Weekend Update

Here are some fabulously thrilling things that have happened in our lives:

1)  Handsome Dude prefers to dress himself now.

Shirt on inside-out and mismatched shirt/pants.

Handsome Dude has become quite . . . particular.

If anything gets on his shirt or pants, he must change it immediately.

He runs upstairs, pulls about 25 items out of his closet, and finally settles on mismatched clothing that is usually too small for him.

2)  Are you wondering where Handsome Dude's glasses are?

So are we.

3)  If you are planning on ever potty-training a child of the male gender, please do not look to me for advice.

Clearly, I know not what I am doing.

But I have figured out what my number one problem was:

This toilet seat.

It was what I used while potty-training my girls.

Attention all clueless moms like me:  THIS DOES NOT WORK FOR BOYS.

It does not leave enough spray room for little boys.

Because of this seat, my boy would spray pee on himself.

Because of the pee on himself, my boy would freak out.

Because of the freak out, he would pee on his shirt.

Because of his pee shirt, he would cry and need it changed.

Because he needed his shirt changed, we would be late for school.

That seat is evil I tell you.

Now after my potty training posts, a few of commented that having my boy reverse gears and straddle the toilet would be a better way to go.

But, as I mentioned earlier, Handsome Dude has become particular, and any sort of change is quite traumatic for him.

So for two days, I worked on trying to get him to straddle the toilet and give up the evil toilet seat.

I am happy to report that he does now straddle the toilet and it does seem to work better, as it allows for more spray room.

I have found two kinks with the straddle method:

1)  I have discovered that taking clothes off of a little boy who waited too long to go can be tricky.

He is trying his hardest to hold everything in while I bend his legs and try to remove his pants.

For the most part, we have been successful, but Handsome Dude did wait a little too long the other day and poo poo started sprinkling out on my arm as I was trying to undress him.

And that is why Mother's Day was invented.

2)  Once Handsome Dude is on the toilet, and the pee pee starts coming, he gets excited and forgets to . . . um . . . . steer his little unit.

He's clapping and cheering, but he is not steering.

Now, when that thing is not being steered, the spray just goes rogue.

So, I say:  "Dude!  Dude!  Point it down!"

Then he tries to grab it, and he ends up overcorrecting and sprays his thighs and such.

Raise your hand if you are tired of hearing about potty training?

I promise to never mention it again in this post.

4)  I won a contest over at The Park Wife.

And guess what came in the mail:

An official Pioneer Woman shirt.

Should I keep it or give it away?

Thoughts?

The Lumberjack took that there photo of me.

He had to stop watching "Swamp Loggers" in order to take it.

That's how much he loves me.

What is Swamp Loggers?

 I don't know.

But apparently, it is an exciting show that involves caravans . . .

and something that is referred to as a lowboy.

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who can guess why we use closed captioning.

5)  I also won an award from Mindy over at the Suburban Life.

Interruption:  Has anyone else noticed just how many gals named "Mindy" are commenting on this blog as of late?  Apparently, I am very popular with the "Mindy" crowd.  If you know a Mindy, you should share this blog with her. 

Stop by Mindy's blog sometime and say "Holla!"

6)  It has come to my attention that my readers, all 9 of you, along with myself, do not truly know the meaning of the phrase "Holla."

There is a pretty good chance I am using it incorrectly.

But I know some of you are confused because one reader, who shall remain nameless, thought I was saying Holler!

No.

I am not hollering.

And another reader thought I was saying Hola!, as in the Spanish word for Hello.

No.

I am not bilingual.

According to some online source, Holla means: 

interj. 1. an exclamation of greeting. 2. an exclamation used to show excitement or enthusiasm. verb. 1. to call. 2. to summon

Mystery solved.

Adios.

7)  Thanks to MaryGene, I got my 30 day shred DVD working again.

Which is good news and bad news.

Good because I can now work out and hopefully lose 20 pounds in 30 days as Jillian promises.

Bad because that woman is evil and makes me do too many arm exercises, therefore rendering my arms useless for the remainder of the day.

Thanks, MaryGene!

Well.

That's all I have to say about that.

(Name that movie)

Don't forget to try to answer the Lumberjack's mystery question for your shot at $100 bucks.

Dear Handsome Dude,

While I am proud of you, my dear son, for mastering the potty in a fairly reasonable amount of time, I do have a bit advice for you, now that you are regularly using the toilet.

When you are eliminating waste products into the toilet, please make sure your unit is pointed downward, leaving plenty of room for the waste product to enter the toilet bowl.

Do not close your tiny thighs.

They will get splashed.

Do not keep your underwear pulled up so high.

It will get splashed.

And please.

Please.

Please refrain from clasping your entire little unit in your little hand while urinating.

And if that happens, my dear Handsome Dude, please refrain from screaming as you watch the waste product spray all over your hands.

Do not keep peeing and screaming and soak your shirt.

Do not freak out because your shirt is now soaked.

Do not run in place and scream for fear of the pee pee that is on your little hands, tummy, and thighs.

Thank you.

But I have one more request.

If you must choose to freak out and pee all over yourself, could you please try and not do so at 8:51 am.

For you see, my dear boy, your sisters' school starts at 8:55am.

And we are late.

Every.

Single.

Day.

I would appreciate your help in making our mornings "yell-free."

Thank you,

Mom

P.S.-I love you Handsome Dude.

  You are growing up too fast.

Potty Training: Day 4

Ok.

Back on Tuesday, when I wrote the post entitled "Potty Training:  Day 1,"  I was honestly thinking that it would only take a day or two, despite how horribly day one went.

Raise your hand if you are getting sick and tired of my potty-training posts.

Please accept my sincere apologies.

I will try to move on to other subjects soon.

Because that's why you all come here . . . right? 

For intriguing posts on what kind of creamer I like, my muffin top, my horrible camping hair, my crazykin in-laws, my goober parents, my diesel rig, and, of course, my smokin' hot Lumberjack:

Holla!

(Interruption:  I have no idea why people say "Holla!"  But they always look so joyous when they say it, so I thought I would try it out.  How'd I do?)

And without further ado, for I know you are all dying to know, here is how Day 4 went:

He woke up dry!

Holla!

(Man! I'm good!  Nailed it!)

He ran upstairs and hid in his room and pooped in his undies:  Fail.

But then . . . then ladies and gentlemen . . . my Handsome Dude, my 3rd born, the child who oft makes me question my existence as a stay-at-home-mom . . . my son went accident free from the hours of 8:27am until 7:35pm.

So, now, on this the 4th day of potty training, on the fourteenth day of the month of January, in the two thousandth and tenth year of our Lord, I will declare my son officially "almost (kind of, somewhat, but who knows what tomorrow will bring) there."

Yes.

My Handsome Dude had a much better day.

And I am glad.

For I needed him to have a much better day.

For I was going insane.

And we had Little Miss over for the day.

Isn't Little Miss cute?

Well . . . aren't they all cute?

*sigh*

Potty Training Day 4: Hopeful Win!

Holla!

Potty Training: Day 3

Mayday!  Mayday!

I'm drowning.

I repeat.

I am drowning in the river.

Here is how day 3 went down:

Handsome Dude woke up dry.

This was encouraging to my soul.

I sat him on the toilet and he wailed and cried and wailed and cried.

Then he made a little peepee.

This, too, was encouraging to my soul.

So, he got up and went into the living room and about 15 minutes later he was standing in a puddle of urine.

Why?

Why not.

Handsome Dude had an eye appointment scheduled at 9.

You will all be pleased to know that the Lumberjack found Handsome Dude's glasses underneath the entertainment center, along with 10 million dust  bunnies, a hanger, a Matchbox car,  and Sweet Pea's spare set of glasses.

Let's hear it for the Lumberjack:

Look at him and all his handsomeness.

So . . .

I put Handsome Dude in a pull-up. 

I am not yet ready to venture out into the world with him in his undies.

The world is not yet ready for him to venture out with him in his undies.

Trust me.

There are not enough sanitizing products out there to handle that job.

As we are waiting, I decided to take him into the bathroom to see if he can try to go.

This is, in fact, Handsome Dude's first experience in any sort of public restroom.

And Little Dude's.

We walk in and both of the stalls are occupied.

And both boys try to crawl under the doors and into the stalls.

Fabulous.

Luckily, the handicapped stall opens up first and we take it.

I figure we have every right to.

Thoughts?

So I plop my Handsome Dude's tiny hiney on that large, germy, off-white colored bathroom commode.

He is now experiencing a crash-course lesson in balancing.

And then Handsome Dude does what he does every time he gets on the toilet:  nothing.

He sits.

He smiles.

He grins.

He smooches.

He does not pee.

Why would he do that?

While we are waiting, Little Dude is exploring the bathroom stall.

He is rubbing the toilet.

He is smoothing the floor with his hands.

He is getting a little too curious about the trash can.

Are you familiar with this trash can?

You know.

The silver one mounted on the wall of the bathroom stall?

Oh, the horror.

Now, mind you, if I let go of Handsome Dude, he will fall down into the murky waters.

Yet, if I don't stop Little Dude, he will surely come in contact with some sort of infectious germy something-or-other.

Oh, the horror.

And was this trip to the public bathroom worth it?

No, my dear readers.

It certainly wasn't.

For my Handsome Dude produced not one bit of nothing on that toilet seat.

*sigh*

Handsome Dude had 3 successful bathroom trips today.

And 4.2 million unsuccessful trips.

Potty Training Day 3:  Gross/Disgusting/Germified and Discouraged FAIL

Potty Training: Day Two

A quick recap of Day One:

Day One did not go well.

I am sure you are all dying to know how Day Two went.

It started off horribly, which was to be expected.

He woke up with a saturated pull-up.

Then we had to go to the dentist, which was a joy in and of itself.

Yes.

I would consider hauling 4 children to an 8:00am dentist appointment in the midst of potty training to be high on my list of enjoyable activities.

But, I digress.

We returned home and fell right back into our routine of soiling underpants, for that is what my Handsome Dude does best.

I started setting a timer for every ten minutes to remind myself to take him to the bathroom.

Then I started to wonder if I was potty training Handsome Dude, or if I was, in fact, potty training myself.

Hmmm . . .

A quandary.

For day two, Handsome Dude started feel the need for privacy.

Little Dude and I were no longer allowed in the bathroom area.

Handsome Dude is a stubborn dude.

So I camped outside the bathroom door and listened with all my might, hoping to hear any evidence of a trickle.

Yes.

This is what has become of my life.

Jealous?

Handsome Dude requests some books.

I give him some books.

They are, of course, unsatisfactory to his tastes.

But since he does not yet clearly speak English, I cannot understand which books he would prefer, which infuriates him all the more.

I tell him that I no longer care and I go sit outside the door and contemplate throwing in the towel.

Other things I contemplate:

1)  Why God gave me four kids because I clearly cannot handle it.

2)  My neck.  Why does it hurt so?  I don't want to call the chiropractor.

3)  Carbs.  I think I eat too many.  I should cut back.

4)  Where are Handsome Dude's glasses?  He has an eye appointment tomorrow.  The eye doctor will not be impressed when he goes to check Handsome Dude's prescription and I tell him they have been AWOL for 1-2 weeks.

5)  I wonder how long I will have to plug my car in?

6)  I don't think I can give up carbs.  I am fairly certain that carbs are in every item I choose to eat.  I think I love carbs.

7)  Why is Little Dude so darn cute?

And where is his other shoe?

8)  Nope.  I love carbs too much.

Suddenly, Handsome Dude gets up from the toilet and informs me that he pooped.

Right.

But then, I see it!

Poop!

On the floor!

My life could not have gotten any more exciting than it did at that very moment.

But wait!

Poop!

In the toilet, too!

He must have gotten off mid-poo and sprinkled a little on his way to inform me of his accomplishment!

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to inform you that my Handsome Dude made 4 successful bathroom trips on this second day of potty training, the twelfth day of the month of January in the Two Thousandth and Tenth Year of our Lord.

 

True.

He still had about 18 failed trips.

But, still!

Potty Training Day Two:  Encouraging Fail

And I would like everyone to know that I, yes yours truly, won the bet with the Lumberjack.

We never set up our prize parameters.

What should I claim?

Hmmm . . . .

Potty Training: Day 1

 

Handsome Dude is 2.75 years old.

This is dangerously close to 3.

The time has come.

Ready or not (emphasis on not).

When I potty trained my girls, it was surprisingly easy. 

I took away their diapers.  I put them in underwear.  They each had a couple accidents and by lunch time they were getting the hang of things. 

Seriously.

 It took like 2 days.

Silly me for thinking things would be similar with Handsome Dude.

Apparently, my girls are well-advanced peoples.

I will be expecting a call any minute from their school confirming my findings.

So . . . here were my goals for Day 1 of potty training Handsome Dude:

1)  Take away diapers

2)  Try not to get angry at him

3)  Switch to underwear

4)  Try not to yell

5)  Pull-ups for naps/bed and outings

6) Candy if he makes a pee pee in the potty

7)  Try not to get angry

8)  Try not to yell

9)  Get him to potty in the toilet by lunchtime

And here is how Day 1 went:

Not well.

In preparation for this, I purchased 9 pairs of underwear.

They are all soiled.

We had not one, I repeat, not one successful toilet trip today.

Not one.

And, to make things even more fantabulous, I am completely out of paper towels.

And paper towels come in handy when cleaning up urine in the kitchen, bathroom, living room, bedroom, and anywhere else that he  . . .

might roam.

He does NOT get it, I repeat, he does NOT get it.

The very first thing he tried was to put on all 9 pairs of underwear on at the same time.

Who does that?

Then he cried and wailed and cried and wailed.

Then he went and got a diaper.

But I am remaining steadfast in my new diaperless beliefs.

When he finally put a pair of underwear on, he caught his little unit in the elastic . . .

which resulted in him becoming terrified of the "owie" underwear.

So, now when we put the undies on, we have to run in place and scream and cry for fear of the undies.

*sigh*

At the start of the day, when I was still blissfully hopeful, I sat him down on his potty seat and told him to point his little unit down.

By the end of the day, I could have cared less if it was pointed down.

Sure.

Spray me all you want.

Just please, please, please for the love of everything, please urinate while you are at least standing within 3 feet of the toilet.

I would call that progress.

HE DOES NOT GET IT.

HE NEVER WILL GET IT.

HE WILL BE THE WORLD'S FIRST HIGH SCHOOLER IN DIAPERS.

DON'T TRY AND CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.

I KNOW.

HE WILL NEVER DO IT.

He did however, find time to smooch with his little bro.

 

 

Yes.

He kisses on the toilet.

He reads on the toilet.

He shows me his owies on the toilet.

Guess what he does not do on the toilet.

Now the Lumberjack and I have a bet.

Let's see which on eof us can get him to make something . . . . anything . . . come out of his bottom areas while he is sitting on or near the toilet first.

The Lumberjack tried for 45 minutes last night.

Lumberjacks really like to win bets.

But, no.

No, no, no.

Handsome Dude had not one succesful elimination.

Potty training day 1:  FAIL.