Tag Archives: potty training

The universe knew I was sitting on my 100th post, so it threw me something special

On Monday, I went to the grocery store.

It was one of those perfect storms of horribleness, and when I started thinking up how I’d write this all down (because, let’s face it, if ANYTHING sort of terrifying happens, the silver lining is that you get to blog about it) I realized I needed to back things up to Saturday morning.

Saturday morning, Vio peed on the floor at Target. WHILE I was picking out new underwear for her, I might add. Not because of a sense of impending pee, of course, but because she’s been potty-trained for nearly a year now, and she’s pretty much outgrown the 2T/3T Dora and Princess underpants of yore. Matt was chasing Roo up and down the aisle, and I looked back at Vio to show her the choices. This child was in the throes of a (silent) pee-pee-dance, complete with leg-crossing and crotch-grabbing. And now we had pee on the floor, in a store. Nothing in my purse to wipe it up (it was seriously about two drops), and the Invisible Authority figures were surely zoning in. Matt ran Vio off to the bathroom while I paced around looking for an employee to wave down. No one!

So I ran.

Well, I abandoned the scene of the crime and ran up to pay for our stuff so Vio could put on some clean underwear. I juggled the bag and my purse and my wallet and the baby and got them out to the car where Matt was situating Vio. I dropped all my stuff on the floor, got Vio changed, and Matt went back in and wiped up The Evidence.

I really shouldn’t go places without my husband.

We have this routine where we usually do the week’s grocery shopping all together on Sunday mornings. You know, in the interest of me not going places ALONE, when bad things are sure to happen.  With Father’s Day and all that, we switched things up. Matt dropped me off at Publix while he took the girls to the library and the park on Monday afternoon. He made sure I had my phone and that it was charged. Because I rarely have my phone, and when I do, it is mostly not charged.

Anyhoogle, it’s amazing how relaxing the grocery store can be when you’re there by yourself. (Well, unless your husband’s high school crush is there roaming the aisles again and you’re skirting behind the canned goods to avoid making totally polite conversation NOT THAT THIS EVER HAPPENED.) I took my time picking out produce and reading labels, snail’s-pacing my way up and down each aisle. Last stop was the fish counter, after which I pulled out my phone to let Matt know I was about to checkout, thus minimizing the time the meats had to spoil. I AM BRILLIANT, I thought.

I mean, I was brilliant, until I dialed his number, and instead of RIIINNNNGNNNGGG in my ear, I hear, “We’re sorry. This T-Mobile pre-paid phone does not have enough minutes to complete the call.”

Oh. Well. Hmm.

(The T-Mobile situation isn’t really that relevant to the story, but as a bit of an aside, it wasn’t that I’d used all my minutes. They expire after a year or whatever, and they were set to expire THAT DAY. THAT VERY DAY.)

But! Not that big a deal, right? Because surely he’ll realize I should have called by now and he’ll just come pick me up. And there’s probably a pay phone, if not. I think? Some places still have those. So I went to grab my wallet to see if I had change or if I’d need to get cash back, and …

No. There was no wallet in that purse. Because the wallet was still on the floor of the van where I dropped it on Saturday after the peeing incident.

Now I had no phone, no money, and I was in the middle of a grocery store. Which is like the worst place to have to wither away and die of abandonment, because there is food everywhere THAT I CANNOT PAY FOR.

I fumbled around with the phone, trying to remember the number to call to add minutes. Which of course I could not. So I poked around in the useless stupid thing and still found nothing. I like to imagine I looked like I was having a huge text fight with someone to all passersby. I finally texted the number to get my minute balance, which THANKFULLY white-knighted with the number for minute-adding.

Of course, now I was trying to refill my minutes with no credit card in front of me. I tapped into the Little Grey part of my brain until I found the snapshot of the number. Though I kept entering it in incorrectly from memory. SO I HAD TO WRITE IT DOWN ON A PIECE OF PAPER. Because that is 1. literally the only way I could get the number from my brain into the phone, and 2. the smartest thing you can ever do with a credit card number.

Finally, though, the number was in.

And then I hung up on the call. Because I hit END instead of #. Because I win at cell phones.

(Through all of this I never once considered just going to customer service and asking if I could use the phone. The whole “I don’t have my wallet AND my phone just ran out of minutes today!” thing seemed like such a likely story, you know?)

Finally got some minutes added, and the phone started ringing IMMEDIATELY.

It was Matt calling to (helpfully) let me know my wallet was in the van.


Seriously. Never leaving the house by myself AGAIN.


Filed under Better half, Not even kidding

7 Quick Takes – Extra quick! Before the kids wake up!

1. I am a de-cluttering MASTER, you guys. This week, I have torn through every room of the house with one mission: Throw. Crap. Away. I have been wallowing in this house for three years. This house I don’t really love. This house that has never felt like HOME, for some reason. I finally snapped out of it and realized that maybe it could feel like home if I just gave it a chance. That maybe I could enjoy my hours trapped spent in here if things were orderly and less like the after effects of tornadic activity.

2. Part of The Plan, as I am now thinking of it, involves a few home improvements. Married/partnered/roommated homeowners out there may have some idea of where I’m going with this. Home improvements CAN BE THE END OF EVERYTHING. There is just no arguing like the arguing that takes place when putting together a crazy IKEA desk or painting a room. I’m a crazed perfectionist so it is the END OF THE WORLD when the molding on the bookcase trim isn’t perfectly centered or there is a single drip of yellow paint on the white baseboards. And, just … don’t send me into a room with crooked picture frames hung on the walls. We visited my husband’s grandmother last weekend, and I think I need some heavy meds before I can set foot in there again. Dozens of frames, off balance at different angles. Makes my head get all bendy just THINKING ABOUT IT.

3. On the kiddie front, Roo seems to be sick, but I have no idea what it is. She had a fever last night, appears to be in some discomfort today, but nothing seems wrong. No teeth bumps that I can discern. I’m just keeping an eye on her and snuggling her extra, and hoping I get back my giggle baby soon. And maybe a bit more sleep, as the last several nights have left Matt and I in the morning asking each other, “Uh. Do you remember how much we were up last night?” (We get a little confused on minimal sleep. Some day I’ll have to tell you the story of Matt trying to figuring out Vio’s IP address while in a sleepless stupor.)

4. Vio is now in underwear 24/7. I decided last weekend that we’d go diaper free overnight just to see what happened. It’s been a full week with no accidents, though now that I’ve told the internet, I’ll be mopping up pee at 2AM for certain. Though, according to #3, I WILL ALREADY BE AWAKE, SO NO MATTER.

5. Fall TV coming back has me more excited than usual this year. Grey’s last night totally broke my heart (George was my most favorite, from the first episode, through the ridiculous marriage to Callie, the half-assed affair with Izzie, and the full season in which they only let him speak four times.) Glee takes me to my happy place. I seriously haven’t been this excited about a show since Veronica Mars (which is something else that CONTINUES TO BREAK MY HEART.) Also on the docket: Dollhouse, The Office, CSI (THE ORIGINAL ONLY YEEEEOOOOAAAAHHHH), and Private Practice. (I am RIVETED by the cliffhanger on that one. Cooper almost opened the door! Gah!)

6. Hanging up our clothes to dry instead of using the dryer seems to be cutting roughly $20/month off our power bill. This makes me do a tiny dance of joy. (Also, hanging clothes on the drying rack pleases me. There is a symmetry to it that I find soothing.) (Shut it.)

7. Reading this list back over, the thought has just occurred to me that a lot more INTERESTING things happened this week than the six I have spastically highlighted here. This tells me I need to be writing more as things happen, but the day always gets away from me. Ooh, I’ll sit down to write as soon as x, y, and z are taken care of. Except, in the process of x, I discover an a, b, and a c, never get around to y, and z turns into SLEEP. Also, this post just became the weirdest word problem EVER.


Filed under My girls, Quick takes

And then the commercial came on where the mother is dropping her daughter off at college for the first time

Vio potty-trained.


Pretty much overnight. Friday night she cried in bed because she had to pee, and “big girls don’t pee in their beds!” So she got out of bed and peed and woke up the next morning with a dry diaper. And asked to wear underwear all day. And didn’t have any accidents.

This is the same child who, on Friday, wet two pairs of underwear.

So, from Friday morning to Saturday morning, something just clicked.

Everyone told me it would happen that way, but it just didn’t seem POSSIBLE. Not with my stubborn Vio. Not with the child who would work herself into hysterics because she’d sat on the potty and been unable to go.

But now it’s like she’s been doing this for years. All, “Yeah, I used the potty. JEALOUS?”

She’s still in diapers when we leave the house, though I’m tempted to risk it, because I don’t think she’ll wet the underwear. She gets angry enough at wetting a diaper. I’ll probably leave her in them overnight as long as she’ll allow it, since we’re in cloth. She woke up at 3AM last night to use the toilet.

And went right back to bed.


As if that weren’t enough, we finally turned her car seat to a forward-facing position. Yes, she’s three years old. Yes, I know most people did that two years ago. But with the guidelines being what they are, and her seat being approved for rear-facing up to 33lbs. (at any height within the height limits of the seat), I saw no need to turn her around. I’d really prefer to keep her rear-facing until age four, but her legs are so long that I no longer felt the straps were protecting her as they should. (And yet, I read that link I just posted and immediately want to go turn the thing back around again. Have issues. ISSUES.)

So, to sum it all up:

  • Friday – diaper wearing rear-facer
  • Saturday – potty-trained forward-facer.

You guys? I am SO not ready for this.


Filed under Motherhood uncensored, My girls