Toast

I am hovering just below the halfway mark on my writing project. After today, the number of words left to do will be less than the number of words already done. Last night, I hung out for a few minutes chatting with a couple of women in my writing class. I came home feeling excited, completely immersed in the whole experience, writing, talking to other new writers, thinking about my short story for class, thinking about the novel project.

I got home, it was late, around 11 PM, to find that Little Guy was wide awake. This is a rare occurrence, in fact, I can't think of the last time it happened. He's starting to sleep without diapers, the final stage of the whole potty training saga, and he'd had an accident. I paid the sitter, and then changed sheets, changed him, found him a dry pillow (no idea why that was wet too), and then shuffled myself off to bed much later than I'd hoped. Too late, in fact, to get up as early as I needed to today. So I am behind on the writing goal.

Being a parent means buttering the perfect slice of toast for yourself and then handing it to your child who has just informed you that he or she is, after consuming a huge breakfast, still hungry. I get that. I can't expect to come home and bask in the glory of the writing thing every time. I have small children, little human beings who have accidents and nightmares and fevers.

So, as is often the case, I'm still a little hungry. I want this writing thing to work for me. Today I'll have to pop another slice in the toaster (or another video in the DVD player), and just keep trying.

Dude, pull up your pants...

So Little Guy is finally potty trained, knows when he has to go, rarely has accidents, etc. It didn't take as long as I thought it would. In the end, an enormous (and expensive) talking Buzz Lightyear sealed the deal. My youngest is out of diapers, now that's something. Of course, it can never be too easy.

He strips from the waist down every time, so I always have to completely re-dress him. But that isn't the worst of it, because whenever he's outside and has to pee, he seems to think it makes perfect sense to just drop his pants and go. Anytime, anywhere, rain or shine. Not too embarrassing in the backyard, but at the park or when we're walking the dog or taking out the trash...

yeah.

Training or train wreck?

Things I am considering as an alternative to my current potty training efforts:

1. Giving up. Why not? He could stay in diapers until kindergarten and then we'll let the five year olds shame him into it. Sure there might be some longer term psychological repercussions, but we could dip into the the college funds for a little therapy.

2. Hiring an expert. There has to be someone else who can do this. Super Nanny? Potty Whisperer? She comes in and follows him around with the spray bottle of non-toxic cleaner and the constant doyouhavetogo. Plus, she does laundry.

3. Leaving it to Hubs. Like the expert plan, but cheaper. I leave home until it's all over. Where should I go?

I know its going to happen, BUT good grief.

The waiting room

If you've been wondering where I've been - I am a little tied up waiting for this to happen.

Ugh.