Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The Girl Who Cried "Potty!"

Aren't you tired of my blog being about potty training?  If it's any consolation, I'm tired of my life being about potty training.

This evening I fell for one of the classic parenting blunders - I got Leah out of her crib when she yelled, "Potty!" even though I was 99% sure she didn't need to go, seeing as she'd just peed three minutes before I put her in.

Since this comes on the heels of falling for the only slightly less well-known parenting blunder of leaving White Out within reach of two two-year-olds who know how to get lids off of everything (childproof caps included) I'm thinking I should just check out for the week.  Annoying fact: White Out does not come off countertops or barstools or human beings as easily as it goes on.

Other annoying, if unrelated, fact:  When any government-related entity says they will accept certain items as proof of residence, they don't actually mean that they will accept those items as proof of residence.  Even if you try to use reason to argue your point; e.g., "But it says on the paperwork you gave me that this is one of the acceptable items," they will look at you with a straight face and say, "Oh, I know.  We should really take that off the list because we don't accept that."

Tell me again why anyone wants government-run healthcare?

Honestly, right now, I don't want government-run anything.  In fact, I'm seriously thinking of relocating to my own private island until the presidential election is over.  Especially since Michael, after a full day of fun on Saturday, complained that he didn't have a very fun day because he only got to "play wii with Dad and go swimming and get a cookie and have hamburgers for dinner and watch a movie and eat popcorn."  (I'm wondering what a "good" day would look like for him).  Then he told me he wished I would go to work every day so Dad could stay home with him.  Frankly, after spending the last few days listening to more whining than most five-year-olds could conjure up in a year and constantly cleaning up pee, diarrhea, and vomit (I swear we are cursed) I'm more than willing to turn in my badge.  Private island?  Yes please.

What's that you say?  I can't go now because it's tax season?  Why did you have to mention that?

Kill joy.


deonne said...

Hmmm -- pee, diarrhea, vomit vs flooding in your basement 6 or 7 times in 5 years. I seriously don't know which one I would choose. Both? Keep your chin up and hope to see you soon. :)

fiona said...

Hehehee... Michael's "not very fun day" makes me think of our Saturday, where the kids got to swim, watch too many cartoons, go to a super-fun bday party, and then Nuala declared it "the worst day ever!" because of a little (okay, a lot of) poop in the tub that evening. And rascally little Leah. They love power, they do. "Let's see Mom zip in here and get me outta bed!"

Cath said...

Blasted tax season. Still in awe of your potty-training. As for white out and other disasters, I hope you're keeping a list. We ought to sit down one day and just read our lists. I think we'd be astounded at what our kids have come up with! Hang in there!

Megan B ♥ said...

I can always depend upon your blog for my giggles! And my education -- glad I don't own any white out!!