Critical Mass

We have reached it. Literally and figuratively. In the 'potty' department, that is.

At the advice of some commentors, Dr. Phil, the Potty Whisperer (care of NBC's Today Show clip), my sister, and everyone else....I sat Rachel down and laid down the law.

It is no longer my job to take care of her 'body goings on'. It is hers. Her jobs, and she only has two - is to make pee-pee without me in the room and to make poops on the toilet. My job is everything else.

After three days and many tears....last night was the worst. I got indegestion from the pain of listening to her cry. She got what we called the 'ha-ha's . You know that sound when a kid (or adult) cries so hard that each word they are trying to sputter out starts with a 'ha'.

Me: "so Ray, what is your choice? Go to bed or go the bathroom?"
Her: "ha-I ha-don't haha-know"
Me: "You have two choices, and only two"
Her: "ha-but ha-I ha-don't ha-wanna ha-go to haha-Disneyland!"
Me: "tonight that is not one of your choices. What's it gonna be, Ray"
Her: "Okay, I'll try"

At least she is trying. At that point last night, I knew it wasn't going to happen. But we went through the motions. She admitted that she doesn't want to stay home all summer in the house. She wants to swim, and play, and go to camp, and do things. This is HUGE!!! She also admitted that she is afraid. She is afraid that her bum is going to come off. I told her that unless someone unscrews her bellybutton, her bum is stuck on there real good. And part of my job is still to make sure that nobody screws with her belly button.

Today- she must have tried about 10 times. I gave her baby laxitive to soften things up a bit. She must have had about 20 glasses of water and lots of raisins and fruit and bran flakes. The poor thing- at this point, it is not her will....it is physical. She acquiesced to the fact that she's gotta go. Tonight we watched a very cute movie - which we all enjoyed more that we thought. "Mr. Magorium's Magic Emporium" was cute and had some very punny lines for the adults. But I digress. In the movie was a magic block of wood whose purpose is of no consequence at the moment except to illustrate the following:

Her (pirate face and tears welling up) "I can't do it"
Me: "Do you want me to get the magic block of wood?"
Her (looking around the bathroom) "We don't got a magic block of wood"
Me: "No, but we have a magic box" (I sally forth to retrieve a package that arrived for her today)
Her: (eyes lighting up a little, crooked smile starting to come out from under the tears) "What's in it?"
Me: "I don't know, but it has your name on it " (now that can she can read her name, I show her the address label)
Her: "Yer just pretending" (Pirate face has returned as she is holding back the tears)
Me: (shaking the box to prove it is not empty) "It is an after-poopy present"
Her: (full on tears and snot and all) "It's duck"
Me: "No, it's not a duck- look!" (I open one flap of the box to show her that something colorful lay wait)
Her: " I SAID IT'S STUCK, MY POOPY IS STUCK!!!" Waaaaaah!!!

I am holding in the laughter and truly pained inside...she is exhausted and frustrated. I want to be able to leave the house. I so want to give her a pull-up and let her go - but if I give in, nothing I ever say will matter. She knows it, I know it. Now you all know it. It's there, just waiting. Like a little turtle just poking it's head out.

Tomorrow- for Father's Day...Hubby's goin' in with vaseline and forefinger.

We have reached Critical Mass. Or, I hope he does in the morning.


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To all those Dad's out there. Happy Father's Day. I only hope you are loved as much and as unconditionally as Hubby is by his two girls. They made up a song for him that they will sing after they let him sleep late (yeah, right) and made some cards. Too cute. I love to watch him play with the girls in the pool, or cook for them, or listen in as he recites a Dr. Suess book with all different voices for each character, or brush their hair, or do 'knock-overs' and tickle monster before bed time. He's the best daddy. Well....second best. I love you David.

and I miss you so much my Daddy. Five months and it still hurts so bad.