First, a disclaimer: Mom, please do not read this post. I'm serious.
So tonight I was cleaning the bathroom and realized that the main reason I could never, ever offer my place as a crash pad for writer friends coming to NYC for the AWP Conference: not the postage-stamp size of our home, nor the two little imps who live there and rise at 6 a.m., nor the probable appearance of a cranky Estranged Spouse. Simply put, I am embarrassed by the way we live. Take our toilet, for instance (take our toilet, please). If I used the bathroom at someone's house and it was as disgusting as ours was a few hours ago, I would be completely grossed out. As I scrubbed the neglected toilet I remembered that Bobby had two friends over yesterday for a playdate, and hoped for their sakes that the most egregious, er, deposits were very recent.
(Mom, if you're still reading, you really need to stop now.)
I was also reminded of the perils of potty training Stella and the utterly inadequate capacity of pull-ups at her age. During a visit to Grandma's, Stella woke up early and wandered downstairs only to make a poopie mess. My kindly mother went to get Stella first and, horrified, revealed that she had found feces on the kitchen floor. She actually pronounced it "Feece-us," and I was reminded of her grandmother, my Great-Grandma Gladys who used to call that instrument with black and white keys a "pie-anna."
(You can't say I didn't warn you, Mom.)
This is all to say that when you're faced with a crappy situation, the best way to deal with it is with humor. That, and a good pair of rubber gloves, and some strong disinfectant.
And on a more serious note, I hereby put out a second request for any advice about potty training from parents in T21-land! Tara, are you listening?
4 comments:
Buy lots of disinfectant. Have matress protectors (for them) and valium (for you) on hand!! No advice from here but as I am trying to get the twins done at the moment (we had friends over for dinner on Sat and I had to warn them that although I had mopped the floor in the morning there had been an absolute carnage of wee incidents since then and they interfered with any 'puddles' at their own risk!!
Will definitely come back to see if there is any sage advice. I will however say that Hannah seems to be grasping the idea more quickly than her brother. Good luck.
LOL!!!! I loved your post...and I hope your Momma did read it [as Momma's love us no matter what...poopie potties and all!]
I will e-mail you with some ideas......I promise!
Also, I was thinking that I would love to make a date in the city to meet you and Stella IRL with Emma Sage. When the weather gets warmer let me know if you would like to meet in NYC one weekend to just chat and let the girls play.
Peace, TM
In my narcissistic mind, I was sure that this blog was all about me.
In a sense I suppose it is, since my 11 year old son for some reason, is Helen Keller blind when it comes to aiming at the toilet, and my 11 year old daughter, who seems to think the bathroom is an outhouse and "forgets" to flush.
Nothing neater than having company over, and, as they come back from using the restroom, realizing the horrific look on their face is because they've either sat on a wet seat, or been enchanted by one of Abby's "poop statuettes".
In a broad spectrum, I suppose I am still potty training...
If I think of anything that may help, I'll email them to you
x and o
Thanks, ladies, and Jglo thanks for the laugh!! I guess it's not for nothing that since high school we have called each other "Poopie"!
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