My Morning

I can tell by the way my son wakes up, what kind of a day it is going to be.  Some days he wakes up, rubs the sleep out of his eyes, gazes dreamily into my own and says "Hi Mommy".  Those are the good days.  The days that he willingly puts on his coat and boots while blabbing to me about what he is going to do at "school".  Then there are the days that I burn myself on the forehead with the straightening iron because I am startled by the blood curdling scream of "MOMMY" coming from the bedroom.  When I go into the bedroom rubbing my scalded forehead, I proceed with caution.  I am calm and I speak softly as to transfer my demeanor into the likes of my two year old. 
"Hi Little Man, did you sleep well?"
"No, sleep...I want back to bed"
"I know LM, but we have to get up and go to school today, to play with your friends....won't that be fun?"
At this point he is twisting like an alligator that has been lassod.  He is thrusting his hips and shaking his head and I know that it is not going to be one of the jolly mornings.
Once I wrestle the beast out of his damp pajamas he slithers away and gets to the side of the bed that is up against the wall.  The side of the bed that is hard to reach when I am half dressed with a towel on my head.  He sits there naked- challenging me, mocking me, making me sweat.
I remove myself from the situation- I retreat to the bathroom where I finish putting myself together- both physically and mentally.
By the time I get the Little Man into the carseat, I have come close to leaving him all together, or burying my own head back under the pillows.
As I  I strap him in I am feeling exhausted, frusterated and near tears.  I look at the clock and realize  I am running late- now I am stressed. 
Late or not, I need coffee if I am going to make it through the rest of this wonderful Tuesday.  I pull into the store that I frequent in the morning and as I am getting out of my rig, I glance to the left and am slapped in the face with a large, hairy butt crack that is smiling at me as its owner fills his low (because of the size of said butt) tires with air...there is not enough coffee in Columbia to get me through this day.

Mommy Pees...?!?!

We have reached the crucial time in every toddler’s life, that the Mommy and the Daddy have had enough of diapers and wet sheets….the time when the push for using the potty is more important than…well anything really. I am pretty sure that I would sacrifice a cute and cuddly animal or a distant relative if it meant that diapers were a thing of our families past, even a far memory or a lapse in memory all together.

I must warn you that this post is going to contain entirely TMI…but whatever, you know more about me than initially intended anyway, why stop now.

Our bathroom (Oh no this is a bathroom blog) has 2 potties in it. One that looks just like the one in your bathroom, and one that is a smaller version that sings songs and dispenses stickers when splashing occurs. We have tried all sorts of methods for tempting the toddler to the toilet. We have sworn that Mickey Mouse, Thomas the Train and Special Agent Oso all use the potty. We have thrown parties that rival actual birthday celebrations any time he even attempts the feat. And we lead by example, as in the bathroom door in our house is always open while we demonstrate our own, grown up potty skills.

Little Man is very proud of us both. He insists on coming into the bathroom with anyone that experiences the urge while visiting our home. He follows me, PMH, and any of our friends into the bathroom and claps for us, and celebrates every time we …well, you know. I am even told “Good Boy, Mommy!” when I use the potty.

Last night, was the topper though. Little Man agreed that while I was using the big potty, he would humor me and sit his naked little bottom on the sticker dispensing potty. I am convinced that he did this for my benefit, to help me be a big girl. Shockingly (said with severe sarcasm), Pretty Much Hubby used the last of the toilet paper and didn’t replace it. Being that the door was conveniently open while the LM and I sat in company of each other on our matching commodes, I yelled to PMH “Honey, can you bring me some toilet paper?”

“Mommy, what you say?” says the naked baby.

“I said that Daddy needs to bring me toilet paper”

“Mommy pees?”

“Yes, Bubba, Mommy peed”

“MOMMY PEES” he screams.

“Yes, MOMMY PEES, did Little Man pee?”

“MOMMY SAY PEES”

So we may not have the potty thing down but, at least we are polite…..

“Sorry baby, you are right…Daddy, can you PEES bring me some toilet paper?”