Scotch and Soda

I am at my wits end. I have the most stubborn child in the history of stubborn children. Except, I'm not sure it's stubborness exactly.

Carson will not poop in the potty. Will not. Nope. Uh-uh. N. O.

She has been peeing in the potty for 3 weeks and staying dry through the night. I am incredibly excited about this, but my glee is short lived as I find myself cleaning her and her pants at least once a day. Uuuggghhh! I'm sooo tired of it.

I've heard that some kids are scared of this particular bodily function, but is that really rational? It's poop. Not some flesh eating monstrosity that must be withheld at all costs. Oh, but if it must be released, it must never come in contact with water. Especially after midnight.

I have tried several methods that others have passed along (no pun intended). I tried making her clean it up herself. I think she actually enjoyed this as it made a much bigger mess for me to clean up. Not gonna happen. I even succumbed to my lack of patience and threatened to punish her if she went in her underwear again. This caused her to become distressed and hide the next pair of underwear she went in as if I wouldn't notice they were gone.

"Carson, where are your underwear?"

"I don't know."

"What did you do with your underwear?"

"Because I just did, Mom."

"Did what? Where are they?"

"Because I did."

They were under the bed. Yes, I said under the bed. She knows that's where I put things I don't want to deal with. It's genius, really. They very well might just blend in under there. Alas, when my child came running out of the bedroom bottomless, I knew I had to find them and there was no hiding spot good enough.

So...my mom sent me a link to an article that suggested the scotch and soda method. Soda for the carpet, and scotch for Mom. Bottoms up!

Revenge!

Have you ever heard those parents, you know, the ones who's first child is about 35 1/2 months old and they have started to let down that "terrible two" guard? They think they have made it. Gone is the most trying year of their child's preschool life. They have a triumphant gleam in their eyes. They've congratulated themselves with silent cheers and rubbed it in the faces of everyone who said to "get ready!"

I just have to shake my head and laugh to myself. Should I warn them? Nah, that wouldn't be near as much fun as watching to see what happens when the second hand announces midnight on the day of that child's third birthday. All hell will break loose. There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth. The fear that strikes the heart of these poor, unsuspecting parents will haunt them for the rest of their lives. Three, not two, is the age of the devil child.

So, where did this whole "terrible twos" nonsense come from? I have a theory. I think way back in the dark ages (and by that, I mean before there was color tv) parents sat around and thought of ways to get revenge on their children for inflicting this year of turmoil upon them. They knew it had to be clever, something nobody would suspect. "Hey," someone said, "let's tell them that two is the worst year so they'll think the worst is over when really it won't even have begun!" Genius! It works too. Just when these poor parents begin to take a breath, let down their guard, and begin to think that life is looking up, BANG! Three happens. The will power exerted from that little body over the next year will be comparable to the amount of force it would take to shrink a bowling ball down to the size of a grape using only your hands. Oh, and you'll be just as frustrated.

So, is it cruel to let these new parents believe that two is the worst year? Yep. Are we going to let them believe it anyway? Yep. And so the lies of revenge will be perpetuated for thousands of years to come.

Best of August 2006

I thought I would start a monthly post of the 10 best photos from the past month. Don't take "best" to mean the best photographically, but rather the best shots to tell the story of my little family. I know I'm a little late for August, but it's my blog, get over it.

Here they are:

Cody loved her first day of school.

Memphis began to fear kisses from the girls...he learns quick.

Memphis met one of his great grandfathers.

My friend swallowed a watermelon...to be continued :)

Ahhh...Summer fun

Memphis got a new do...

...and so did Carson

We were all glad to see Uncle Richard again.

Cody learned to feed her "frudder" (as Carson calls him)

The kiddos

Oh, and I get a bonus shot this month:

I have a nephew!!

Black Curtains

I know what depression feels like. I know the gut wrenching pain it causes. I've seen it tear up people who I thought were impervious. I've felt it ripping at my own life on a daily basis. I know what it's like to try to pretend it's not there. To go about your daily life as if everything is wonderful. To pull it together so that nobody else knows. Because if someone else knew how I was suffering, then their day would not be as good. I may feel bad, but it's ok until my feeling bad makes someone else feel bad. Then I can't ignore it anymore. Then the feeling becomes overwhelming.

There are times when I wish everyone and everything would disappear and leave me to wallow in my own self-pity. There in a dark hole all alone. Where I could cry and not have to know why. Where nobody else could stare and feel bad for me. Or ask me how they could help. I know they want to help, but I don't know any more than they do what help would look like.

But, everytime, I am glad when something interrupts my misery. Maybe the bright, smiling face of one of my precious babies, or the voice of someone who truly cares. Or when for some reason I think of someone else's circumstance that makes me feel truly blessed. I know that I'll get through this. Sometimes I don't know what "this" is, but I know I'll get through it. I know there are people who love me and would do anything they could to make it better. I know that, for the most part, I am content in my life. I like where I am. Certainly there are things I would change if I could, but until then, I'm just gonna do my best to remember that when I need them, the people who love me will be there.

And when I want my dark hole, I'll remember to only let that last a few minutes before remembering the countless ways in which I have been blessed. I'll remember that I don't have to do this alone. That there are others who know exactly how I feel. That no matter how much I try to convince myself that my life sucks, that will never be true.