Oh no you didn't

We've reached another parenting milestone in this house: Zoey has been grounded for the first time in her life. This can not be a good sign.

My child loves to read. Loves books. Has A. TON. of them in her room, in her playroom, in the living room, etc. However, she has sadly taken up the sport of ripping pages from her books as of late. We've had many (many, many, endless) discussions on how horrible this behavior is. I have repaired countless editions of the Berenstain Bears and Little Critter books with scotch tape.

So yesterday afternoon I found her on my bed with her doll and my copy of 'Rattled!' by Christine Coppa (fabulous, fun-to-read book, by the way), which I had innocently left out on my nightstand. I should have been concerned, but wasn't after she called 'I'm weading to my baby, Mommy!'. Cute! So I left them to their own devices. For 20 minutes. Which was, apparently, just enough time for her to take approximately 10 pages in that book and rip them in to tiny, tiny shreds.

I was so angry when I walked in and she announced 'yook, Mommy, I wipped it!' that I hollered for Bryan to grab a box from the garage. Then I proceeded to plop my little monster on her bed and watch as I boxed up every single book she owns and sent them to the garage.

She'll get them back in two days. She is not happy about this. Neither am I, but seriously, what are you supposed to do with awful toddler behavior like this?? You can mess with lots of my things, but NOT my books.

So there.

End of the Day

I think Zoey has something like eight or nine stickers on her super-cool Elmo Potty Chart hanging in the bathroom. Today was exhausting, but successful. I got a little closer in proximity to several large bowel movements than I'd like, but whatever...keep in mind, people, when I'm working I'm wearing gowns, gloves and often masks when getting this close to shit. And yes, I've considered "borrowing" some PPE (Personal Protective Equipment, to those of us in the biz) to bring home. Or would that be overkill?

And no, I was not brave enough to take Zoey to the baseball game in big girl panties. Next time, though...because I'm encouraged by Kelly's idea that you really have to just go whole-hog and get it over with, so the entire process doesn't last until nearly kindergarten.

I think the highlight of the day was when I told Zoey not to flush just yet, because Mommy had to go potty too, and then she could flush the whole shebang after I was done. So, I'm sitting there, doing God's work as my Grandmother would say, and as soon as Zoey hears the beginning of a tinkle, her face lights up (just like mine when I'm the one sitting on the edge of the tub, not the toilet), she starts clapping (just like I do) and yelling "Yay Mommy! You get a sticker! Yay!!" (just like me).

You haven't lived until you've been cheered on in the bathroom by a 2 1/2 year old. Trust me.

Potty news

Is it really only 11:42 a.m.? I feel like I've been up for days. Six hours in to this boot-camp style potty training experience and I'm pooped. Ha.

Here's how the morning has gone:

Successes: Five (Many of which were cheered on by Mommy, Daddy, and Zoey's cousin Finley.)

Accidents: Three

Semi-Successes: Two (One when I walked in to the upstairs bathroom and found her efficiently shaking her own turd from her panties to the toilet...or the general vicinity of the toilet...and one when she wasn't quite positioned properly on the Elmo toilet seat, leading her to clamp her tiny thighs together a bit too hard, creating what I can only describe as a geyser of urine shooting all over the place.)

Loads of laundry: One

Caffeine intake (Mommy): Two (Not bad.)

Stocks I am considering investing in: Lysol, Softsoap, Hanes.

Soooo, tonight we are going to my cousin's baseball game, which Zoey is thrilled about. (Kenny, who is 16 and beyond cool in Zoey's eyes, has become her new idol.) Question: I don't think I'm ready to brave big-girl-panties-in-the-real-world yet. And the thought of having to shake a poo into a Port-A-Potty (or....worse...the bushes) makes me want to heave. Does it send a mixed message to a two and a half year old when you put on diapers for some occasions and big girl panties for others? And at what point am I just going to have to commit to the idea that I'll be hosing out the carseat several times a week due to accidents?

At least it's summer and I can leave it in the driveway to air out.

Itsy Bitsy (Wet, Poopy) Buns

How many of you out there have spent countless mornings emptying solid stool from your big girl or big boy's underpants in to the toilet? I have to tell you, I deal in poop every day and this is a new milestone of Mommyhood that totally makes me gag.

Yes, that's right, we're back on the wagon. The potty training wagon, that is. Because Ms. Berna and Ms. Mybol (both of whom Zoey has lovingly accepted as her new Panda teachers) think she's ready, and she's my first kid (read: I don't have a clue if she's ready or not), so a-potty-training we will go. Because really, if Ms. Berna, the teacher who looks like she's been working with 2 1/2 year olds for close to 30 years, thinks she's ready, she probably is. And it's not like I can be out done by a preschool teacher...if she's potty training at school, I can't really justify sticking her in diapers while at home. Even though it is SO. MUCH. EASIER.

I don't think I realized what an (expensive) investment all this potty training would be. Honestly, I thought potty training = save money on diapers. I did not stop to consider that all money spent weekly on diapers would now be re-routed to the children's clothing section at Target, where I found myself filling up on clearance-rack shorts, pants, and shirts. Ms. Mybol gently reminded me yesterday, as she handed over two large plastic sacks tied off containing wet clothing, that she would need at least 6 pairs of panties and several changes of clothes to keep at school EVERY DAY. As I mentally calcualated how much extra laundry that would generate, I realized I would either have to buy some more clothes for this child or risk becoming chained to my laundry room for however long it is that this process takes.

Looks like I'll be spending lots of time at home this next week. Or so. Longer??

Going crazy, be back soon

Today, I have managed to accomplish approximately one item on my to-do list containing hundreds of items, decided to give potty training another try with disastrous, poop-in-panties results, weathered a monumental meltdown that only a two year old can throw, folded laundry, constantly cleaned up after my own child and her two cousins, considered Prozac as it might at least dampen my obsession with keeping my floors clean, and I am now listening to a chorus of "Mommy? Where are you?" from Zoey's room. Because naps this weekend? Have been non-existent.

My life sucks right now. But did you know that Costco carries a Kirkland brand beer? I highly recommend it, if (like me) you can't seem to find time to schedule a doctor's appointment for yourself to request that much-needed Prozac.

Long Day

Okay, we survived the upgrade to Panda, but only in that endearing, thanks-for-picking-me-up-Mom-I've-been-holding-my-shit-together-all-day-for-this-stranger-and-now-I-need-to-unleash-hell's-fury-like-only-a-kid-my-age-can sort of way. Which is to say that she racked up two time-outs for hitting her cousins before we had been home an hour, and followed with a smashing rendition of NO I DON'T WANT A BATH NO NO NO!! shortly after dinner.

Hooray for upgrades.

Once a Bunny, always a Bunny

Today marks an important transition in Zoey's early-early childhood education. She is moving from...drum roll, please...Ms. Lira's Toddler class (the Bunnies) to Ms. Berna's Toddler class (the Pandas).

Zoey has absolutely zero interest in becoming a Panda, no matter how exciting we make it sound, and seems to prefer that Ms. Lira remain her primary source of education for possibly the rest of her life.

Each time we've brought it up this weekend, trying to talk up the exciting new things she'll get to do while surrounded by fellow 2 1/2 year olds, her only response has been "No Miss Berna. I yike Miss Yeara".

Because really, throwing in a transition to a new class when she only just adjusted to the class she's in, and a week after her aunt, uncle, and two cousins moved in with us for the month, and during all the chaos that has ensued after her Papa died, which has left the entire family scrambling to get Grandma situated, seems totally fair, right?

The following items are NOT clear liquids:

1. Hamburgers
2. Chili
3. Hot dogs
4. Chicken

Seriously, people? When you're prepping for a colonoscopy? Don't think you can misinterpret the instructions without serious consequences. For example, assuming that the 24 hours of clear liquids before the test must be arbitrary, as opposed to MANDATORY, and consuming any of the foods listed above in lieu of Gatorade and Jell-O, will buy you a one-way ticket to another gallon of GoLytely and a return trip to your friendly gastroenterologist. It will also piss off the nurse working with you, because she will have to empty two additional canisters filled with shit-water that we tried to flush from your food-impacted colon (unsuccessfully), and it will cause her to look on you in an unfavorable light when you come back tomorrow and perhaps make her want to not give you adequate sedation BECAUSE YOU ARE STUPID.

Just a thought.

Singing and fiber

I should be writing my grandpa's eulogy right now, but unfortunately, Writer's Block has me staring at a blank computer screen thinking....hmphf. Hate Writer's Block. So I was hoping that if I posted an updated blog entry, perhaps that would get the creative juices going.

But now I feel as though I'm so far behind on blog updates, I don't even know where to start. Kind of like a eulogy--how do you quantify an entire person's life and personality in a few concise pages? Especially someone like Papa?

So let's see. Zoey learned the song "Jesus Loves Me", complete with hand motions, at daycare. It took me an entire day at home with her to figure out what she was singing, but eventually I was able to pick out only the words "Jesus loves me", and the rest sounds like garble, but oh--the most adorable garble you've ever heard. And the hand motions? Totally make the song.

I have posted the "High Fiber Diet" brochure on my refrigerator so I can mentally calculate each day how much roughage I consume. Because I'm that kind of nerdy. And when life gets stressful, the stressed out seek Lists. Any kind of list. I am presently tracking how much we are spending on groceries each week, how much fiber I eat in a day, as well as a list of all the personality traits I loved in my grandfather, so I don't leave anything pertinent out of his eulogy. Again, that kind of nerdy.

Is that it? A children's bible song and food items meant to bulk up your stool? Ugh, why can't I think of anything else?

Although, to be fair, anyone who follows this blog understands that I am an 85 year old woman at heart, so none of the above should surprise you.