“Come on, let’s try to go potty in the toilet!”
“NO! Never, never going potty again!”
“Ok, I guess we won’t be going to Chuckie Cheese this weekend then.”
“Momma, I need to go potty.”
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Splashdown! A potty training update.
All right, the plastic pants are out and we’re pretty much back to nakedness or regular underwear. I got him convinced once that the plastic pants were the coolest thing since Go Diego Go, but after he wore them for an evening he refuses to put them on again. I can’t really blame him, it’s like wrapping a shower curtain around your privates.
We have to be diligent when he’s got underwear on because he thinks he can just go in them and doesn’t want to take the effort of pulling them down to go in the toilet (typical man). So every half hour I’ve got to convince him to go potty. Last night I employed a potty song, begged, threatened, and finally turned off the TV and said no more until he went potty.
The next time I tried the blue toilet water trick. In theory, you put blue food coloring in the bowl and then when they pee on it it turns green. Well he was pretty excited about making colors when he peed so that got him in there but he either didn’t have enough pee or it wasn’t yellow enough because it just stayed blue. But the color swirled around and he still thought it was pretty cool, so that little trick was enough to get him in the bathroom to go.
The big event last night was that I saw him squatting and grunting and asked if he was pooping. He said he was starting, so we rushed into the bathroom and after some of his protests about how “that’s not where poopy goes”, he sat on his little potty seat and when I heard it splashdown it was like the New Year’s ball dropping. I yelled, I screamed, I danced with joy and he was very proud of himself.
Now I may have gotten a little carried away because I told him if he went potty and poopy in the toilet for the next 2 days then he could go to Chuckie Cheese this weekend. So the rest of the night I got to hear over and over about how Chuckie Cheese has pizza and games and tickets and toys and games and pizza . . .
We have to be diligent when he’s got underwear on because he thinks he can just go in them and doesn’t want to take the effort of pulling them down to go in the toilet (typical man). So every half hour I’ve got to convince him to go potty. Last night I employed a potty song, begged, threatened, and finally turned off the TV and said no more until he went potty.
The next time I tried the blue toilet water trick. In theory, you put blue food coloring in the bowl and then when they pee on it it turns green. Well he was pretty excited about making colors when he peed so that got him in there but he either didn’t have enough pee or it wasn’t yellow enough because it just stayed blue. But the color swirled around and he still thought it was pretty cool, so that little trick was enough to get him in the bathroom to go.
The big event last night was that I saw him squatting and grunting and asked if he was pooping. He said he was starting, so we rushed into the bathroom and after some of his protests about how “that’s not where poopy goes”, he sat on his little potty seat and when I heard it splashdown it was like the New Year’s ball dropping. I yelled, I screamed, I danced with joy and he was very proud of himself.
Now I may have gotten a little carried away because I told him if he went potty and poopy in the toilet for the next 2 days then he could go to Chuckie Cheese this weekend. So the rest of the night I got to hear over and over about how Chuckie Cheese has pizza and games and tickets and toys and games and pizza . . .
It seemed like a good idea at the time
Imagine someone who’s blind in one eye and has a cataract in the other, with one of those prosthetic hooks on one hand (the result of an unfortunate encounter with a wood chipper), and their other hand is gnarled with arthritis. Now imagine them cutting my hair. That’s truly the best way for me to describe what’s going on with my hair right now.
I’ve kept my hair fairly short for quite a few years now. However, after I had Gwen I found it very difficult #1 to get to the hair salon, with two kids, and #2 to imagine cutting my hair into a style that would require time to style.
However, with the temperature and humidity rising to the level of unbearability, I decided to just chop it all off. Now I’ve never been able to find a quality beautician that could cut my hair properly, or if she did cut it properly, did not decide to move to Pakistan the next day, or continually overcharge me and pressure me to do a $60 color treatment every time I saw her. Therefore, as sad as it may be, I often end up at Great Clips, spinning the roulette wheel of shitty stylists. Last Sunday was not my lucky day.
So I tell the gal that I want to keep it at the jawline but that I want the layers to be really close to my head because if not then the sheer thickness of my hair and its natural curl cause it to look like a big bubble. She cuts, very tediously, and what seems like 2 hours later, I am wearing a large hair fishbowl. So I say to the gal, “see how it looks like a big bubble here – can you thin it out or do something with the layers to avoid that?” So she thins it a little bit on the sides and it looks no better. Now I don’t have much patience or to be truthful, enough guts to really be all that persistent, plus by this time Aaron has come over to see me enough times that his feet are beginning to resemble tiny, hairy hobbit feet. So I just leave.
I’ve had bad haircuts before, actually many times before. I think I’ve really only had 2 good haircuts in my entire lifetime so this is nothing new to me, but I’d had it. I deserved better! It was like 20 years of crappy haircuts were all ganging up on me emotionally that day and I wasn’t going to take it anymore. Damnit, I was going to flip off those haircuts and insult their Mommas – that’s what I was going to do. So I called my friend to come over and I handed her the scissors.
Not such a good idea. I should have been wary when she didn’t want to wet it down and how she was just seemingly grabbing chunks and snipping them, but I figured if I could trust this woman with my children if Matt and I ever kicked the bucket then certainly I could trust her with my hair. It actually wasn’t all that bad and I probably should have just left well enough alone – but I didn’t.
Later that night I wet it down and started cutting it myself. I knew what I wanted, I knew I could do it. I cut Matt and Aaron’s hair all the time – it’s not that difficult. Well, it is that difficult – at least when it’s your own head. I’m still convinced that if I could have taken my head off my shoulders and put it in front of me, it would have turned out beautifully. Instead it turned out like this.
I’ve kept my hair fairly short for quite a few years now. However, after I had Gwen I found it very difficult #1 to get to the hair salon, with two kids, and #2 to imagine cutting my hair into a style that would require time to style.
However, with the temperature and humidity rising to the level of unbearability, I decided to just chop it all off. Now I’ve never been able to find a quality beautician that could cut my hair properly, or if she did cut it properly, did not decide to move to Pakistan the next day, or continually overcharge me and pressure me to do a $60 color treatment every time I saw her. Therefore, as sad as it may be, I often end up at Great Clips, spinning the roulette wheel of shitty stylists. Last Sunday was not my lucky day.
So I tell the gal that I want to keep it at the jawline but that I want the layers to be really close to my head because if not then the sheer thickness of my hair and its natural curl cause it to look like a big bubble. She cuts, very tediously, and what seems like 2 hours later, I am wearing a large hair fishbowl. So I say to the gal, “see how it looks like a big bubble here – can you thin it out or do something with the layers to avoid that?” So she thins it a little bit on the sides and it looks no better. Now I don’t have much patience or to be truthful, enough guts to really be all that persistent, plus by this time Aaron has come over to see me enough times that his feet are beginning to resemble tiny, hairy hobbit feet. So I just leave.
I’ve had bad haircuts before, actually many times before. I think I’ve really only had 2 good haircuts in my entire lifetime so this is nothing new to me, but I’d had it. I deserved better! It was like 20 years of crappy haircuts were all ganging up on me emotionally that day and I wasn’t going to take it anymore. Damnit, I was going to flip off those haircuts and insult their Mommas – that’s what I was going to do. So I called my friend to come over and I handed her the scissors.
Not such a good idea. I should have been wary when she didn’t want to wet it down and how she was just seemingly grabbing chunks and snipping them, but I figured if I could trust this woman with my children if Matt and I ever kicked the bucket then certainly I could trust her with my hair. It actually wasn’t all that bad and I probably should have just left well enough alone – but I didn’t.
Later that night I wet it down and started cutting it myself. I knew what I wanted, I knew I could do it. I cut Matt and Aaron’s hair all the time – it’s not that difficult. Well, it is that difficult – at least when it’s your own head. I’m still convinced that if I could have taken my head off my shoulders and put it in front of me, it would have turned out beautifully. Instead it turned out like this.
(Now in my defense this picture was taken at about 6 in the morning. I have no makeup on, just got out of the shower and am barely awake, which might explain why my glasses or crooked, or maybe they're always crooked? Anyway, I do usually look slightly better than this, but I wanted you to witness the harsh reality that is this awful haircut. Besdies, if I really wanted to portray myself in the most flattering light, I wouldn’t be writing this blog would I – but I’m keeping it real brother!)
My only styling option is to leave it wet and put a headband in it. Straightening it makes me look like Moe from the 3 stooges. Poor Matt was silent through most of this ordeal. He’s witnessed bad haircuts for years now so he knows that his best bet is just to say “honey, I think it looks good” and then step back and not interfere.
So in retrospect I should have just left the bubble. Now I’ve got to wait about 2-3 weeks for it to grow a little bit and then I’ll go somewhere to have them even it up because it’s hopelessly lopsided and chunky. Then I’ll just let it grow until I can’t stand it any longer and the cycle will continue.
Monday, June 25, 2007
There goes that theory!
Yesterday we were implementing the new potty training strategy of nakedness at all times, and things were going well. However, as I’m putting away laundry I hear Matt yell from the living room and walk in to find that Aaron has squatted and shit on the rug. There it was - a pile of poo - deposited right at Matt’s feet and I couldn’t help but laugh. Aaron didn’t really see a whole lot wrong with it, and was quite happy that he got to sit on the toilet afterwards and have Momma wipe his bottom with his special big boy flushable wipes.
So the nakedness theory is not working out so well in reality. I made a trip to K-mart to buy some of the old fashioned plastic potty training pants. Hoping that the lack of absorbency will help him learn and that the vinyl covering will keep me from mopping up excrement from the floor. I’ll keep you posted.
So the nakedness theory is not working out so well in reality. I made a trip to K-mart to buy some of the old fashioned plastic potty training pants. Hoping that the lack of absorbency will help him learn and that the vinyl covering will keep me from mopping up excrement from the floor. I’ll keep you posted.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Keep an eye out for my new book called "Shit or get off the pot" where I delve deeper into public bathroom scenarios.
There are few things in the world less awkward than a bathroom at a large corporation. There you are butt cheek to butt cheek with your supervisors, managers, and fellow co-workers with whom you’re racing up that corporate ladder and it creates some interesting issues.
First of all the bathroom is deathly silent, no keyboards clicking, no hum of distant chatter, no piped in “white noise” just dead silence in which even the smallest fart reverberates like the aftershocks of an A-bomb explosion. Secondly you must deal with the following bathroom personalities:
The Self Assured: This person throws caution (and flatulence) to the wind and has no qualms about doing their business in the bathroom whether there are other people in there or not.
The Shy Shitter: This is the person that absolutely refuses to take a crap if anyone else is in the bathroom. They’ll just sit in the stall and clench until the room is empty.
The Synchronizer: This is a combination of the Self Assured and the Shy Shitter. They’re not quite confident enough to let it all hang out, and not quite so demure that they’re willing to wait to crap. The Synchronizer’s technique involves waiting for neighboring flushes to camouflage their gastric explosions.
The Talker: This person always seems to enter the bathroom with a companion and doesn’t skip a beat in the conversation during bladder or bowel emptying and only pauses slightly for flushing.
Now these four personalities are fine in and among themselves but when thrust together into corporate bathroom land – it’s not a pretty sight, or smell for that matter.
Imagine this scenario. A Shy Shitter (henceforth known as Shy Shitter 1) has just sat down, relieved in the fact that she can poop in peace when someone walks in. She clenches and waits. Person 2 pees and then there is silence; no rustling of toilet paper, no shifting of feet and it’s evident that this person is also a Shy Shitter. It’s a battle of the wills now. Does Shy Shitter 1 hold her ground and wait it out because she was there first? Does Shy Shitter 2 respect Shy Shitter 1’s seniority in this manner or does she think she can wait her out?? The tension can get pretty thick. Maybe 1 will tease 2 by tearing off some toilet paper, therefore giving 2 a false sense of hope that 1 has given up. Maybe 2 will give a little cough as if to say “I’m not going anywhere honey”.
Now imagine a Synchronizer enters the scene. What is she to do? If neither Shy Shitter is going to flush then she’s at an extreme disadvantage. Does she therefore become Shy Shitter 3 or Self Assured? The other option is to flush her own toilet. The bathroom has automatic flush sensors which will often go off while you’re still sitting on it, so the Synchronizer may feel confident enough to flush her own toilet under the guise of a malfunction and bear down at the same time. Witnessing this display of both courage and discretion may embolden one of the Shy Shitters to revert to Synchronizer traits or they may continue locked in their epic struggle.
Now nothing much bothers the Self Assured. They’re unaffected by the Shy Shitters and the Synchronizers. They’ve gone in to do a job and they’re going to do it. However, there are some things that can shake even the most Self Assured. First of all if they’ve been followed in by a Talker, they’re less likely to let loose because even for the self assured it’s too awkward to let one rip while someone is telling you about the sleeping habits of their 4 month old. This will force the Self Assured to be either a Shy Shitter or a Synchronizer or perhaps even to abandon her attempts all together and have to return after giving The Talker the slip.
Walking into the bathroom at the same time as a co-worker or manager can also quell the zeal of the Self Assured. They’re less likely to be completely indiscreet when they’ve been identified before entering the stall. Now if they manage to make it in the stall without being seen they are undeterred. They may time their exit so as not to be identified after the fact and they usually wear inconspicuous footwear so as not to be identified by their red and black polka dot heels.
You may wonder about my bathroom personality. I’m a Synchronizer. Teetering on the edge of “I don’t give a damn” and “I’d rather not have my co-worker know that I’m capable of blowing the enamel off the toilet bowl”. It’s a daily struggle I tell you. I can’t stand it when it’s just me and a Shy Shitter in there. I can’t count how many times I’ve just wanted to say “Okay honey, that Whopper Jr. I had for lunch is sending the contents of my lower intestines into the express lane. I know you’ve got to shit too so let’s just let it out on the count of 3. I won’t judge you and you won’t judge me and nobody will ever know.” I never pluck up the courage to say anything though.
One of my co-workers is an extreme Shy shitter. I mean this woman could spend an hour trying to go. She’ll go in and if she’s head to head with another shy shitter she’ll just leave and go back in later. I find that amazing. And if there’s a Talker in there she’s literally mortified, because if she can’t even squeeze out a turd while sitting next to someone, the thought of someone bold enough to pee and/or poop and talk at the same time is just unfathomable.
Obviously this gives great insight into people’s personalities as a whole. A Shy Shitter is timid about many more things besides waste excretion, and the Self Assured is obviously more confident in other arenas of life as well. I just thank god that we don’t have to stand next to each other and pee. Imagine how awkward that would be!
First of all the bathroom is deathly silent, no keyboards clicking, no hum of distant chatter, no piped in “white noise” just dead silence in which even the smallest fart reverberates like the aftershocks of an A-bomb explosion. Secondly you must deal with the following bathroom personalities:
The Self Assured: This person throws caution (and flatulence) to the wind and has no qualms about doing their business in the bathroom whether there are other people in there or not.
The Shy Shitter: This is the person that absolutely refuses to take a crap if anyone else is in the bathroom. They’ll just sit in the stall and clench until the room is empty.
The Synchronizer: This is a combination of the Self Assured and the Shy Shitter. They’re not quite confident enough to let it all hang out, and not quite so demure that they’re willing to wait to crap. The Synchronizer’s technique involves waiting for neighboring flushes to camouflage their gastric explosions.
The Talker: This person always seems to enter the bathroom with a companion and doesn’t skip a beat in the conversation during bladder or bowel emptying and only pauses slightly for flushing.
Now these four personalities are fine in and among themselves but when thrust together into corporate bathroom land – it’s not a pretty sight, or smell for that matter.
Imagine this scenario. A Shy Shitter (henceforth known as Shy Shitter 1) has just sat down, relieved in the fact that she can poop in peace when someone walks in. She clenches and waits. Person 2 pees and then there is silence; no rustling of toilet paper, no shifting of feet and it’s evident that this person is also a Shy Shitter. It’s a battle of the wills now. Does Shy Shitter 1 hold her ground and wait it out because she was there first? Does Shy Shitter 2 respect Shy Shitter 1’s seniority in this manner or does she think she can wait her out?? The tension can get pretty thick. Maybe 1 will tease 2 by tearing off some toilet paper, therefore giving 2 a false sense of hope that 1 has given up. Maybe 2 will give a little cough as if to say “I’m not going anywhere honey”.
Now imagine a Synchronizer enters the scene. What is she to do? If neither Shy Shitter is going to flush then she’s at an extreme disadvantage. Does she therefore become Shy Shitter 3 or Self Assured? The other option is to flush her own toilet. The bathroom has automatic flush sensors which will often go off while you’re still sitting on it, so the Synchronizer may feel confident enough to flush her own toilet under the guise of a malfunction and bear down at the same time. Witnessing this display of both courage and discretion may embolden one of the Shy Shitters to revert to Synchronizer traits or they may continue locked in their epic struggle.
Now nothing much bothers the Self Assured. They’re unaffected by the Shy Shitters and the Synchronizers. They’ve gone in to do a job and they’re going to do it. However, there are some things that can shake even the most Self Assured. First of all if they’ve been followed in by a Talker, they’re less likely to let loose because even for the self assured it’s too awkward to let one rip while someone is telling you about the sleeping habits of their 4 month old. This will force the Self Assured to be either a Shy Shitter or a Synchronizer or perhaps even to abandon her attempts all together and have to return after giving The Talker the slip.
Walking into the bathroom at the same time as a co-worker or manager can also quell the zeal of the Self Assured. They’re less likely to be completely indiscreet when they’ve been identified before entering the stall. Now if they manage to make it in the stall without being seen they are undeterred. They may time their exit so as not to be identified after the fact and they usually wear inconspicuous footwear so as not to be identified by their red and black polka dot heels.
You may wonder about my bathroom personality. I’m a Synchronizer. Teetering on the edge of “I don’t give a damn” and “I’d rather not have my co-worker know that I’m capable of blowing the enamel off the toilet bowl”. It’s a daily struggle I tell you. I can’t stand it when it’s just me and a Shy Shitter in there. I can’t count how many times I’ve just wanted to say “Okay honey, that Whopper Jr. I had for lunch is sending the contents of my lower intestines into the express lane. I know you’ve got to shit too so let’s just let it out on the count of 3. I won’t judge you and you won’t judge me and nobody will ever know.” I never pluck up the courage to say anything though.
One of my co-workers is an extreme Shy shitter. I mean this woman could spend an hour trying to go. She’ll go in and if she’s head to head with another shy shitter she’ll just leave and go back in later. I find that amazing. And if there’s a Talker in there she’s literally mortified, because if she can’t even squeeze out a turd while sitting next to someone, the thought of someone bold enough to pee and/or poop and talk at the same time is just unfathomable.
Obviously this gives great insight into people’s personalities as a whole. A Shy Shitter is timid about many more things besides waste excretion, and the Self Assured is obviously more confident in other arenas of life as well. I just thank god that we don’t have to stand next to each other and pee. Imagine how awkward that would be!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
New Potty Training Strategy
Ah to be 3 years old again! My son spent the vast majority of last night naked as a jay bird and completely comfortable in his own skin. He was playing outside on his playground and sliding into the little inflatable pool I’d placed at the bottom of it and having a hell of a good time and then his pull-up ripped down the side so I just had him take it off because there was really no use of putting on a new one if he was just going to splash around in the pool anyway. We have a privacy fence and the kid is 3 so who cares right! So he wants to take his shirt off too so there he is stark naked running around the yard.
Ten minutes later as he stands atop his slide he says “Look Momma” and sure enough, just like a little stone statue in an English garden, there is a perfect arch of piss flowing down the slide. So after a good laugh I hosed off the slide and he slid down that thing like a greased pig and splashed into that little wading pool so fast that there was a flicker of panic on his face before he squealed in delight and ran atop the ladder to do it over and over again.
The kid was so comfortable being naked and so happy that I just left him that way, even after we went inside for the evening. The great thing was that the kid went potty in the toilet at least 6 times by himself!! We’ve been struggling with potty training and it’s been frustrating to know that he knows when he has to go, he just won’t do it. He pees in his pull ups and pees through his big boy underwear but somehow when he’s naked he knows that there’s nothing there to absorb it so he’d better hit the toilet. So I’m thrilled and I think this is our new potty training strategy – just keep him naked until peeing in the toilet is so second nature that he can do it with his undies on.
Ten minutes later as he stands atop his slide he says “Look Momma” and sure enough, just like a little stone statue in an English garden, there is a perfect arch of piss flowing down the slide. So after a good laugh I hosed off the slide and he slid down that thing like a greased pig and splashed into that little wading pool so fast that there was a flicker of panic on his face before he squealed in delight and ran atop the ladder to do it over and over again.
The kid was so comfortable being naked and so happy that I just left him that way, even after we went inside for the evening. The great thing was that the kid went potty in the toilet at least 6 times by himself!! We’ve been struggling with potty training and it’s been frustrating to know that he knows when he has to go, he just won’t do it. He pees in his pull ups and pees through his big boy underwear but somehow when he’s naked he knows that there’s nothing there to absorb it so he’d better hit the toilet. So I’m thrilled and I think this is our new potty training strategy – just keep him naked until peeing in the toilet is so second nature that he can do it with his undies on.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Asshole Class
I’m walking the dog this morning around 6 a.m. and as I come up to an intersection with a well traveled main road in my neighborhood two boys, maybe 16, cruising around in their daddy’s maroon Buick LeSabre, roll down the window and one of them shouts “FAT” and they just keep on driving.
Now first of all I’m taken aback because I usually get a “Fat Bitch”. Perhaps he was religious and preferred not to cuss. Or perhaps this wasn’t an insult. Maybe they just like to drive around and yell out the obvious traits of the people they see. I wish I’d been better prepared. If I had known we were playing that game I could have yelled back “INSECURE” or perhaps “HIS FATHER NEVER SHOWED HIM ENOUGH AFFECTION”. Maybe he thought that I didn't know I was fat and he was doing me a favor in letting me know? I am aware, and quite fine with my portly self so I guess he wasted his breath if that was his intention.
I was a little surprised by this at 6 a.m. I mean what are two kids doing up that early in the morning during summer vacation? The only thing I can come up with is that they were on their way to asshole class, which is obviously at the end of that street somewhere. It makes perfect sense because this is not the first time I’ve been such insulted on that particular street. This is actually the 3rd time. The first time was in the winter and these particular youths didn’t like my lovely striped scarf, I think I got a “nice scarf, bitch” on that particular occasion and then a “Fat Bitch” a few months later from someone else. Those were in the afternoon though and I was walking on the street parallel to them and had ample time to see them coming and to prepare my one finger response.
So it appears that class is held both in the morning and in the afternoon year round and they must get extra credit if they can show up and say that they insulted a perfect stranger on the way there.
Now first of all I’m taken aback because I usually get a “Fat Bitch”. Perhaps he was religious and preferred not to cuss. Or perhaps this wasn’t an insult. Maybe they just like to drive around and yell out the obvious traits of the people they see. I wish I’d been better prepared. If I had known we were playing that game I could have yelled back “INSECURE” or perhaps “HIS FATHER NEVER SHOWED HIM ENOUGH AFFECTION”. Maybe he thought that I didn't know I was fat and he was doing me a favor in letting me know? I am aware, and quite fine with my portly self so I guess he wasted his breath if that was his intention.
I was a little surprised by this at 6 a.m. I mean what are two kids doing up that early in the morning during summer vacation? The only thing I can come up with is that they were on their way to asshole class, which is obviously at the end of that street somewhere. It makes perfect sense because this is not the first time I’ve been such insulted on that particular street. This is actually the 3rd time. The first time was in the winter and these particular youths didn’t like my lovely striped scarf, I think I got a “nice scarf, bitch” on that particular occasion and then a “Fat Bitch” a few months later from someone else. Those were in the afternoon though and I was walking on the street parallel to them and had ample time to see them coming and to prepare my one finger response.
So it appears that class is held both in the morning and in the afternoon year round and they must get extra credit if they can show up and say that they insulted a perfect stranger on the way there.
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