Day 1

GOOD:

Today a freak wind storm blew through our little community and knocked out the power for about four hours. Since this happened in the late afternoon and into the evening, we nary felt the effects of this inconvenience as the children just ran and played outside. As the sun started to set my anxiety regarding our no power situation began to increase. Suddenly my thoughts turned to how I was going to entertain myself for the rest of the evening. No power = No facebook, no blog stalking, no catching up on crappy reality T.V on my DVR, no reading my book in bed sipping on my cherry limeade with crushed ice…..this night was going to be a total bust! If I were a mind reader (and who wouldn’t want to be) I’m sure that these were the thoughts that were going through my husband’s mind.

“Sweet. Tonight I am totally going to score. With no computer, T.V or reading to get in my way, we are totally going to have some smokin’ hot ‘relations.’ What else is there to do when the power is out? Go to bed? Sure you can go to bed after we’ve hit it a couple of times…..if you catch my drift. {wink wink}"

No wonder the Pioneers had so many stinkin' children. What else did they have to do with their time? Darn socks? Do needlepoint? Um yeah. I’m pretty sure that those things got old pretty darn quick. So…..just as I was mentally trying to gear myself up for a two-fer or maybe even a three-fer (like I said, we had NOTHING better to do) the freakin’ lights came back on! And so, to end the evening, I plopped myself in my heavenly bed, sipped on a lovely beverage and watched one of the million episodes of bad T.V that I had simmering on my DVR. Perfection.


BAD:
I am going to Mommy Hell. I am sure of it. For the last five days I have been potty training my fourth and final victim. (I say victim, because really, who wants to deal with the likes of me when they are potty training?) Now keep in mind, I have successfully potty trained three other savages. I should probably have something to the equivalent of a potty training PHD for the LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY . Yet I still pull stunts like this:

Let me set up the scene. My dearest and youngest son has finally mastered the art of peeing on the potty, but for some reason has yet to drop a deuce in the toilet. Instead, he is getting more and more constipated as the days go on, and about every 10 minutes for FOUR DAYS IN A ROW I hear this:
"Mommy, my tummy hurts.”
So……we rush to the toilet as if his very rear end is on fire and needs extinguishing and NADA, NOTHING, ZIP, ZERO. The poo eludes us. It is on this very day as I am crouched down in the bathroom holding his little rear end over the toilet, dimming the lights to set the “mood” (Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it….I was at my wit’s end people!) and running the water to block out the sound of my other three wild ones standing outside the door whispering,
“Mom, did he do it yet? Did he go poo yet?”
(Jeesh kids. Leave your brother alone. Three year olds can get stage fright too.) And then I popped out this little jewel.

“Braden, if you don’t go poopy, Mommy is going to have to stick a pokey up your bum bum to help you go. Do you want that?”

Wait. Stop the presses. Did I really just say that to my son? Did I really just say that OUT LOUD?

Stick.A.Pokey.Up.Your.Bum. Holy Crap. Mother of the year I am not. Mommy Dearest? Yeah, that sounds more like it. Now, in an effort to try and explain myself, I will clarify what I meant by that. I have birthed four children. Somewhere along the way, each and every one of them has become constipated when they were an infant or baby. There is nothing worse than a constipated baby. I should know...... I’ve lived it...... Several times. Well, sorry if this is a little bit gross and just plain TMI, but also somewhere along the way I learned this little technique. Sometimes if you stick a well lubed Q-tip up their little hiney and quite gently turn it in circles it can stimulate the bowels and voila! They’re back in Business, baby! Well this is what I meant, but so un-eloquently expressed to my darling boy. (I am all about the scare tactics. For example: Do you want to get hit by a car and die? No? Then DON’T PLAY IN THE ROAD!” Or this little gem that I’ve used a time or two…..”Never, EVER talk to stranger or take candy from them because they will throw you in their car and you will never EVER see Mommy or Daddy again.”) So in essence, what I was attempting was a scare tactic that had the quite opposite effect as my son is probably forever scarred by the idea of his mom putting a pokey in his bum. Oh, and P.S. I bet you’re wondering if he ever ended up going on the potty? Well, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that scaring the literal poop out of your child is much harder than one would think. Oh well.

UGLY: Does it really get any uglier than saying to your three year old “I’m going to stick a pokey up your bum.” Um yeah. I didn’t think so either.

08.05.09