By the end of this week I will have: worked 30 hours, thrown a training event for 50 employees, cleaned my house from top to bottom and everything in between, weeded my yard and planted flowers, hosted my book club dinner group, attended four family parties, attended a cousin's mission homecoming, finished a book, said goodbye to my husband as he attends 12 hours of MBA junk and works 40+ hours in one week, prepared and presented a Relief Society lesson, attended a Bees game, taken Mollie to her swimming lesson and to Discovery Gateway and the mall where she lost her left shoe, right shoe, pink puppy and brown puppy all at different times in the space of an hour that should have only been 15 minutes, had my hair done, watched three hours worth of the second season of 24 AND a special documentary about Judy Garland's life on PBS (why that was a part of my week is a mystery even to myself, but I just couldn't tear myself away).
I feel like my shelf-life is about to expire. How do all you women out there SURVIVE? I stand in awe of those of you who do all of this in a week and more. With more kids and/or more hours to work and/or more church responsibilities to fulfill. You may not feel appreciated, but know that I am sitting here thinking that you are an olympic champion. Gold medals to wives and mothers everywhere!
Aug 23, 2008
Aug 6, 2008
Potty at my house!
We tend to treat Mollie like royalty around here, and this past week she really put new meaning into sitting on the throne, if you catch my drift. For a while now we have battled her compulsion to remove all her clothes (including diaper), sit on her potty, and then run around in her birthday suit until we can catch her. It happened again, but this time, she produced. IN the potty.
We were both caught unawares and had nothing to offer her in way of reward. So after some mad searching for something special and not finding many treats in the house, we let her have a taste of some chocolate syrup from the fridge. She liked it. (And feeling slightly pathetic about this, we vowed to go get some decent potty treats!)
This great event was preluded by Mollie discovering the Little Mermaid panties I bought for her a few weeks ago. I put the package in her pajama drawer and forgot about it. One day, after the customary removal of clothing, Mollie called to me to help her put on her "shirt." Excited that she actually wanted to wear clothes, I went in to help her. This is what I found:
If having a two-year old isn't a "potty," I don't know what is.