Toilet training

As you've seen from previous posts we are potty training Boden. Things were going pretty well. Yesterday Boden peed at a friend's house on our Columbia trip. A new success.

Yesterday evening after dinner Boden tells me he has to go potty. Okay, I strip him down, not because he likes to do his business in the buff, because he is going to take a bath afterward. He sits on the potty for about 15 minutes. My patience is decreasing with his lollygagging on the potty. I leave him half-naked in the bathroom while I go back to the kitchen and scarf down the rest of my dinner as the bath tub is filling. 

Bad bad bad idea. It seems Boden has decided to do his business on the floor. Okay, that's great. Disinfect and get him into the tub. A little humorous event.

Clearly, I will not leave him alone unsheathed again, but that's not the only potty training that needs to occur in the household. Now that I'm pregnant, I'm frequenting the bathroom in the middle of the night. Men if you LOVE your wife, then don't leave the frickin' seat up to the toilet. 

My eyesight is BAD, so much so that contacts do not correct it perfectly. I do well to feel my way around in the middle of the night. I have learned to change diapers without looking and other feats. 

So, last night when I had to pee at o'dark thirty, I could not tell the toilet seat was up. My husband had been sleeping in the other room, because he had contracted the funk, so I wasn't concerned about falling in. Anger could not describe the way I felt. Getting up and yelling a curse word and slamming the seat down with my foot did not erase the gangrene that was sure to be growing on my butt. It isn't that we don't clean, but the whole grossness of viewing misses of the past and not knowing what was lurking. 

I wanted to disinfect my butt and worried that the growing baby inside was going to be infected in some way. This wasn't a good way for me to fall back to sleep and I glared in the dark at my sleeping husband as I made my way back around the bed to my side. 

Men, put the effing seat down. It is a courtesy that will make your wife happy and your life easier.

Incubation

There comes a time where you just have to be honest and put yourself out there. I'm growing another human. For those of you suggesting all types of medicine during my funky weeks of insane amounts of mucus, sinus pressure, and sea lion coughing thank you. There was a reason I couldn't get all drugged up and that is because of this tiny little sesame-sized life inside my belly.

I have so much to look forward to in the upcoming months of the first trimester to which I dub the bitchiphase of pregnancy. Men you think pms is bad, bitchiphase is three months of everything you do gets on my frickin' nerves and sobbing at touching commercials. If you have ever experienced a hangover, then you have the same feeling that one would feel during bitchiphase: sour stomach, nausea, and fatigue. My last pregnancy I had many food aversions. It was odd to me how I could think of spinach and my mouth would water anticipating the vomit. Vomiting never came, so I just had the nausea, which I cannot decide if it would be better to vomit and get it out of the way. Grocery shopping is challenging to say the least.

I will keep you fried followers updated on the progress. The good news is my last pregnancy was quite humorous to me even though I looked very much like a flesh-tone version of Shrek. I'm trying not to think that far ahead. Although I still have flashbacks of me being so swollen that my feet looked like I was baking bread over my flip flops and the memory of my friend Ashley exuberantly sticking her finger into my leg and clapping like a three-year-old all wide-eyed and oohing at the silly puttiness of the dent she has just created that would stay in my leg for 45 minutes. 

However big I get,  I'm so rockin' the Buddha belly in a 'kini this summer. I am not afraid. I will be the one floating around with the fruit tray.

Expected human eviction date: 09-09-09. How cool is that for a birthdate?

Sick of Being Sick

Dear infection/virus or whateverthehell is making me feel like shit,

This is your notification of eviction due immediately. Pack up your mucus and exit the body. Tell you relatives to get out of my son. His body is not a vacation spot either. 

You've had your stay since Christmas and it is January 19th. I do not want to cough anymore. My back hurts from coughing. I'm tired of the lack of being able to breath and hearing my son suffer the same. The inside of my head aches from your destruction of my sinuses. I have tried Zycam, nasal steroids, Mucinex, Robitussin, and Tylenol. I have tried numerous sinus cleanses and it is a gross process. 

Leave my body. Leave my son's body. You are ruining my life. My house is a mess. My husband has been avoiding me, which I can't understand why you making me look so sexy and all. My son had to be x-rayed. 

We went to prompt care!!!!!!! Effing prompt care!!!!!!!! Do you know how much I hate that place?!!!!!!!!!! We waited for a hour and ten minutes to be seen and to be seen by a doctor that wasn't a MD!!!! No offense, but this guy was doing nothing to explain what was plaguing our bodies he kind of asked me what I thought I had. Huh? Excuse me Doc that is why I waited an effing hour is so YOU can tell me what the hell is wrong and stop your lectures about not having seen my son's pediatrician and my doctor. That is why I'm paying YOU on a Saturday.

There is no more energy for me to expend on coughing, snot, fever, etc.. I need to go on with my life without you. I've got other fish to fry and you are pissing me off with your neediness. 

My happy Boden

It is some harmless evidence of his early days of potty training that

 is so going to be a yearbook picture one day.

Here is Boden in his Cars pjs and wellies.

I swear there was no prompting by me taking this picture. 

He just does this kind of stuff.

Gym-Nasty

Since the New Year has rang in I have had a horrible head cold. I think it wouldn't be this bad if it weren't for my visit to Michigan. My uncle turned to the heat up for us, because Georgia must be located at the equator and we are used to sweating while we sleep.

Since I have eaten the equivalent of a tractor trailer full of food since Christmas, snot, head pressure, and all I go to the gym. I go to the gym for the soul purpose of eating whatever I want.

The social dynamics of the gym are quite interesting. I never feel bored, because there is always such good people watching like the mom with the igloo boob job that gets a personal trainer to train her and her two 30-something-year-old daughters or the old guy with the comb-over wearing shiny lycra biker shorts with tube socks and black velcro sneakers.

I was in the abdominal workout area when I notice this girl. We will call her Katie. Katie is a cute little blond thing that is wearing a tee shirt, some running shorts, and what I hope are spandex shorts.

Katie must have been a cheerleader, a dancer, or a relative of Gumby. Katie was lying on the floor with her butt against the wall in spread eagle position for what seemed like an hour. Katie was so flexible that her feet were resting on the floor. She would point and flex her feat and then bring her legs together and do this scissor move. 

Really, Katie? Normally, those types of awkward positions and exercises are reserved for the aerobics room or in the privacy of your home. It wasn't jealousy that perplexed me. Although, I would love to have that flexibility, it was the danger. Doing moves like that in a gym full of meatheads on steroids? Katie, your likely to be mounted faster than you can say hurkey.

Kitchen Nuggets

I had to move out of the kitchen to introduce the new Electrolux washer and dryer.

This will allow to enjoy doing laundry more than washing dishes by hand. Even the men will want to do laundry. Electrolux is an awesome company that really researches the industry for appliance successes and tries to ensure those qualities in their appliances. They really are thinking of you. For instance, the doors are push to open. You've got a big load of laundry that is overflowing in a basket and do not have a free hand. In one butt bump your washer door is open and ready to load. Are you in a rush? No problem, with the 18 minute wash cycle for smaller loads. Got wrinkles? No problem, there is a steam cycle. Wave touch will intrigue the techie guy in your life. The washer has 22 different cycles and a 4.7cu. ft capacity. The dryer is a whopping 8.0 cu. ft capacity. These appliances are energy efficient too using less amounts of water and electricity.

If you don't care about all the technical stuff, then just look at that happy turquoise color. 

Things that make you go hummm and shut the hell up

My goal is to actually get dressed, fix my hair, and put some make-up on as to not look like a drug addict with my inherited dark circles under my eyes. Given that I will make a trip to the gym, I decided that I will tote along my clothes and such and get ready for the day after my workouts. 

Since the new year began my head is full of snot, which is dripping down my throat making my throat hurt and my ears are so clogged I have to listen to my headphones on like 75. This annoyance is making me a bit cranky. 

So, I'm in the gym locker room after working out dressed and ready to finish the head portion of my goal. There are two hairdryers in the getting ready area of the women's locker room. One of which is broken. I cannot understand why a gym with that many frickin' members can't afford a couple of decent hairdryers. Wouldn't you know that the only working hairdryer is already taken, because of all the people who have made a commitment of working out starting January 1st have been taking over everything even in the middle of the frickin morning. 

We'll call the lady at the hair dryer Jane and at the other end of the room Mary. Jane is bosshoggin' the hairdryer and Mary's hair is dry, so I begin my makeup process. No problem, I'll wait for Jane to finish. I'm slightly annoyed at the gym at this point, but that isn't Jane's fault that her hair is wet. Jane begins to dry her hair and all of a sudden Mary starts humming this falsetto tune of something that doesn't even come close to being recognizable. I began to wonder if Mary has a mental disorder that makes her have this knee jerk reaction to the sound of hairdryers. Perhaps the humming distracts herself from the scary loud noise. 

I stop mid make-upping to get a good look at Mary. She was all of about 5 feet tall and clearly is making good on her New Years Resolution of trying to get into shape and I'm happy that she is trying to get fit, but I just want to say to her to shut the hell up.

I have no idea why her humming was wanting me to pick up the hair dryer and knock her out with it, but it did. Wouldn't you know that as soon as Jane shut off the hairdryer there was no squeaky hum coming from Mary at all, thus proving my theory may be correct.

Jane was finished with the hairdryer and scooted down a couple of seats to plug in her flat iron, so I scooted to the chair where the hairdryer is located. Pulling out my brush, I glanced over at Mary, took a breath, and turned it on high. I had to strain to listen through the clogged ears and the whirring of the hairdryer, but Mary was definitely humming. 

My friend Ashley's father used to take us to school and he would turn it to whatever station we wanted to hear. We would sing our little hearts out and he would smile and switch it off really fast, so there would only be the sound of our off key voices. This is what I wanted to do to Mary so frickin' badly and like a couple of times. I could not bring myself to do it and knew that I needed to get out of there fast, because I would resort to doing something really hateful. 

As I left the locker room, I saw someone else pick up the hairdryer. Hum hum hum...

This is a hairdryer that I may be investing in for the gym.