Caution: this post contains a lot of potty-talk. If poop and pee bother you, click away, quick!
- Hubby is out for the week, helping with some disaster relief projects in another city. I am so proud of my husband, and I love his genuine desire to serve others, but y’all— this single parenting thing is not for the faint of heart! Seriously. I don’t think there’s enough coffee in the entire world for this job solo.
- On a related note: my children are sinners. Amen. (Of course, they get it from they mama…)
- Tonight (a mere five hours after purchasing a Congrats-you’re-really-potty-trained present for Stinkbug) he pooped in his underwear. And not a nice, clean poop either. Blame the single parenting gig, or my gag reflexes, or just plain laziness, but I threw the poopy underwear into a grocery bag, tied it off, and threw it away. (I’ve also been known to do the same for Tupperware I find in the fridge and just can’t stomach tackling.) Don’t judge.
- Speaking of the potty… the other night I found Doodlebug playing in a toilet full of pee that his brother did not flush. I fished this toy out of the potty:
After I gagged and washed it thoroughly and then washed it again. I just had to laugh. Did you get it? “Piston”… and it was literally “pissed on”. Hahahahahahahahaha. I need coffee.
- Also speaking of the potty, I found this in Doodlebug’s diaper the other day:
I’m not really sure how that happened. And I choose to believe that it somehow just got in his diaper without traveling the entire length of his digestive tract… it might take the cake for the weirdest item I’ve ever found in a diaper.
- I am tired and ready for my husband to come home. And I can’t wait to go out by myself once he’s home and drink a coffee (or seven) and just exist in silence alone for awhile… but really, I do love my kids. Sometimes I happen upon a moment of sibling endearment and I just stop and wonder at the gift that is these three precious little souls in my care…
Of course, ten minutes later they’re snatching and snitching and hanging on my legs crying while I cook dinner, and then refusing to eat the dinner I make because it’s “yucky”… But really, I do love them. Really. (And what would my blog be without their antics????)