I apologize for my absence to those of you I am keeping entertained (yes, both of you). I haven’t had much time for writing due to constant trips to the bathroom with my two year-old. I’m especially apologetic to those of you who are at a job somewhere; you know who you are and I know how it feels. You need to have a crazy woman’s blog to read in order for you to feel normal. I get it.
So, potty training is mostly over. I don’t know if this is normal or not but I think she’d still go in her pants if I didn’t force her to go to the bathroom every hour or so. I feel okay about taking her in public without a diaper but I have to be diligent in getting her to go potty or else we’ll have a mess. I also haven’t been able to leave the house without the usual couple diapers and wipes. So there goes the freedom of being able to carry a normal-sized purse, at least for now. But, we will save millions on diapers! I swear! I will finally be able to afford that BMW!
It went well and it’s over for now. In that I mean, we got her a damn sandbox after spending an entire Sunday afternoon driving all over the Tri-County Area in search of one that had a lid, wasn’t a piece of junk, and didn’t cost the very million dollars we are going to save because of not having to buy diapers. All this, and then yesterday, she threw the granddaddy of all fits when playtime with said sandbox was over. I’m so using the, “I gave you life,” excuse when she gets older. She deserves it after all these fits. I also want to get one on video to share with her future husband. Don’t mess with me, Kid.
Bird and I have spent some quality time in the bathroom together over the past few weeks. At first, we had to go every twenty minutes or so. Now, it’s significantly less frequent. I don’t know what it is about watching someone else go that makes me have to go, but I swear, every time she goes, I go. I don’t necessarily have to, but I figure I might as well since I’m there anyway.
So, Bird is, I guess, at that age. She has become fascinated, with her parts, my parts and Bread’s parts. Every time I go she wants to get as close as possible. She kept asking, “What do you have?” Oh, geez. I managed to divert the questioning as long as possible.
Now, I’ve always sworn we would be the type of parents who teach their kids the proper terms for their anatomy. This is because, that’s what it is and it is a real word. It should not be awkward or embarrassing. It’s just a damn word. I mean, my mom told me mine was a peeper! A what? Does it have eyes? You’re kidding. I recognize this was a different time when, perhaps, the “experts” had different opinions. But, I swore I would just say it. In fact, I probably should have told her a while ago but I didn’t want to be the mom whose child was running around the park shouting about who has a penis and who has a vagina. That would so not help me in the friend making department…
Sometime Sunday afternoon, after the sandbox shopping trip from hell, Bird barges in on me in the bathroom, again. Bread was home so I thought I’d do something crazy and pee with the door shut! I know. I am still living on the edge. But, alas, my tot had other plans for me since I failed to push the door until it latched. Dammit! So, she walks over, getting as close as possible and asks again, “What do you have?” I pretend like she’s not speaking. Ha! So she keeps repeating it over and over and over. I finally crack. I’m tired, and my privacy has again been invaded (I know, welcome to motherhood). I yell, yell mind you, “A vagina! I have a vagina! And, so do you! Daddy does not have one because he’s a boy!” That, my friends, is how I decided to use the proper words and teach my child about male and female parts. Really. I definitely don’t think I get an A plus for that one. But, at least I got it over with. And she got it! She immediately went running to Bread shouting, "You don't have one! You're a boy!"
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