tell everyone? Because I never knew that this was even a possibility, that one day I would be holding a 3 year old penis while it peed. Did you know that???)
Which brings us now to aim. Aim is next. Hi ho Cheerios!
Monday night, when I really needed some adult alone me time, so I went to the grocery store down the hill to buy milk. Woot.
And after I was done I found myself sitting in my car in the parking lot with the engine running, enjoying the peace and quiet, admittedly not really wanting to go home yet when my cell rang.
"Umm...how would you go about sucking up dirty water if the bathroom...uh...flooded? Do we have special towels for that?"
"No. Use the steam cleaner. Just turn it on and the default is sucking mode. Wait...the bathroom flooded?"
"Yeah."
"Is it bad?"
"Yes."
"How bad?"
"Are you on your way home?"
"Yes, I'll leave right now."
"Okay, I'll just wait for you then."
And the good news is that it was the first time the Cracker tried to take care of business by himself!
The bad news is that I had spent the whole day cleaning, that my parents were arriving for a Thanksgiving inspired visit the next day, and now there was soggy toilet paper floating in pee water in the bathroom, running down the carpeted hall, under closet doors, etc. Not a puddle, A FLOOD. INCHES OF WATER. OUT THE BATHROOM AND DOWN THE HALL.
So happy I cleaned all damn day long.
And J totally knew what the Cracker was doing. But instead of being like me and sneaking into the hall outside the bathroom to listen and observe he just stayed where he was. Even when, in his own words, the Cracker started screaming "Daddy! Daddy! UH OH! OH NO! DADDY HELP ME! TOO MUCH PEE!!! TOO MUCH PEE!"
Oh yeah, and before that, the sound of rushing water.
When he finally got there he found my dear child holding the lid down and trying valiantly to stop the water with his little hands.
"Wow, sucks you have to clean the bathroom again."
"Did you at least give him a bath?"
"No, but I guess that would be a good idea."
You think?
(If don't already own one, buy a damn steam cleaner. Best purchase of my life. Not only can it be used as a wet/dry vac in a pinch, but you can steam clean you carpets to your hearts content. Quite useful in my line of work.)
Like that we could be using Cheerios and Fruit Loops to teach aim?
Why oh why did I totally forget this? Must have been that all of my available resources today (twice today) went to destroying evidence that my son peed on the wall/seat/back of a public toilet.
And the floor. Don't forget the floor.
(I am going to make myself learn to pee standing up. I am never sitting my bare ass down on a public toilet again.)
So what was my excuse yesterday? How about that occasionally the Cracker will ask to take a bath when he's actually already very clean at a most inopportune time and my promise of later isn't NOW so he pees on himself on purpose in hopes that he will get to play with his tub friends?
Actually I think it's amazing I even know who I am anymore, even if I don't know the difference between a pumpkin and a honeydew.
So in my eternal quest to have a child fully able to take care of his own waste needs I've forgotten a few things along the way. Sue me.
The thing you have to realize is that this potty training thing hasn't been a black and white matter. Really, truly, the whole thing is gray. Lotsa gray. I came into this figuring that you're either potty trained or you're not.
Oh no.
And it's been going on since approximately 18 months.
STEP 1: Matching the word to the receptacle.
STEP 2: Agreeing to sit on it.
STEP 3: Understanding what it's for.
STEP 4: Learning to recognize the urge.
STEP 5: Before the urge hits.
STEP 6: Being able to sit still long enough.
STEP 7: Actually agreeing to.
STEP 8: Trying more than occasionally.
STEP 9: Learning to accept that you must stop what you are doing to do business, even if what you were doing was more fun because it always is.
STEP 10: And care that dry pants are preferable to wet ones.
STEP 11: How to hold it.
Followed in no particular order by: dry during awake time, dry during nap time, dry all night long, doing it on the command of your mother, taking care of business all by yourself, and (the one thing I most look forward to) poo in porcelain.
"Ms. X is finally potty trained!"
"Wow! That's great! I can't wait for the Cracker to be there."
"It's the best! You're going to love it! It has changed my life!"
"So how is that going overnight? Is she still sleeping through or does she get up to pee often? Do you get up with her? Does she go back to sleep right away?"
"Oh no, she's only DAY trained."
"Oh. How about naps?"
"Mmmm...she's dry maybe once a week?"
"Uh huh. And what about poo?"
"Oh no, she won't poo in the potty! She asks for a diaper and then does it in that!"
"Okay...well it must be nice to not have to think about it, for her to just go when she needs to."
"Oh no no no! If I don't make her try every hour she has an accident."
???
In the last two months we've made the following pee related progress:-Pee standing up.
-Which lead to (woo hoo!) being able to urinate in potties other than our own at home without a special stool or ring.
But best of all:-Hold our own penis while peeing. (Okay, this is really new and really big. Yes, he made us hold it. And we did because we are first time suckers. Even J. And now that it's on the Internet everyone I have ever known knows. Why did I tell everyone? Because I never knew that this was even a possibility, that one day I would be holding a 3 year old penis while it peed. Did you know that???)
Which brings us now to aim. Aim is next. Hi ho Cheerios!
Monday night, when I really needed some adult alone me time, so I went to the grocery store down the hill to buy milk. Woot.
And after I was done I found myself sitting in my car in the parking lot with the engine running, enjoying the peace and quiet, admittedly not really wanting to go home yet when my cell rang.
"Umm...how would you go about sucking up dirty water if the bathroom...uh...flooded? Do we have special towels for that?"
"No. Use the steam cleaner. Just turn it on and the default is sucking mode. Wait...the bathroom flooded?"
"Yeah."
"Is it bad?"
"Yes."
"How bad?"
"Are you on your way home?"
"Yes, I'll leave right now."
"Okay, I'll just wait for you then."
And the good news is that it was the first time the Cracker tried to take care of business by himself!
The bad news is that I had spent the whole day cleaning, that my parents were arriving for a Thanksgiving inspired visit the next day, and now there was soggy toilet paper floating in pee water in the bathroom, running down the carpeted hall, under closet doors, etc. Not a puddle, A FLOOD. INCHES OF WATER. OUT THE BATHROOM AND DOWN THE HALL.
So happy I cleaned all damn day long.
And J totally knew what the Cracker was doing. But instead of being like me and sneaking into the hall outside the bathroom to listen and observe he just stayed where he was. Even when, in his own words, the Cracker started screaming "Daddy! Daddy! UH OH! OH NO! DADDY HELP ME! TOO MUCH PEE!!! TOO MUCH PEE!"
Oh yeah, and before that, the sound of rushing water.
When he finally got there he found my dear child holding the lid down and trying valiantly to stop the water with his little hands.
"Wow, sucks you have to clean the bathroom again."
"Did you at least give him a bath?"
"No, but I guess that would be a good idea."
You think?
(If don't already own one, buy a damn steam cleaner. Best purchase of my life. Not only can it be used as a wet/dry vac in a pinch, but you can steam clean you carpets to your hearts content. Quite useful in my line of work.)
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
"A picture is worth a thousand words."
I've been meaning to finish a Poo Post I started well over a week ago for, well, a week. I just need 20 minutes (20 minutes!) of quiet time to make sure I've said everything I have to say at this moment in time about poo. And I have a gazillion other posts writing themselves in my head.
Alls I needs is time.
But no. There are always more pressing things to do than update my blog.
And in case you're wondering how it's going, this is how it was going about 15 minutes ago:
UPDATED TO ADD:
No my child is not Satan, he's just three. And a half.
Powered by 4 hours of restless sleep, too much caffiene mixed with a quarter of a bagel and sweet face filled with shame I had three emotionally charged responses to choose from:
A. laugh
B. cry
C. scream and bang my head against the wall
Then I saw the camera and realized the future blackmail potential, and the two of us had a darn good chuckle.
(And a please we do not poo on the carpet.)
Alls I needs is time.
But no. There are always more pressing things to do than update my blog.
And in case you're wondering how it's going, this is how it was going about 15 minutes ago:
UPDATED TO ADD:
No my child is not Satan, he's just three. And a half.
Powered by 4 hours of restless sleep, too much caffiene mixed with a quarter of a bagel and sweet face filled with shame I had three emotionally charged responses to choose from:
A. laugh
B. cry
C. scream and bang my head against the wall
Then I saw the camera and realized the future blackmail potential, and the two of us had a darn good chuckle.
(And a please we do not poo on the carpet.)
Monday, October 23, 2006
My Mortifying Monday
(Potty Training and vibrators mentioned)
A week ago today the weather was sucky. We needed out.
A few days earlier I finally did what all parents eventually do...I banished Pull-ups from our residence. That's it! I've had it. Mommy says enough is enough!
Over the previous few months the Cracker had slowly become completely unpotty trained as we sat by and lazily did a lot of nothing about it.
"Do you want to go potty?"
"No!"
"Okay Schnookems! No pressure!"
But of course the problem wasn't fixing itself, and I knew he was totally capable, understood when and how and had done it all before. This was bullshit. And so I woke up one morning with no patience and a plan. The plan went into action right then and there and when J got home that night before he could even kiss me hello I gave him the low down.
"No more Pull-ups! None! He will wear only big boy underpants, and to control the leakage he will wear tight PJ bottoms and socks at all times. Wet stuff goes in the blue bag in the bathroom. Strip him down in the tub then use the hair washing cup to rinse him down. No bath toys and he is to remain standing. Don't shame him, but don't make it fun either. After rinsing wash his lower half with soap on a wash cloth. Wash cloths are here. Then rinse and redress. The steam cleaner is ready to go in the living room. Ask him to show you the spot and then pull this to dispense cleaning solution, scrub, and then soak it back up into the machine. Any questions?"
The first few days sucked and the Cracker and I muddled through it at home. One of those beautiful afternoons as I was carrying him by the armpits at an arms length to the tub to wash pee off of him yet again a quarter sized dollop of pee got on my jeans. I immediately took them off and rubbed my legs down with baby wipes. Within hours I had a quarter sized bright red burning rash in that exact spot.
(Today, nearly two weeks and a tube of triple antibiotic ointment later, it's down to an ugly series of mini scabs. I hate having sensitive skin.)
Anyway, by Monday the Cracker was getting the hint about the potty training, so off we went back into the world.
Our exciting journey first took us to the Post Office to mail a bill and have the talk again about how amazing it is that mail goes on airplanes and random people you don't know somehow get it from point A to B. Next stop was Starbucks where I felt no shame in getting a big fat drink because I'd just repotty trained a 3.5 year old. Last was the Cracker's treat, Home Depot, to ride the tractors and lawn mowers for being such a big boy.
We'd been there about 45 minutes when we got a call from J.
"The alarm went off. One of the spare bedroom windows."
Crap!
"The police were already dispatched and they'll meet you there. Whatever you do they don't want you to go inside. They have a description of your car. Go to a neighbor's."
The Cracker somehow mysteriously understood my half of the conversation and immediately asked "the police come my house? Yippie!!!"
?
We're home within 10 minutes...no police. We hang at Crazy Neighbor's across the street because he's the only one I knew would be home. Everyone else is at work.
Another 10 minutes goes by, no police.
"Gimme your keys. I'll go check."
"No, I'm just going to wait."
"At least let me go walk the perimeter and see if anything is disturbed. Did you do that?"
"No. I wasn't going to leave the Cracker alone."
So I finally give my neighbor the keys to the side gate, he walks around, pronounces that everything looks in order.
"Okay then. Thanks!"
"Just let me go in your house."
"No, I'll just wait."
"Seriously!"
"No."
"Why not?"
"My house is messy." Half-lie.
"I don't care."
"No."
"Why not???"
And he won't stop bugging me.
"Whywhywhywhywhy?"
"Because!"
"Why?" OMG shut up!
"Fine, I'll tell you! I will tell you, but I won't let you see! My hot pink vibrator is sitting prominently displayed on the nightstand! Happy?! I am embarrassed enough that perfect strangers are going to see it, but I'm not letting you go in."
Insane amounts of laughter. Dying here.
"Okay, okay! I understand!"
More laughter.
"Maybe the cops won't even see it when the go in."
"Yeah, I think not."
"Really, maybe they won't notice."
"Believe me, they will."
"Does it have a name?"
I hate you.
Police arrive: three younger than me officers. They tell me all about the procedure, tell me they will check all closets and hiding spaces and then let me know when it's all clear. Then they make a big deal about going in, weapons drawn. Creepy neighbor continues the teasing.
Cops are inside forever.
When they finally come out they are all smirking and not a one will look at me, they all are grinning at the ground.
"Dude! They SO saw it! Did you see their faces? Did you? Bahahaha!"
Thank you, yes, I saw.
A week ago today the weather was sucky. We needed out.
A few days earlier I finally did what all parents eventually do...I banished Pull-ups from our residence. That's it! I've had it. Mommy says enough is enough!
Over the previous few months the Cracker had slowly become completely unpotty trained as we sat by and lazily did a lot of nothing about it.
"Do you want to go potty?"
"No!"
"Okay Schnookems! No pressure!"
But of course the problem wasn't fixing itself, and I knew he was totally capable, understood when and how and had done it all before. This was bullshit. And so I woke up one morning with no patience and a plan. The plan went into action right then and there and when J got home that night before he could even kiss me hello I gave him the low down.
"No more Pull-ups! None! He will wear only big boy underpants, and to control the leakage he will wear tight PJ bottoms and socks at all times. Wet stuff goes in the blue bag in the bathroom. Strip him down in the tub then use the hair washing cup to rinse him down. No bath toys and he is to remain standing. Don't shame him, but don't make it fun either. After rinsing wash his lower half with soap on a wash cloth. Wash cloths are here. Then rinse and redress. The steam cleaner is ready to go in the living room. Ask him to show you the spot and then pull this to dispense cleaning solution, scrub, and then soak it back up into the machine. Any questions?"
The first few days sucked and the Cracker and I muddled through it at home. One of those beautiful afternoons as I was carrying him by the armpits at an arms length to the tub to wash pee off of him yet again a quarter sized dollop of pee got on my jeans. I immediately took them off and rubbed my legs down with baby wipes. Within hours I had a quarter sized bright red burning rash in that exact spot.
(Today, nearly two weeks and a tube of triple antibiotic ointment later, it's down to an ugly series of mini scabs. I hate having sensitive skin.)
Anyway, by Monday the Cracker was getting the hint about the potty training, so off we went back into the world.
Our exciting journey first took us to the Post Office to mail a bill and have the talk again about how amazing it is that mail goes on airplanes and random people you don't know somehow get it from point A to B. Next stop was Starbucks where I felt no shame in getting a big fat drink because I'd just repotty trained a 3.5 year old. Last was the Cracker's treat, Home Depot, to ride the tractors and lawn mowers for being such a big boy.
We'd been there about 45 minutes when we got a call from J.
"The alarm went off. One of the spare bedroom windows."
Crap!
"The police were already dispatched and they'll meet you there. Whatever you do they don't want you to go inside. They have a description of your car. Go to a neighbor's."
The Cracker somehow mysteriously understood my half of the conversation and immediately asked "the police come my house? Yippie!!!"
?
We're home within 10 minutes...no police. We hang at Crazy Neighbor's across the street because he's the only one I knew would be home. Everyone else is at work.
Another 10 minutes goes by, no police.
"Gimme your keys. I'll go check."
"No, I'm just going to wait."
"At least let me go walk the perimeter and see if anything is disturbed. Did you do that?"
"No. I wasn't going to leave the Cracker alone."
So I finally give my neighbor the keys to the side gate, he walks around, pronounces that everything looks in order.
"Okay then. Thanks!"
"Just let me go in your house."
"No, I'll just wait."
"Seriously!"
"No."
"Why not?"
"My house is messy." Half-lie.
"I don't care."
"No."
"Why not???"
And he won't stop bugging me.
"Whywhywhywhywhy?"
"Because!"
"Why?" OMG shut up!
"Fine, I'll tell you! I will tell you, but I won't let you see! My hot pink vibrator is sitting prominently displayed on the nightstand! Happy?! I am embarrassed enough that perfect strangers are going to see it, but I'm not letting you go in."
Insane amounts of laughter. Dying here.
"Okay, okay! I understand!"
More laughter.
"Maybe the cops won't even see it when the go in."
"Yeah, I think not."
"Really, maybe they won't notice."
"Believe me, they will."
"Does it have a name?"
I hate you.
Police arrive: three younger than me officers. They tell me all about the procedure, tell me they will check all closets and hiding spaces and then let me know when it's all clear. Then they make a big deal about going in, weapons drawn. Creepy neighbor continues the teasing.
Cops are inside forever.
When they finally come out they are all smirking and not a one will look at me, they all are grinning at the ground.
"Dude! They SO saw it! Did you see their faces? Did you? Bahahaha!"
Thank you, yes, I saw.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
4 Days to Enlightenment
DAY 1
?
Sniff. Sniff.
Hmm.
DAY 2
?
Sniff sniff. Sniff.
Huh?
DAY 3
"Do you smell anything?"
"What?"
"Funk."
"Cat pee?"
"No."
DAY 4
"OMG what is that smell!"
"Cat pee?"
"No. Come here."
"I don't smell anything." Coughing and gagging. "Now I do."
"What is it?"
"Cat pee?"
"NO. It's...like...airplane bathroom."
Laughing. "Looks like someone has some cleaning to do!"
Instant regret.
I give him THE LOOK anyway.
"I mean, great job honey! The bathroom is spotless!"
"Do you think it could be coming from the drains? From the sewer system?"
Sniffing. "No. Smells okay there."
"Ugh! I can't figure it out. I think we're going to have move."
Looking, looking, looking...
"Here we go!"
The Cracker has been secretly using his little potty even though I thought we only used it as a step stool. And because he uses the big potty a million times a day, I'd been teaching him if it's yellow let it mellow.
Guess we need to have a talk.
?
Sniff. Sniff.
Hmm.
DAY 2
?
Sniff sniff. Sniff.
Huh?
DAY 3
"Do you smell anything?"
"What?"
"Funk."
"Cat pee?"
"No."
DAY 4
"OMG what is that smell!"
"Cat pee?"
"No. Come here."
"I don't smell anything." Coughing and gagging. "Now I do."
"What is it?"
"Cat pee?"
"NO. It's...like...airplane bathroom."
Laughing. "Looks like someone has some cleaning to do!"
Instant regret.
I give him THE LOOK anyway.
"I mean, great job honey! The bathroom is spotless!"
"Do you think it could be coming from the drains? From the sewer system?"
Sniffing. "No. Smells okay there."
"Ugh! I can't figure it out. I think we're going to have move."
Looking, looking, looking...
"Here we go!"
The Cracker has been secretly using his little potty even though I thought we only used it as a step stool. And because he uses the big potty a million times a day, I'd been teaching him if it's yellow let it mellow.
Guess we need to have a talk.
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