Update!

So much to report.

Girl woke up this morning with a dry pull up! For the first time ever...She's been trained during the day for a month now and this very morning was her first dry one ever!!!

Go Girl.

The countdown to school has begun. September 17th is her first day. Alone.

Prepare for the sobby posts.

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I officially have a polyp in my endometrial lining. It was discovered by a pelvic sonogram and confirmed with a sonohysterogram. Damn catheter.

I have to get it removed soon. Fun times people.

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Seems I also need to go for a fourth breast mammo/sonogram for a "finding". They say it's nothing, but I have to go back in six months for an update. My Gyno may want me to see a breast surgeon too...just to be safe...what with my history and all.

I went for my yearly screening which turned diagnostic last month, so from now on, they will be extra cautious. Just the way I like it. No mistakes here, thankyouverymuch.

___________________________________________

I'm healthy, I swear. Just need a little tuning up since I turned 35 and all. I seem to have rolled down the other side of the hill a little faster than I originally expected.

So that's the news that's fit to print.

Nothing else really.

Girl is amazing and doing so well. She's growing and learning and reading and even writing...At 3 and a half. Whatta kid.

Dry for two weeks...

I know she's gonna kill me when she gets older...But The Girl has been dry for two weeks.

All poop and pee all the time in the pot. Yay her.

Summer school ended for her this week and she is looking very forward to school in September. And that's right...Dancing School.

We signed her up for that too..She is ecstatic.

I hope she enjoys it as much as I did when I was a kid...

She is growing and blossoming into this little girl right before my eyes and I am finding that her independence is stronger than ever.

I am so proud of her.

I am so happy that she has learned to find joy in the things that kids do.

I am so in awe of the way she has lost most of her fears and inhibitions and just...goes for it. With strength and excitement.

I am so proud of my girl.

Happy Summer?

So, how important is your uterine wall anyways?

'Cause according to my multitude of sonograms today...mine is "extremely thick"...

And what are polyps and how do they go away?

Oh, and whodathunk that it was difficult to pee....Lordy.
Ah, childbirth.

Damn you Google!

Still feel like crap. Testing to be determined???

Oh, and Happy Summer.

I'm all cried out...over poo.

Since it's my one year blogging anniversary and all. I've been thinking. Alot.

I've been thinking mostly that it has also been one year that I started trying to get Girl to go on the pot.

ONE

WHOLE

YEAR.

365 DAYS!

Of Potty Training.

This is my 413th post.

I have 21 posts...now 22...about the potty.

I have 31 posts referring to doodie.

and...I have 4 posts that talk about the bunghole. (Check my archives)

Can you see where my head is at? For a year. A whole shit-filled year. It's been lingering in the toilet. My head. The Toilet.

I give up.

For my one year bloggiversary, I J, the so-called-Mom of the Year do solemnly swear to give up talking, posting, writing, thinking or even for that matter using the potty. (Wait! Scratch that last one...I gotta go pee)...

Kay, I'm back.

No really, I mean it. I'm done. I'm not gonna talk about it. Anymore.

At all.

At least until the daughter of the so-called MOY (also known here as Girl) decides the time is right and actually graces her princess potty with the softness that is her buttcheeks.

Once the darling little Girl makes up her mind that placing her fluffy-arse on her plastic pot is THE WAY to go...I refuse to discuss the matter further.

And that's that. Period.

Signed,
J, the Quitter

Now, I am sure you are all delighted to read this.

Go on about your business.

And thank you for bearing witness to my newest development.

I know why the caged doodie sings...

I know why I am so afraid of potty training.

Eureka!

It has nothing to do with Girl's abilities as a toddler. I know she can do it. She will do it when she's ready, just like everything else.

Every task I have ever thrown at her, has been handled the best way she knows how.

Some examples:

• She gave up the bottle at 8 months old. Just woke up one day and wouldn't take the bottle. She wanted a cup with a straw.

• She gave up the binkie just around the same time as the bottle. Just stopped using it.

• With all of her social anxieties as a baby and small toddler, she is blooming like the flower that I know she can be. She is talkative and more social than ever. She is smart and sassy and brave and when she wants something bad enough. She gets it...even if it's not from me.

• She talks to her teacher and her friends more, she is open and clearly enjoying herself at school. She's not as shy as I once thought.
  

• She can enjoy parties and loud places better than ever and she even sat through Diego without much incident.
  

This kid rocks.

It's me with the issues. (Sorry to be such a downer lately...)

I find myself doing too much for her including dressing her...because it's just faster.

Why wait for her to dress herself and start earlier in the day when I can get 20 more minutes of sleep time and dress her quickly myself?

brain says: Stupid.

...It's because I am helping her gain self-confidence and independence...

brain says: Stupid.

...If she gains those things too quickly, she won't need me anymore...

brain says: Stupid.

These days I am just finding it difficult to let go. I feel like losing her too fast would again make me feel that deep pain of loss I already feel on a daily basis. But for her. And I can't do that. That's too much pressure to place on such a small person.

Do you realize she has never been in anyone's car other than my own and my husband's? I won't allow her own family drive her anywhere. I won't allow her to sleep anywhere but home and I won't allow her to go anywhere without me or my husband.

I'm an official helicopter mom. I hover.

Even at the park I follow her around.

I never thought I would be, but I am. It just happens.

I gotta getta grip.

Mista says that when I'm not around she's a different kid. She's outgoing and uninhibited. I see her that way too...but he claims even more so. He took her to a friend's house recently where I have never seen her go into the basement to play with the kids. They went without me. (I musta been partying it up on the boulevard somewhere.) He says she went right into the basement and he only saw her again when it was time to leave. Where she proceeded to KISS everyone G'bye. Including the KIDS...What the? Not with me she doesn't do that.

And it's not like I don't tell her to do those things either. I force her to play and kiss and shit. Jesus. I can't stand it.

I have to let expect her to be more independent. And I do. Sometimes. I let her do certain things on her own. But I have to start letting go. She's getting big and she's strong and she's smart and I have to give her the benefit of the doubt in this thing called toddlerhood/preschool years.

She is so eager to please and will do (almost) anything I ask her to. And she is really eager to be independent..But when she knows I'll do it for her, she gives up. That's a terrible trait to have taught my daughter. And I did that. Hence, potty issue #4,367.

And I am so proud when she is independent and strong. But. I feel her slipping away. Ever so slowly...its happening. But. I need to know that she will always be my heart and my daughter. And I will always be her mother.

Otherwise I am going to stunt her. Just like I am stunted today. I am not fully 'grown up' for many reasons but when my mother passed, I died a little too...I lost a lot of my teenage years due to blinding greif. And if I was allowed to be just slightly more independent as a kid, I may have handled my grief differently.

I can't allow myself to do that to the only person I let live in my heart. I can't hold her back any longer.

I need to let her be.

Or she will leave me because I smother her.

Maybe then, she'll start using that potty.

I'll think about her teenage years when I get to that bridge...

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I know why the caged bird sings:
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.
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*And on to a much lighter topic*
Last night, my best bud/step sister (Hey A!) came in from Virginia and we took pictures of our cleavage and other obscure body parts on our cell phones and use them for photo iD's when we call each other now...
Talk about deep. Right?
No, you will NOT see those posted up here.
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It's overrated anyways....

Girl had a small success this weekend! She peed on the pot for the first time ever in her entire (yet short) little life.

I, on the other hand, need a stiff drink.

I think she does too.

The promise was to give the diapers to the Easter Bunny because she needed them for her new babies and since we really didn't need them anymore, she could have Girl's.

The trip to the mall to meet the big bunny should have been the tip off. We saw him/her (is it a boy or a girl bunny anyway?) sitting in his/her chair holding a small electric fan to his bulbous head.

"What is he holding Mamma?"
"It looks like an electric fan baby, he must be hot here in the mall. You know, he's a hard worker."
"Ok, I'm done, lets go!"
"But we didn't tell him to come and get your diapers this weekend. How will he know to come to get them?"
"He won't."

OK then, mission aborted.

Saturday we (and I say we because it's like we're dealing with my ass as well) woke up fairly dry so I suggested sitting. All went well. Just sitting. Patiently. Waiting. For. A. Long. Long. Time. On. The. Potty. Doing. Nothing. But. Sitting. Oh! And Reading. About. 2,000 books.

She pops up.
"I'm done!" Was her reply after what had to be three hours.

"But you didn't go yet."
"I know."

OK...Mission aborted.

With all the enthusiasm I could muster with cramped legs and a pain in my lower back from sitting on the floor in front of the potty, I whimper..."Want to try on your big girl panties?!"

"Okay Mamma...I'll pick them"
That's when the real-life artwork comes to be. Panties strewn all over the bedroom floor a la last summer's attempt. Welcome to my nightmare.

We finally get her downstairs with her new panties on but nothing else. What is it about this kid? She has to have the panties showing. She has to wear a short shirt so they stick out and under no circumstances will she be wearing pants over them. (Ugh...I see it now...trouble at 13!) Just like her mother.

Needless to say, she held it in most of the time! Running to the pot every time she felt the urge, but nothing. Peein' on my floor more than Art ever did. It finally happened after much M&M persuasion and she clung to my shoulders for dear life. What a scene. We cheered and laughed and high-fived but that was it. It was over. She was cooked.

That night she refused to give her diapers up. She said to give that bunny a couple of diapers and she'll keep the rest. (Swear that's what she said!) She didn't want to keep him hanging, I guess.

Cut to the next day (Easter) when she peed all over the floor and slip-slided all over it. But refused to take a bath....We had to go to the in-laws smelling like Penn Station.

Fun times for all.

"No pull ups, or panties, I don't want to wear anything"...screaming and yelling and physically fighting me. On our way to the in-laws, with a very pissed off kid and a very pissed on mother. (I figure, when it gets physical, she's just not ready. Right?)

Oh, did I mention she's been holding in the poop too.. On ex-lax no less. I can't even take a half a corner of an ex-lax without keeling over...she's been' on them for a week and held it in for two whole days. (I'm doomed.)

Needless to say, after her fits of fear, rage and anger, she's sleeping in a diaper and wearing pull ups during the day.

Mission aborted once again.

Sorry Easter Bunny.

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?

Potty Training Round 5,989

Ok, listen to this. Yesterday, Fa wanted to be nekkid ALL FRIGGIN DAY!
Yes.

Nude.
Bare ass.
Naked as a jaybird.
Nudie, like the day she was born.
All. Day. Long.

This started in the middle of the week. I found her naked in the living room on more than one occasion.

I approached this new milestone in many different ways.

I congratulated her on being able to FINALLY undress herself.

I ignored it.

I laughed.

I warned that we only do this at HOME.

I gently reminded her NOT to pee on my COUCH!

Then, I finally asked what she was thinking. After all, we can't be nekkid all day long. We do leave the house once in a while and she does need to be clothed in order to go to school.

Her answer plain and simple. "Practicing to go on the potty Mom!"

Like, "You stooooopid jerk, what the hell do you think I'm doing...?"

So Friday, we went to go buy a little potty made especially for her. A Princess Potty. Complete with Snow White, Ariel, Cinderella and all the other women she really could care less about.

She was ecstatic! Excited to have it and raring to go...in it.

Saturday, she woke up and refused to put her clothes on. I didn't argue, I figured 'you go girl', make it easy and just be naked...no panties to pull on and off and you can just plop a squat and be ready.

We trekked downstairs and she sat on that thing every chance she got. She watched TV on it, read and even ate her snack sitting on it. Did she put her goods in it?

Nope. Not once. All day.

She held it in. Again. All day.

After a while (hours upon hours), I could tell she needed to go. She sat and squeezed but only a dribble came out. We cheered and yelled and danced and sang nonetheless, and I gave her a sticker to put on the potty..that's where she wants to put her reward stickers...On the pot.

BD came home from work to find her naked still and eating her dinner on the couch. I knew it was only a matter of time. She had been eating and drinking all day long. It had to come out some time.

She finally broke down. And peed. On my couch.

With that, she became embarrassed and threw the fit of all fits. Screaming and crying and yelling at  her dad to leave the house. She threw her toys and was enraged at it all.

With her begging for a Pamper, I dressed her and she peed.

She relaxed within seconds and that was that.

What the?

Don't get it?

She refuses to sit on the pot. The big pot. The princess pot. Any pot out there...she just won't do it.

The next size up from her Pampers size 6 is Depends.

Here's a question...

Thank you everyone for commenting on this one! I really still don't know what to do. And it seems you are all split on your decisions as well. Some of you are all for it while others are all for the privacy thing. At least you have helped me see that I am not the only one who thinks of these things. God, I love my internet friends.

I think I'm going to give BD his privacy and let Fa know that Mommies and Daughters can be in the bathroom together and Daddies and daughters don't. Unless it's inevitable...Ugh. Whatever. Everyone pees and poops right?
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Do any of you let your daughters watch your husbands pee?

I know. Get to the point. But BD and I have been questioning each other on what we believe. We are in agreement so I guess I am really questioning myself.

Fa cries whenever he goes into the bathroom. She watches me in there do just about everything so she wants to watch her dad too. But I say no. And so does he.

But, if she's gonna learn about pottying, shouldn't she see 'both sides'? It is a healthy part of life and everyone does it. I just think it's a little weird for her to see her dad's hay nanny nanny dangling in the breeze, no?

We are in a quandary. I don't want her to cry when he goes, I think it sends her the wrong message when he closes her out. I don't want her to think its a bad thing and I don't want her questioning in her three year old brain why Daddy is 'different' and she can't watch. Then again, I don't think she should see his thang hang. That might scar her for life....

Boys don't sit to pee so why should he? Or do they? If she sees that will THAT be sending the wrong message too?

Or should she just get over it and learn that Mommy's and daughter's do things like that together and Daughter's and Daddy's don't? Mommy's teach girls about pottying and Daddy's teach boys? I don't know.

I guess I grew up in a pretty liberal home. Dad walked around in his skivvies all the time. It was nothing to me. I saw him 'sitting' on the pot and all. And I was always in the bathroom with my Mother. So, that sort of stuff doesn't phase me. But BD grew up differently. His parents were quite secretive about bathroom habits. It was a private affair and something left for 'your eyes only'.

I never thought about it until this week when I noticed F crying every time BD locked her out of the bathroom. What to do?

Do you let your opposite sex children watch your bathroom habits?

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...
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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?

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.

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"....

I'm Pooped!

All this potty training has got me “pooped”. Some interesting doodies are produced from the following foods:
Sweet potatoes (A real good one)
Tomatoes (if she eats too many, it's crazy)
Grapes
Raisins
Prunes (dried ones, chopped up into bite sized pieces, the baby jars or juice)
Blueberries (kinda hard to find outta season)
pears (with the skin)
apples (with the skin)
bran cereals
graham crackers
whole-grain breads and crackers (HIGH FIBER bread -- we call it doodie bread)
*peas
*broccoli
*beans(*These last three can cause gas if given too much)
plenty of water daily
When she really needs it we use the glycerine suppositories (poor thing)
....A warm bath also helps her go
...Also a lot of running around and exersize keeps her regular too. (keeps the digestive system running)

When Fa was a baby she was on a fiber laxative daily called Maltsupex. It was as expensive as a college education, but it regulated her and now the foods above work wonders.

The poor kid!

I bet this was all you ever wanted to know about soft stool….Now, if only she’d doo it on the potty!

Potty Training Sucks

I hate it. It makes me ill. I have tried everything to get Fa to go on the potty and she WILL NOT do it.

She loves her pull ups. Hates to sit on the potty.

Loves to go in a corner and poop in private. Hates to sit on the potty. (she even tells me to leave the room when it’s time to go)

Loves to be in a dry pull up. Hates to sit on the potty to keep her pull up dry.

Loves to watch the poop “plop” into the toilet from her pull up. Hates to sit on the potty to “plop” the poop in herself.

Loves to be standing up to change the pull up instead of lying on the changing table. Hates to sit on the potty.

Loves to tell everyone about her pull up. Hates to talk about sitting on the potty.

I am lost. What do I do? Is anybody out there with a potty trained daughter and some advice….I’m losing my mind here….