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.