Have I mentioned that potty training is hell?
I have no idea how the human race survives every generation beyond the 2 1/2 year old mark. My experience should suggest a heck of a lot more mothers lying in the middle of the woods surrounded by soiled underwear waiting for the sweet release of a wild animal attack. I'm starting to wonder if maybe Cain didn't take out Abel after all. It was probably just little ol' Eve, who had spent one too many days following Abel around with a rag and carpet cleaner patting the floor in search of suspicious wet spots, until finally she had had enough. I wouldn't even blame the woman. Suddenly the idea of wiping poop off of someone else's diapered bottom for the rest of eternity sounds like the simpler option.
You know how they have those people who will do all the obedience training for a puppy for you? Right now, I'd pay about three thousand dollars for someone to take Bug to a nice farm in the country with plenty of open spaces and barn cats to chase and return her in 6 weeks safety potty trained. Anyone know a good poop whisperer?
Bug absolutely loves her Dora the Explorer and Minnie Mouse panties. She loves them so much she can't wait to try on the next pair after she pees through the current one. It's enough to make her mother want to rip all her hair out. Luckily for me, the post pregnancy hormones are taking care of that for me, and I'm shedding enormous numbers of strands over every inch of my house without even trying. This morning I actually used a lint roller on the back of the t-shirt I slept in to gather all the stray hairs, and it was awful.
So, in case you were wondering, that's what I'm doing today. Sweeping up hair and mopping up urine.
My life is so glamorous.