no end in sight

Charlie's down for the count. He told my mother that he was feeling "much better" when she called tonight, and I suppose that is true, but it's also true that my husband doesn't complain. Sure, he's feeling better. But his description of "better" is that his back doesn't go in to a muscle spasm with every breath he takes.

Now, it just spasms whenever he sneezes. Or laughs. Or chokes.

We figured that last one out when Carolyn was feeding him tortilla chips while he laid on the floor today at lunch time. None of the pain medicine that he's taken has done anything to relieve his discomfort, so I suggested that he start drinking.

Here's Charlie, laying on the floor eating Mexican food and drinking beer at 11:30 this morning.


While I was running around taking the kids to swimming lessons, cleaning the house, doing laundry, making breakfast, making lunch, cleaning up breakfast, cleaning up lunch, struggling with Henry who is suddenly turbo-crawling-baby in to everything ... I almost kicked my beloved and ailing husband when he asked if I would move the vacuum because it was blocking his view of the television. And oh, could he have another beer?

If it wasn't so painful, I'd seriously consider throwing my back out.

I'd love to have a few days completely off.

******

I am honestly at my wits end with potty training. I've got one child who WILL. NOT. go poop on the potty. I know she knows how to do it. Like all her siblings, she did it once when we first got the potty chairs and I was so darn excited because I thought "Hooyah! I'm done potty training triplets ... that was easy!!"

She hasn't really gone since.

Except once, two weeks ago when my sister was in town and we were on our way to swim lessons, and she was walking around holding her rear end and saying "Oh oh!! Oh oh!!" and I told her that if she didn't go poop on the potty, she couldn't go to class.

Her MO is to hold it in until she has a diaper on at bedtime. She will either go within 10 minutes of being tucked in at night ... or ... she will wake me up with a full diaper first thing in the morning. Try as I might to get her to go before bedtime, she won't.

I've been staying with her until she falls asleep at night and have been waking up before she does, and whipping off her diaper as soon as I see her eyes open. I'm like a hawk perched outside her door ... waiting, waiting.

Yesterday, it was obvious she really had to go since it had been at least two days since she'd had any "time alone" with her diaper. But every time I'd have her sit on the potty, she'd never complete the act. There were lots of previews, but no performance. She kept standing up to check if there was anything in the pot, and there were smears everywhere. All over the potty chair - her legs - her clothes - the wall.

I was DYING from the poop.

I think it's important to mention that I was born right on the cusp of Aries and Taurus which are the Ram and the Bull. Depending upon which newspaper I read, my horoscope will be one or the other. Astrologically, I don't think there's a more stubborn personality out there.

It's really not my fault. It's because of the planets that yesterday and again, tonight ... I went head to head with my three-year-old. I offered her TWO Trader Joe Peanut Butter cups for when she finally went poop. She was so excited and pretended like she was pushing, pushing. She even held my hand. But when she stood up again (and again and again), all she did was create new smears. So I sat down, right in front of her, and ate a peanut butter cup for every time that she didn't go.

She never did go and I ate 3/4 of a box.

Then I felt sick, which kharmically, I totally deserved.

Tonight, almost the same exact scene played out. Except tonight, two of my other children - who had already gone poop on the potty earlier in the day - sat down and went poop AGAIN just so they could score Trader Joe Peanut Butter Cups. Meanwhile, my poor un-pooped child was nearly hysterical that she wasn't going to get a Peanut Butter Cup. But I kept telling her, push out the poop and I'll give you TWO. Heck, I'll give you TWENTY TWO. I'll buy you your very own BOX.

Finally.... after a solid hour ...... she did it.

There was a poop!! In the potty!!

I gave her the two Peanut Butter Cups, embraced her in a huge hug and kept repeating how proud I was of this big accomplishment. After a while, I put her in a diaper, brushed her teeth and tucked her in to bed. THREE HOURS LATER, she came out to tell me that she'd gone poop.

A BIG POOP.

In her diaper.

Charlie laughed - then cringed - and I began to weep.