I Spoke (Way) Too Soon.

Okay, folks. Stop the celebrating. Put the champagne away. Set that mozzarella stick down. My victorious mood from yesterday has gone a teensy bit awry.

Based on the events of today, I’m thinking that Jack isn’t quite ready tocompletely succomb to the world of the non-diaper wearing. In fact, a few times today I was wondering who force-fed my baby Fiber One bars which prompted multiple needs to poop his pants. That’s right. You heardme correctly. Poop his pants. His pants.

Regardless of numerous reminders to use the potty, the kid just couldn’t bring himself to do the big deed. That is until he was supposed to be napping while wearing a pull-up, because trusting him to sleep without peeing the bed would be like trusting a opossum to not die while crossing the road. Theodds aren’t real great. So, during Jack’s naptime he managed to cross all his wires correctlyand move the bowels. In the pull-up. Which requires me to participate in the clean-up efforts. For the umpteenth-hundred time.

And, sadly, it went downhill from there. But, despite the minor setback (as minor as 1 poopy diaper and 2 soiled underpants in one day could be) I have decided to hitch up my britches and dig back in to the purpose at hand. Get the kid potty trained. He knows what to do. He knows how to do it. He knows why he should do it. Now? We just need to set the “doing it” part into full-time motion.

After all, greater tasks have been accomplished. Elizabeth Blackwell became the first woman to receive a medical degree in 1849. Climbers succeeded in ascending the summit of Mt. Everest in 1953. Smallpox was officially declared eradicated in 1980.Great things.

Let’s face it, folks. Training a kid to unload in the commodeis not rocket science. It’sa stroke of luck, timing and a little bit of resilience. So, I resolve to not delve into that vast abyss of disappointment but rather plunge head first into that miracle worker known asdetermination.

For now I will replenish the dwindling stash of pull-ups and Oxy-clean some underwear. The time of freedom is near. Until then, I’m going to snuggle that boy (and maybe sneak in some subliminal messaging while I’m at it.)



What has occurred in my household today is monumental. It is a feat of gigantic proportions. It has altered my life in ways that I can only imagine. There are no words to accurately define the vast importance of this beautiful day.


Because Jack has finally pooped in the potty. And I’m talking a real one, folks. I’m talking a bowel movement worthy of a linebacker. A real growler. Jack has propelled himself across the line between just learning to PhD. In poop.

In all honesty, I think the entire situation surprised him more than anything. You know we’ve been working on this for awhile.And have hit some pretty disgusting bumps along the way. But this morning, the inflection in his voice as he called me into the bathroom to “wipe da buns” was priceless. It was as if he finally understands what it means to fully commit yourself to the process. And it was only a mere couple of days ago he was demanding that I share my vast knowledge and experience in the matter to show him how one propagates the movement of bowels. But now? The dude’s a pro.

And I couldn’t be happier. Really. Can you tell? Do you understand what this means for me? Sure, there will undoubtedly be setbacks along the way, some dirtied underpants, a skiff here or there, but we are on the road people. We are cruising down the highway to freedom. Freedom from washing my hands daily in scalding hot water. Freedom from buying diapers substantial enough to handle the loads he is capable of unloading. Freedom from embarassment at say, the pizza parlor, where he is hunkering down in the corner between the candy crane and air hockey table, only to return to the table 15 pounds heavier. Freedom from feeling like I smell like poop. His poop.

This is huge. Pray for me, everyone. Pray that this miracle lasts. Pray that Jack has seen the light. Pray that Jack has experienced the joy of unencumbered bowel movements and never wants to go back. Pray that I never have to write a blog solely on the topic of poop, again.

That one really benefits all of us.

Jack potty


Happy Friday! Is everyone ready for ‘normal’?

Well, here we are. Quickly approaching the first “non-Holiday” weekend for what has seemed like months. Here’s the problem with that.

I don’t know what to do with myself.

I feel like I should be buying something, baking something, decorating something, wrapping something, unwrapping something, eating something, drinking something or watching a gigantic ball drop in Times Square…or something. I’ve been singing the praises of “normal” living for weeks and now that it’s here I’m lost.

So, in an effort to jump back into “normal” life I’ve decided to refocus my energy on some much needed practices that, unfortunately, were swept to the wayside by a much higher priority of overindulging on english toffee and hot buttered rums.

I have kicked potty-training Jack back into gear, full-time, and have reinstated my daily nap as well. The former being because I don’t fancy buying a life-time supply of diapers for Jack’s highschool graduation present. The latter because…well, I like to nap. A lot. It also makes me a much nicer person, all around. Trust me.

And having recently rededicated my efforts to the cause of Operation Diaper Freedom,in a showcase of ironic proportions, I was woken up today from a lovely and recharging afternoon nap by Jack sitting “criss-cross applesauce” right by my head, my nose assaulted by…you guessed it,hispoopy diaper. Nice.

We’ve also registered Avery for basketball. She’s never played. In fact, she was pretty sure she probably shouldn’t sign up because she doesn’t know how to shoot a basket. I told her, “Avery, you’re only in the1st grade. No one expects you to be good, yet.” Her answer? “Well, I hope they never expect me to be any good. Have you seen me dribble the ball?” I will be adding, ‘Build Avery’s Self-Esteem’ to the list. The basketball season should be interesting and I forsee some posts coming out from the experience.

Yep. A whole bunch of normal. And I couldn’t be happier.

Happy Friday, y’all.


He’s gone too far…more potty training woes.

In case you haven’t been following my blog (in which case, you and Ireally need to have a talk)I have been attempting to potty train my little man, Jack, for the past several months. It hasn’t worked. He could care less. I think he actually likes peeing his pants. I’m in big trouble.

But,he recently celebrated his 3rd birthday which has prompted me to hit the training a little harder, i.e. make him wear underpants. And it’s been hell. Truly.

Nary a day goes by where I’m not subjected to him standing in front of me, watching his pant legs darken as he pees down the front of his legs. Or hiding in his sister’s bedroom while he tinkles on her carpet. My reaction? “Jack! Why didn’t you use the potty? You ruined your big-boy pants!”His response? “Oh, man. I peed again. I need new unerpants.” Gawd.

Getting that kid new “unerpants” 4100 times a day weighs a little heavy on my heart, folks. I have visions of him attending Harvardmedical school on a full-ride academic scholarship(hey, it’sa dream) and running home every 90 minutes so I can get him new big boy pants because he “made a messy.” We’ll have to move to Connecticut just to keep the kid in clean underpants! It’s very disheartening.

Okay, it was bad before. But it just got worse. Much worse. Two days ago.

There I was, minding my own business and enjoying a little bit of silence while Jack was taking his nap. Or so I thought. I was doing what I do(you got it, folding laundry) when I heard his bedroom door open quickly and shut even quicker. I thought, “Oh, here we go. Time for the sparring match,” and headed down the hallway to force him back in bed. I rounded the corner and that’s the moment when I realized things had gone too far.This attempt atpotty training has hit a major misstep and we now have a new problem and having only potty trained one other child I have no answers.

Here it is.

Jackson apparently pooped his diaper while napping, climbed downfrom his bunk bed, cleaned up his own bottom, wrapped the wipies up in his dirty diaper and deposited it outside his bedroom door.


He left it there in the hallway like he was visiting some swanky hotel and was leaving his dirty laundry out to be dry-cleaned. “Lady, I need that cleaned ASAP. Take care of it.”

After picking myself back up off the floorI went into Jack’s room and found him laying in his bed…buns in the air…commando-style. I tried to be mad but seeing that little boy laying theresunny side up I just couldn’t find it in my heart. I climbed up his ladder, threw a diaper on him and let him finish hisnap knowing we would later have a little talk about it. (ETA: We did talk about it and he promised he would never do it again. Mm hmm.)

So, now I am regrouping and restrategizing my approach to this whole situation. Jack has changed the name of the game now, folks. And I have to be ready to meet him tit-for-tat.

I know he won’t be wearing diapers in medical school, but I wouldn’t mind him kicking his habit sometime before the first grade.

Love to all, Mindy

Alright…so this is why I do it.

In case you’ve been following my blog you’ve probably heard me whine a little (okay, a whole lot) about my unpaid stay-at-home mom job. To quickly recap: I love my kids and feel grateful that I get to be home with them…but I sometimes question whether I had a lapse in sanity when I made the decision to quit the world of the duly employed in exchange for full-time mommy-hood, i.e. poopy diaper duty.

And with my hubby out of town, I’ve been ever so reminded at how hard this job can be. I’ve been trying to kill some time and stay busy, thereby alleviating the immense feeling I have to count down theminutesdays until Jer gets home.

So, last night Idecided to organize our digital pictures. Oh. My. God. My husband has an addiction to the shutter releasebutton on his camera. It’s like he can’t physically stop himself from taking a picture.So I saw A LOT of pictures. Some of the kids, some of weird-looking bugs. Some of the house, some of a dandelion. Some <ahem> not real flattering ones of me, but I digress. With most,I clicked onby, but then I found this.


And she used to be this…


Yet, she was also this…aptly named “The Unfortunate Baby Powder Incident of 2005.”


And, I washere for almost every moment in between.

And then there’s this little guy.


Who used to be this wittle guy…

Picture 093

And now, is more like this guy…


And, I am here for all of it. (Thank God, or that Tupperware would probably still be sitting there.)

I learned some valuable lessons while looking through pictures, old and new.

1) Mindy, stay away from the CheezIts.They are not your friend.

2) For the love of God clean out your cabinets.You obviously have more baby powder than any home could possibly ever need. Or, at least, you used to.

But most importantly…

3)Value who you are and what you are doing. Right now, you are meant to be exactly where you are.

One little caveat to this epiphany-of-sorts:I am extremely happy being an “at home” mom but that doesn’t mean that I have to love every aspect of it. I think it’s perfectly acceptable to stop and have a little pity-party for yourself, no matter what situation you may find yourself in. The funny thing about these little “feel sorry for me” sessions…they more often than not lead to a little self-reevaluation. They may cause you to make some life changes, or stay smack-dab right where you are. Some day in the future when I reevaluate, maybe I’ll decide to make a change. And that will be okay. But for now? I’ll continue to clean up baby powder, put away Tupperware and change those dreaded poopy diapers. Shoot, at the rate potty training is going at this point in time I’m fairly certain Jack will be about 36 years old when I can check that off the list. Pray for me. Please.

Love to all, Mindy