The Poop Chronicles

I would really love to be able to say I have more to talk about than poop.

But I don't. My life revolves around poop right now.

Potty training is going really well. Except for number two. G absolutely refuses to go in the potty. Not even for chocolate chips. Not even for TWO stickers. Not even for a chance to go to the train store.

Clearly, I'm not above bribery.

The other day while at my parents, I had the bright idea of letting him go in their raspberry patch and eat to his hearts content. I mean, there's no way he'll be able to hold it once he's eaten his weight in raspberries.


Wrong. He held it and held it and held it. He ran around the yard clutching his little bottom. He begged for a diaper.

I finally convinced him to go poo poo in the yard like a doggy. Then I followed him around with a shovel. Not one of my proudest moments.

And yes, I know this is questionable parenting. But seriously, I can't deal with the poopy undies. Beyond gross. (I did see Thea's suggestion on my last post to let G change his own poopy undies and I've taken it under advisement).

Preschool starts in about three weeks. Admittedly, I don't think we're going to have him fully potty independent by then, we may have to postpone enrollment for a month or so.

But good lord, I could really use those three hours, two times weekly to chill. And by chill I mean run around like a madwoman trying to run all the errands that are nearly impossible with two kids in tow.

And I also fully realize that if my son ever reads this post, years down the road, he will be mortified and will probably be putting me in a horrible nursing home.

But really? He really should be changing MY poopy underwear. It's only fair.


I'm Really Reaching Here, People

I need to write and I am so, so stuck. The term 'writer's block' is so cliche. But yeah, I think I've got it. That, or I'm brain dead from my ingenious idea to do potty training bootcamp whilst juggling a super cute yet super needy baby.

The potty training. Oh. My. Stars. Talk about frustrating. We've been working at it for about a week now, and only in the last four days have I seen progress. Except yesterday was a total regression and cleaning poop out of underwear now nears the top of my list of possible tortures for P.O.W.'s. Nasty.

But I charge ahead...the only way G is going to preschool is if he's fully potty trained. We toured a preschool on Thursday that I really loved and I think will be a good fit, but he's got to be fully independent in the bathroom. Oy. My great hope is that his desire to go to school (and he talks about it constantly) will override his stubbornness over toilet training. I know he can do it. The kicker is if he WANTS to.

Up until last week, I was going mellow route. Asking everyday if he wanted to wear big boy underwear. If he said no, well, that was that. But now we're going whole hog. I'm OVER changing a 3 1/2 year old's diapers. Barf.

Er. So after that HUGE digression, yeah, I'm needing to write, for my sanity, but all that is on my mind is, well, poop.

In an effort to try to break out of my brain lock, I'm just going to do one of those random posts. Yes, I'm totally indulging myself. Whatever. And I'm doing bullet points, cause I like them and I'm the boss of this blog.

Let the randomness begin!

- I'm in love with quinoa. I make a bunch and mix it with roasted veg and balsamic vinaigrette. So good, hot or cold. The rest of my family won't touch it, of course.

- Can I just say I am SO tired of this post pregnancy body? Nothing fits. I know I need to exercise. I'm planning on starting the C25K program. I just need to figure out if I can take the baby in the jogging stroller yet - I think she may still be too small. But back to the body hate thing - getting dressed is such a chore. I used to love putting outfits together. Now I want to wear muumuus. Waistbands are torture.

- A few weeks ago I had the realization that I haven't worn heels in forever. I used to wear heels to work everyday. Now? They are all sitting in my closet blanketed in a layer of dust. It's tragic. And yesterday, I considered dragging out my fifteen year old Birkenstocks because my feet are killing me with all this baby pacing. It's official, I'm going crunchy. If I wear wool socks with my Birks, please track me down and kick me in the shins. It's just not acceptable.

- I got my first crown last week, narrowly avoiding what would have been my first root canal. The saddest thing is that I actually enjoyed my time in the dental chair and found it relaxing. It must be a 'mother of young children' thing.

- My son accidentally watched the Honey Badger on YouTube. It was an accident, but now he is obsessed with honey badger. I will let him watch it, with the sound off. Mother of the Year, right here. I'm balancing it out with the Duggars. He is also obsessed with them and can name all the kids, in order. So proud.

And that's all I've got. I'm so tired and my brain hurts. If anyone has any questions or ideas for posts, please share. Seriously. Inspire me, I'm begging you!