I was in Wal-Mart tonight, heading to the check out area, when a man with his young (9?) daughter speed-walked past me to jockey for a better position at the cashier. Whatever, d-bag.
I noticed that his daughter was wearing a uniform from the Las Vegas Day School, a pretty pricey private elementary school here in town.
D-Bag: (Frustrated sigh) Let's go to Smith's next time. This place just doesn't have our class of people.
Oh well, at least he wears in on his sleeve. It's just unfortunate that the daughter is being raised that way.
My poor wacher is on its last legs. For the past few months, a bad bearing makes it sound as is a 747 is taking off in my laundry closet whenever a spin cycle starts. It's deafening. You can't have telephone conversations while it's spinning, it's that bad.
Dim's aunt is a sales rep for GE, so I've been pestering her with questions for weeks about what I should buy and when. Ultimately, I chose a model that is more expensive than average, but is such a good machine that she swears that it will be the last washer I ever buy. I don't know about that claim, but I'm pretty excited all the same.
I've been watching our expenses really closely, and so I'll be able to pay for it without dipping into savings, which is nice.
I know that I sound like a total dork, but I'm excited for the washer to be delivered. No more FAA permits before I wash my undies.
The potty training is (knock on wood) going well, I think.
Except I think I'm starting to be taken for a ride.
She gets little pieces of leftover candy cane when she uses the potty. She loves "candy games" and will race over from the potty to tell me that she NEEDS one. NEEDS one, mama!
But now she's figured out that instead of fully emptying her bladder, she can let it out five drips and a time and ask for a candy cane. After she's finished with that one, she lets go another five drips.
There's a drip outside the potty, and it's me. I fell for it for a while until I figured out what she was doing. Now the pee has to cover the bottom of the potty before I'll hand over the candy. Oh, and the slivers of candy are getting smaller and smaller. So there.
The next step is taking her outside on walks or for outside play aroudn the neighborhood. Then after that...I guess I'll take her shopping at the grocery store or something. I have NO IDEA how I will wrangle two kids while racing to a public bathroom. Maybe I'll just leave Chris tucked in the produce, in between the potatoes and the turnips. No one really goes there, do they?
Last night was miserable.
Chris woke up screaming after I FINALLY Managed to fall asleep. (I've been dealing with a bout of insomnia lately, so his scream session was especially annoying. Stupid teeth. Who needs them anyway, Chris?) After drugging, feeding, burping, rocking, playing, and finally giving up and letting him cry himself to sleep, Bean woke up crying. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Eeeexcellent.
Bean ended up in bed with me, sleeping sideways and kicking me all night (still.not.sleeping.) while Dim futzed on the computer for a few hours. He shooed her into her own bed at 4:45 and we sort of slept until Chris woke again at 7:30.
Ugh.
Lack of sleep is not good for anyone, but after two babies in two years I've learned to function on little to no sleep without managing to kill people. I'm not sunshine and unicorns, but I can usually manage to get through the day without losing my temper or peeing in someone's Cheerios. My husband, not so much. When he's grossly underslept, he's...what's the diplomatic term? A giant ass. My normally calm and decent husband becomes a snapping, snarling, growling, unapoligetically mean jerk. It's unbearable to be around him until he can sleep it off and become himself again.
The worst part of it is that he's completely unaware of his impossibility. He never realizes that he's being a jerk. Instead, the entire world magically becomes full of idiots and people determined to make his life miserable until he can sleep again. It's so frustrating because it's so different from his normal demeanor. And it's also frustrating that you can't tell him "Snap out of it. You're being kind of a jerk right now. Shake it off and try to behave like a normal human."
At least he's at the office now. His employees will have to deal with him.
I just hope they watch out for their Cheerios.
I had intended to potty train Bean last week, starting Tuesday. But Monday night was full of Bean's barf-capades, and I didn't think it wise to potty train while she was sick.
Last night before falling asleep, Bean took off her jammies and slept only in a diaper. As soon as she woke up, she stripped off the diaper and was racing around the house starkers. Okay, I thought, let's start this now.
She was fine for a few hours. She'd sit on the little potty while watching cartoons. Then she started to whimper and freak out about sitting on the potty -- she would shriek and cry and and claw and refuse to sit still and demand a diaper. We figured her bladder was full and refused a diaper for her. She calmed down a bit and settled into a Tom and Jerry coma while Dim and I took turns watching her like hawks on the potty chair.
After another 45 minutes or so, she calmly tells me "Mama, I peed in potty." I made a big deal of it, huzzahs and high fives and parading down the hall to the bathroom to dump the pot. She got to go downstairs and pick out a piece of candy (leftovers from Halloween and stockings). After that, she got terribly excited to pee in the potty once she realized that my promises of sugar in exchange for uirine were true.
All told, she peed in the pot four or five times today, which is awesome. Toward the end of the day, she wasn't even asking for candy once she peed. Granted, she also took two craps on the floor, but one step at a time, I guess.
I'm always intimidated to post after a long absence. I feel pressure to be especially funny, or witty, or have some cool battle story, like "I couldn't post because I was fighting lions in the Serengeti."
The truth is, I took a month off. The holidays have had pressures for me, and it was too much to keep this up and deal with all of that at the same time.
But I missed you, dear readers. You know, all three of you.
This blog is having troubles. Dim updated to a newer version of Movable Type, and now my comments, which were only slightly functioning, are now totally hosed. You can't comment even if you wanted to. Kat, if you're out there, I need your help!