Diary of a tired Momma Bean

Today I thought about potty-training again. Now that I’m down to only half a sleeve of diapers, I’m almost motivated to begin the “talk” again with Mags. Forget Peanut. She’s indicated to me in no uncertain terms that I should just LAY OFF.

Last night, I contemplated making a from scratch nutritious dinner. When I opened the freezer to take out some chicken, I spied the hot dogs. Hot dogs = full beans. Hey, at least I served it with a side of peas and carrots.

I can’t ask much of myself lately. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck and all I want to do is crawl into my jammies and under my blankies and sleep for a week. With everything that’s happened with Arisa and her family and the fact that I’ve up and moved to a new company altogether with my boss (which includes a longer commute, an earlier wake-up time and an immediate cease and desist of my Pumas/khakis uniform), I’d really love to find my life’s pause button. But I’m busy finding the blue sippy cup (because a two and a half year old doesn’t want to hear the excuse of why you didn’t do the dishes last night) and thinking of a creatively fabulous zero calorie four course dinner.

And because I don’t want to concentrate hard enough to invite the migraine that’s been knocking on the door of my head, I thought I’d answer Huckdoll’s tag from what seems like five years ago. (Sorry girlie - I know you’re going through your own thing right now. xox)

Here are the instructions:
1. Pick up the nearest book ( of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people. & post a comment here once you post it to your blog, so I can come see.

“Potty Training Sucks” by Janne Kimes, with Linda Sonna, Ph.D.

Yes. Seriously. And, no, I have no finished it. Read the title again. ‘Nuff said.

Page 123: When wiping your young one’s derriere, the challenge is that her butt is either sitting down on a potty where you can’t get to it, or standing up where her butt cheeks are clenched tighter than Joan Rivers’ face. You have to do some fancy moves to get the goods. If your kid likes to sit down to be wiped, have her lean forward.

Um.

You can’t make crap like this up. No pun intended.

Hopefully Page 123 isn’t a reflection of the rest of the book, because I learned absolutely nothing that is going to help me train these Beans.

And, I’m tagging everyone who is reading this that is willing and able. I’m tired and I have to find a blue sippy cup.