Forgive My Life

Archive for the ‘Yet Another WTF Moment’ Category

Potty training. It’s really a fun time full of cheering and bribing and washing shit out of fabric. Baby W has his jar full of Smarties on top of the TV..ready for when I try to lure him onto the toilet. So far, things have been going well.

I’m going to pretend that the 2 times he peed in G’s closet didn’t happen…especially since one of those times he was supposed to be going into the bathroom but made a beeline for G’s room. Poor G…he said “THIS IS WHY HE ISN’T ALLOWED IN MY ROOM!!!”. Ummmm, who could’ve predicted that the kid would squat in your freaking closet?? Make sure your toys are picked up!

W was dry for 2 days in his adorable little teeny gitchies! Seriously…can they make those things any more adorable???? Today we went for coffee after dropping Girly off at preschool. I thought “Hey, I will do some studying. W will entertain himself with toys and cookies. Life is great!”. We settled in and he said “Mama, I need to pee.”.

The washroom is in the next building.

I asked if maybe he could just pee in his diaper and he said “Yes. No…I need to pee in toilet.”. Whatever…we’ll go to the washroom.

W has a thing about being mostly nekkid to go pee so we’re in the bathroom in a church basement (which is, strangely, hot as hell!!) and he’s stripping down (including his socks). I sit him up on the toilet and do the countdown (3, 2, 1, BLAST OFF!).

Then he pees on me. Like a fire hose. It shoots over the front of the toilet and onto me as I was squatting in front of him. I try desperately to aim it into the toilet and I swear it shoots straight up…completely covering my hand in pee. I am grabbing at the toilet paper with my free hand and the fucking single ply paper is breaking in single squares. SINGLE SQUARES! There is pee fucking everywhere and I can’t get more than 3 squares of toilet paper!

When the pee was finally finished (no joke: this was post-cryogenic Austin Powers pee), I wiped down my hand, his legs, the toilet, and the floor before W pointed out the pee on my leg. He had peed all over my right calf and all over my entire crotch area..making it look like I had wet myself.

And then it hit me….we still have to go back to the coffee shop. I look like I lost bladder control and I have to go back to the coffee shop. Where people are. I re-dressed W and buttoned my jacket over the wet spot. Honestly, what else am I going to do? I can’t go home and change so I had to go back with wet pants…worried the whole time that I smelled like urine.

With the boys in hockey again this winter I have realized that any chance I have at sleeping in is gone. Hubby was out of the house at 6:30 to take the 2 to their games and I was happily sleeping in my warm bed.

The dog started howling..jolting me from that happy sleep and leaving me wondering what the fuck his problem was. Oh, he had probably seen the boys long enough to realize that he hadn’t been taken out of his kennel. I gritted my teeth and hoped that he would shut the fuck up before he woke up any of the kids. Having sensed that it was way before 7, therefore too early to be out of his kennel, he shut up. Maybe he grew bored of the howling instead…one will never know.

None of the little kids had heard the dog so I rolled back over and hoped they would all stay sleeping until at least 9. I could tell he was awake before he even started moving around… His co-sleeper still firmly attached to our bed means that any time is appropriate for him to crawl into our bed for morning snuggles. By morning snuggles I mean stealing the blankets, kicking me in the stomach, and shoving his hands in my shirt.

He opted to skip all of his morning rituals for a prompt “I all done. I go downstairs! You coming, mama?” while he climbed off of the bed. 7:45…a far cry from 9. All of the coffee in the world couldn’t save me.

Thanks to his inability to sit quietly on the couch, Girly woke up and a fight broke out immediately over who the fuck knows what. The fight ended quickly and girly remembered that she had some new (hand me down) dressed that she wanted to wear. They both went upstairs while she got dressed and she yelled downstairs that wee boy was in the buff.

He was in the bathroom trying to climb onto the toilet. Great sign that maybe we ¬†should work on potty training!! He squeezed out a little poop while girly and I cheered. And then it happened……

Girly, in her beautiful dress, stood in the doorway of the bathroom and shuffled the skirt. I was coaxing the boy to pee just a little. And the dog…he played a rather innocent role of hanging out in the background. He sniffed at Girly’s dress like he sniffs at most things…rather ambivalently. Suddenly, it was different. Suddenly, something caught his nose. Suddenly, he lifted his leg and started peeing on the dress.

He peed on the fucking dress while Girly was wearing it and I could do nothing to stop it.

I sent him outside and quickly grabbed the stuff to clean it up, remembering that the boy was still on the toilet waiting for a bum wipe. By the time I got back up there, he was trying to climb off of the toilet. Girly stood by the tub, shoulders hunched, sulking in her freshly pissed on dress. Wipe a bum, clean up pee, help Girly out of the dress… She went to get dressed again; into jeans and a shirt this time. Her expression mirrored how I felt; sad, defeated, and angry.

I looked at the clock. It was 7:59. I took a mental inventory of the alcohol we have in the house; there was a half bottle of wine in the fridge. I resisted the urge to take it with me back up to bed.

I’ve had a startling realization this morning…. this is my new normal. This chaos and weird shit that happens…. this is my NORMAL! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, really.

Dog barks at 6:20 so I get up, thinking that he needs to do business. He doesn’t need to do business…his focus is chasing after me and licking my bare legs. I don’t know why having the dog lick my legs grosses me out so much but I want to never wear shorts again.

I had planned to make the kids pumpkin bake this week but we ended up a day late so I made it this morning. There is a reason I usually bake it the night before and that is because it takes forever to bake! I turned the oven on and got everything mixed together before I realized that there was a very bright orange in the oven.

Oh yeah…whatever spilled in the bottom of the oven was on fire. There was a moment right before the panic struck that I was envisioning trying to get 5 sleeping kids and all of my important shit out of the house before it burned to the ground.

The chunk on fire was probably the size of a grape so I figured I could probably grasp it with the barbecue tongs. I didn’t really expect to have the chunk crumble as I picked it up…spreading the flaming coals all over the bottom of the oven. Shit.

I had to actually crush the bits of charcoal food remnants with a flipper and scrape them out of the oven; all the while trying not to burn my hand.

This is probably a sign that I need to run the self clean cycle on the oven. I should also figure out how to use the fire extinguisher.

Just a random mention..no big deal..but the dog totally tried to trip me while I hauled the laundry basket down the stairs. I’m pretty sure it was payback for eating bacon in front of him. Or maybe the barking at 6:20 was all part of his master plan to off me today.

My husband has a lot of pride in the fact that he grew up a country kid. When, recently, he was called ‘city folk’, he was crushed. I, on the other hand, found it fucking hilarious! This is the guy that has grabbed an electric fence to create a surge chain. He rode car hoods behind vehicles in the winter. He has killed various types of animals. He is a typical country kid… Unfortunately, after 13 years out of the country, he’s a little more city.

Our own kids have known nothing but city life and it shows..much to Billy’s dismay. When Adam was 4, he spotted a dog running in the field of a local farm. He said “Hey, that dog is walking itself!”.

Small indicators that our kids were city came out over the years. Probably the most shameful, for Billy, was our trip up to the mountains. We pulled up to the cabin and there were deer grazing on the hill. Gavin leaped out of the vehicle and called “Hey, MOOSE!!! Come here moose!”.

Even Wylder got in on the action.. .”Deeeeee-errrrr. Come here puppy!!”.

And it got worse as we were going into the cabin. A squirrel was skittering around the trees and Gavin remarked “Look at the mouses!!”. Oh snap… lol This kid is so city that it hurts.

That was the day that Billy swore he would take the kids into nature more.

I, on the other hand, am perfectly content being city.

Billy is a savvy Kijiji shopper. He can negotiate, wheel & deal, swap, trade, sell, buy, … it’s genius. It also annoys the fuck out of me because he is on Kijiji as often as I am on Facebook….which is a lot…. We never need anything, though, so I don’t even understand why he’s on it! And sometimes things are going on around him but he’s completely in the Kijiji-zone so he’s oblivious!

Me: “Billy, someone is crying.”

Billy: “Yep, just a sec.”

Me: “I swear, if you are on Kijiji I am going to hit you!”

Billy: “I’m going!”

It would be embarrassing to admit how often this happens (every single day) but maybe…just MAYBE…there is a part of me that is jealous of his Kijiji skillz.

I have no Kijiji skills. I can’t wheel & deal. I get the people who offer me half of my asking price or ask me to meet them across the city during the baby’s naptime. I kind of hate Kijiji!

But, since we are thinking about moving the boys into the basement bedroom, I decided to see if I could find a couple of chairs for them. I found the exact chair (from Ikea) that I was looking for and the person had 2 of them!! $30 each. I offered $50 for both.

Now, according to Billy, my mistake was offering them too much. I got an e-mail back with a counter offer…. she asked to meet halfway so $60 for both.

I’m not a mathematician or anything but…. $30 plus $30 = $60. Right? WTF?? I haven’t even been able to reply back because I’m torn between sending an extremely sarcastic response or declining because this person is obviously the exact fucking type of person I get sucked into dealing with. I know that if I go through with it, I will swear off Kijiji for another year.

Tags: , ,

My littlest Picasso loves sprucing up otherwise boring areas of the house…like the walls, or the cupboards, or my purse….

I’m on the verge of throwing out every pen, pencil, crayon, marker, and eyeliner because this shit is nuts. I have bought stock in Mr. Clean because I am buying Magic Erasers at fucking Costco.

At this point I should mention that Magic Eraser will strip the finish off a table before it will actually take the Sharpie off. Oh, it will also strip paint off walls before the crayon is completely removed. I have a love hate thing going on with Magic Erasers.

I should also mention that I dislike all things arts and crafts. I would love to give my kids the experience of finger painting, rolling play dough, gluing, and cutting but it’s the epic disaster they leave behind that has me wishing I had alcohol in the house!

Little Picasso loves colouring and I do encourage him to colour on paper. He turned my very important list into the prettiest little colouring ever and I could hardly be upset because he had kept the crayon on the paper only!

But Little Picasso enjoys snapping crayons. The little bits usually end up on the floor and Furry Hoover likes anything on the floor.

Poor yellow crayon…

I shoo’ed the dog outside and picked up bits of yellow from the rug.

Little Picasso took the dog’s enthusiasm for the yellow crayon as a sign that these suckers tasted good and decided to nom on blue crayon. This isn’t the first time I’ve caught him eating inedible things. He has an affinity for Anya’s sparkly lip gloss.

What goes in, must go out; The 2 creatures, whose poop I have to clean up, shit rainbows and sparkles.

My kid has a crazy water fetish. I am trying to be breezy since it’s just water but come the fuck on… he’s gotta fill shit with water on a daily basis and dump it on the floor? The dog’s water bowl has become a private pool for all of his little mini figures. Yes, I bet Buzz desperately needed a bath but the dog doesn’t quite grasp the fact that there is water in there and he gets a bit of a stupid look going on when Buzz is staring back at him.

(Related to that; Dear Wylder, Get out of the dog’s bed! No wonder he bites your ears! You annoy the shit out of him when you are sprawled out across the damn thing and now he’s starting to sleep on my throw pillows. I can’t get comfortable on the couch when the pillow I’m laying my head on smells like dog ass. I just can’t!!)

Back to this water business…. had I known you would fill a handbag with water, I wouldn’t have convinced Anya to go find you another purse while you were going apeshit on her because you wanted her Dora purse.

I’m in the middle of making myself a latte when the handbag starts pouring water through the bottom. It takes less than 3 minutes to make a latte and I can’t just stop steaming my milk! I just finished a cooking marathon, my feet hurt, every dish in our house is dirty, I am unshowered, and my lunch is getting cold… 3 fucking minutes for you to not get into shit is not a big fucking deal! I promise!

And really, Gavin…when I ask you to grab the bag, can you please not walk as slow as you can while it still drips all over the floor?

My damn knees are sore from soaking up small lakes worth of water off of my floor. And I feel guilty because I read the chapter in my book about water. Little people need to get themselves outside so that my head doesn’t explode.


Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 20 other followers