Then it's made even more fun when you finally get done bathing her and you enter the living room to discover more poop to deal with, from your dog. Now, I'm an understanding person, I know he's a puppy and shit happens (get it?!), but man, bad timing, Loki. Bad timing.
Then, two hours later, you realize your dog peed in the hallway. How do you realize it? Not by seeing it happen or even seeing it after the fact, noooo no. Why, you realize it's there when your three year old slips and falls in it and gets covered in pee, of course! Son of a bitch. So you put your three your old in the bathtub which makes him happy anyway because he loves baths, but then you remember your infant daughter is sitting in her high chair in the kitchen waiting for you to feed her. Good thing it's Saturday and the 8 year old is here, so you have him feed her while you bathe the other heathen and clean up the mess in the hallway. (Okay actually, this worked out rather well for me, because Bettie loves her big brothers and Travis makes her happy so she was giggling all through eating her bananas and it was adorable.)
...Until about 20 minutes later when she starts getting tired and cranky and begins crying, but you can't deal with that yet because you're trying to deal with the screaming 3 year old who's now refusing to get out of the bathtub (cuz why should he care that his baby sister is crying, he doesn't even really like her anyway. And you can't just let him keep playing in the tub while you get her up and get her a bottle and ready for nap, because he has a tendency to flood the bathroom when unsupervised for longer than five minutes at a time, and you can't even get your daughter to sleep if he's anywhere but in his room because 3 year olds don't know the meaning of the word "quiet." So he thrashes and kicks as you try lifting him out of the tub (which would be fine if he wasn't the size and weight of a 4, possibly even 5 year old) while he's soaking wet and slippery, and you end up accidentally dropping him right onto his ass but luckily it was on the bath mat so at least it's cushioned. You manage to practically lasso him out of the bathroom with his towel and force a pull-up and clothes onto him all while he's pitching a fit, but it doesn't end there, because he now knows the pull-up means it's time to lay down for quiet time and he's not having any of that so he goes tearing through the house and once you start chasing after him he decides it's hilarious (despite all your threats of violence and the cuss words you're launching out of your mouth like spitballs). You finally grab him but then he's right back to screaming and crying so he refuses to do anything but thrash and kick some more so you have to carry him into his room and put him in bed. Then suddenly he decides he's ok with laying down but now he's screaming because his blanket isn't TURNED THE RIGHT WAY FOR HIS LIKING. You fix the blanket and make your escape before anything else can go wrong in his eyes, only now that the three year old has finally shut up, you remember that the baby is still screaming in her high chair because she's tired and pissy, so it's basically just an escape from one hell to another.
Get her quieted down and in her crib for nap time, but then you remember that your mom was bringing your 11 year old brother over to be babysat for a few hours, so any chance of anybody napping or at least being quiet in their beds just went out the window because your brother and your 8 year old don't know how to play quietly like ever, and once your 3 year old hears that his uncle Joel is here, he's gonna scream and holler until he's allowed to leave his bedroom, which will also prevent the infant from going to sleep. (Note: this is about the time you want to start ripping out your own hair, if you haven't already done so.)
And all this is going on while you're desperately trying to clean your house because you have friends coming over later in the evening and your husband is at work so there's no one to help deal with either kids or housework so you've basically just been running around the house all morning like a crazy person and don't even get to have your first cigarette of the day until 11:30 AM and do you see where I'm going with this?
The point I'm making here is, there isn't enough beer in the world for some days. And even if there is, it's certainly not residing in MY house, because I only have three. Actually two, because I'm now drinking one. Because why not, right? At this point I think it's downright mandatory.
But, now that I've ranted and raved, I would like to say, I didn't post yesterday about day 4, because there really wasn't much insanity involved in anything (at least no more than the usual amount), and nothing particularly interesting or hilarious to write about. Because Roger didn't have an accident ALL DAY yesterday, and he so far hasn't had one yet today either!!!! I make a lot of jokes about my kids making me crazy (well let's be honest, is anyone really ever joking when they say that?), but seriously, I couldn't be more proud right now. And this morning, before he slipped in pee in the hallway, he actually told me when he needed to go potty!!! HUGE improvement there!!!
So, the day isn't anywhere near over yet, but so far, despite all the insanity, I'm gonna consider it an awesome day because he's doing fabulous with the potty training now and I'm just ecstatic. It might not sound like it, and it may not have even felt like it so far today, but I really am.
So, ya know. Cheers!