Sunday, May 11, 2014

Back From Wherever I Was

What is this?  Is Erica writing a post after almost a year of silence here?  It cannot be! Yet it is.  I have actually sat down a fair amount of times over the last year and started to write something, but I always end up deleting whatever I put down because I feel like it's not good enough for the few (very few) people who do read my little blog.

And I realized the other day, that I do this same thing in life.  I want to do something, I want to do something, but then I start second guessing myself.  I think about how it might look to others.  I think about what others might want to hear.  I think about what they will think about me.  And then I get so overwhelmed that I do nothing.  And I am sick of being a person who does nothing.  I'm sick of feeling so damn apologetic over everything I do.

And the thing is, nobody cares!  If I want to write about the mundane things that I do everyday, so what?  I doubt anybody will spare a thought about it.  Seriously, who is going to read it and think "Well, what an idiot that chick was."

So that is my little ramble through my thoughts regarding me today.  Now I have to go figure out what we are going to attempt to do in school this week.

Monday, April 15, 2013

Potty Tales

I care way too much what people think of me.  Even people I don't know, have never met.  It's almost like a self-centred thing; I could swear that people look at me and instantly are thinking of everything that is wrong with me.  When really, they might glance over me and move on with their day.

But this is not a deep, thoughtful post about worrying about people.  Nope, this is to share what a trip to the potty looks like in our household.  Because of course you all want to know that.  (Don't worry it's not MY trip to the potty!)

The reason I mentioned how I care about people's opinions is because Leigh is still potty training and she is going to be four in two months.  I believe that she should have grasped the mechanics of peeing and pooping in the toilet by now.  And I believe that people will think the same thing.  I know, not to compare children, but Abby was trained by 2 1/2.  And before we moved, I thought that I saw the light at the end of the potty-training tunnel.  But since we moved she has seemingly regressed to a small toddler.

The thing is, I know she knows everything to be done.  I think that she even knows when she has to go.  She just doesn't.  She can be in the bathroom and if I'm not there to help her, she will pee on the floor in front of the dryer, rather than hop on the toilet two feet away.  Okay, that's not totally fair.  She did go by herself once this morning.  It is improving.  See, it helps me to write it out and see the progress.

So usually my dear Leigh does the dance.  Crossing her legs, squirming, and eventually dropping to the ground because she has so much trouble holding it.  Even with all this, if I ask her if she has to go, she usually says no.  I hustle her to the bathroom and even though she is capable of doing it all herself, I have to bring the stool over and help her take her pants off.

She does her business, after which she always asks, "Now I get a candy?" Which I assure her that she does. And then I remind her to flush because she would just run out of the room if she could.  After I ask her to flush she will always (and I mean always!) say "Don't leave!"  About 4 months ago I left the washroom once before she was done.  Apparently it left her with separation issues.

Then we go to the kitchen and get the current potty candy available.  Right now it is Swedish Berries for pee and a Chupa-Chup (is that how it's spelled?  I'm too lazy to go check) for a poop. And of course Abby gets a candy just for being the sister of the trainee.

So that is the potty training ritual here.  Probably more than anyone ever wants to know, but hey, at least I didn't describe all the poop I've had to clean up.  Seriously, I have some stories.

Let me know if you have any tips or tricks that will get your child to use the toilet.  I could use all the help I can get.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Let Me Tell You Where My Children's Tongues Have Been

The husband has flown the coop.  Mark is in Edmonton right now with his family.  They went to a hockey game last night and he is spending the day there today and will be back home tomorrow.  If I'm honest I could sit here and right a post ranting about how left out and lonely I feel, but it's really not so bad.  And I hate being a downer, so no rant today!

Instead I will ramble on about nonsense so I can avoid the productive tasks that I should be doing, like cleaning out our pets' cages and cleaning out the deep freezer so that my fridge freezer doesn't pop open at the least provocation.

Or I could even unpack more boxes in the hopes that my printer power cord will be found because as of this minute, it is still missing.  I never realized before I lost it how important it is to my life.  I'm starting to feel a little panicky about it.  Because, I mean, it's been three weeks I think since we've been here and it still hasn't surfaced.  That can't be a good sign.

Yesterday was a beautiful day.  In the sun it was just plain hot!  I love spring.  It's such a happy feeling when things warm up.  Yes, it is supposed to snow again (so I've heard) but I console myself with the fact that the snow usually melts by afternoon.  And my kids love to eat snow, so that makes them happy.

Actually, let me tell you about my snow-eating kids.  They love snow so much that they will eat it from anywhere: the ground, from the bottoms of their boots, from cars.  They eat clean snow and muddy snow, they don't discriminate.  I cannot get them to stop licking cars that have snow on them.  Or even cars that are just wet.  Lick, lick, lick.

Maybe I should ask my Mom-in-law if Mark had a penchant for licking cars when he was younger because I sure don't remember doing that.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

A Raw Moment

Bad days happen.

Bad-mom moments happen.

I must accept this.

I am not perfect.

Most of the time I am not even half-perfect.

Mostly, I am just a very, very, very flawed person.

So when I get incredibly frustrated with my children for seemingly being deaf to my voice while they are sitting not even 2 feet away, and possibly react in a way that is not in the best interests of anybody in the house, I will breath, apologize, hug them, maybe cry, and realize that I am the perfect candidate for a Saviour and thank God that He has given me one.