We Have Poopie! (2007)

Yes indeedie doodie.

Little girl is going!

In the POT!!!!

Both Number one and number two...My little potty pro!

So after one full year and 31 doodie posts later...This is the first positive doodie post out there...Yay Girl!

She has been dry for a week and is a proud pooper.

I am a proud Mamma and I have been so much calmer since the big event.

She even pooped for Papa...How appropriate really.

Her first poop ever was in his presence and her first words after she did it was: "Can I show Papa?"...She's definitely his grandbaby.

So now, our next hurdle...leaving the house. You see, she's afraid of public bathrooms. Especially the unexpected flush from a neighboring stall. And the hand drier/blower thing. Too loud.

Any suggestions on traveling and public pots...throw 'em at me.

I'm all (r)ears!

Girl of the Year

I am making a special award just for my little lady!

We took her to the gastroenterologist yesterday to basically discover what we already know. She's constipated. And pretty much always will be unless her system is maintained by some sort of fiber/laxative combo. Thank you, genetics.

I love this man, by the way. He has been her gastro since she's born. And he just oozes sincerity and calm. He is very optimistic that with our new cocktail of treats to regulate her 'movements', she will be potty trained by the summer and switched over to a fiber supplement that will keep her 'going' for a long while. Poor kid. I hope she never has to read this one when she's a grown woman. How embarrassing.

So, in order to rule out other intestinal allergies such as celiac disease we had to give blood. No, let me rephrase that, SHE had to give blood. Give h.e.r blood. To a gigantic but sweet as honey nurse named Donna. Who called her arms "marshmallow arms". Sweet, yummy marshmallows. Delicious, squishy marshmallows.

Marshmallows.

This kid was a trooper!

She screamed and cried to make Donna stop and she made sure to tell Donna that she wasn't sick and she was feeling better and that she didn't need to test her. But she sat still. She let me hold her and rub her head. She let Donna 'milk' the blood out of her wrist while I squeezed it because she couldn't find a vein in her marshmallow arm. She sat and let the job get done. Like a big girl. While Daddy had convulsions in the corner of the room.

So for that. She gets this award. Especially made by Mamma.

My brave little lady. I am so proud of you.
We'll fix those intestines if it's the last thing I ever do.

AntiPamper Superstar

I am changing F's Pediatrician.
He's a dick.

I decided.

I can't continue to let him make me feel stupid for being 'overly' concerned about the ONLY thing that is important to me. And I can't let him continue to make me feel incompetent because my 3 year 3 month old is still in a Pamper. Fuck that.

I call to talk to him or make an appointment and his secretary is rude and obnoxious. To the point that I feel like I am bothering her. Oh! I'm sorry, did I bother you...at your job? (I am even having BD call to request her records be transferred...he will beat that grump at her own sarcasm and rudeness game by a mile...)

I get to see this doctor and he's so sarcastic (and I'm a HUuuuuuGe fan of sarcasm..see hubs) that I feel belittled. I'm all for sarcasm in the right place, but don't use it on a first time mom about her only child. It's just plain wrong. No matter how strong willed or competent that mom may seem. It's a thin veil and you're tearing it up. Dick.

If there are any doctors out there, especially children's doctors...Just remember that your patients, or their mothers are in a very delicate state when they are with you. They are probably insecure and worried. You really should think before you say something rude. And use kid gloves. (Pardon the play on words) They come in all different sizes. I'm sure you can find them to fit you.

So, that's it then. I'm changing her pediatrician.

I already called my daughter's original gastroenterologist from when she was a baby and we have an appointment at the end of this month. One down.

In my quest to find her a new doctor, I have asked around and her preschool teacher recommended hers. Right in our neighborhood. She says he is one that will welcome each and every seemingly silly query with respect and humor. He is one that will welcome me into his office with caring and honesty. He is not one that will make fun or be sarcastic to the point I'm doubting myself. Almost one to go.

Take that Anti-Pamper Superstar. You just lost your best parent.

Totally full of Shit.

What? Who me? Nah! Not me. Fafa.

Literally.

She's constipated. (I apologize now Fa for when you are reading this at 16)!

I broke down and took her to her pediatrician yesterday. She has pooped 2 times in over a week. No joke. That's some serious blockage...even for her. When her 'flora' is under control, she goes every day, like clockwork. But, she has had IBS since birth and these issues are not new to her and her tiny hiney.

However, her pediatrician seems to have a major hard on for the fact the my kid is STILL in a Pamper at 3 years 2 months old. He can't get passed that small fact.

He seems to think it's a power struggle between us. She holds it in to get me "twisted" and likes the reaction. I fail to see the logic in that. She's not a manipulative kid. At least I don't think so. I think I do know her better than any human being in existence. And I have NEVER felt manipulated by her. Well, not counting her attitude this week!

But I don't blame her now. I'd be pissy pants and emotional too if my bowels were blocked up like a stopped sink pipe. Crap. Pardon the pun.

So, get this. She's on MiraLax for the constipation for two weeks AND...big A.N.D...Glycerin suppositories for three days. Poor little buttcrack.

The topper...Oh the topper on this bad boy.

If after two weeks, and I quote "I am a complete failure" unquote (at potty training) I have to call a Dr. Soandso...a Gastroenterologist slash POTTY.TRAINING.EXPERT!!!

Wait, I don't think you read that slow enough. I, MOM, master of my domain and my child's being, controller of all that is holy in our abode and commode...need a potty training expert.

I believe it.

I totally believe it.

After two weeks, Dr. Pediatrician Sir, thinks she should be regulated enough to get motivated to go on the pot. He thinks that it may also HURT her to go and that can be another reason why she won't train...(He glossed over that dot point quickly though)

He thinks if she can't hold it in, she has nowhere else to go but the pot. He doesn't know her very well, do he? She's frickin' petrified of the thing. She's afraid she's gonna get sucked up into it...like the tub and sink drain (which we finally have under control thankyouverymuch), like the ever lovin' vacuum cleaner that I can only turn on if I have someone else in the house to distract her...She's not manipulating me. She's afraid. She's very afraid.

She has these anxieties that I do not know how to deal with and Dr. Ped. Sir thinks she's pulling a power play here...I disagree.

Big But. (Ha! Pardon the pun again)

I can not get my kid to go on the pot. If you know anything about me. You know that potty training is the fucking bane of my existence. I have post after post about my trials and tribulations on the subject. (Check my label "Potty" and see) And I am a failure. I admit it. I need help. I can not do this one alone.

So, in two weeks. I will call this specialist. Because I can admit when I need help. (Most of the time) And my love and concern for my child is way deeper than my pride. I will call him and I will sit through any seminar he holds and I will hand my potty over to him graciously and see what he can do.

How much ya wanna bet he can't make her do it either?

You gotta fight for your right to Paaaaty!

I'm resigning myself to the fact that my child is just not ready for potty time.

We had a potty party yesterday! (Whoo hoo)... Complete with home-made hats, songs, dances and panty-matching games. We danced and sang all day in our panties..yes...picture that. And while she held it in for hours upon hours, she never actually sat on the pot to release. She flat out refuses.

By the end of the day, she was bloated and cranky and practically begged for a Pamper. As soon as I put it on her, she crapped. I can't say that I was much help yesterday either. I was am quite cranky these past few days. I just think the stress of the potty and the holidays is really getting to me. I wonder how she is feeling? Wait, I think I know. Good thing my Aunt was here for the party...she controlled the parts where I lost all control. It was tag-team potty party. It still didn't work.

I thought for sure she was ready. I gave her the choice of when she wanted to have the party, she chose yesterday. She decided when she wanted to wear the panties and I didn't remind her to keep dry, she did it all by choice. But when the 'pee pee dance' started, she just went bananas and refused. She ran away and cried in the corner telling us to leave her alone...just hating the thought of sitting on the crapper.

So, I yelled and lost patience all day and she got mad at me and wanted to keep far away from me. It was really great fun. Not. My kid's new mantra is "Mommy's mad." Probably not the way to potty train. Ya think?

I guess I should have known yesterday morning after the turn of events before the actual potty party began. First, I took her for a haircut and she screamed and cried and refused to sit in the cool jeep to get her hair cut. The blow driers and vacuums totally freaked her ass out. It sure wasn't like the last time she got her hair cut. Then afterward, she told me she was mad at me because she was scared and I made her stay there anyway.

Then, we went to Party Giant to get party hats for the potty party. I drove all the way into Queens to the 'closest' Party place and it was boarded up with signs all over it. Great. I was cursing.

Then, we went to Michael's to find some hats we could either just buy or make...we found some foam visors with cool foam stickers to go with them. They had "boingy" elastic on them and she fell instantly in love. They turned out gorgeous, but the tantrum in the store because she didn't want to leave should have tipped me off.

Finally, we came home and she refused to wait for my Aunt to come over to decorate the hats. She wanted to do it all by herself. I have a hard time reminding myself I need: Patience, Mommy!

We started the potty party and it all went way down hill from there. Yes. I fought for my right to potty. But the child could care less.

We even made a home complete with potty (out of the holiday boxes that UPS delivered) for her to play in...Didn't work. She loves the new home but could live without it's potty. We colored the walls outside and in, I even cut out windows with shutters and a flower box for her. I am very proud of our masterpiece.

I guess, since I can't get rid of the stress of the holidays I'll have to get rid of the stress of potty time. I'll get back to it in the new year. I may be in a padded room by then. Ha!

Potty This!

I can't take it. I must be the world's biggest Dummy.

She's just not ready yet. According to the book above anyway.

She'll be three in less than a month, but she's just not ready. I am reading now that her physical development is just not mature enough. She can't won't get on and off the pot, she can't won't undress/dress herself...she holds it in for hours in her panties...but will NOT sit on the pot when she hasta go... Which means her emotional development is also not ready. I am getting frustrated.

Yesterday morning, deep into late afternoon, she held it all in the entire time she was in her panties. I put her in her pull ups for a nap at around 1:30 PM and not a second later...the dang pull up needed to be changed. What the? She's too smart for our own good, I think.

She knows when she hasta go. She wore panties all weekend...Until we had to go out or nap. She held off until the pull ups came out. It was a waiting game. I waited for her to have an accident or actually go in the pot when I put her there...and she waited (patiently) for the pull up to surface.

Ugh. Double Ugh...Triple ugh.

Potty training + Puppy + PMS = Fucking shoot me in the neck

What the fuck happened here? I wake up this morning to Fa wanting to read this book a bajillion times. I ask her if she wants to sit on the potty and I get a resounding YES! We get on the potty happily, she wants to read the book another gazillion times. I ask her if she wants to see her piles and piles of undies and it all goes downhill from there.

She now will only wear the undies and refuses to wear the pull ups. The catch. She WILL NOT GO on the potty. She does the all too familiar pee pee dance and I drag her kicking and screaming to the potty. 'IF' I get her to sit on the ever lovin' potty she holds it until she comes off the farkin' thing...then she pees on my floor and screams and cries: "Mommy get me out of here!"

I tried to bribe her with this and told her if she goes on the potty she can open it and play with it. But I had to take it away from her because there was nothing in the pot and she screamed and cried some more. What the fuck am I doing here? I am sliding in a downward spiral with this potty shit. (Pardon the shitty pun)

To top it off, RT still has to go out but I can't leave Fa in undies alone in the living room. She panics. (She's panicking a lot this morning.) And the dog goes on the side of the house on a leash. We don't have a fence. Of course.

I have to pee, I'll be back...
_____________________________________
OK, I've had some time to think about this. What's the big friggin' deal about this toilet thing anyway? The kid doesn't wanna go in it. What am I gonna do? I can't very well force her. I tried. It doesn't work. She stiffens up and refuses. Then she pees on the floor. (The dog goes in the right spot more than her now.)

I give up. I am a terrible mother and a horrible example for potty training. I have no farking idea how to get her to go so I'll just wait until she tells me she hasta go on the potty herself. I have tried everything else. Showing her, teaching her how it works, playing with stuffed animals on the pot. Everything. I give up.

Any suggestions?

Saucy Chicken with a side of Buggie Poop...

Saucy Chicken:
Wow. This 'cold' seems to have brought on some new saucyness to Fa's attitude today. She is just so outgoing and talkative today...What has come over her? She has begun to start acting more like a three year old than a two year old. How did this happen? Literally, overnight.

I know when she is sick I give her a little more leeway with certain things. Like, ok-pretzels for breakfast, as long as she's drinking water it's okay...But now she has begun to catch on and take advantage just a teeny weeny bit. "I want my water in the big girl cup, not this one." or "Pretzels will make me feel better, then I'll drink my water." Um, what? Who are you and what did you do to my easy-going FaFa? How did you 'get it'? Are you on to my white lies that always worked to make you do things easier now? Do I hafta start disciplining like you are a real kid? I like making up stories like 'the pretzel fairy ate the last of the pretzels so you hafta eat chicken or she'll be sad.' Even though there's a full bag in the pantry.

She got sick last night in the middle of the night. I think she was full of mucous and couldn't get rid of it, so she threw up. We woke up just in time to get her to her door and the bathroom; vomit on everything in between, including her and myself...at midnight. Would you believe, after the crying and the fear, she calmed down and demanded books to be read to her.
"Now, Mommy, I think I want to read these now!"
"Uhm- how 'bout bedtime?"
"No, read these, they'll make me feel better, then nee no."
"Yes, boss!"

I hafta call Fa's doctor today to bring her in for a check up. Even though she has a well-baby on Thursday. I just wanna make sure everything's A-OK.

A Side of Buggy Poop:
Good news and bad news on the Pup-front.
Bad news: The dog STILL has buggies AND roundworm. Great. Once again, he's on meds for the bugs. A stronger dosage this time around and the roundworm was treated in the office. I just love this pup.
Good News: We love our new vet and he fully vaccinated the pup. He's ready to meet the world. We junked the wee wee pads and we lock him in his crate when we can't feed him, walk him, train him or play with him; according to the new God/Vet's recommendations.

We'll see now how that goes. I have been up most of the night so, I am not happy.

More Bugs in the System

I can't even stand it anymore.

We have moths.

You know the ones, they start out as larvae in food and junk. "Pantry Pests".

Little grey moths that have been flying through this house even before we moved into it.

It's like a horror movie:
We buy this great new home and it is infested with ghosts...um, moths.
(soft whisper) "Get Out!"

The family that lived here prior, were dirty animals. They left this place a mess. We had to hire a real cleaning crew to come in the middle of the night and do a 'clean sweep'...Literally, they came at midnight because it was such a big job.

Well, we didn't get rid of the flying fiends. Despite all of our concerted efforts. We have failed. They are still infesting our space. I am so surrounded by pests, and I can't escape. Help.

So, I am in my pantry yesterday afternoon, looking for a yummy snack. I hit the tub with chocolate and granola in it and...BAM...Little white larvae crawling around inside the tub. How the fuck to they get in there? I didn't even hafta open it, it was see-through. I saw them all. Crawling around like they own the place...Ughhhh I'm so farkin' itchy right now.

The moths fly freely throughout the house and we kill them left and right. But it never seems to work. Well, poor BD hadta come home from work last night and vacuum all the little holes inside the "cabinests" (you know where you hang the shelves from). They were building nests inside of them and hatching. Ugh. I really just can't take it. I had to take Fa out because she is terrified of the vacuum. She'd have a heart attack if she saw what BD was doin' last night. So we had to stay out of the house for two whole hours. Yes, you read that right. It took BD two hours to vacuum each and every frickin' hole in the "cabinests"...Now let's see if BD got the little bastards.

To top it all off...My toilet is overflowed (yet again) this morning. I dunno why it only happens to me? I swear, I didn't even use it like that....I just threw some toilet paper in for fuck's sake. I purposely didn't 'go' in it because it always overflows on me. And I just had a feeling. Now, I have towels surrounding the overflowing commode. Now what?

Can I get a 'do over' on the past 3 days or so?
------------------------------------------------------------
Updated to add:
My morning so far: (a replay of the last hour)

• wake up with Aunt Flo
• shower and stop up the toilet
• watch said toilet overflow onto the tiles
• lay towels
• blog
• cry
• clean toilet and bathroom floor
• clean crate overflowing with RT Pee
• pick up RT poop before he eats it
  
• cry
• throw towels covered in toilet juice in wash
• blog/cry simultaneously
  

Bugger!

Ugh. I know I keep saying that I'm not gonna talk about this farkin' dawg. But he STILL has those buggies in his poop.

I am so grossed out, I could spit.

To top it all off...I sent in a sample of the infected shit on June 27th...go ahead...do the math. That's 12 days...no call from the vet to tell me his poop is being invaded. I had to go there for vaccines for them to finally open this dawgs files to discover his infestation. I'm disgusted. They had his medicine in the office waiting for me to pick it up. How could I pick it up if I didn't know I needed it in the first place? Why didn't they call me after 5 days to ask why I haven't picked up the meds? Didn't it occur to them that after 12 days of the meds sitting on the counter, maybe I need to get phone call?

Then, THEN. I tell the vet that I have a two and a half year old in my house and this full-of-shit dawg dances all over his poop after he shits and before he eats it. She almost gagged herself. Then...THEN....she tells me: "Well, if your daughter has diarrhea or vomiting...call the pediatrician." Thanks you fucking genius.

So the moral of my story. Find another vet. NOW!

I probably should be happy about it...

...RT is eating his poop so much that I hardly have anything to clean anymore! It's wonderful. But oh, so gross. I can't stand the thought of him licking us. He eats his poop then he licks my daughter's hand. UGH!

This can't be normal. Last night after we fed him, we waited for him to go before we put him in his crate for the night and he never went. Oh, but yes, I say, he did go. He just ate it before we could find it. 'Good boy', I think. Poop dessert. Yum!

Now I:

• Hafta find out what to give him to make him stop eating his poop.
• Start walking him regularly after eating, to avoid the poop feast.
• Start a whole new schedule of puppy training all over again.
• Enroll myself into Creedmore...that's the closest asylum in Long Island, I believe.

He goes for more shots this week. Hopefully, the vet will have some suggestions. If not, Anyone want a Boston Terrier? Cheap.

Crap, crap, crap!

I'd like to retract my previous statement:

This dawg is a pain in the arsse.

We (BD and me) woke up (Saturday morning...a day to sleep late all around) to eviscerated wee wee pads, pee and remnants of eaten poop all over the floor, the walls, the door, the dawg. Our jaws were gaping and we were outright gagging at the odorific find. I am flabberghasted. I can't stand it. What a way to start the weekend. "How can we clean the floor and leave just enough bleach on it for the dawg to lick?" That's what BD wants to know. I am curious myself at this point.

There's gotta be a better way.

On a brighter note...Back to bigger and better things...I took Fa to the Long Island Game Farm yesterday with my Friends. She had a ball. Once again, she rises to the occasion, never ceasing to amaze me. She rode on the Tea Cups, the Merry-go-Round and the Choo Choo Train...With Glee...She had a ball. I always expect her to cower in fear or to cry and she always does the opposite! She jumped onto each new experience with a smile and a song. I couldn't pry her off the rides. She fed the Giraffe and giggled over his gigantic, black tongue and sticky, stringy saliva.

We had such a great time. I am grateful that we had this experience together. She loved hanging out with her friends and wanted to do everything big kids did. I know even more now that when she is faced with new situations and other kids to play with, she's all for it. It's me who holds her back and who doesn't allow her the new opportunities..because I am afraid. She is practically fearless...I am the one with reservations.

I gotta get over that!

Full of poop, full of heart or full of shit?

We took RT's poop to get analyzed again. $50.00! FIF-TY bucks for me to gather and transport his poop the the vet. Jeez. It' s more expensive than diapers. I am praying with all my might that the little buggies in his poop are all gone. If not, I might puke. For he has taken to the wonderful past-time of eating his poop now. Fantastic. Less to clean anyway.

So I finally got a call from the cardiologist a few days ago. I have Mitral Valve Prolapse with, of course, a leak or murmur. Why wouldn't I really? It only makes sense that the palpitations and other wonderful symptoms should all point to that. And why should I ever be normal? I can't. It's not in my nature. The doctor had some woman call to relay his message from the results of my echo cardiogram. Wouldn'tya know, I get the most moronic message-relayer out there? I had questions like: "Why is it only dental work that needs a pre-treatment of antibiotics and not, say, a kidney operation?" Her answer: "I don't know!" I felt like Mr. Hand in Fast Times at Ridgemont High...I. Don't. Know...Can you repeat that? What a loser. Why call a patient and be ready with some answers to questions she might have? That would be way too professional for me.

Between the poop and the heart I am ready to scream. By the way, Fa hasn't even looked at the potty since her last review of it...I just wish she'd use it regularly already....What's so special about pull ups anyway? I think they are ugly. There are so many cutsie undies out there in the world..I know, I've bribed her with about 100 different pairs...She's just not interested.

She's just not that into them. I guess.

This is not fun!

So this is what happens when I leave RT alone for an hour. (Notice the wee wee pad is nowhere in sight) I want to strangle him. I went up to put Fa in for a nap and when I came back down that's what I was greeted by. And now the friggin' dog is doing this. I am truly beside myself and the shit. To top it ALL off the dog has parasitic poop. I hafta call the vet and send in another stool sample tomorrow (after his meds are finished). If this dog is still parasitic, I'm gonna puke. I am not happy with buggy-shit embedded in my tiles for Fa to touch accidentally. Whattif she gets sick. I'll die. I'll blame myself and I'll be very pissed off. He better have those buggies gone tomorrow or you'll hear it from me.

If anyone is out there and reading this...Please give a sista some advice because I am ready to choke the BT Pup. I know you're out there. Come on, come out from the shadows and save me. Or you'll be reading about how a young mother poured cement on her puppy's paws, wrapped him in a rug and sent him to sleep with the fishes. I'm italian, I'll do it.

Don't make Fa grow up with her mother incarcerated for puppy murder. Have a heart. If not the puppy, save the girl. Any advice can be posted as a comment. Please, please for the love of God please. Give a gal some advice. Please.

Scatologist to the Stars

That is me!

Just ask. I know all about the doodie-goings-on in this house more than anyone else on earth. I guess you could say, I'm totally full of shit. Because I am. I feel like I'm covered in the stuff from head to toe. It's nauseating. I have it stuck in my nostrils and I think I see it laying around when it really isn't there. It's like a horror movie. Haunted Shit. Children of the Shit. The Shitville Horror, I see shit people!!!!

OK. Now if you want your shit analyzed just let me know. I can tell you when the best times for you to go are, and could tell you what you ate just by a single glance.

Farfallina:

• Goes once a day (usually in the morning)
• She's constipated unless she eats whole grains and fruits
• She has IBS
• She loves fruit but doesn't eat many veggies
• Hides behind the loveseat when she hasta go and tells me to go in the kitchen
  
• When she eats blueberries her poop is blue, but frequent
• Loves Farting like her mom
  
• Still would prefer her Pull Up to the potty

RT:

• Poops 3-5 times a day - definitely morning, noon and night but also after nap and play time
• Eats 3 times a day
• Farts like a Champ
• Still has some sort of parasite in his poop that he's being treated for (YUM!)
• His ass bulges out when he hasta go and he squats in a circle
  
• Only eats puppy food
• Comes out like Carvel Soft Serve
• Stinks

Want your Shit analyzed call me...I'll do it. I'm good at it. Tom Cruise, eat shit.

We Have Poopie!

Fa POOPIED ON THE POTTY!!!!!!!

I am so frickin' excited I could spit....

I promised her we'd go and buy some more Backyardigans books...(her faves) and we'd celebrate when Daddy gets home!!!!

This R is turning out to be quite valuable. Right before she went, I asked her when she was gonna poopy in the right spot like R and she said; "Right now!" SO, we ran to the pot and she sat and shat!!! I am filled with elation and fear. I scratched her behind her ears when she was finished I was so excited (and confused...thought she was R there for a sec.)... She has jumped over a major milestone today and she knew exactly what she was about to do. She was happy and proud and we even called Daddy to tell him. She told him, not me. She is getting so big. I know this is only the beginning and it may not happen again for a while, but a Mom can dream can't she???

Happy, happy, joy, joy! The good times are a- comin'! I can feel it. See, I know deep down that if I expect too much, I will be let down. But the joy of seeing my girl act like such a biggun and be so mature and proud really makes me tear up.

I am very proud!

Wee Wee Pads and Toilets and Pull Ups, Oh My!

That is what my life revolves around these days. I feel like I'm walking down the Yellow Doodie Road with The Tin Poop, The Scare Toilet, The Cowardly Fa and Tarto the dawg...Except I'm not as pretty as Dorothy...I'm looking more like The Wicked Witch of the West.

And I'm feeling like her too. I want to click my ruby slippers together and keep repeating..."There's no place like home!" However, instead of ruby slippers I have doody covered flip flops and 'home' smells like a toilet so I think I'd be better off in the Men's Bathroom in Penn Station...There's no place like the toilet....

Emerald City is by far, the longest way away from here...that's for sure.

Fa is still in a pull up. I can't get her to even look at a potty, let alone sit on one. I am running from one doodie filled pull up to a doodie covered wee wee pad...(If I'm lucky) Usually, he hits the pad. But when he's bored and rips up the pad from the 'pad protector' that it's supposedly locked into...he shits and pisses on my slate floor. Gotta love it. Advice: Don't buy the pad protector. It sucks. It doesn't hold anything in place and he shits and pisses all over it..including the ring that holds the friggin' pad into place...Nothing like fingers covered in doodie. Yum. Finger Lickin' Good.

To top it all off. Fa broke her crib. She uses it like a trampoline in the summer olympics. She is fantastic at 'high jump' and ' front tumbles'. She loves to hold the railing and see how high she can go. Gold medal trampoline. One day she's gonna find herself on the other side of the railing. She's gonna flip right outta there. Head first. So, we are talking up the 'Big Girl Bed' issue. She seems quite enamored by the thought of sleeping in a bed like Mommy & Daddy. However, I can see it now. Girl twister doesn't sleep in one spot either. She sleeps like her Dad. Tossing and turning and ruffling up the covers and sheets. This should be another adventure in itself. I can't wait. She wakes up in a different position every morning. How is she gonna keep her head 'sneepy' on her 'pinnow' every night? (That's how she says sleepy and pillow, by the way)

She is the full length of her crib right now. Head to toe; headboard to footboard. Pretty soon her stinks are gonna be sticking out of the crib footboard just like her daddy-long-legs. His feet haven't slept in a bed in 25 years. They always hang off. The poor things.

So much fun, this life is. "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore"....

Who's the Best Pet Yet?

RT! That's who!

I promise, this won't become and RT Blog! And Fa has not become second class. But we have been consumed by RT and his bowels for the past few days and whoah Nellie, is he the bestest boy ever!

This morning, I woke up to find he peed in his box with the weewee pad in it. So I hugged him, walked him (no success) and took a shower. After I came down, I saw he pooped in the weewee box! Bravo RT!!!

I fed him and finished getting dressed. I walked him and BINGO! POOP in his potty place outside! Do I have a Supergenious (meep meep) dawg or what? I have the best pet yet!

Fa is still snoozing, so that's one down and one to go. See, it's all in the wrist, uh, I mean scheduling! Everybody needs a schedule....I am the QUEEN of overobsessing about scheduling! I can't function unless I have a schedule. I think this makes for well behaved puppies and children (maybe?)!!!

Maybe I'll start a puppy business...Nah, maybe not, too much work. Maybe I'll start a childcare business...Nah, too much involved. Maybe I'll just worry about my own two children for a while and take it from there. They are my first priority.

More Pictures of R

Maybe he really is happy here...
He looks content!

RT the Wonder Pup

How could you get mad at this face?















Is this a good boy or what?