On How to Make Mommy Pee

Dear Toddler girl,

Hi there, it’s your friend Mr. Peepee. Yes, it is very dark outside—but it’s morning time and you can get up now. Oh, come on, I really am your friend. Ok, sorry I got you in trouble for following you across the living room carpet last week—hey, Mommy needs to learn these messes are no big deal especially when over at a friend’s house! Hey, that wasn’t half as bad as when your brother invited me to fly across his bedroom onto the dresser mirror last month! Really. Trust me. Anyway, I have a fun activity for you this morning. Yes, this is something Mommy is going to absolutely scream her head off with excitement this morning . . . Wanna help?

Okay, it’s quite simple. Just go and grab that shiny blue container of dental floss. Yes, the one right there on Mommy’s bathroom counter. Shhhhhh. Be quiet. Not time to wake her just yet. Got it? Okay, now go unravel just a little bit and go dangle that white thread above and across Mommy’s face! Just lightly. Yes, I know she’s sleeping right now, but that’s the point! Oh good, I see you’ve quietly climbed onto her bed to do this. Trust me, she’s going to LOVE the way this feels.

Yes! Yes! You have the hang of it now. What? Oh, why is Mommy scrunching up her face? That’s because she really is enjoying this! Yes, look at the way she is slapping her cheeks with enthusiasm! Okay, now when Mommy screams as though she is being attacked—that is when you are going to ask her to floss your teeth. No, Mommy’s not screaming because she thinks a tarantula is shriveling its way across her skin. Trust me she’s slapping her face because she’s so proud of you for wanting to keep your teeth clean. And the screaming as though she’s dying? That’s because I’m about to make a surprise visit to her in her sleep!


Your pal,

Mr. Peepee

P.S.—If you thought that made her pee, just wait till she finds out she’s officially off the waiting list at the 2010 NYC Blogher conference. She and I are going to be best buds!


Yes, it's official. I'm going to blogher! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! I can't wait to meet so many awesome women! And, learn and share with you the experience. Let me know if you're going. And if not, what you want me to tell you about it.


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Posted by Laura

Mr. Poopie Strikes Again! Guest Post

So in honor of the upcoming Mother's Day weekend, I have united with another mommy friend of mine, Kate from Mommy Monologues, who will be guest posting here today to talk about something on the hands hearts of mothers around the globe. Flowers? No. Books? Nope. Today's topic is much more detrimental. It's one that every mother has had to face. Today's topic is POOP! Let's face it, in the land called mommyville, there's a whole lot of it!

So without further ado, meet Mommy Monologuing Kate, fellow Mr. Poopie assailant!
**********

One of the first things I ever read of Laura's was one of her letters to Mr. Poopie. It literally had me laughing out loud--it was a post that only mothers (and fathers) could completely relate to. Although I am not potty training like the Melodramommy Household is, there have been many times that I have been in the middle of something & I’ve smelled something terrible & I just dread opening up that diaper! Well, since Laura has so graciously given me the opportunity to write for her blog today, I thought I would share my own Dear Mr. Poopie letter.

Dear Mr. Poopie,

I appreciate the fact that you are a signal of health for my little boy. I would probably hate you more right now if you were Mr. Constipation. But what I don't appreciate is the stunt you pulled on me today.

Baby Boy was playing gleefully with his Tonka trunks & the dog's chew bone (yuck!) And then I smelled your foul presence & was immediately distracted from my most important blogging house cleaning. Since I hate the thought of my precious child sitting in poopie squalor I immediately started to get rid of you as fast as I could.

As I got the diaper tabs undone I immediately knew that there was going to be trouble--call it motherly instincts. Okay, maybe any non-mommy could have known that there was going to be an issue the minute Baby started twisting, turning, & kicking furiously trying to get free. I thought that I had it under control….Until….

You started calling out like a beacon to Baby's heel, which answered your call with a swift kick into the diaper! Flinging you, Mr. Poopie, 50 feet in every direction with a huge lump of nastiness landing right on Baby's face! At which point, Mr. Poopie, you had me, Mommy, shrieking from disgust. Which scared the crap out of Baby (no pun intended) who in turn started screaming & then he slapped his hands to his face in sheer terror! Yes, Mr. Poopie I know you enjoyed this part--he raked you all over his face, up his nostrils, in his ears, on his chest, his legs, & then on me!

Each & every time I thought I had a handle on you, the more I found you in different crevices, between fingers & toes, & even in hair on his head! Oh my Mr. Poopie, you are a clever one you are. I know you were having a hysterical fit of laughter the more I screamed & fought to get you wiped. I know you were having a blast the more I grabbed at wipes desperately trying to get you off of my hands & off of Baby. You may have won that time, Mr. Poopie, but I will win in the end! It’s called “Potty Trained.” You might win some small (and big) battles during the training process, as Laura, your other nemesis as informed me, but eventually I will win the biggest battle of all! And I will teach Baby to flush you with gusto!

Mr. Poopie: 1 Mommy: 0

Until tomorrow Mr. Poopie,

Mommy—you best beware!


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Thanks again Kate for a hilarious post! Go check her out at mommymonologues.com and share the love: leave a comment and vote!

And Mommies, as you start this Mother's Day weekend, with a wipe in one hand and your cell phone ready to dial 911 in the other, be encouraged to know you're not alone in this battle against notorious Mr. Poopie. Stand tall, be persistent, and keep the faith, because we've been entrusted with the greatest task of all--potty training this next generation!

Posted by Laura

No Poop Zone: On How to Get Poop Smell off Fingers

Dear Mr. Poopie,

Oh how I bet you are just sitting on your high chamber pot right now, looking down at me, laughing at how bad you got me today. Ok, I’ll admit since I had meticulously cleaned the diaper eruption and scrubbed and scrubbed my hands, I had NO idea where the lingering smell was coming from. It didn’t appear to be on Baby boy’s pants, Toddler-girl’s hands, the couch, the rug, the blanket, or the Barbie head, even though you had me sniffing crevices for poo like a Customs Labrador searching for cocaine.

I bet as I left the scene of the crime to get my mind off of you and refresh my palate with a cup of fresh fruit topped with cottage cheese, you were in hysterics: How long would it take me to discover that you were waiting for me, ever so patiently in a ruthless game of hide and seek? So I stood there eating, not sitting because I was determined to find you, when to my bewilderment I realized I was only detecting your ever-so-vile aroma as I lifted the spoon to my mouth. YES, it was then to my utter disgust and HORROR that I beheld a little preemie poopie—with its squinting little slitted eyes gazing at me from in between the cozy knuckle creases of all places—my middle finger!

Did you gasp with delight as I dropped my spoon, nearly gagging, and ran to the sink to scrub the skin off my fingers at temperatures so hot it nearly melted my bones for the second, then third, and forth time! It was then I realized your little bambino was attempting to take a permanent residence on my finger! Didn’t you get the memo: fingers are a NO POOP ZONE!—I wonder if Oprah would be willing to take up this cause in addition to the No Phone Zone. Perhaps he failed to consult with Mr. Gummy Bear who could have warned him of my eviction policy.

Well, guess what, I researched on Google how to get that poopie smell off the fingers: the nurses have already figured it out. Survey says lemon juice, toothpaste, a metal spoon, and shaving cream are your worst enemies. Guess what? My fingers are so minty I could brush my teeth with them. Bye Bye, Preemie poopie. Buh Bye.

Fighting you till the end,

Melodramommy


P.S. Tell your buddy Mr. Diarrhea to leave my friend Kate alone! I'm warning you, the lyrics of your favorite song: "When you're walking down the hall and you see it on the wall ..." are about to be rewritten!

Posted by Laura

Mr. Poopie's Alias

Of all the aliases Mr. Poopie has chosen to introduce himself to my 2YO such as . . .

1. "Meatballs!"
2. "A Sea Horse!"
3. "Two Fireflies!"
4. "Three monkeys!"
5. "One Banana!"
6. "A Raisin!"
7. "A Mermaid!"
8. "Peanut Butter!"
9. (oh, how could I almost forget this one) "Finger paint!"

I NEVER thought he would trick her into thinking he was . . .

10. "A DIAMOND!"

My thoughts upon hearing this:

1.) Not just anyone can say they poop diamonds.
2.) I guess she is a true princess at heart.
3.) Would this be an appropriate thing to share in a preschool interview?


That naïve ability in the eyes of a child to look at the detestable, see it sparkle, and call it beautiful, now that is something I admire. What words does your little one use to describe their "diamonds"?

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Posted by Laura

Mr. Poopie's Alias

Of all the aliases Mr. Poopie has introduced himself as to my 2YO such as . . .

1. "Meatballs!"
2. "A Sea Horse!"
3. "Two Fireflies!"
4. "Three monkeys!"
5. "One Banana!"
6. "A Raisin!"
7. "A Mermaid!"
8. "A chocolate chip!"
9. "Awwee-- so cute I want to touch it!"

I NEVER thought he would trick her into thinking he was . . .

10. "A DIAMOND!"

My thoughts upon hearing this:

1.) Not just anyone can say they poop diamonds.
2.) I guess she is a true princess at heart
3.) Would this be an appropriate thing to share in a preschool interview?


That naïve ability in the eyes of a child to look at the detestable, see it sparkle, and call it beautiful, now that is something I admire. What words does your little one use to describe their "diamonds"?

Don't forget to vote for us in the top mommy blogs by clicking the badge to the right of this post. You can vote 1x per day : )

A Cat, a Toddler, and the Dingle Berry!

Today something happened that instantly took me back to the seventh grade where my not-so-friendly Himalayan cat, “Popcorn,” had a very dirty issue: Non-detachable poopies. On a weekly basis they would become entangled and trapped in his very long, white fuzzy hair. Oh, how they loved to hitch a ride on his bottom, snuggle up on the couch with him, and leave a trail across the blue tile basement floor as he’d try ever so faithfully to detach it AND FAIL! Oh, how my father would freak out, can you blame him, in coming home from a long day at work and seeing the famous familiar signature smeared across the floor. “Laura, would you go clean the da%& dingle berry!” Dingle berry! That was the most hilarious word I had ever heard and also the word I grew to dread hearing. I, the cat lover, was the chosen one to be handed the brush, a wipe, and a glove, to work that thing out and put it in its proper place, in between wrestling this violated cat that was determined to fight me to the finish.

Today, I wrestle my 1YO with each diaper change; I have dear Popcorn to thank for preparing me not only for the fight, but preparing me for the dingle berry that came back to haunt me this afternoon. Let me rewind in my mind a moment: it was before my 1YO learned how to climb out of his crib. It was after my “date” with Toddler-girl where we ate blueberry muffins outside in the sun. And, it was after the air conditioning repair guy left and told me it would cost $1,500 to repair the broken AC that chose to malfunction on the hottest day of spring! Yes, it was during nap time that the dingle berry struck.

Toddler-girl crept out of her bed and came to the door. There I sat on the couch just about to put my feet up when those two big eyes squinted and that sweet voice declared: “I need to do poopoo on the potty!” So I escort her to the bathroom, little man followed, because they’re not on the same nap schedule today. In the moment I’m looking at him, she’s already off the pot attempting to wash her hands, when to my horror I spot a fudge trail on the potty seat and a dangler hanging off her bottom!(Gasp)The dingle berry had returned!

“Wait! Wait!” I yell, anxiously reaching for a wipe when little girl realizes how hysterically funny it would be to run away from Mommy, clueless that the notorious Mr. Poopie was following close behind all while little man approaches the potty seat to inspect the skid marks.

Well, with baby boy tucked under one arm and a wipe extended in the other (my most common stance these days) I captured it. Detached it. Disposed of it. Again! Isn't it funny how history has a way of repeating itself? But this time, I defeated the dingle berry one handed. Oh, how motherhood quickly stretches you, expands your capabilities, and widens your horizons.

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Parenting Tip #682: What NOT to do before Road Trip

So, the first sign foreshadowing that my road trip might have some slight opposition was revealed the day before we left when I happened to catch a glimpse in the rear view mirror a terrible sight! My well-meaning 2YO decides to sideswipe a big slice of her CHEESE-burger to her lactose-intolerant baby brother from across two car seats. Noooooooooooo! I yell, my hands gripping the wheel debating if I should pull over and intervene. She looked at me with her innocent big eyes that spoke, “don’t you want me to share?” But, alas, it was too late. Baby boy was devouring the cheese with the biggest bright orange grin I’ve ever seen. Note to self, NEVER give Toddler-girl cheese within a 10-foot radius of baby boy again especially NOT before a road trip! But then, to my surprise, the rest of the day baby boy was fine. Usually, it would take only an hour or two for it to reap havoc on his system. Could he have outgrown this predicament?

24 Hours Later . . .
Yes, you guessed it, another surprise visit from our friend and foe, the relentless Mr. Poopie. Well, I’m not going to even dignify Mr. Poopie with a response today by giving him any further attention. But, you can imagine Mommy trying to pack for a weekend, all the baby gear, snacks, bottles, blankees, and appropriate accessories, while making frequent trips to the changing table wrestling a curious, quite stinky, wigging baby boy but prepared this time with more than a sufficient supply of baby wipes! This is when Mommy needs a vacation from vacation.

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Posted by Laura

Mommy Faces Greatest Fear: The Public Restroom

So don’t ask me why these things happen to me, but sometimes they do and last night it did! Remember how last week I was capturing those nomadic poopies while quarantining Daddy? Well Mr. Poopie  was NOT very happy with me; perhaps he didn’t appreciate my letter setting the record straight or the way I destroyed him with only one wipe. Well, last night he brought a sudden attack against me like I never knew existed but NOT while I was at home in the comforts of my own sanitized bathroom. He waited until I was stranded out in the middle of a mega craft store without a stroller. He waited until Daddy had left and I was just standing there holding my little 2YO’s hand to strike me so hard it sent me running to the public restroom like there was no tomorrow. 

I ran so fast across the store, which by the way, why is the restroom when you really need one always located on the furthest side of the store! Poor little-toddler-girl’s tiny legs could barely keep up.

“WHERE ARE WE RUNNING TO?” she shouts.

“The bathroom.” I whisper.

“WHY ARE WE GOING TO THE BATHROOM, MOMMY?” She innocently loudly inquires,  announcing to the entire store what I don't want them to know. The worst part is that a germaphobe Mommy was forced to bring her 2YO, who I repeat was NOT in the sanitized bubble of a stroller but free to walk and talk and touch the walls of the stall while Mommy felt helpless. Thank God, I had my bottle of purell on my keychain strapped to my belt buckle!

I call Daddy on my cell to cry out for help, BUT, of course he does not answer. Has the stomach flu finally gotten me too? Now what? How do you distract a 2YO while you’re having some major issues going on and toddler is fascinated by her new unsanitized surroundings? Let’s see: I told her a made up story about a princess who found a butterfly—which only entertained her for 20 seconds; we counted the tiles on the floor—got to 10 and lost interest; we talked about how dirty and germy the bathroom floor was—tricky, sometimes that makes her want to touch it even more; I praised her repeatedly for what a big help she was to Mommy by just keeping me company and not touching anything; we discussed the princess stickers that Mommy would buy for her for not touching the baby changing station that was sure to be housing an entire nation of E. coli; and finally we established that, No thank you, Mommy does NOT need help flushing because Mommy so deeply enjoys this task herself. Overall 2YO did very well. When we got to washing our hands I felt relieved: I even questioned if this might be a new stage where 2YO can handle being in a public restroom. But wouldn’t you know, just as we dried her hands, she noticed some pink dried soap on the edge of the sink and before Mommy could yell “Don’t touch,” her little arm in one stroke had swiped the pink residue and shoved those fingers in her mouth!

HANDS IN THE MOUTH! Now, the exit strategy was really in effect. Of course as we open the door, there's daddy. A moment too late. Sigh. We run across the store to the door and, yes, I keep my word and buy 2YO some stickers on the way out. Then, to top off the perfect evening, when we get in the car a tantrum arises so mightily that the two middle aged men who were walking nearby slow their steps and stare at me appalled with their cell phones in hand. Their faces said it all: surely, surely, this child who is kicking and screaming is being kidnapped! Should they call the police? One man pretended to walk away but only took five steps and then glared at us through his peripheral vision. The other man's feet were glued to the sidewalk right in front of our car. NO, It couldn’t possibly be that this child just never took her nap, is frustrated cause Mommy prematurely ended the fun trip to the craft store and is thus having a tantrum. Perhaps they never met a melodramatic child before. Or a Melodramommy.

"Excuse me, Sirs, ahem, yes the two of you who have been staring at me!" I yell rolling down the window while driving away (No I didn't really, I just fantasized about it later).
"Do you really think I'd be that stupid to kidnap a child who's so effective at throwing tantrums! Oh, just read my blog. Buh-bye."

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Posted by Laura

Potty Training: Who Knew Poopies Had Feelings

So in putting my little-toddler-girl on the potty (yes, the big porcelain one, a.k.a. her "princess" throne) she jumps off, squirming her body to that not-so-innocent plastic port-a-potty. The problem?  It does NOT flush. I had ONLY been using that one as a stool so she could reach the sink to do the ever-most-important-task of washing her hands. 

“What are you doing?” I ask. “Get back on the big potty.”

“NO! I want to use THIS potty to do my poopie!”

“But what about your BEAUTIFUL princess throne over here?” I ask, nodding my head up and down as to subliminally persuade. 

“No, I want this potty!” she says pointing to the tiny plastic bowl and in an instant she maneuvered herself into a dangerous firing position.

Apparently little-toddler-girl made dibs on all the other various and unthinkable places in the house she could do the deed, so why use the cold hard porcelain one. I suppose I should be thankful that 2YO is wanting to poop in the potty in the first place, even if in the nonflushable one; but, all I can do is remember what happened the last time she used that wretched plastic-potty-wannabe. Did I mention that this is occurring during, yes, you guessed it, naptime! (What’s up with potty calls during naptime--it's a conspiracy, I tell you).

So, what’s a mother to do? Mind you that there’s not a lot of time to think here as any second, something is going to shoot out. I can hear the little poopie squealing at me in a high pitch squeaky voice like a clown shooting out of a cannon ball, "Ready or Not, here I cooooooome!"  

So I say the first thing that comes out of my mouth: “Wait! Don’t do your poopie in there because the poopie will be lonely! You can’t flush him in that fake potty and he wont be able to join all his other friends in pottyland.” It was one of those moments where as you’re speaking you’re hearing yourself and thinking, what the heck am I talking about! Poopies being lonely! What am I teaching my 2YO? 

Well, it sounded like a good idea at the time but as you may already know, 2YO’s aren’t always concerned about the feelings of others, let alone the supposed feelings of their poopies. A stubborn and committed little girl sat there determined and unmoving. So, a mother’s got to do what a mother’s got to do. I lifted her up off that little plastic bucket, put her on the toilet, and threw that plastic potty in the laundry room, way out of commission, once and for all--and just in the nick of time I might add. That’s what I call Mommy intervention. Don’t ask me why, but it worked. Ok, I also reminded her that she would be getting a potty treat for doing it on the big potty. But the point is, it worked.

Sometimes the simple solutions work the most effectively; if only those were the first ideas that come to mind, I’d have a much easier life, though perhaps not as entertaining. 


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Posted by Laura

Dear Mr. Poopie

March 24, 2010

Dear Mr. Poopie,

I know you must feel ever so proud of yourself the way you brought a surprise attack against me this morning, waiting until AFTER I had already bathed, diapered, olive-oiled, dressed, and put my baby boy down for a nap to disguise yourself as silly putty. I bet you smiled to see him playing with you, rubbing you all over the rails of his crib, his blankee, his teddy bear, his crib sheet, his shirt, his jeans. Perhaps, you even laughed out loud when he mistook you for peanut butter and smeared some near his mouth, his chin, his nose, his cheeks, his hair, his ankles and heels. And, yes, I’ll give you that it was very cleaver teaming up with your friend Mr. Peepee who ever-so-forcefully shot out like a spring rain across the rug and onto my little boy’s dresser mirror for an extra special touch.

Sure, you were successful in getting yourself all over my shirt, my arms, my hands, as I lifted my boy into the bathtub and scrubbed and rinsed him all clean.  You know what, I was going to take a shower anyway! And, I’ll have you know that I happened to enjoy sanitizing the bathroom, his crib, his rug, and his bedroom even if it was the third time this week. Have you forgotten that I’m an Italian neat freak who finds joy in cleaning my home? And, my little boy happened to enjoy his second bath of the day.

So, know this: I have a Clorox wipe and I know how to use it! I may have lost this battle, but I will win the war. I’m going to find out all the best products to bring destruction on your front and tell all my mommy friends about how to best combat you. You’re going down. Be afraid.

Sincerely,

Melodramommy

P.S.—By the way, little-toddler-girl no longer thinks you’re cute. In fact, she’s calling her daddy to come after you, cause when she saw the mess you made this morning, she told me: “Don’t worry Mommy, Daddy will clean it!” She knows her daddy can fix anything.


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Posted by Laura 

Why Mommy Can't Sleep on the Job: Part I

It's a conspiracy. Those poopies are tired of me capturing them and ganged up with a stomach virus to war against me last night in full force.  I did double duty combating them both through diaper changes and potty runs around the clock.  Look, I may be exhausted from limping around in the dark of night to rescue both 2YO and 1YO with only one eye open, but I'm not about to accept defeat, sleep or no sleep. And so, yes, I'm totally sleep deprived today. But, the most important fact is that this Mommy is still reigning victorious over the nomadic poopie! 

Posted by Laura

Diaper Explosion vs. One Wipe

The first warning sign that I might be in trouble was the fact that I could smell it before I even opened the door.  But the fatal error wasn’t that I walked in with an air of confidence—as having two kids in diapers, I handle this on a regular basis. Nor, was it that I happen to be without the required third arm that would make diaper changes go so much smoother. I didn’t realize the extent of my predicament even when I wrestled my wiggling baby boy and had him pinned down with two chubby feet held with my left hand and the diaper unveiled with my right, displaying an extensive mass that made me question how so much poop could come out of such a tiny body. No, the problem was not discovered until I reached into the wipes container and kept reaching and reaching, further and deeper inside only to discover to my horror a very big problem—only ONE wipe remained to clean it all up!

Deception! That’s why diaper wipe containers should be clear and not opaque so you can see how many wipes are left! What’s a mother to do? Choices, choices. Do I run into the other room and search for something? If I did he would surely grab the poop and have it all over himself.  Besides you know we never leave baby unattended on the changing table. If I pick him up to perhaps carry him to the tub, it will be all over me. Been there done that, and thus, dirtied the t-shirt.  I even briefly contemplated if I should use his pants that were just lying there on the bed that were calling out to me, “Here I am, use me. No one will ever have to know.”

Well, I was not about to be defeated. Somehow, someway I was going to make this one wipe—this partially shriveled and dried wipe—do the job. So there I stood, baby, diaper, explosion, one wipe and me.  I began swiftly folding each little crevice and corner, reusing every little spot of clean surface area on this one tiny wipe. I felt like I was trying to both master the art of origami and manipulate the laws of geometry at the same time, hoping that just maybe I could create more surface area by folding and refolding and refolding until that one little wipe was compressed into a darkened ball.

Thirty-eight folds later! Phew! Call it desperation or determination, but this was victory. And, yes, it was also all over my hands too. But the point is baby got a clean bottom and Mommy did it with only one wipe. Now that’s how we do it.

How do you do it? And, be sure to stop by tomorrow to find out another big problem that immediately followed and how I handled it. 


Posted by Laura 

That Naughty Little Poopie

Hearing 2YO yelling from across the house, “Mommy I’m finissssssshed,” set off a domino effect of Mommy clanging down her warm coffee mug on the glass table, running on tippy-toes across the house, and triple climbing up stairs. Only imagination could foretell what on this bless-eth planet little-toddler-girl could be referring to as nap time had only just begun. But you know how that goes: that sweet silence that Mommy spends all day craving and might even feel is her best friend can sometimes also be a frienemy, predicting upcoming disaster.

Well, upon opening the door, what would Mommy discover? Would she find a poopie finger-painted everywhere? No, no, that was last year. Surely we have graduated from those days. Would she find diaper ointment squeezed out and slathered on all the dolls? No, that was last month, and Mommy had already taken the appropriate precautionary measures to banish that tube of ointment far from 2YO’s reaches. How about crayons? Could it be new drawings on the wall? No, that was yesterday.

Entering the room Mommy exhorts a sigh of relief in finding little-toddler-girl standing there next to her bed, red faced, glassy big eyes, gritting her teeth: “Mommy, I finished doing a poopie.” Phew. It was IN the diaper! (Yes,  Mommy confesses she makes 2YO wear a diaper during nap time even though she’s mostly potty trained.) You must understand that the fact that the poopie was in the diaper, and not roaming around the room, that is what we call progress! Plus, the fact that 2YO told Mommy she was finished and kept the diaper on, that is also progress! In fact, surely if 2YO could tell Mommy when she did a poopie, well, let’s bring out those princess panties, leave the diapers for baby brother, and call it a day. That is indeed progress.

WAS progress. Immediately after cleaning her up, re-panty-ing her, washing hands, re-tucking her in bed, walking away, and returning to a now-COLD-coffee mug, Mommy hears a small voice from across the house say, “Oh, noooooooo!” Again, Mommy sprints across the house, but this time with even greater fervency. Upon opening the door, poor Mommy discovers a horrific sight: That first poopie had a little naughty friend who decided to escape diaper-land and stretch its little body all over the side of the once turquoise and now brown-stripped sheets.

Is Progress. Was Progress. And a-work-in-progress. All in the same. That’s how potty training goes sometimes. And, also, sometimes how mommy spends nap time.

Posted by Laura