My least favorite part of parenting. So far.

You might not have any kids. You might not even like kids. So you might think you have zero desire to read a post  entirely devoted to potty training.

Fair enough.

You'd be missing out. Why? Because the correct title of this post should probably be More examples of Mel being an idiot, or Mel thinks the day her ten year old comes clean about his online gambling addiction has to be better than this. Or even, Do you think my sixteen year old could still get a date to prom if he's rocking a disposable Mickey Mouse under his cargo shorts?

I've learned a few things so far. Please, take these incredibly obvious failures of mine and laugh. 

First, potty treats. We went the bribery route. Did anyone doubt I'd take another path? I would advise you don't buy your absolute favorite candy to do the job. Phin is pretty much a mini Mel in some ways. We run into walls, we think the fastest way to make friends at a party is to get down on all fours and start meowing like a cat and we love all things gummy. So when he picked out a giant bag of gummy candy and M&Ms for his potty treat jar I was all, "Yeeeahhhh!" Or it might have been one of those moments I wanted to channel my inner Ryan Lochte broness and let a Jeah escape. Maybe.

Five days later his jar was empty, he had only used the restroom four times and that postpartum cellulite on my butt started taking on a life of it's own. I swear I heard my husband softly singing "Gummi Bears! Bouncing here and there and everywhere. High adventure that's beyond compare. She's a Gummi Bear", while I crawled into bed last night. He swears all the food dye got to my brain. We're going to try again with those crappy black and orange taffies that the kid hating houses give out on Halloween. 

You want another gem we learned the hard way? Don't start potty training on a day you'll be out of the house. I knew this one. My husband, however, thinks trial by fire is the best way to do anything. You would think firemen have the same approach to life, right? Not when a two year old pees all over the inside of the fire engine they're giving tours of. Suddenly they are the most cautious and judgmental group out there. That sucked. I hid in a bathroom with Phin while Jared took over. A bathroom Phin had just used ten minutes before the tour. JUST USED! Well played Phin. 

Don't compare. Really, just don't. There was a nice little humble brag from someone on facebook about potty training the other day and my hormonal, sleep deprived self was all "Suck it!" to the screen. Then I wanted to post about how my child never comes out of his room without knocking, takes four hour naps and has half of the Oxford English Dictionary memorized. That sucker is two volumes and requires a magnifying glass.

Instead I ate another handful of gummy candy and cried while watching The Voice. Some of those people are just so damn good.

Anyway. Comparing = unhappy. Unhappy= more candy consumption. More candy consumption = more cellulite. More cellulite = more eighties cartoon theme songs running through your head. Who knows what body issues my subconscious is dealing with if I start hearing music from Fraggle Rock or even worse, The Snorks. 

So go forth toddler rearing humans! Master the art of the child intestine! Tame the toilet hater! Win the respect of fire engine tour givers everywhere!

And make sure you have enough potty treats to console yourself with after the little one gets in bed.

And because Gray got no name time in this post, a picture. Because it's easier to take those when the subject isn't trying to steal gum out of your mouth.

A new low at work

Was there a guy in your high school that all the girls swooned over? Yeah, ours too. You can call me a total liar, but the guy featured in today's entry was never my type. I always went for the brooding, pierced guys that were too old to go to prom with me. Ohhhh, dangerous. "I love your five lip rings, want my number?" Yeah, try making out with that.

Dude was cute, but had too much sun and not enough body art for me.

Fast forward ten years. You should know it was downright painful for me to write that. Fast forward one whole decade.

It's lunch. I'm home. My laptop is open. This is the part where I see one of my friends from facebook is now following me on Pinterest, so I check out her boards. There he is, high school dude. My new follower is also following him. So I click on the guy and "Whoa, look at those sleek map pillows. Those would be awesome in Phin's room. Crap. Did I just click follow?"

Unfollow, unfollow! Do they automatically send an email? Will that have my name? Why didn't I take Jared's last name? Maybe dude won't remember who I am and think I'm just some random Pinterest human.

Then I took a breath. Sure no one likes to be caught internet stalking. It's like pooping right? We all do it but prefer no one catch us. I console myself with the fact that I haven't seen the guy in at least 5+ years and it will probably be another five until I run into him. Hopefully by then we'll both be fat and won't recognize each other.

Fast forward thirty minutes. Did that give you whiplash?

Half and hour later and I'm at my desk when I see a guy walk into the office across the hall. Not just a guy, it's the guy. I swear the universe thinks it's pretty freaking hilarious. Except, I'm not 100% convinced it's him. So I consult my co-worker. Lucky for us the office across the hall has plenty of windows to stare right through.

"R, I swear I was talking about that dude with my husband half an hour ago and I haven't seen him in at least five years." Talking about sounds so much better than stalking.
"Really?"
"I think.. I don't know. Let me pull him up on facebook. Do you think this is the same guy?" We look at the screen. We look at the guy. We look at the screen.

"I don't know, that guy on facebook looks like he's wearing makeup.." He does. Maybe it was an art thing.

At this point I'm eighty percent convinced it's the guy. I go to fill my water bottle so I can do a walk by and get a closer look. He's facing the wrong way. But I do see enough to notice he's rocking longer bangs than mine. Interesting.

We wait it out. He's turning towards the door, sure looks like him. He comes through. He smiles. He waves.

Ding! Ding! Ding! R give me a look. I give a half wave and do faux chit chat with a co worker to make it look like we weren't staring at him for the last eight minutes and comparing him to a bad facebook pic.

You should know a little bit about our office. We have two doors near my desk. One goes down the stairs, the other into a little lobby with the elevator.

He goes down the stairs.

"David you should totally have a double-decker cake.....R, did you see the wave?! It's him. I knew it! Knew it! Did you see his hair?!" I also said some other things. Things I'm too embarrassed to admit. Know it's humiliating.

And here's where R points to the lobby of the elevator and mouths, "He's still here!" What able bodied 28 your old guy doesn't take the stairs?

I did what any logical person would do. I collapsed under my desk. Laughing and crying and I'm not going to admit it out loud but maybe peeing a little bit. I'm just glad I didn't say what I almost said cause it could have been even worse. It would have been Meet the Fockers kind of cringe bad.

I don't know why it was so funny. Maybe I'm still a little sick. Maybe I'm just punch drunk and it's Friday afternoon. Either way, my boss didn't even blink an eye while I laid under my desk crying. Perhaps that's an indication of exactly what kind of employee I am. Maybe that's what should embarrass me...

Happy three day weekend all!

Oh and just for reference, here's the celeb I was drooling over in 2001. You?

Things people said to me that I kind of wish they didn't..

Yup, I could have lived without these inquiries.

“What happened to your face?”

Dude, you haven't ever had a waxing incident before? You haven't. Well if you want to keep that track record, don't try doing it while entertaining a one year old.

“Are you pregnant?”
“Are you sure?”

I don't want to use expletives in my blog. Don't ask me if I'm sure. I might be swayed.

“What happened to your face?”

Right now you're like , “Mel, I know it's late, but you already wrote that.” And my face is like, “Frick. Mel.” This time it involved a door. Also, the sign on a door. One last thing, I'm an idiot.

“Is that normal?”

All you need to know is Jared asked me this. About myself. Ooff.

And my very, very favorite...

“Is this yours?”

This was my child. Hands down, worst moment.

Not making the list, “Should he be playing with those?” “What's that smell?” “Uh, did those shrink?”

Anyone have one to share? Lay it on me. Make me feel better about myself.

And if you got nothin, let's stare at this cute little face. Always puts me in a good mood.

It's getting darker

I want to post. Really. But I'm so weak. My fingers can hardly type. The world is a dismal gray this morning.

Did I mention I'm fasting? Not even for a good cause, like a hunger strike to bring attention to the suffering of sea life or those whose netflix bill just increased eight dollars. For insurance purposes. The indignity. As if being denied that which nourishes me isn't torture enough, they are going to weigh me.

I hate being weighed. I have dreaded doctors appointments my whole life for that very reason. The final stab in my gut is that I always weigh more when I fast. It's like my body goes into starvation mode the second I deny it a meal and holds onto every piece of fat and water like it's been three months, not nine hours. It's pretty near impossible to get me to go twelve.

So all you get out of me this morning is a beacon of hope. That's what it looks like to me anyway.

you know you want to make it too

Offending the powers that be

I think heavenly forces are punishing me.

I haven't been to church in weeks.
Maybe I've accidently dropped a curse word in front of Phin.
I cut someone off on the way to work and I didn't give the wave to someone who did let me in.
I've been pretty snappy to, well, everyone. (Sorry random cashier at Trader Joes. Really, it's me, not you.)

The air conditioning is out in our office. One of our student just asked me if this is what menopause feels like.

This must be hell.