Year of the Pee

I'm sure that someday I'll look back, fondly and with nostalgia, on the months we spent potty training in the first half of 2010. Ah yes, that future someday when I will sadly miss cleaning pee off the floor five times a day, or wrestling Monkey onto the potty with no success, only to have her pee on the floor one minute later.

Turtle has been fairly well potty-trained for over a month now, and it was relatively easy. Monkey flat out wasn't ready, but last week she starting showing more awareness of her bodily functions and asking to wear underwear, even going so far as to say, "I'm ready" when I asked her if she'd like to try potty training again this week. So on Monday we started in earnest and I will say that while progress is slow, it is progress. Now instead of peeing all over herself and the floor and just sitting in a puddle until someone finds her, she pees just a little bit on the floor and then yells for me and sort of holds it while I pick her up and run her to a potty. So that is progress. I can generally clean up the accidental pee with one Clorox wipe, and have only had to clean up about one big puddle per day.

Then there was tonight. I was worn out - Monkey didn't take a nap and was a real bear all evening, pushing, pinching and hitting Turtle and generally melting down over every perceived slight. I laid down for a few minutes after Twin Daddy came home from work, then got up just in time for Monkey to let out a doozy of a pee all over the playroom floor, getting the rug and an entire "Little People" village soaked, and spraying the Aqua Doodle mats and a few other toys in the path of destruction, not to mention the river that ran from the playroom to the bathroom as Twin Daddy tried to get her to the potty.

You might be thinking to yourself, "If that happened to me, I would just cry." That's what I thought, too. So I indulged myself. It was just a wimpering little cry and I managed to squeeze out only a few tears, just enough so Twin Daddy could see how deeply I suffered. Not sure how much it affected him, though, considering he lives with a 2.5 year old who also likes to cry just to show off her tears.

Anyhoo, we cleaned up the main wetness and then after a truly horrendous bed/bath time filled with unhappy scream upon scream, I spent an hour cleaning up the pre-existing general kitchen dinner mess, wiping down the affected non-plastic toys with Clorox wipes, soaking the Little People and all their accoutrements in hot, soapy water, and running a load of what I like to call "pee laundry."

Ah, yes, someday.

Sparkly Chicken

I bought a roasted chicken from HEB this afternoon for dinner, as I often do on Sundays. I pulled the meat off one of the chicken legs for Turtle's plate, and she polished it off before I even sat down to eat. Twin Daddy offered her some of his chicken breast, which she promptly threw on the ground, screaming for what sounded like "broccoli". We finally figured out that she was saying she wanted more "sparkly chicken." As in greasy, sparkling-with-fat, dark meat off the leg bone. Mmm Mmm delicious, and so good for you too!