You want to know what a bummer this is!!??
I wrote a blog post and the draft is gone. What a major disappointment, I was into the final draft. *Sobs*
Here’s a tissue, dry your eyes.
I’ll work on rewriting that one I suppose…
So what do you want to hear about? Send me some ideas other than the hilarity disaster that I always am.
I recently had a mouthpiece made and I get to wear it all the time now. It’s supposed to help my jacked up jaw. In the meantime I get to tell people stories through lispy speech and sprays of spit.
Do you still have that tissue available? Wipe your face off.
Let’s get serious now.
I’m in the throws of potty training and it’s going mediocre at best.
I blame my husband. Somehow it always comes back to him. Know what I mean? Nothing can ever be my fault.
On my watch she wears training underpants. On his watch she wears pullups. To an almost 3 year old this spells confusion.
It does not work in my favor in case you didn’t or couldn’t do the math on that.
Can I tell you a secret??
Of course I can!
Do not under any circumstances sit at my table. Just stand. Take my word for it please. I have 6 dining room chairs and 2 or 3 of them have been full on peed on.
Close your mouth and stop laughing.
A. Haven’t had kids, will never be this much of a “don’t know what they’re doing” parent.
B. Haven’t been through this and are still “the greatest” parent that ever lived and knows everything.
C. Have lived it, closed this chapter and love watching others live this literal shit show.
You want to know what else??
I’ve scrubbed so much shit out of underwear, onesies, pants, etc. and I am not doing it…not anymore. Oh you shit your underpants, that’s ok honey, we’ll make it to the potty next time.
Then I throw that shit out, underpants and all.
I am done with that shit. You know who else loves this policy. The sitter, she’s never had to potty train so when I told her she wasn’t scrubbing poop underpants she was all aboard this no shit cleaning train.
So on Sunday my husband was “working” in his office.
We have a pee on the dining room chair, her favorite blanket, the floor. Since we are at the table you probably guessed it’s eating time. We progress to removing the pants and underwear which means we sit on the floor. She insists on pants removal by herself. I oblige.
Bad decision. The pants are stuck on her ankle and next thing I know she’s dragging them behind her mopping the floor with pee pants as she goes.
I get them off and here come the dogs. You know they are so helpful they just want to lick her butt.
I’m swatting frantically to keep those 2 vulture dogs away from her butt, contain the pee trail and screaming for help.
You know who showed up to help.
Then when I recap the situation, post clean up frenzy I get the… “Oh, I didn’t hear you.” then feigns innocent smile.
That’s right friends. There has been selective deafness to disaster situations. If this is your first rodeo ladies I have some advice. Remove the knives from your home and refrain from stabbing your husband when they say stupid things like this.
Mentally pretend to smack them upside the head, it helps. It doesn’t really help, I’m a liar, but try it anyway.
I lived to see another day.
So far on my watch we have had 100% success today. The only thing that’s been dogging me is this peculiar “spill” or dried pee I’m not sure which. It’s under the table. I swear it wasn’t there for yesterday’s peemageddon. Thank God I wrote this. It just reminded me I need to go clean it, ew.
Accepting theories and answers…