I’m new to this whole blog thing. But my life is way to interesting to not write it down because often times I ask myself, “Is this real life?”. And it is. Like today. We started potty training. Again. We have “gone” in the floor 9 times and successfully used the potty once. It doesn’t phase my beautiful baby girl that she has urine running down her leg or that she’s sitting on her pillow and dancing while she’s pooping. And she doesn’t do the usual “squat wherever I’m at and make it completely obvious to everyone around me that I’m about to start pooping.” Nope. Rather, she reminded me of a cow the way she was lazily walking and just decided to drop a pile without ever breaking stride and then acted like it never happened. Oh, and the first time she went “number 1”, she sat down and started rolling around in it.
But don’t let her fool you. She knows that she has to use the bathroom. We took her for her first ever dentist appointment shortly after she turned two. She was a beautiful angel the entire time the hygienist was cleaning her teeth. As the dentist came in and stuck out her hand to introduce herself, rather than our beautiful angel shaking her hand in return to tell the dentist her name, she grabs her crotch, full on Michael Jackson style, and tells her she has to pee. Twice. She did that twice.
So this potty training thing is yet the worst part of parent hood. Not the 36 hours of labor and natural child birth. Nope. It’s potty training.