Urinating as retribution... more potty fun!

As anyone who has been in the position (parent, relative, caregiver, etc) to train a small person in the ways and joys of the toilet can tell you, it ain't over til.... well... I can't exactly tell you. See, with potty training there is no end date, no gold star that suddenly appears on your chest or your child's bum or anything spiffy like that. Sometimes, you think the potty lady sang her last hooray song and then... you're in Target and it's a five alarm pooping! Regardless of whether you just put your child on the potty... and she is waiting with a small smile of oddly enough, triumph on her face. Ah yes, the days of "I'm in control now so let's see how fun I can make this" have arrived!

I had hoped with daughter number two, my previous experience, my education background and motherly tendencies it might go a wee (haha) bit smoother this time. After all, daughter number one (oh, I just got that- haha) practically trained herself, I mistakenly recalled in nostalgic moments to myself... MISTAKENLY. Ah, how this jaunt down the yellow brick road, as it were, has reminded me of the heartbreaks I once did experience and now relive with renewed vigor as I race with poo filled underwear to the demands of "Don't throw away Ariel undies, Mommy!" As well as cajoling, encouraging, bribing and slightly bullying this lovely creature to get her bum on requested pink urine/feces receptical "for the love of all that is holy!" I am also supposed to reward her? For pooping?  It is enough to drive me back to my prayers. Hallelujah there is pee IN the potty! Amen, Sweet Jesus the poo was made not in the underwear (or on the floor). Thank the lord we have such crappy looking carpets anyway. Forgive the pun, of course, God.

So, what prompted this Mad Mother (as in Mad Hatter, although my darling husband can attest to the alternative demonstration of the word by yours truly) to foray into tapping keys and sharing my toilet paper roll of funny? I had the fortune of observing my darling Two year old get into a battle Royale with my darling, usually calm and delightfully democratic Husband. He was mind-boggled when she in fact used her pee as revenge.

As usual, we are in disarray as the new school year approaches and all projects have been left to last minute. Dinner being a bit haphazard always means a struggle with our tiny fury. And so it was no surprise that as a power struggle over the last few bites ensued, a parental gauntlet was inadvertently thrown. To our girl's horror and dismay, chocolate rewards were threatened. Tears. Screaming. Hair was tossed. Chocolate was sadly dispatched to the waste basket. And then... she reminded us that she was in control. My husband found her standing in a wet spot, seemingly victorious. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!??!

Ah yes, We have reached my favorite phase of potty training. Accidents as parental punishment. She baldly admitted to me this was no accident. Okay.

This is a woman the world needs to watch out for- she will face down the loss of chocolate and then sneakily pee on her own rug in her favorite skirt to let you know- you cannot take it away from her! She will take it away herself! I can't decide whether I should silently applaud or buy some type of insurance... Does Geico sell Parental Insurance?

Please let daughter number three be easier!!! :D

Stay brave and thanks for reading.Boon Potty Bench Training Toilet (Google Affiliate Ad)

Just when you thought you have the whole motherhood thing down... they change on you!

What is it with this crazy ride? Just when I think- ok, I have the handle on this deal- BAM!! They have changed, moved on to a new, demanding stage! I know, I know- it is a lyrical and magical journey that I must savor since one day they will not allow me to hug them as they drive away in my car loaded with all my best clothes... (actually that does make me tear up a little). The thing is though... I am trying so hard to do the best I can- just like so many of us out there. I am keeping it as organic as I can afford. Reusing clothing and not overconsuming. We compost when we can, grow as much of our own food as possible on an apartment porch and recycle to our utmost. My two and a half year old (as she demands we include the half) is in the midst of becoming a little lady. She's full of opinions, personal timing (as in, no thanks I don't want to do that now, Mother, maybe in a little bit. To which I reply, calmly... NOW NOW NOW! Am I reverting while she matures?) and fashion ideas (But I can wear these pants as a shirt! I really can! Look!). My soon to be eight month old has gone from infant to toddler at warp speed. Last week I was propping her up on a Boppy pillow. This week I am considering wrapping her and my whole apartment in bubble wrap since she now thinks she can cruise! (My chiropractor told me to "discourage" her from walking too early. Whuh???) Just when we got my oldest daughter to sleep in her own room, nightmares began. We got our little one in her own crib and separation anxiety and teething began. Those who swear they do not co-sleep either lock their children in or lie. That's right. YOU LIE.
Ha ha. The universe is hilarious.
I get it. Don't get comfortable. Don't start to establish a routine regardless of what everyone else tells you, books lecture and the SuperNanny insists... (Jo Frost you don't even HAVE children! BLURGH!!!)
I know every bit of sage wisdom experienced mothers pass on is mostly true but still... they are done with this transient thing called motherhood- or are at least through the stage I am in and therefore too smug to be borne... STILL. What other job do you do that never has one job description but ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS changes?
I am not of the opinion that you should get paid for being a mother- it IS a choice for most of us, after all. However, if there were some type of holiday pay/ lunch break/ vacation coverage- or even a bathroom break uninterrupted so I don't have to explain menstruation to my two year old- that would be great. Thanks.

M word, thy name is MUD

As I sit down to type this, I am sweating, my head is aching and I have four- count them 4- children in some type of hyperactivity or coma. I realize my free will was exercised when I drove through the lane and chose the glad fare on the board but I chose correctly- Apples instead of fries. HOWEVER, along with said apples (which reek of some type of preservative and are more pickled than  "fresh") is an easily accessed container of caramel dipping sauce. When I say easily accessed I just want to clarify. My two and half year old daughter easily, and very quietly, opened it and proceeded to consume this container in the car in what I must say was 2 SECONDS FLAT!!! Why would this corporation offer a "healthy alternative" like apple dippers? Um, gee.... I am feeling like there is some type of Mommy Conspiracy afoot... lure in the Moms and their kiddos and then sock it to them with the adulterated bleached apples and sugar syrup! My darling toddler was DeLiRiOuS!!! I am monitoring her for a sugar coma as we speak- she was talking crazy, razzing her older cousin and on a mood fun-ride that was not so fun for those watching.
Now, if for some reason you are not laughing along with me (or fine, at me) then you have never been in a mini-van hell like me and should not bother reading further. Otherwise, send me a mini-violin of sympathy through the computer screen right now as I struggle to type this through the haze of a day of craziness capped off by a deceitful meal that. was. NOT. happy.