How I Skipped Potty Training My Kids

We humans are an advanced species with enough intelligence to invent the cell phone, polished to drink our tea without slurping. We are capable of traveling to the moon. We play chess, at very young ages. We are at the top of the food chain here on earth. Yet, despite our advancement, it is much easier to train a cat to pee in a litter box than a human to go in the potty. A dog will go on the newspaper before you can get your kid to recognize he has to go.

As a mom of 3 little girls, I never go to the bathroom without an audience anymore. They are always asking questions like, “What are you doing?” What does it look like I’m doing child? I’m taking a crap. “Why does it smell?” Because poop smells bad, if you can’t stand the smell go wait outside. “No I kind of like it, I’ll wait here…”

It’s not enough for me to have all 3 kids gathered around a dinky little bathroom every time I go. No, now I have to have all the children huddled around me like we are getting ready to pass the football every time any one of those kids has to go. It’s like a family event. I say, “Annie, do you need to go pee pee?” and boom, all the kids are like puppies when the owner grabs the leash, “Yay, we all get to go to the bathroom!”

And it’s a dinky bathroom. Most bathrooms are dinky. They are usually designed by short men who apparently never had children watch them skip to their loo. It’s also common in floor planning to have all the doors open into the room, making the dinky bathroom even dinkier because the door operates as a moving wall. Maybe now’s the best time to mention I’m claustrophobic. Three children and one adult all in the bathroom at once, I am amazed the door has yet to knock me out into 3 shades of smurf.

Potty training my kids definitely was not an easy task for me because of the claustrophobia in of itself. Every time I or any of the children had to use the potty, I had some sort of anxiety panic attack. It’s not like I can get treatment for it, like “Hi, Dr. Shrink Guy, yeah, I suffer from anxiety attacks trying to make my kids poop in the potty.” He’d be like, “That’s normal. It’s called being a parent.” And I’d argue with that to give it one good shot, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t medicate it does it?” and he’d probably recognize I’m trying to get pills like a pill popping fiend ready to sell them in the black market for Christmas money, so he’d be like, “You should try yoga.” Then he’d charge my insurance 500 dollars to recommend yoga because he’s a bigger hustler than the guy trying to sell his pills for Christmas money.

Besides the claustrophobia, I had other obstacles. The oldest child is on the autism spectrum, barely. With that, we had a slew of issues in her toddler years, including sleep issues, speech issues, and potty training issues. Her doctor at the time of potty training told me, “It’s ok. She’ll go when she goes. There is no need to rush it. I seriously doubt she will be ten years old still not using the potty. Let her learn on her own time.” That became the perfect excuse to procrastinate most of my potty training efforts.

I still tried, especially when Pre-School was around the corner thinking she had to be potty trained to get into any school. About that time, kid number 2 was ready to number 2 in the potty. I made several attempts at following other mothers’ advice. I did the reward program. I always cheered my kids on when they pottied in the potty. I made them go to the bathroom just to see every two hours. I did all that stuff I didn’t have time to do, while severely sleep deprived, and nothing.

I am a firm believer that your problems as a parent get solved much faster and easier when you, the parent, are mentally healthy. So, my own severe sleep deprivation I was experiencing at the time made it virtually impossible for me to figure things out on my own. I was struggling to get the coffee into the cup without spilling it everywhere as depth perception is one of the things to go with sleep deprivation, so being able to say the right thing, do the right thing, in order to get my children to understand, “This is where you are supposed to pee,” it just wasn’t happening.

For both my oldest kids, I finally successfully trained them to use the bathroom when I sent them to school, a glorious school that didn’t require children to be housebroken to accept them as students. The school did it. They taught my oldest 2 kids how to pee in the potty.

I always thought the biggest deal was for my children to see other kids ask to use the bathroom. For years, they knew how to go, but they opted not to. I mean, all kids know how to go. It’s really easy. You sit on a certain seat and pee. There’s nothing complicated about that. But choosing to go when you have to go, now that’s a different story. Knowing when you have to go to give you enough time to make it, that too is a different story. But the art of going in the potty in of itself, they can do that the moment they can sit up to spit up.

Kid number 3 was actually my success story. She’s been using the potty since she was two. I didn’t do a thing to teach her. I didn’t offer chocolate for poop. I didn’t give her stars for trying. I didn’t purchase a singing trademarked toddler toilet. I didn’t even sit her on the toilet and say, “This is where we pee.” I did nothing. She just started going to the potty. On. Her. Own. I was so crazy and sleep deprived at the time, I almost didn’t notice.

I really think as a result of my personal experiences looking back at what little I can remember that the worst part of potty training is getting them to want to grow up. Reward systems work on a lot of kids. Many kids in this day and age accept bribes for milestones. There is no shame in that game. But my kids, they wouldn’t take bribes. So I had to hit the next level of Maslow’s Triangle Hierarchy of Needs. Social motivations seem to be the main factor behind all my children peeing in the potty appropriately. All three kids learned from other kids. They figured out the details on their own, but it was the other kids who showed them not to be afraid to stand your ground and proudly proclaim, “I have to pee, someone take me to the potty.”

Confessions of a Bad Driver: I probably do what you dream about doing when angry

This week's Sunday Confession's prompt is IN THE CAR




This is a pretty big confession for me. Not my best look...

My biggest in the car confession is enough to make Daffy Duck spit all over the place trying to say the word Despicable. My driving is so bad, I use it as an argument that God does in fact exist because divine intervention is the ONLY logical explanation to the fact that the kids and I are still alive, despite my Mario Andretti Kamikaze Pilot driving. I'm also amazed I don't have a freak amount of sobriety testing under my belt.

I get it from my mother. It's really bad when I'm following her somewhere. I feel like the song Who Let the Dogs Out remixed with Move Bitch Get out the Way. It's like we are a posse of bad driving owning the road and some of the grass alongside of it. The other cars literally jump out of the way like the grasshoppers when a foot hits the field.

To make this confession worse, as much as I know I'm a bad driver, I still bitch about other people's driving.

Factors to my driving experience:

1. The kids
2. The kids
3. Random Ice cream cone launched at my head
4. The kids
5. I was talking to someone next to me
6. My exboyfriend Todd (I can't drive if he's in the car at all)
7. The kids

I drive better and worse when I'm pissed off. And that is the real confession. When I'm pissed, I'm in better control of the vehicle paying much better attention to the road. I'm like Jason Bourne with my driving observations. I notice every bird and butterfly, and I can tell you how many cars are behind me without looking because i just passed them. But I seem to have no value for human life when I'm pissed off behind the wheel. All the sudden, we are not humans but robots in a video game. I know I do this. I've been controlling it much better, but there are moments...

At my worst, years ago, my friend and I were arguing about a misplaced comma in her paper while I was driving. My driving got considerably faster and more intentional, and when I pulled up to her house where my other car was sitting in her driveway that she was borrowing since I had two cars and was single, I intentionally hit my car with my car.

Fast forward a few years, we are driving home from the club at like 3AM. I'm giving some random guy a ride home. My friend is bitching about my driving swearing it will attract cops (she gets pulled over more than I do mind you), and it was a big, life threatening deal because the asshole I was giving a ride to had cocaine on him. So my friend is yelling at me, "We are all going to jail because you can't implement a left hand turn," and I'm like, "No because the douche in the back seat had to bring cocaine in my car," my friend was like, "It wouldn't be a big deal if you knew how to drive," and I'm like, "If he could sell the shit right he wouldn't be bumming a ride in the first place." I got so pissed off I rammed the car into someone's lawn and parked it. Took the keys and walked away from it all.

Now that I'm a mother of children, I've grown up a lot. I have calmed down dramatically compared to my old days; however, I still have my moments. One day people kept repeatedly pulling out in front of me and then went no where. That pisses me off. People in a hurry to pull out in front of you and then drop you 20 mph slower than what you were going. Like if you aren't in any hurry, then wait for me before hitting the road. Well enough did that in such a short period of time, I started passing them. I drove like I was in Puerto Rico aka Grand Theft Auto. I passed them on the sidewalk to the right. On the median to the left. It wasn't that dangerous because not one of them was going over 15 mph. But it is still unusual driving on my part.

Now the one that pisses me off the most is when I'm trying to drive, and the kids are acting a fool, and I pull over obviously on the brink of losing my shit entirely, on the brink of falling into the fetal position in tears because my kids are being a-holes, and I pull over to regulate, and some ass behind me has to honk and flip me off. This is the moment where if I had a gun, I'd use it to shoot out their tires. All Jose Wales like. I'd spit their way too. Fuckers. And they'd deserve it. Period. Never provoke a pissed off deranged mother ready to spank her children. That's like trying to french kiss a rabid dog.

The other one that pisses me off: the parking lot after school picking up the kids. That is a place where we are dependent on people letting our ass through. Because of that, we all generally let each other through like it's a way of life, but those days those bitch moms avoid eye contact so as to scoot right on up in line and not let you through, get me 3 of those in a row, and I weave around the parking lot to get 3 cars in front of the first one, and I break in the line like I'm in Boston, and then I stop and let everyone trying to get through through. I even motion them to come over. I make those bitches wait for it. If you want to be a douche canoe, I will row you up shit creek and take your paddle.

So yeah, my Sunday driving confession, in the car, I'm a total bitch. I beg people not to piss me off behind the wheel. Please don't provoke the Hulk. You just make me turn into a big green monster who's driving will not only make drunk people appear sober, it will scare them into sobriety. I have literally seen people go from angry to scared with my driving, whether they are a passenger in my car or a driver driving near me. Occasionally they are a pedestrian. The car is a weapon of mass destruction, and I hate using mine as a weapon, but when the bitch switch is flipped, run.

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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, no it was a time to be born and a time to die. Eh. I suck at titles.

The best decision I ever made was also the worst decision I ever made. This is a two part decision.

I decided to join the military.

I don't really know what I was thinking when I joined, like I'm pretty sure I joined because my father wanted me to at some point before he died, and I have a super shrinkological urge to make him proud of me, the rainbow I have been chasing since his death. You can't change the past with the present. You can't impress a ghost. But I try because I'm irrational and crazy. Shut up and let me have this.

I chose the Air Force because an Army friend explained to me that the Army wasn't really equipped for females and the Air Force gets more funding for better housing. I know, not the best reason to join a specific branch in particular.

But it was a good decision because it brought me confidence and taught me teamwork. I seem to only be a disciplined person while in the military, like out of the military, the discipline disappeared. But the whole ordeal was such a character building moment I would never want to take it away from my life experiences.

I dropped and gave that guy 20 so many times because my mouth won't shut up...

It was a bad decision because I was raped by a Staff Sgt. That rape fucked me up has changed me indefinitely, and it haunts me to this day. If I could remove that blip from my past, I would be tempted, but it would risk screwing up the second part of the military decision...

Before the military, I was one of those "career" gals who was never going to settle down and have a family. I didn't really feel any biological clock ticking because all my friends had kids young, and I helped them. Their kids were like my kids. I didn't need kids of my own. Until I joined the military...

I remember toward the end of basic training, my TI's family came to visit him. His 5 year old daughter ran across the pavement through the troops standing in formation to reach her daddy. He caught her with open arms and picked her up and just hugged her for a few minutes. That. That is what triggered the first Tick Tock. The biological clock was no longer broken.

As I stood in formation, maintaining military bearing, I yearned for a family all the sudden out of no where. I wanted kids of my own for the first time in my life. I really wanted it like I want a drink of water after a 3 mile run. I felt so alone in this world that I needed a family. I had no idea how alone I was until that moment.

So from there, every man I dated was a potential father like I was Kirstie Alley in Look Who's Talking. I imagined my dates 10 years from now taking care of children. I totally forgot to imagine them taking care of me, thanks Kirstie for forgetting that one because now I'm kind of screwed. Anyway, I found a guy who would do and I said I do. And he did too. One fish, two fish, three fish, blue.

We got married a couple months after my rape, and I honestly think the rape somehow made me fertile. It's a long weird girly story that involves TMI more TMI than I get, so we'll just skip to the part where I say most importantly, rape made me crazy enough to settle down. While I have a million and one things to bitch about my husband, he is a great man. And I don't think I would have married him if the sexual rug wasn't pulled out from under me.

Maybe this is what I need to remember in the healing process. There is always opportunity in adversity, and I'm one to naturally take advantage of it. I take advantage of it so naturally, I don't even realize I'm doing it. And maybe focusing on the good things that resulted because of it is what I need to get over it and move forward. To...

My kids are so into this movie and now, duh duh dummmm, soundtrack in the car, while driving, everywhere. Love is an open Doh ohr oor. Ugh. And the more I watch this movie, and listen to the songs, the more I'm convinced that it was really about PTSD.

Anyway...

My decision to join the military made me a stronger person, one who can handle trauma the military gave me despite the crazy that ails me resulting from it. It gave me confidence. A thick skin. It made me grow up. Most importantly, not only did I lose myself there, I also found myself there, and I found my family.

Because Love is an open Doh ohhh ooorrr.

Fucking Disney is deep when you realize it. The open door. Duh. She wanted her sister to open that door. It just hit me. This keeps happening. I was wondering why they would say love is an open door, like who comes up with that?

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Happy Easter and Love from the Beatles Soundtrack

I don't think I can beat last Easter's Post with a balance of religion and humor. So if you are debating on reading one of the two, so far I vote you read last year's Easter Post. Are you still reading? Oh, you opted to read both. Good for you. Or even better, you already read last year's post because you have been with me that long. No you aren't old yet; I have yet to grow up. I know, most of you are more actually like, "Eff-ornicate you I'm not reading that other post with this one, you are lucky I'm reading this one... make me read two posts bitch be trippin." Well I'm going to bring it up again. Just sayin.

Okay, so Sunday Confession's writing prompt is LET.

Well that reminds another random person and I of the song Let it Be. So maybe we should listen to that song while we read. Mmmkay?

This is not really a political blog post, but to introduce my concept... I posted a Facebook status about how it completely dumbfounds me the way Murica is right now. If you aren't from 'Murica, if you happen to dwell on the outskirts of earth since 'Murica is earth, or you've been too busy watching reality tv you didn't notice, let me explain our political and religious ideals in a nut shell. We have Republicans and Democrats. The Republicans are generally Christians who go against everything Christ ever taught. The Democrats are generally anti-Christian yet they stand for quite a bit of what Christ stood for. Which concludes, yes all you outsiders, we are exactly what you've suspected all along. Petty. We lack substance. We have no idea what we are doing. We are hypocrites. It's probably the water, the pills, and the ketchup.

This country gives our people the freedom to think for themselves, and this is what they do with it? It's a downright dirty shame. True patriots who bled for that freedom are tossing and turning in their graves. We are the children they fought for. We are the children they expected to think and learn with our freedoms of thoughts and speech and liberties like free education. We are supposed to be the evolution, not the revolution.

Why not listen to the words of not-so-holy Paul McCartney's Mother Mary? Let it be.

All you Christians freaking out about feeding the hungry and healing the sick. That is the way of Christ. They agree with you. Let it be.

All you Atheists freaking out about Christians who are shoving their religion down your throat. Love and humanity is the way of Christ. They agree with you. Let it be.

Now let's flip the soundtrack a bit with these fresh funky beats for the rest of this...

Easter is supposed to be a time of renewal and resurrection. Last year I posted about this, did you not read it yet? If not, take a second to find out about how T'is the season to eff word. I say this year, we all try to up the game and resurrect ourselves out of the icy shells winter brought us, out of the pettiness Christmas made us, out of the hibernation the cold kept us in, and be inspired by this season when the bunnies frolic, when the love birds build a nest together, when Jesus resurrected from a brutal harsh death, and we should strive to become the shining, warm light in this world that makes the flowers bloom and the grass green. In other words, stop being assholes.

It's the time of year to be fuck-happy, not Scrooges. We should be opening ourselves up to the love others have to give, and giving love in return. Let people worship Jesus or Allah or whoever the fuck they want to worship. It's all good. Feed some hungry people. Take care of some sick people. Forgive. Let go of the past. Embrace the future. Be positive.

And most important, let other people live. Don't get up on their game like you the referee. You don't know their shoes. I promise you, nobody is as stupid as you think they are, despite their opinion. Instead of trying to change their mind, change your attitude. It's not about winning the debate, it's about getting along. It's not about your ego, it's about your aether.

Speaking of which, I also promise you that you are right. You are the victim to some sort of circumstance that sucks. How do I know you, in particular you, are the victim? Because everyone is the victim. Any YOU can read this and I'll be right because we all are victims to suckage. That doesn't mean your sob story has to beat the next guy's sob story. Sob stories are like time. It's relative. It's sadness depends on where you are standing. I'm just saying. Remember that. Because someone complaining of a broken nail might seem like a pansy, but sometimes they are just as broken as you who endured so much more.

This is a problem in this world. People stopped caring about other people's pain. People stopped listening to each other's sob stories in an effort to eliminate their own pain. Instead of getting all holier than thou I don't need you in my life, why not just, I don't know, offer some sort of inspiration or motivation or encouragement or something. Do that instead of overacting. Please. Overacting is the very reason people don't give a shit about sob stories anymore. And being stuck on your own story invalidating everyone else's also kills credibility and fucks people could give. Always remember, you are not the only person on this earth who bleeds. In war, it's a bleeding soldier who cares for your wounds.

I would say the theme of this message is, this world is more than about you. When you debate politics, when you discuss family goals, when you are standing in line at the check out counter staring at unruly children, remember IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU. And it doesn't have to be. The more you make your life about you, the lonelier your death is going to be. We all need to stop staring at the world like it's a gold we have to obtain, or a mountain we have to conquer. It's a place where spirits dwell; where love is the ultimate prize.

I wrote a poem. Sort of.

The Message of the Playlist: Decoding the secret messages the Beatles have been trying to tell us

Yesterday,
A Day in the Life across the Universe,
The Long and winding road,
I saw her standing there.
Oh Darling, I want to hold your hand--
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
Love me do.

Hey Jude! Drive my car. Don't let me down.
Come together.
Norwegian wood, a hard day's night in my Life.

I am the Walrus.
Obla Dee Obla Da; Twist and Shout
Something.

Help!
Can't buy me love.
All you need is love.
Let it be.
Here comes the sun.

What does it mean? We are all just walruses in yellow submarines trying to find love.

We chase after rainbows all our lives looking for what? Love. That's all people want. That's all we need. And that's the one thing we are most reluctant to do. And one thing we are most reluctant to accept. The one thing we try to buy with money and find ourselves more desperate for it than ever. So Let. Let love happen. You will find love when you love.

You do totally realize I just took the message of Christ and cloaked it as if it came from The Beatles, right?

If you are totally daft and missed what wasn't so obvious, this whole post is about Love, defined by one of the Corinthians in the Bible, which sums up to, "Don't be a selfish asshole. Be a decent human being." I'm just saying, tis the time of year to wake up and smell the dirty diapers and clean house. It's the time of growth. And the way we humans grow is via love.

I know. I'm a little abstract.

Tolerating Life

This week's Sunday Confession's prompt is LESSONS





I was always good at school, well learning, I kind of sucked at school, but I was always good at learning, well math. I was always good at learning math. I guess we all have subjects we excel in. Mine were always math and English. The class I always struggled the most was the Life Lessons class at the School of Hard Knocks. Yep, that's the class I keep repeating.

I am the type of person who has to make the same mistake 15 times before I even realize it was a mistake let alone how to improve on how I do it. It's almost like I get autism goggles, and I can't see beyond what I am seeing. The epiphany usually doesn't happen until I overanalyze things and then pray about it. I can have 35 friends tell me, "Don't do it," and I won't listen. I do it. Find out it failed. And then I do it again. Fail again. I repeat this until I'm like, "God why?" and then it hits me, "Because you shouldn't have done it in the first place." Okay. Progress. Slow progress, like I'm so life learning disabled, but I still rejoice in my baby steps.

My recent lesson was on friendships. It's a weird subject for me because I'm not fluent in social, but I'm going to try to speak socially for a minute. If I sound like I have a Chinese, British accent, I am sorry I didn't learn the national language of Murica, which is Social Language. I'm still trying ok?

I am the type of person who is friends with anyone willing to be my friend. If you are nice to me, I'm nice to you. If you want to hang out? Ok. If you don't invite me to something? Ok. If you only want to hang out with me when you need something? Ok. I learned the life lesson many moons ago to accept people for who they are and that is part of it. I have friends who are very flaky, but when you are with them, it's a good time. I'm cool with that. I have friends who like to hang out and play cards. Friends who want to go to the club. Friends who have drug addictions. Friends who served time. Friends who hang out at the country club. I don't discriminate.

But then I have those moments where a friend does me dirty. I know it before it happens. I expect it. In fact, I accuse the friend in my mind and dismiss it before the friend admits to it. People think I don't know. Nope. I usually know every time someone does me dirty before they do that they will. But it's like Jesus and Judas. He knew it was about to happen. He even called his friend out on it beforehand. He let it happen. He forgave his friend. That's what I do because I believe it's the right thing to do. But I'm not Jesus. I don't want to be crucified.

A lot of times, I guess I fail Life Lessons, but I do it to excel in Lessons for the Soul. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. It builds character. But I'm sure I'm missing something obvious in both realms to find that balance. I always do. The part I need to understand I guess... If I were passing the Life Lessons course, then I wouldn't be learning anything.

And to quote myself, "Life is like a beer. Eventually you build a tolerance."



And I started blogging all my religious thoughts as they are many lately on a different blog if you want to read and follow. It's more serious. I'm actually a Christian believe it or not, and I'm blogging my soul searching efforts. It's deep. It has some humor. It is still me. Preaching to myself. Today's post is about what it really means to accept Christ.


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Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic

My Excellent Adventure

IF I COULD GO BACK IN TIME...

If I could go back in time, I'm not sure when I'd go. I mean the question I'd have is how much time do I get? and I do get to go back to the future right? I probably wouldn't go because with my luck, the Flux Capacitor would blow and I'd run out of Plutonium and there would be no Doc to help me play with electrical storms and steam engines.

But if I could go back in time for only a moment, where I'm guaranteed a trip back to my present future, and where space doesn't matter like I don't have to worry about getting plane tickets overseas... I'd go see Beethoven's 9th Symphony's first performance. I'd sneak some pictures too. Then I'd ask Ludwig to autograph my bosoms. How do you write, "Will you please autograph my cleavage?" in old school German?

Then I'd take my telephone booth time machine and dial the number to get to see the pyramids being built, so that way I can tell you if aliens helped or not. Excellent.

Then I'd go see Jesus be born. I'd blend in with the sheep and probably hook up with a shepherd. Get it. Hook up. Shepherd's hook... Eh. I'm still punny like it or not. Bodacious. Anyway, I'd probably resist temptation to visit the crucifixion on account I would beat up some most heinous guards and be crucified myself, but I would visit the Resurrection and ask my questions from this blog post (while also pointing out brown hair is hot, and if he wanted to keep his hottie brown locks in heaven, his dad probably could make that happen, and it would be most excellent). At some point in the future, I'd write a blog post about whether or not Jesus is white or black, with a pic of the selfie I take with him.

Then I'd go see Noah Webster in Connecticut. And then John Webster. He's a relative.

Then I'd go visit Martin Luther King's I have a Dream Speech. Yes way. I'd follow that with Martin Luther's nailing the theses to the door. In both cases, I'd sneak pictures and then tell you all it was photoshopped with words like Occupy Catholicism and Occupy White People.

I'd interview people after the War of 1812 about what was victory, defeat, stalemate, and what not so we can stop arguing with the Brits about that.

I might go back in time to Adam and Eve just to try the fruit myself. Might as well. Right?

After I was finished visiting all the points in history my little mind could create that wouldn't change the course of history too much and wouldn't kill me in the process (like freeing Jews during the Holocaust would probably get me killed in the most odious of ways), I would finally go visit the me in high school.

Now here's the problem. Talking to myself would probably change the course of my history. So I would have to avoid me. There are things I might want to change, but I have that power NOW to change it. I don't need to go back in time for that, and I'd fear I wouldn't have my children waiting on me in the future if I did that.

But I would talk to my parents then. Then when my father was still alive. Then when my mother was happy. And I would probably play Euchre with them whilst eating large quantities of red pistachio nuts and discussing things. Lots of things. Dude it would be most excellent.

Update: Now that I read this amazing blog post about what this amazing dad would do with his time to go back into time, I have things to add that I'd visit...

Terry Bradshaw and the 1970's Steelers. I'd get autographs of things to later sell on ebay.

My kids as babies. Just to hold them for a while as babies again and give my former self a break. I'd be like, "go ahead, take a nap lady. I got this, by the way nice ass."

My own birth. I don't know why I want to see that sort of thing, but it sounds fun. See my parents as newbs, lost and insecure, and stuff. And maybe hold myself. Then I'd drop me on my head and be like, "Well that explains everything."

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Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic

Things I would Ask Jesus

I posted this on my Facebook with a long description I realized could be a blog post, so I'm posting it here for two reasons.

1. It's worthy of bookmarking to come back to in the future.
2. I linked someone to my blog, and I don't want the first article they see to be about how I dreamt I had a penis once. Not my best look.

So who I would I sit with on a bench and chat for an hour. Anyone from past or present. Who would it be?

I know you are all thinking, "She'd so pick her dad," and while I'd love to chat with my father (may he rest in peace) on that bench, as well as my mother (she's more fun, sorry dad, but she'd bring cocktails, and she's alive and well), I would have to say Jesus. Not Rafael's cousin, Hey Zeus, no, the one who's mom was a virgin. Wait, all moms were a virgin once. You know which Jesus I mean. Jee Zuss. That Jesus.

And questions I'd ask where I can hear the answers and there's no confusing things... 

1. Is Mary Magdalene your baby's mama? The world is freaking out about it ever since Tom Hanks. 

2. Do you and God get into arguments? If so, about what? 

3. Why on earth would you want to forgive all of us? Like what gave you the idea for Grace?

I am starting to sound like Oprah and Barbara Walters. Maybe I do have a future in television show hosting...

4. Why did your dad make us? 

5. How old is the earth? 

6. Did your dad make dinosaurs? 

7. Do you happen to have an Uncle Gosh? 

8. How do you feel about homosexuals? I might charge people to hear your answer on this one is that OK? 

9. Where am I going when I die? 

10. Where do atheists go when they die? This is important. I love some atheists and I haven't been reaming them about their soul yet. Should I be? 

11. Where is Westboro going when they die? 

12. Why do males have nipples? 

Even male dogs have nipples. That is truly one of the most mysterious things about the universe. Did they use to have babies? Or were they made in a woman's image? And if men were made first, while I know babies gender are formed at conception, they all still start off with female sex organs and males organs form from the chemical stimulation of the female organs, so men were made in our image were they not? And that's why they have nipples isn't it? Why does the Bible spin this to the man's favor like they were first when Eve plainly means BEFORE? 

13. Is there a way to reduce the pain of period cramps and child birth naturally? Like what do we women have to do to make up for Eve? Is there a correlation between Eve's fruit picking and the fact that women make more pies than men?

14. Why did the fallen fall? Do you still love them? Will there be redemption for them some day? This is actually the one I am most curious about besides the males having nipples.

I got more but this is long I'm done. I only get an hour, so I think I covered the important ones.

On the serious, I'd love to get into a discussion about Love and Eternity, and there'd be a lot of me kissing his scars and hugging him. An hour would not be enough.

If for whatever reason you never wondered about nipples on males and like my blog, you know, you can subscribe to it.

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Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic

Penis Envy is NOT for the Boobs.

I posted two blog posts today which is weird for me, but I'm not pimping the other one. I wrote about the lice situation in my house and wanted to provide something for Google with GOOD advice that actually worked. But the real post is about shit on my mind, and that's What If Wednesday because I really don't care what I write about I just want to sip my red juice and write something.

So, my first What If Wednesday prompt that I have to spend less than 10 minutes writing is,

What if I were the opposite sex?

Actually I had a dream I had a penis and was an actual dude. It was the best dream ever.

First I had this extra appendage I wasn't sure what to do with, but I really really REALLY wanted to put it in a hole so bad, and poke things. And the first thing I saw was a blond woman bending over, so of course... Doggy style was my first sexual position as a man.

I can totally understand why they like it so much.

Then I just kept bumping into random woman and engaging in sexual congress like dogs sniff each other's butts to say hi.

At this point, I should describe the male orgasm. It was like a female one that isn't a good one. Not like the toe curling, tears forming, drool on yourself, butt cheeks quiver like a stripper orgasm we get sometimes. No more like the kind you'd get masturbating real quick, so now you're like, "That's not that great." No it is because then you get this sensation that you pissed yourself while having the orgasm, but not like pee yourself pee yourself, like peeing yourself out of a different hole. Now that's just neat.

No I didn't pee the bed when I had this dream. I haven't done that since I was drunk years old.

I've asked several men if that's a good description and I got a yes from one and a no from another. It sounds to me the female orgasm is more of an imploding sensation and the male one is more of an exploding sensation, and I'm starting to wonder about the Big Bang theory because that's what a male orgasm sounds like, a Big Bang, so maybe God did make us after all.

So then, at one point in the dream, I did have to pee. I was searching for the facilities for a long minute before I realized, "Hey I'm a dude now, I can pee wherever I feel like peeing," so I peed in a bush. Standing up. It was so cool. I did shake it thrice when I was finished. There was no awesome sensation while peeing except that I was standing up and free like a wild beast.

Then it hit me like a dirty diaper to the face. I need to get a blow job before I wake up. Men are so obsessed with those things. What is so awesome about a blow job?

So I woke up trying to find a blow job. I guess some things were meant to be a mystery. I also frantically grabbed for my breasts and what a relief that was to feel that they were still there.

But if I were a man, I'd be an ass man (I know? Right? Over boobs? Really?), prefer blonds over brunettes (which is so hypocritical of me considering I'm a brunette), and I'd have the perfect penis... 11 inches with a slight curvature in the upward direction. Ok, my girth wasn't what I wanted in the dream but in real life I'm sure I'd have girth. Of course, I have no idea what I looked like in the dream. I focused on the important things. My guess though is I looked a lot like Loki because I was getting laid a lot... A LOT. I was a total slut.

If for whatever reason you misspelled writing your name in the snow with your urine and like my blog, you know, you can subscribe to it.

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You can also find me under these rocks...
 


Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic

How I Got Rid of Lice in less than a Week

Warning: This post may cause side effects such as itchy head, itchy body, and possibly tears.

I got the dreaded phone call from the school nurse. "Your daughter has lice." My heart dropped. Why couldn't she have gotten into a fist fight and stole the Secretary's stash of cocaine instead? Good news, the other daughter does not. Well, ok, for now you mean.

Now before I get into this subject, if you are reading this post, it's possible you are battling lice yourself. I want to point out now... Monkeys pick bugs off each other. It's a thing they do to groom each other, and social grooming strengthens bonds. Look at it as an opportunity to strengthen the bond between you and your kid.

I haven't dealt with lice before as a parent. I had it once as a child. Gymnastics. But, I didn't have to treat my house or little people back then. I do now. I don't know what I'm doing.

I've heard horror stories from other parents, how the ex didn't treat his house properly and kept giving their kid lice for a good year. How they fork out half a grand into lice treatment options, and half a grand was the cheapest poor man's route. How they slave over their house endlessly to keep up with the lice with daily treatments of bedding, carpet, curtains (yes, my friend treated her curtains daily and her kid kept getting lice from the ex who wouldn't treat his every day). I am to the point where I believe all these moms are lying.

Yes they are lying. Their memory is off. Kind of like moms of teens who pretend when their kids were toddlers that their house was NEVER a mess and dinner was made from scratch every night. Or when moms say, "I don't remember any of the pain from childbirth" I don't think for one minute my friend took down every curtain and dried it in the dryer for 20 plus minutes and hung them back up EVERY DAY. I don't for one minute think she treated her sofa, gave her kid a bath, picked out lice and nits, and then had her kid sit on the treated sofa and not budge until she treated the rest of her entire house from curtain to pillow to carpet EVERY DAY. I don't for one minute think my sister actually bagged every article of clothing in her house of 5 when her clean laundry generally smells like a dingy sewer rat from sitting in the wash for a few days (we all do it, and if you add more soap, squirt 10 rounds of the Resolve that has two formulas-oxygen and enzymes, and then add a cap full of the scent crystals, a little Clorox 2, you will get rid of MOST of the smell without having to dry first and then rewash). I don't for one minute think my friends who dump a lot of their responsibilities daily on me actually did any of this. These are people who burn toast. I burn toast, but that's beside the point.

So now I'm at, what do I really have to do? The CDC says NOT MUCH. Really? Why are they in direct contradiction with all the "mom experts?" I mean according to my friends, the CDC should be infested with lice. But really, this is the best information I found on the subject.

"Treat the infested person(s): Requires using an Over-the-counter (OTC) or prescription medication. Follow these treatment steps:

1. Before applying treatment, it may be helpful to remove clothing that can become wet or stained during treatment.
2. Apply lice medicine, also called pediculicide, according to the instructions contained in the box or printed on the label. If the infested person has very long hair (longer than shoulder length), it may be necessary to use a second bottle. Pay special attention to instructions on the label or in the box regarding how long the medication should be left on the hair and how it should be washed out.

   WARNING:

   Do not use a combination shampoo/conditioner, or conditioner before using lice medicine. Do not re–wash the hair for 1–2 days after the lice medicine is removed.
3. Have the infested person put on clean clothing after treatment.
4. If a few live lice are still found 8–12 hours after treatment, but are moving more slowly than before, do not retreat. The medicine may take longer to kill all the lice. Comb dead and any remaining live lice out of the hair using a fine–toothed nit comb.
5. If, after 8–12 hours of treatment, no dead lice are found and lice seem as active as before, the medicine may not be working. Do not retreat until speaking with your health care provider; a different pediculicide may be necessary. If your health care provider recommends a different pediculicide, carefully follow the treatment instructions contained in the box or printed on the label.
6. Nit (head lice egg) combs, often found in lice medicine packages, should be used to comb nits and lice from the hair shaft. Many flea combs made for cats and dogs are also effective.
7. After each treatment, checking the hair and combing with a nit comb to remove nits and lice every 2–3 days may decrease the chance of self–reinfestation. Continue to check for 2–3 weeks to be sure all lice and nits are gone. Nit removal is not needed when treating with spinosad topical suspension.
8. Retreatment is meant to kill any surviving hatched lice before they produce new eggs. For some drugs, retreatment is recommended routinely about a week after the first treatment (7–9 days, depending on the drug) and for others only if crawling lice are seen during this period. Retreatment with lindane shampoo is not recommended.

Supplemental Measures: Head lice do not survive long if they fall off a person and cannot feed. You don't need to spend a lot of time or money on housecleaning activities. Follow these steps to help avoid re–infestation by lice that have recently fallen off the hair or crawled onto clothing or furniture.

1. Machine wash and dry clothing, bed linens, and other items that the infested person wore or used during the 2 days before treatment using the hot water (130°F) laundry cycle and the high heat drying cycle. Clothing and items that are not washable can be dry–cleaned
   OR
   sealed in a plastic bag and stored for 2 weeks.
2. Soak combs and brushes in hot water (at least 130°F) for 5–10 minutes.
3. Vacuum the floor and furniture, particularly where the infested person sat or lay. However, the risk of getting infested by a louse that has fallen onto a rug or carpet or furniture is very small. Head lice survive less than 1–2 days if they fall off a person and cannot feed; nits cannot hatch and usually die within a week if they are not kept at the same temperature as that found close to the human scalp. Spending much time and money on housecleaning activities is not necessary to avoid reinfestation by lice or nits that may have fallen off the head or crawled onto furniture or clothing.
4. Do not use fumigant sprays; they can be toxic if inhaled or absorbed through the skin."

From http://www.cdc.gov/parasites/lice/head/treatment.html

My original game plan was an elaborate scheme that included bagging everything, organizing the house, doing all the laundry, etc. Basically, spring clean. Are you laughing at that? Why are you laughing at that? I'm not the first woman to think I could actually pull off taking over the world.

Of course, I ended up taking the lazy mom approach. I have loads and loads and loads of clean/dirty laundry (the clean clothes kids and husband threw on the floor from either a basket or drawer) including every single piece of baby clothes my kids grew out of. Every time I attempt to wash, organize and give away, I get as far as wash and organize before someone decides to dump everything and do a ritualistic dance on top of it sprinkling juice blessing the clothes with their goo. I'm not bagging it. It's semi-organized in bins nobody rolls around in anymore. So far. Knock on wood. I did for a day think I was going to organize and bag and actually wash all that. Reality smacked me back to its world and I'm not. I'd rather watch a Caillou marathon without internet connection.

What I ended up doing...

1. Who has it?
2. Treat the kid who has it and spray the others down with Lice Shield. No I didn't treat the whole family. The chemicals are way harsh. Tea Tree Oil will also work in lieu of Lice Shield.
3. Throw away the kids' bed pillows and replace with new pillows covered in vinyl
4. Spray mattresses down with lice killer and cover with vinyl
5. Bag stuffed animals that weren't a favorite and all the hats.
6. Take favorite stuffed animals and stick in the dryer for 25 minutes.
7. Wash bedding in hot water, and all the blankies.
8. Wash all the coats in hot water.
9. Vacuum the sofa with attachment (it's fake leather) and vacuum the house.
10. Treat hair brushes (spray them with alcohol, the kind at the pharmacy not the liquor store, and I used 70 proof because it came in a spray bottle, it will eat the paint)

Then to maintain, I did the following with lice chasing...

• Kept one brush for only the kid with lice, and any brush I used on any kid, I'd immediately spray with alcohol, stick in the bathroom sink to dry, and I washed my hands. Beware, alcohol will eat the paint off a brush.
• Anytime I saw a kid rolling around on the floor, I vacuumed
• I stuck blankies, bedding, and coats in the dryer for 20 minutes every day until I saw a lice free nit free head. 
• I kept hair in ponytails, and occasionally sprayed lice shield on the other kids
• I checked heads every other day and had the husband check mine
• Kids were told to inform me any time their head itched
• I got the kid with lice a rubber fish shower/swim cap to wear a lot. I treated it with alcohol in between the times she wore it. My sister used a do-rag on her kid's head. The thin, black stretchy ones specifically designed for this stay on much better than random scarves. My Walmart used to keep them in the African Hair section, and they've since stopped selling them. If you are white and you already knew where to find that, you probably aren't as white as you think you are, I'd check with Maury. 

Treating the Kid with Lice

I chose Rid over Nix because Rid had the Bayer stamp on it and my grandfather collects retirement from Bayer, so what's good enough for my grandfather is good enough for my kids. I ended up Googling the stuff after I bought it, and I'm glad I went with that. Nix (Permethrin) is a synthetic version of Rid (pyrethrin) according to the CDC. I don't think it did anything, as some sources say lice are becoming immune to our treatments. I think I cleared her of lice just by combing it out alone. So I'm going to tell you how I combed her hair.

Before the Rid treatment, I chopped off some her hair. I didn't care she has a bad hair cut. I know it's easier to comb through hair that has thicker ends than split ends or the really fine ends her hair had. I still kept her hair below shoulder length, a good pony tail length because she would need a pony tail for school.

After I washed off the Rid treatment, I brushed her hair with her brush to get rid of most tangles. Then I used the comb. I made her sit in the bath tub facing the wall so that her head was sticking out the side for me. I bent over and started with the bottom of her head. I took about a centimeter chunk of hair and combed through it once. With the faucet running on low, I rinsed it. Combed a second time. Rinsed it. Combed a third time really getting close to the scalp, and rinsed it. I put that hair down and grabbed another small chunk. I repeated. The three times deal. When I put that hair down, separating combed from uncombed, I combed through the clean hair again. Sometimes 5 or 6 times. Sometimes rinsing in between sometimes not.

Then I grabbed another chunk of hair. Did the 3 stroke deal. Stuck it down with the clean hair, and combed that 5 or 6 times. We did this until I did her whole head. It took a couple hours. It was not comfortable for her, but she didn't cry. I tried to let her move around a little and adjust herself to keep the blood flowing. After I got all of her hair done, I combed through it like I would brush her hair a few times, randomly rinsing my comb.

In addition to that, I still used my visual senses. If I saw anything like an egg or live lice, I did my best to remove it. It wasn't easy either for me. I have a bad back, and I pulled all my butt muscles. Then I did this a second time on pulled butt muscles. Look at it this way, this is also a blog post on how to get buns of steel.

I didn't give her a bath for 2 days after that because they say you shouldn't wash their hair for a couple days after treating it.

Well in 2 days, one of the eggs hatched and I saw baby lice. So we did the whole thing again without any treatment, just the combing. Just as thorough. Centimeter by centimeter, I combed through her hair. This time I used regular shampoo and conditioner (Herbal Essence, the original greenish yellowish kind). I swear to you the Herbal Essence mattered because it's one of the best clarifying shampoos on the market, and about the only thing that will strip your hair of the wax build up from the other products. I spent a little more time on the area I saw baby lice, and this time, instead of starting from the back of her head, I started from the front top of her head.

Then two days later, I gave her a shower, and I combed through her hair after the shower but like I would brush it. I didn't do any hair separating. Just a quick 5 minute comb over (after brushing out tangles of course).

That's all I did to treat her lice specifically.

READ THIS ABOUT THE USAGE OF CHEMICAL TREATMENTS!

My favorite part about this whole experience is how much the doctor did not know. She thought that Rid and Nix kills the eggs. Nope. Not according to their box, and not according to the CDC website. Does anyone fucking read these things? We women make fun of men for not reading the instructions, but most of you don't either. You have to be a true nerd like me to read instructions and warnings. It's technically the terms and conditions of that product, so I guess I can see why people don't read it. Including doctors.

Apparently, the prescription stuff is NOT easier on their heads like other blogger moms I have read on the subject said. One is highly flammable. You know that monster on Monster High who's head catches on fire? Yeah. We're not trying to dress up like him for Halloween. I'm not even sure if I can safely spray my kid with the fire extinguisher, which would so be my first instinct if her head spontaneously combusted into flames. You know what old school out in the country parents do? Yes my doctor gets these people all the time coming in with kids who'd give you a buzz to breath near...  Kerosene. That's also highly flammable. I guess the number one method of killing lice is to kill it with fire. They should form a mob with pitchforks every lice outbreak like the good ole days.

The other problem with prescriptions is they are all so new, most insurance companies don't cover them, and they cost over a hundred in cash. I would say that is only worth it if I can't get rid of the lice after a month.

Assuming moms of kids with lice are reading this, please read this part... The crap you put on your kids' heads to kill the lice, like Rid, is supposed to stay on the head a bit for a couple weeks (even when you wash, like it doesn't come off easily). The idea is it kills the live lice on the head, and when the eggs hatch and those lice bite your kid's head, it kills them then. This is important because if you treat with two different chemical treatments before the package says its safe to do, you risk side effects on your kid. According to their doctor, that stuff does absorb into the brain. Also, hair can fall out. 

I think it's safe to say the best part of the treatment is the combing, and that's what you should focus on the most. You basically have to remove every bug yourself, manually.

The school's No Nit Policy

And here you thought that was all there was to it.

In my neck of the woods, the schools have a no nit policy. As long as you have nits, your kid can't come to school. I wish they had an "inform the parents of a lice outbreak" policy, but sadly they don't. The annoying thing besides the not informing parents to use lice shield, they will lecture you and threaten education neglect when your kid misses over nits. So that means that during a lice outbreak, parents are breaking the no-nit policy to avoid jail time.

The first thing you should do is consider the Lice Shield or Tea Tree Oil to help repel lice on the kids who go to school during a lice outbreak. I prefer something I can spray on their head as opposed to something in the shampoo. But if you want to go all out, Lice Shield has a shampoo, plus they say any shampoo that smells like mint or coconut is a good one. Also, try to keep their hair pulled back in a pony tail or braid. If your kid has short hair, consider finding someone who does corn rows. I would. I am just saying. My kids appear white, it would look odd, but better to look like a wannabe for a minute than to get head lice. Tying a rag or scarf around their head is also good.

The second thing I did was I made my lice infested child miss school until the lice was gone. I would not have had that luxury had I not gotten rid of lice in less than a week. She really only missed 3 days of school. She had an excuse note, a doctor's excuse, and the nurse making her leave early one of the days. The school didn't seem to care about that because months later, they threatened education neglect for those absences. So I wrote another note explaining that the only reason my kids missed so far this year is due to the school's neglect to provide a safe environment to the kids, and there is never a good reason to threaten education neglect when public health is being considered. I haven't heard back from that office since. It's not that hard to outsmart the education system with basic logic. Just make sure you do or they will never stop being ignorant.

The third thing is the classrooms. I talked to the janitor at my kids' school. She is one of the nicest people employed at that school, so it wasn't hard to do. She informed me that she doesn't clean the classrooms. The teachers do. They can clean it any way they want to, including not cleaning it. Some use Clorox Clean Up Wipes, and others use the stuff the school supplies which kills so much more in the germ world than Clorox Clean Up Wipes. If you are using Clorox Clean Up Wipes, ew. Try switching to the kind they sell to hospitals and day cares. But when it comes to the classroom, make sure the teachers are using real pesticides to kill lice, bacteria and viruses. If all else fails, take a can of Lysol with you (the best pesticide in the woman's section of the store), and just start spraying random things like the door knob (wet it enough so it's wet for 10 minutes). Don't knock it. When your kid catches lice, norovirus, or the flu, you pay. Not the teacher. She basks in the glory of a smaller classroom while you are throwing up crapping yourself at every heave trying to get a blanky for your fevered child. Yeah, now the Lysol idea doesn't sound so crazy does it? Especially right before Christmas Break when everyone gets sick like it was conspired. It takes a village to kill a virus.

BTW, my head won't stop itching.

And now you are thinking, "Shit. I want to believe this crazy woman and her blog, but what if she's wrong and it gets worse because I didn't lose my mind trying to clean everything?" Well that's a big what if that you are going to have despite what you do. The important thing is that you do something. Be proactive. Learn about how lice operate. How long they survive without a host. How the eggs hatch. And then just use some logic. It's almost like we have this mother's intuition that will tell you things like, "I got a feeling there are lice eggs in this corner of this room I want to spay it with alcohol and vacuum."

And to note, we had lice hit us at the beginning of December 2013. I waited until April 2014 to write about it to make sure we really did get rid of it that easy. The school was worse than the lice.


If for whatever reason you found out Maury is not your father and like my blog, you know, you can subscribe to it.

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You can also find me under these rocks...
 


Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic