Hades has a new address.
Yes, the entirety of Hades has moved, taking it's captives with it.
It is now located at:
1234 The W. Household Circle
Tucson, Az blah blah blah blah
Please make a note of this and take the time to change it in your address books.
In more ways than one. I thought about A.'s lost toy phone all night. Part of me felt that I should just go back and get the phone (if it was even still there) and just give it to her, and part of me felt I needed to teach her a lesson and make her earn money to get a new one. The first part of me won. I called the Children's Museum when they opened up today and asked if anyone had turned in a toy princess cell phone. Yes, the person said, we do have a princess phone. But she sounded reluctant to tell me it was there. "We were having a lot of fun with it last night," she said. "We were taking pictures of each other." (apparently, this phone has a functional camera- sort of. Who knew?) "That's great." I said. "We'll be by to pick it up today." "We'll take good care of it for you." I didn't tell A. that we were going to get her phone back until we were half-way to the Children's museum. She was so happy to see that phone, and the guy behind the admissions counter was happy to have made her smile. That was very sweet, I thought. So, what did I end up doing with the phone? I gave it to her with no strings attached. I figure it this way- if I had lost something that I purchased, and thought I knew where I had left it, I would go back and get it before I replaced it. Since this is something that A. purchased with her very own hard earned money, she deserves the same courtesy I would give myself or dh had it been us who had lost something. Particularly something we cherished. And so, the Princess was rescued phsyically (the toy phone) and emotionally (A.) by the Mom-In-The-Silver-Mazda and everyone lived happily ever after.
Sort of. I have changed approximately 3 pull-ups in the last few days. No, no. S. has not finally decided that using the potty at home is the coolest thing in the world. I'm having her change her pull-ups herself. She takes off her shoes, her pants, her pull-up, cleans herself up and puts a new one on. I actually got the idea from a passing comment a friend made last week when I was going on about my potty training woes. She just started telling me about different things that her friends had done to potty train their children. And one of them made her daughter change herself. It didn't register right away as being something that we should try until a few days later, I found S. sitting in her pink rocker chair- she was soaked, her chair was soaked. And she was wearing a pull-up. She wasn't bothered the least bit by it, either. This surprised me because I had changed her just a few hours earlier but this child pees more often and in greater quantities than I've ever even heard of!
As I was shampooing her chair (for the fourth time that week- perhaps we should find chair covers?), I thought about how much this sucked. I'm shampooing furniture whether she's in pull-ups or panties- plastic or otherwise.
Then it hit me.
If she doesn't want to pee in the potty, or tell me when she needs to be changed- she'll just clean up and change herself, dammit.
So, I took a brand-new pack of pull-ups, put it in the cabinet underneath the sink. I showed S. where the pull-ups were, and explained to her that from now on, when she needs a new pull-up, she has to come into the bathroom and take care of herself (I still help with the poopy ones though. I'm afraid poop will end up all over the bathroom floor if I don't, but luckily those don't happen too often)
There was a little resistance the first time. The getting off not such a big deal. It was the putting a new one on that was the problem. It took about ten minutes for me to get her to do it. She peed on the carpet in the meanwhile. Lucky me.
But since then, it's actually been going pretty well. I still have to ask/tell her it's time to be changed. But she heads straight to the bathroom where all this business is being done now and did what she needed to do. She even put a new one on immediately and without a fight! Yipeeee!
And here's the kicker- she was so proud of herself!
I'll take what I can get.
Another thing I did was copy a picture of the huggies pull-up designs from their website. I typed "S.'s pull-ups" on top and printed it out at about 6x6 image. Then I taped it on the cabinet door which led the way to her pull-ups.
Oh, how she loved that!
This last time I shuffled her into the bathroom, she ran! Then sat on the bathroom floor and ooo-ed and ah-d over this lovely picture of the princesses which also adorned her pull-ups. Then she changed herself and ran back into the living room. The whole thing took less than five minutes, and all I had to do was get her and take her back to the bathroom!
And again, she proudly proclaimed "I did it!" I congratulated her and fussed over her being such a smart girl before she ran off.
If I'd known this particular method would be so much less soul-wrenching for the both of us, I'd thought of it much sooner! But the important thing now is that I found something that works.
She's still not "potty trained", but I'm not changing pull-ups every few hours either. It's a win-win situation.
Also, A. saved up just enough money doing chores that she was finally able to buy the princess cell phone toy she saw at wal-mart last week. I gave her the money to give to the cashier all by herself, even. She was so excited! She's been carrying that phone everywhere since she bought it yesterday, occasionally flipping it open even as we're walking and putting it up to her ear to see what Princess Jasmine has to say about Aladdin's latest adventures.
But she lost it at the children's museum today, and we didn't realize it until we were half-way home. It was too late, anyways. The Children's museum would have been closed by the time we got back there.
It really was heart-wrenching for me to see her distress over losing that phone. Because it wasn't just any phone. It was the very first thing she's ever bought with money she, herself, has earned.
I thought about calling them, turning around and going back for it, but I didn't. As much as it sucks, this is a great way for her to learn about keeping track of her things and taking responsibility for them. I'm always telling her to keep this or that in the car because I don't want her to lose it. But today I just didn't. I didn't think of it. My bad. But this isn't about me.
I told her that I was sorry she lost it, but that she could earn more money to get a brand new one, and maybe next time she'll be more careful with her things. Surprisingly, that was enough to quell the tears flowing down her cheeks. Still though, I'm thinking about calling the Children's museum to see if her phone has been turned in. But then what? If I give it to her, she'll never learn to be responsible for her belongings.
So now I'm trying to think of extra things she can do around the house this week to earn the money back faster (that $3.06 was the result of weeks and weeks of accumulated change).
I just feel so terrible that she lost it so soon after buying it.
It's hard to be a preschooler, sometimes, isn't it?
I caught another mouse in the garage. In the car- not so much. And yet again, in the car there was a cracker on the outside and NO FUCKING TRAP! I looked under the seats, between the seats- where I noticed that the traps weren't the only thing this fucking vermin was rearranging. I found a moth ball (which was in the drivers side cupholder) underneath the front passenger seat. Son of a bitch! That fucking rat bastard! I don't want to use poison because I'm afraid that it will work, but the mouse will crawl into it's hidey hole before it croaks, and then I'd be left with a rotting mouse carcass somewhere in my vehicle. This whole ordeal gives me the neebie jeebies. I get all shivery- the kind of shivery you get when you're scared of something and not sure if you'll be able to escape. What the hell does a girl have to do to get rid of an obviously smart magician mouse?! Seriously. Ideas anyone? Updated to say: I am bolting down the traps tomorrow. Duct tape, velcro, super glue- let's see houdini make it disappear then!
This is going to sound terribly disgusting. And if you happen to be someone whose vehicle is manned by children (in any number) 95% of the time yet have managed to not have stray French fries on the floor boards or sticky car seats will probably definitely find this terribly disgusting. I do have to say though, that I am disgusted myself so- I won't be hating on the haters this time, yo. There are vermin living in my car. Or maybe just one mouse. I'm not sure yet.
See, I started noticing these odd black rice sized thingies scattered in the cup holder and on the floor boards of our suv. I immediately figured out that we had a boarder of the disease-carrying kind. I did what any normal person does when faced with an unknown situation. I googled, "there is a mouse living in my car". Lo and behold, I found page after page of people plagued with the same problem.
*whew* I'm not alone in my disgustingness, then. That makes me feel just a teensy bit better. But just a teence.
So anyways, the vermin must go.
First I deep cleaned the interior of my car. I vacuumed in spaces I had no idea even existed, pulling chairs up and even getting into the compartment in the back where the jack is (who knew it was even there??? Not me!). I was sure I'd find that fucking mouse just a nibbling away at some wire or piece of plastic. But no such luck.
After I vacuumed, I wiped the consoles down with Lysol wipes, and then I shampooed everything- the floor boards, the seats…
Satisfied with my wonderfully clean and mouse-shit free vehicle, I went to Target to get moth balls, which I read mice did not like. I bought a box and just dropped like, 5-6 in one of the cup olders. And yet, the droppings showed up again the next day.
Son of a bitch!
Now I had to get all hard core and actually buy mouse traps!
On the way to Wal-Mart, I pondered the techniques used to dispose of a live mouse stuck on a glue pad (I'm not fond of having to clean up mouse guts). Do I just throw it right into the trash like that (ewwwww)? Do I smash it's head with a hammer and put it out of it's misery (double ewwwwww. And kinda psycho, don't you think?). Luckily, once I found the traps at Wal-Mart I realized that I would have to do neither. Because there were these "humane" (funny, how I'm all concerned about being humane to disease carrying vermin which are not, um, human) traps called Mouse Cubes or something like that. It's a rectangular plastic box with a few holes in the door, which only goes one way. So the mouse can get in, but can't get out.
Disposal then became less of a concern for me. I figured when I trapped the mouse I could take it into the desert (away from my house) and let it free to be eaten by snakes (which is another reason these mice must go. Snakes eat mice. And remember what happened a few months ago? I don't know that I could sufficiently bash a rattler to death with A.'s walking stick all by my lonesome. I prefer dh to do the dirty work.)
The directions on the trap suggested that I smear peanut butter on a cracker and slide it into the trap (not cheese. Huh.). And so we got home and I got to work putting crackers slathered with peanut butter into the traps. The directions also suggested that I put a little bit of pb on the door of the trap, to attract the mice. So I did that, too.
Two traps went into the garage, because I remembered dh telling me, not too long before I realized that mice were living in my car, that he saw one in the garage.
And two went into the SUV.
I've been driving dh's car while I make my suv rodent-free, because this mouse (these mice?) are fucking smart. I've never seen or heard one in my car. Just seen the droppings. And you know what else? The day after I cleaned my car, I took the girls to story time. I went into B&N with a shit-free car and came out two hours later to see droppings on the back passenger floor!
That fucking mouse waited until we were no longer in the vehicle and then took a dump all over the fucking place! So, I figured I had to stay out of the car, to increase the chances of catching that little fucker.
The next day I found mice in the garage.
Take that, you car-shitting fucker!
Then I checked the traps in the car.
The one in the left rear passenger side was missing.
MISSING!
But when I looked under the seat, there it was. With the peanut butter cracker sitting RIGHT IN FRONT OF IT!
I have no idea how that is even possible, but the fucking mouse moved the trap and got the cracker out of the trap with the one-way door! Oh, and he pooped in the pb. Ewwww.
I shut the door and checked the front passenger side trap.
The trap was still in place, and the cracker was still there, but the pb I smeared onto the door to attract it/them to it was all licked up! There was a clean trap door!
Mother fucker!
I went back inside, furious that I was being bested by mice. Mice! I glanced at the mouse traps in the garage, each being occupied by an unsuspecting mouse. "You'll pay," I told them on the way into the house, "you're little buddy wants to be a smart-ass, so you will pay. Let your demise be an example to him/them!"
Right then I decided that I was just going to toss their traps into freezer bags and then into a plastic target bag and then finally into our trash can (thank God trash day was the next day).
Life is cruel like that.
It took an extra day for me to catch the mouse in the car. In the front passenger trap cowered a little gray peanut-butter-car-shitting nuisance and I laughed when I saw it there.
Triumph!
I got you my pretty.
I had hoped he was the only one, but I can't be sure. Because when I checked the back trap again yesterday, it was gone. Not moved this time, but disappeared! I checked the very back, where the 3rd row seating is- the trap is fucking gone. Like some kind of rodent David Copperfield putting on a show, the fucking trap had VANISHED. I don't know if it vanished before or after I found the one mouse because I didn't check that one again until later. But it's not there anymore. Or anywhere from what I could see.
Son of a bitch! Bested again!
We'll see about this.
Yesterday I went back to Wal-Mart, purchased four more traps. This morning they were placed, as before, two in the garage and two in my car.
As of this afternoon- no mice.
This could be a good thing meaning I caught them all. Or this could mean that Vermin Copperfield and his remaining buddies are incredibly smart and sly.
I'm hoping for the former.
Because really, my ego can't handle being out-smarted by a fucking rodent again.
A conversation at Jamba Juice: A.: I want an orange drink. Me: we're going to share today (they never drink all of theirs). A.: Are you getting orange? Me: No, I'm getting something else, but it has strawberries in it. You'll like it. (after a brief pause of consideration) A.: Well, I trust you, but I still want my own.
*Note: This will be the LAST post about potty training EVER. I'm sick of thinking about it, so I'm sure you're sick of reading about it. Thanks for sticking around!* Hi. My name is Lynn, and my 3 year old doesn't use the potty. That's right, folks. Potty training boot camp is officially a bust.
This past week I finally got a hold of more plastic panty covers and began using them over real panties, instead of the plastic panties with the liner. And you know what?
Not only was I still shampooing wet spots off of the upholstery and carpeting, I began cleaning trails of pissy foot prints off the floor with Lysol wipes and Pinesol.
We did give it a break for a few days, because not only was S. not using the potty- even after replacing the plastic panties with plastic panty covers- but she began crying every time she peed her panties and we had to clean her up and change her! I didn't think that was such a good development. So we put her back in pull-ups and went about our business.
S. quite obviously isn't ready to use the potty at home, yet. Just in libraries and malls, apparently. But then today she said she wanted panties on so I put them on her, thinking maybe we've made progress since she requested.
Ha ha! The jokes on me, man!
Cuz she still peed (and pooped, lucky me) in her panties, left behind pissy foot prints traveling from her bedroom to the living room and back to the bathroom, and I still had to shampoo the carpet and clean those prints off of the floor. Oh, and also the bathroom floor, because her panties were dripping urine from beneath the panty covers. Into the laundry they go.
I have made peace with the fact that S. may well be in diapers when she finally leaves for college. And when she gets married, we'll have to find or special order really pretty plastic panty covers (perhaps with frilly ruffles and sequins) for her to wear under her wedding dress. Her groom probably won't want to be rooting around under the dress for the garter at the reception, but who cares? At that point, her potty habits will officially be his problem and not ours. Maybe we can marry her off early? Let's say, when she turns 4? Then someone else can take over this wonderful task of civilizing this stubborn kid, and I won't be buying pull-ups for the next 15 years?
I know for a fact that some of you have sons. Anyone want to betroth their son to S.? I'll throw in a year's supply of pretty-as-a- princess-pull-ups as part of the dowry…
Why don't you take the weekend to think about it.
You know where to find me once you've made your decision.
The strike, the strike. That damn'd Writer's Strike! It appears that my favorite shows will continue to be on hiatus as the Writer's Guild of America attempts to coerce the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTA) to satisfy their demands. To date, the strike has lasted 9 weeks and 3 days according to wikipedia, with shows such as Private Practice and Pushing Daisy's (two of my favorites) among those whose production has come to a halt until the savage beast we have come to know as the WGA, can be soothed. However, on January 2nd, David Letterman returned to night time tv with a full writing staff after their demands were negotiated and met by Worldwide Pants, Letterman's production company. And lucky me, Grey's Anatomy returns tonight with an all-new episode. Hopefully the first all-new episode of many for the rest of the season. Hey, it's something, and I'll take it! Being that the strike was organized by the Writer's Guild, it seems a little odd that factions of that guild would return to work while others wait to have their terms accepted. Guild spokesmen refer to the return of Letterman's show as their "Trojan Horse". They contend that, as a result of Letterman's writers getting what they asked, the other writers's demands will come to the attention of show producers and apparently save them all. As if other show producers are hiding with their heads in the sand and have no idea what the writers are demanding if they are to return to work. This, quite frankly, sounds like a lame excuse for why writer's of one show are getting what they want as other writer's man the picket lines until their terms can be met. Were they striking then, as an organization? Or as teams of writers assigned by show? Hopefully, this is an indicator that the Guild does not have the stamina to really "stick it to" the networks and their show producers until the bitter end. That would, indeed, be great news for those of us who are nervously pacing in front of our televisions and obsessively checking the next days tv schedule to see if our favorite show has been reinstated. But, the last Writer's strike, which took place in 1988, lasted for 21 weeks. God, help us all.
A few months ago I received an invitation from one of my friends to join hoverspot.com. It's another one of those social networking sites, except with this one you earn points somehow to win products like ipods and what not. I joined because my friend would receive points if I did, like some kind of referral system. In all I thought the site was pretty lame, and really worthless unless you were hard on about winning stuff. I don't give a shit about winning stuff- especially if I have to get friends to join or make new ones with that purpose in mind. Not much of a social network, I think. In the few months I'd been a member I received 2 emails from other hoverspot members. Perfect strangers who were sending me messages as if they KNOW ME. Like one, dated 12/11/2007, asked "where are you?". The last straw, dated 1/7/2008 asked, "do you even get on here anymore?" WTF?!!! I don't even know you people! Therefore I felt it was just time to cancel my account and be done with random ass people asking me about my site activity (or lack thereof). At the end of the cancel request form there was a box. Hoverspot wanted to know why I was cancelling. Fair enough. In a nutshell, this was my reply: I only joined to help out a friend. I'm not really interested in this site. Plus, I'm getting messages from people I don't even know about my whereabouts and it's getting to be a pest. And you know what? I got an email from hoverspot today saying that my account has been deleted because I "have been determined to be in violation of hoverspot terms of service".
Uh, WTF?!!!
If cancelling my account is a violation of their terms of service, then I can most certainly understand. But when I think "violation", I think of people putting porn on their site, or threatening to kill the president, or putting porn on their site and threatening to kill the president…
But cancelling an account?
I sat over this email for a minute, part of me laughing and part of me outraged (I've kind of been on a short fuse lately).
You can't kick me out! I left you!
So I sat thinking. I told dh about it. And we laughed. And then I thought some more.
I decided I wanted to send a really pissy email back to the administrators of hoverspot, demanding to know what terms of service I am in violation of? And could they kindly kiss my ass because, fuck you (meaning them), I quit before they kicked me out.
I thought better of it. Maybe that was the smart thing to do.
But why do I feel so violated?! Like some vicious rumor was being spread about me throughout the blogosphere.
And really, WTF?!!
So anyways, here's one for google:
Hoverspot sucks balls.
A: Mama, I'm compelled to play with my toys. Me: Do you know what compel means? A: No, what? Me: It's when you really want to do something. (I realize now that my definition leaves something to be desired, but she's 4, and it's close enough I think) A: Oh, like you are compelled to knit and I am compelled to play. Me: Exactly. Where did you learn that from? A: I don't know. Me: you're not in trouble, it's alright. A: I don't know. I just know it.
I would first like to apologize for yet another potty training entry. There may be a few potty training adventures yet to come, but I promise I'll use the utmost discretion in deciding what to bitch about post. We've got sort of a potty training boot camp going on in our house right now. The plastic panty thing? Not so much working. For all the wet spots I still have to shampoo off the carpets and the upholstery every day, I gave up on the plastic panties and just toss regular ones on her when the mood suits. I consulted with my "source" about the dilemma and she recommended I try the actual plastic panty covers, since the all-in-ones do have a higher tendency to leak. Wish I'd a known that $12 ago?
So tomorrow I'm back to Babiesrus, where I will purchase exactly 2 packs of the plastic panty covers, for approximately $3 for a pack of 3, each. In the meantime, she will be wearing panties all day. Again. And I will continue shampooing the carpets and upholstery approximately every two hours. I'm sure that by the time S. finally decides that using the potty at home is the cool thing to do, we will have bald spots on our brand new carpets and the upholstery will have thin, wispy patches here and there. Also, my Bissell may overheat from having to keep up with the puddles of piss being left behind in various rooms numerous times a day.
The best part about all this?
I never really know exactly where S. was when she peed her panties, because she won't tell me right away. She'd walk around in wet panties all day if she could! So I have to hunt down wet spots in the common areas- the living room or her room, dragging the shampooer with me as I look. The Bissell has not seen the closet in two days, but this sure does add some excitement to my otherwise boring days…
But I am determined. If this kid knows when she has to potty while we're at the library, she's going to figure out how to use the potty at home when the urge strikes.
There's no telling how long this boot camp will last. A week, two weeks- the rest of my life…
When I was freaking out about A.'s lack of interest in the potty a year ago, I'd heard people tell me to relax, that she'll be out of diapers by the time she goes to kindergarten. And with A., that turned out to be true. But with S., I'm not entirely sure she'll be out of diapers by the time she goes to college…
I have a 3 year old who will not use the potty at home. Emphasis: at. home.
If we're at the mall, the library, the park, the bx- anyplace where she will have to use a public restroom, she'll tell us she has to potty, we take her and she goes. But at home, not so much. I've tried just about everything. Sticker charts (one from Chuck e Cheese, even), letting her wear panties around the house. Nothing works!
Someone recently suggested I try plastic panties, so that I'm not shampooing upholstry or carpeting every few hours. So the girls and I had a mission today. Find plastic panty covers (we had some for A., but those didn't work for her so we tossed them. Doh!)
After checking Target and the Bx, I ended up right back next to Target at Babiesrus. Why didn't I think of that earlier?
I stood in front of the stupid training pants rack for what must have been at least 10 mintues trying to figure out if I wanted the plain plastic panty covers (3 for $2.99) or the set that were actually plastic panties. The outside is plastic, just like the panty covers, but the inside is lined. What makes them so different than pull-ups, dh wondered. Good question.
These aren't as absorbant as pull-ups, so they've got to be a little more uncomfortable. Plus, they can be washed, and therefore, reused.
Sweet! I thought. This way I won't have to put panties under the plastic panty covers. I've got an all-in-one majiggy here.
S. has gone through 2 of them in the last 5 hours. 2. She will not be putting on another one tonight. One, because it's almost bedtime, and two, because it's not quite working out the way I'd hoped.
I was advised (and wanted) the plastic ones so that I wouldn't be shampooing everything she sat on every few hours. Maybe I bought a faulty pair, or maybe she's not getting uncomfortable until the liners are beyond capacity and they're leaking, but they're leaking. So far I've shampooed a spot on the sofa and both of their fabric rocker chairs.
Oh, and, both times there was poop.
Ewwwwww.
But I am prepared- I bought 4 of them, the 2 are in the wash now, and tomorrow is another day.
My advisor said it may take about a week before we start to see progress. So, a week it is.
She'll be in those damned plastic panties while we're home, and I'll just keep the shampooer handy- again. For one week.
After that I'm giving her to the gypsy's. They can return her after she's decided that using the potty at home is as necessary and cool as using it at Cold Stone Creamery.
This is how we spent our time as we waited for the ball to drop on that last evening of 2007:
Our special bubbly- sparkling cider:
United States Air Force 1999-2005
