Bill has training in Tucson this week. I don't know if it's because he's gone that things fall apart, or that little things pile up until everything seem like a big deal. Most likely a little of both.
Brianna (2 1/2 yrs.) has decided she is through with diapers and now wants to wear her "big girl princess undies" all of the time. Because it is her idea, things are going well.
Until Tuesday night she decided she could take herself potty all alone. She told me to leave because she "needed a little privacy". I did. All went well until she thought she needed to use toilet paper . . . a lot of toilet paper . . . half a roll of Charmin toilet paper. Lucky for us Grandpa came over for another reason and was kind enough to take care of the clog that I just couldn't.
Then at 1:30 a.m. Wednesday I was woken by a phrase every parent wants to hear in the middle of the night: "Mom, I puked . . . on my bedroom floor." Nice. By 2:30 a.m. I was done and attempted to go back to sleep. Then at 4:30 a.m. the neighbors decided to let their yappy little dogs outside. Apparently some great threat was befalling the neighborhood because those dogs didn't stop barking (a sound reminiscent of a sick rubber ducky) for 30 minutes.
The next day, I decided to help Ellie with her homework. She was assigned to illustrate the lines "With a little old driver so lively and quick. I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick." from the poem The Night Before Christmas. In my sleep-deprived state I suggested that we make a collage. Two hours and one frazzled mom later this is what we had:
And also this:
Well at least it's done. And the week is nearly over. I decided to record this week for history because one day this will be funny. Just not today.