I can't believe it's the end of the sixth week of my blogosphere debut. And it's another Facebook Friday, a magical day where I
On the Potty and the Kiddos
Esther's head is soaked. She looks scared. "Mama, I did something ON ACCIDENT. It was ON ACCIDENT. My head got in the potty." Because ON ACCIDENT is the new "I stuck my head in the potty on purpose."
"Mom! I TOTALLY helped with the cleaning! I wiped down the counters, the stove, the toaster, AND the potty!" "Thanks, baby ... um, which one did you do first?" "First the potty, then the counters, stove, and toaster." Yes, all with the same sponge. Anyone want to come over for dinner?
Oh Lord. I'm not even going to even bother with the context of this conversation. Draw your own conclusions. "Girls, uh-uh. That is NOT a toy." "Mama, if it's not a toy, why do they call it a toy-let?"
Just discovered the sweetest little mommy in training as Esther was giving her doll a bath ... in the toilet.
On the Potty and Me
Confession: I so subscribe to the "over" theory that I've switched the toilet paper at your house.
The most conflict-free way to resolve the "2 beaters/3 kids" dilemma is to sneak in the bathroom and lick both beaters by yourself.
All these potty statuses remind of an extra story just for fun. One time, I was on a grown-up Girl's Night Out with Lauren, and we were eating at a fancy-schmancy restaurant in Ann Arbor. I went in feeling kind of nervous because it was nicer than most places I frequent, but after nailing the correct fork usage and refraining from ordering a Diet Coke when they asked if I would like a drink, I felt pretty confident in my ability to fake it. Then, I had to use the facilities. I put on my "I totally belong here and wasn't just cleaning prunes from the neck crevice of a six month old an hour ago" face and walked like a super model to the back of the restaurant. Then I was struck dumb because the restroom signs were in French. And there weren't any stick figures to help a sister out. My choices were "femmes" and "hommes". THANK GOD I was able to fall back on my immense knowledge of ghetto slang, and I was able to deduce that since I'm definitely not a "homie", I must certainly be a femmes. Then I remembered "La Femme Nikita," so, yeah, thank you pop culture for saving me.
For all of you who truly enjoy this blog, I thank you. And I'm letting you know I will not be around next week because of the Great Cottage Get-Away of 2012. I'll be back (in all my barely literate brilliance) on Monday, August 6. For all of you that truly hate my blog and are just reading to see when I will go out of town so you can burgle my home, in the words of the great Thomas DeCarlo Callaway, better known by his stage name Cee Lo Green, "Forget you." (Because I'm a radio-friendly kind of girl.) Also, Potential Burglars? Don't bother.