Men. You can’t live with them and you just can’t shoot them. Well, you could, but then you’d go to jail and they would starve to death in a dirty house.
My poor husband tries to make my life easier. He’s always doing something that he thinks is a good idea, one that will “help me out.”
This week’s good deed? He bought “big girl panties” for the Little Lady. REAL ones — not the thick, training pant style that I had already purchased. Oh, no. The real, thin, cotton, plastered with princesses kind. You know . . . the kind that doesn’t hold liquid very well.
To be fair, we have been talking to her about wearing them, telling her tales of princess underwear and diaper-less days. BUT, I was hoping to postpone potty training till, oh say, January. Yeah, I thought January would be a GREAT month to start. All of our holiday travels would be a thing of the past, and Mr. Boy would be past the newborn stage and need less attention, allowing me to spend more time hovering with The Little Lady around her little personal toilet.
Hubby had different ideas and decided, about three weeks ago, that potty-training needed to start NOW. I can see how he would think it was a good decision, considering how MOMMY is the one home all day and has “all the time in the world” to work on this goal. (sigh)
Last night, during a trip he and the Little Lady took to Target, Hubby bribed her into being good with the promise of BIG GIRL PANTIES. (I guess he didn’t realize that she’s pretty easy and a $1 bag of popcorn does the trick)
When they came home, she ran through the door, carrying a Target bag, and rushed over to me. “I wanna show you sum-ping!” And, she pulled out a 7-pack of Disney Princess panties. “Yook! I got Big Gurl Pannies!”
Oh, they’re so cute. Adorable. . .
Um, they were.
Now, I’m tired of them and we’re only on day one! The Little Lady is constantly taking them off so she can “tee-tee.” Yeah, I know that’s the point, but this game just isn’t fun . . . at least, not for Mommy. Once she’s “done”, I have to stop what I’m doing to help her put them back on. If I don’t help, those panties are inside out, backwards, and she’s put both legs in one leg-hole. (yes, this has happened more than once)
As soon as I have them back on her, they’re off again . . .and she is either heading for the potty (which is oh-so-conveniently here in our living room) OR she is running to our big picture window. Yeah, lucky me – – it’s “trash-day” and she keeps waiting for the trashmen . . . stark NAKED in the window. (oy vey, what kind of girl am I raising?)
I’m sooooo over big girl panties right now.
Just like I’m sooooo over the plastic spider ring that she keeps shoving down my nursing tank so it can “see Mommy’s boobies.”
Anyone need a two year old? Or, an overly helpful husband? Just let me know — I’ve got both.
