I'm addicted to blogs. More so to reading what other people blog about than actual blogging myself. I read A Womb at the Inn(sane)
everyday. This woman is my age. As in, she too will be 30 in November.
And she has 7 kids. Yes. 7. And she likes them. She is fricken
hilarious. I don't even remember how I found her site. All I know is I
need my daily dose of innsaneness. (seriously. go read her. If you're
crazy like me start with the archives and work your way up.) Either
yesterday or the day before she had posted a contest where you click on
the link, and be the 214th person to comment and you win a prize. A
necklace. I clicked on the link, and found out I had to sign up to view
this prize and post to comment on. I figured what the heck. So I did.
Then I'm informed by the site I had to be accepted first. Hmm. There
goes any chance of winning a necklace. (Not like I WEAR necklaces. I
just wanted to have a shot at winning SOMETHING!!)
Either later that night or the next morning, I checked my email. I had been accepted. YAY! I go to the site to check it out. Uh.Oh. Clearly I am in the WRONG area. Clearly they have not checked out MY site (this blog you are staring at with glassy eyes) because if they had, they would not have accepted me. Nor would 2 of them have added me as "friends". Why? Be patient. I'm getting there. This site is called... (don't laugh and if you are taking a drink, put it down before you snort beverage out of your sinuses) ... "The Posh Parent" and the subtitle is "The chic parent guide to everyday fabulousness".
Posh. Brit. Elegant, high-class, as in a posh hotel. Its origins lie in the abbreviation for "port out, starboard home," indicating the best berths on sailings from England to India
Definition: luxurious, upper-class
ME?? POSH?? BWAHAHAHAH cough cough cough. ahem. Now before you start rolling your eyes, It's really not as "fru-fru" as one may think. I haven't had very much time to go through it to see what's going on over there, but look forward to it. There's blogs, "societies", forums, chat, etc.
Along with the acceptance to me joining this poshness, I also has two friend requests. One of them is the site administrator. (has to be, but since I'm new to all of this, who knows!) the other is Kadi (the blog owner of a womb at the innsane). Now I know there is some kind of joke going on. You see, a few days ago, Kadi had an "embrace your inner dorkness" contest. She invited all to send in stories of dorkness, photos and or videos to prove dorkyness. The winner got a prize. so I submitted these photos to prove my dork worthiness:
I didn't win. I didn't even get a vote. I should be happy, but not even one lousy vote. I guess I'm so over the top, that Kadi actually left out the photo with me wearing the glasses/nose getup. I can't believe I even sent these pics to a stranger!
These pics are proof that I am the brunt of someones joke. Yes! Come join The Posh Parent! I remember your face *snicker snicker* OR, Or maybe I'll be their little project. Maybe the person who can convert this:
into THIS:
will win a lollipop.
Anyhoo. I must toodle off for my pedicure and noon hour martini. Jeeves will be around with the car in a flash, I mustn't keep him waiting. Pop pop cheerio now!!
Wow. They are quick. And GOOD!
(*I'm actually looking forward to checking out this site and talking with other "posh parent's" so shuddap!!*)
Either later that night or the next morning, I checked my email. I had been accepted. YAY! I go to the site to check it out. Uh.Oh. Clearly I am in the WRONG area. Clearly they have not checked out MY site (this blog you are staring at with glassy eyes) because if they had, they would not have accepted me. Nor would 2 of them have added me as "friends". Why? Be patient. I'm getting there. This site is called... (don't laugh and if you are taking a drink, put it down before you snort beverage out of your sinuses) ... "The Posh Parent" and the subtitle is "The chic parent guide to everyday fabulousness".
Posh. Brit. Elegant, high-class, as in a posh hotel. Its origins lie in the abbreviation for "port out, starboard home," indicating the best berths on sailings from England to India
Definition: luxurious, upper-class
ME?? POSH?? BWAHAHAHAH cough cough cough. ahem. Now before you start rolling your eyes, It's really not as "fru-fru" as one may think. I haven't had very much time to go through it to see what's going on over there, but look forward to it. There's blogs, "societies", forums, chat, etc.
Along with the acceptance to me joining this poshness, I also has two friend requests. One of them is the site administrator. (has to be, but since I'm new to all of this, who knows!) the other is Kadi (the blog owner of a womb at the innsane). Now I know there is some kind of joke going on. You see, a few days ago, Kadi had an "embrace your inner dorkness" contest. She invited all to send in stories of dorkness, photos and or videos to prove dorkyness. The winner got a prize. so I submitted these photos to prove my dork worthiness:
I didn't win. I didn't even get a vote. I should be happy, but not even one lousy vote. I guess I'm so over the top, that Kadi actually left out the photo with me wearing the glasses/nose getup. I can't believe I even sent these pics to a stranger!
These pics are proof that I am the brunt of someones joke. Yes! Come join The Posh Parent! I remember your face *snicker snicker* OR, Or maybe I'll be their little project. Maybe the person who can convert this:
into THIS:
will win a lollipop.
Anyhoo. I must toodle off for my pedicure and noon hour martini. Jeeves will be around with the car in a flash, I mustn't keep him waiting. Pop pop cheerio now!!
Wow. They are quick. And GOOD!
(*I'm actually looking forward to checking out this site and talking with other "posh parent's" so shuddap!!*)
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The poop and potty post.
When Mackenzie was 17 months old, we were watching "John and Kate plus 8".
The sextuplets were 2 in the episode we were watching. They were also
potty training. Mackenzie watched with awe, as I was telling her what
these little people her size were doing.Then I remembered that I still
had Braden's little plastic potty. I ran to the bathroom, blew the dust
of the potty, and brought it in the living room.I asked Mackenzie if
she wanted to try. She beamed, and said YUP!! So off went the pants.
Off went the diaper. She sat down, and peed! I could not believe it. I
was in shock. I had a 17 month old ready for potty training! Or so I
thought. She didn't pee on that thing for another 4 months. I never
pressured her. I only ever asked if she wanted to sit on it. 9 times
out of 10 she wanted to sit. Nothing happened. Until she stood up, and
promptly pissed on the floor.
You know how "they" say that peeing is the first step, and pooping is usually harder for them? Well, not in Mackenzie's case. She has mastered pooping on the potty. She'll be 3 in a month and a half, and has been pooping on the pot for the last 8 months. If she pees on the potty, it's only cuz she's still sitting down from the big #2.
The last month to month and a half, she has regressed. She poops in her pull-up. I can't figure out why. Her routine has been the same, she isn't constipated nor does she have diarrhea. I don't know if it's her stubborn will, or if she's just too damn busy playing to go to the bathroom.
I told her last night if she poops on the potty at daycare, she can have a sticker when she gets home. Because it's all about stickers you know. Stickers are more fun than playdough, have a healing power 10 times better/stronger than any band aid brand, and they just make the world go around. Ah, yes. Mackenzie and her sticker love affair. Why I did not think of this sooner, I will never know. (Shut up. I don't WANT to think about why I didn't think about it. Fine fine. It was a mommy brain fart. Happy now?) So we shall see today after daycare if she made it to the potty. Regardless if she made it or not, I'm going to come up with some kind of sticker potty chart for here and daycare. One sticker for poops on the potty, 2 stickers for pee.
Now go through this post and count how many times you see "potty" and "poop". If you count accurately, I'll give you a jelly bean. I should probably warn you that it's been in my pocket for 4 days, and has a nice collection of fuzz and lint. But it still smells good. Wait. Oh crap. I peeled the fuzz and lint off to see what colour it was, and I ate it. Sorry. No jelly bean. How about you just give yourself a nice pat on the back, OK?
You know how "they" say that peeing is the first step, and pooping is usually harder for them? Well, not in Mackenzie's case. She has mastered pooping on the potty. She'll be 3 in a month and a half, and has been pooping on the pot for the last 8 months. If she pees on the potty, it's only cuz she's still sitting down from the big #2.
The last month to month and a half, she has regressed. She poops in her pull-up. I can't figure out why. Her routine has been the same, she isn't constipated nor does she have diarrhea. I don't know if it's her stubborn will, or if she's just too damn busy playing to go to the bathroom.
I told her last night if she poops on the potty at daycare, she can have a sticker when she gets home. Because it's all about stickers you know. Stickers are more fun than playdough, have a healing power 10 times better/stronger than any band aid brand, and they just make the world go around. Ah, yes. Mackenzie and her sticker love affair. Why I did not think of this sooner, I will never know. (Shut up. I don't WANT to think about why I didn't think about it. Fine fine. It was a mommy brain fart. Happy now?) So we shall see today after daycare if she made it to the potty. Regardless if she made it or not, I'm going to come up with some kind of sticker potty chart for here and daycare. One sticker for poops on the potty, 2 stickers for pee.
Now go through this post and count how many times you see "potty" and "poop". If you count accurately, I'll give you a jelly bean. I should probably warn you that it's been in my pocket for 4 days, and has a nice collection of fuzz and lint. But it still smells good. Wait. Oh crap. I peeled the fuzz and lint off to see what colour it was, and I ate it. Sorry. No jelly bean. How about you just give yourself a nice pat on the back, OK?
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