Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Any takers?

Free to a good home:

14 month old baby girl, goes by the name Bettie. However, she's still young enough to re-train; you can change her name if you'd like.

She is completely housebroken and sleeps like an angel. Never cries or throws tantrums or causes any stress at all.*

She also comes with tons of accessories: clothes, diapers, snacks, toys, etc., etc.**

*These are all lies. Why else would we be giving her away for FREE? 
**Also comes with two siblings. 

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Not really an adventure in potty training, but, day 5.

Know what's super fun? Having to put your infant daughter in the tub first thing in the morning when you're still half asleep, because when you get her out of her crib, you discover that poop is coming out of her diaper on, like, all sides, and it's all over her, her clothes, and her brand new sheets, and you're just not sure that using half a tub of wipes to clean her up would be very cost effective (or easy, for that matter), so a bath seems to be the only logical solution. And the sheet still needs to be washed before it's ruined, but of course now your daughter is screaming from being cold and wet and being hungry, so there's no time to wash it until after her bottle.

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!

Friday, January 9, 2015

Cilantro Lime Ranch Dressing

So, I'm in love with this dressing. 

I found several variations, most of them somewhat similar, for a cilantro lime dressing. Some were a ranch type dressing like this, some were vinaigrette, some had lots of other ingredients like avocado (which does sound good), and some just sounded weird. I decided I'd make one of the ranch dressings because I already had some Hidden Valley ranch dressing mix. I took a recipe I found on Pinterest (I'll link to it later when I'm not on my phone) and made a few changes and voila! Cilantro lime ranch dressing goodness. 

Ingredients:
1 packet dry ranch dressing mix 
1 cup mayo 
½ cup half n half
1-2 tbsp lime juice
3 cloves garlic
1 cup chopped cilantro (I used extra) 
¼ cup salsa verde
½ tsp sugar (optional)
Salt & pepper to taste (optional) 

Combine all these delicious ingredients in a food processor or blender and blend it up until it's smooth and creamy. It should turn out like a pale greenish white color, and in my opinion, it's gorgeous. I tasted mine after I blended it all up, and to me, it needed another splash or two of lime juice, a few more cilantro leaves, and some salt and pepper. I also added just a tiny bit of sugar because it still had that slight fatty-mayo taste. Next time I might try a bit of honey instead of sugar and see how that turns out. You might also consider adding a little hot sauce if you want it spicy, but I didn't. 

Oh, also, you can totally use milk instead of half and half, I just had some left from another recipe and wanted to use it before it went bad.

Anyway, once it's how you like it, pour it into a jar or whatever the hell you want, cover and chill. I let mine sit in the fridge for about 4 hours before eating it. 

I should mention here that when I first finished blending it and tasted it, I wasn't too sure about this dressing. But I thought, well it's room temperature, I bet it'll be awesome when it's cold. Then when I tasted it after letting it chill for a few hours, I STILL wasn't 100% sure about it, but I went ahead and made a chicken taco salad with it anyway. I said to myself, "Self, all these ingredients are delicious, and anything with cilantro is delicious. It's gonna be perfect, I'm sure."

Well, let me tell you something. 

It WAS. 

I don't know if it was simply the dressing or the dressing and tasty chicken combo over all that lettuce but it was the best taco salad I've ever made in my life, and it might even be in the top five taco salads I've ever tasted at all. And I didn't even make a complicated or fancy salad. I'd baked some chicken breasts with melted butter, taco seasoning, onion powder and garlic powder earlier in the day, sliced up about half a breast, and put it on top of a salad made of spinach AND iceberg lettuce, with some tomatoes and shredded cheddar and pepper jack cheeses. Then I poured the dressing on top, and that was it. That dressing was simply amazing. Seriously. It was delicious. 

Now, I personally like a LOT of cilantro. And a strong cilantro flavor. Some people don't. So when I said that I used more than a cup of cilantro in this recipe, that's how I like it--anyone else might not. Like my mother. She probably wouldn't like the way I made it because it would probably be too strong for her tastes. So, for the cilantro, just use how much you think you'll want and you can always add more if you decide it's not cilantro-y enough, like I did. 

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Adventures in potty training, day 3.

So, here's the scoop. 

At 8:45 AM, I left the house to run to the store up the road and get a few things, and before I left, I told my husband that at around 9:00 it would be time to take roger to the potty again. I was gone maybe 30, 45 minutes at the most. I came home and my husband looked like he wanted to gouge out his own eye. 

Apparently while I was gone, he got to experience a tiny fraction of what I've been dealing with every day. He went to take Roger to go potty, and Roger threw a fit about taking off his pants, and my husband went to try to pull them off of him so that he could stick him on the toilet. Which is when he discovered that Roger neglected to mention that he had pooped in his underwear and apparently my poor husband got his hand covered in this horrible mess because, well, he didn't know. And while all this was going on, Bettie was crying and screaming in the living room, because that's pretty much how it always happens. Of course I felt bad for my husband, but at the same time (and I know he'll read this and probably curse my name for saying it), I couldn't help but allow myself a slight giggle (on the inside, of course, I'm not a bitch) because, well, I was beginning to think my children just saved up all the real FUN (note the sarcasm?) stuff for me, especially for when he isn't even home.

Roger also actually took a nap today--a REAL, true, longer-than-dozing-for-ten-minutes nap, which made my life a whole lot easier, even after Bettie woke up from her short one hour nap. The house was even peaceful...for about half an hour. 

However. Then this happened:

2:00 PM. Roger uses the toilet (though it was a minuscule amount of pee, and I know he only forced it out of himself to get Skittles, but whatever). After I handed him his reward, he then looked me in the eye, out of the blue, and informed me, "Mama. Your pretty is all gone."

Fucking figures.

So, he's now on my own personal blacklist and it's a good thing Christmas already passed. Though if he thinks I won't remember this when next Christmas rolls around, he's sadly mistaken. 

2:30 PM. Pee and poop in the underwear, there's a huge mess that Roger seems to be enjoying SPLASHING in (just...just shoot me; fucking gross), and my dog won't stop barking at Bettie because, well, why the hell not. 

3:30 PM. Successful toilet use, woohoo! Not much happened during this time, which I was quite happy about. 

5:00 PM. This is about the time I started to regret trying to cook dinner, because all 3 of my kids were literally screaming at the same time--for quite a while. I also burned my hand because I'm very clearly an idiot and it hurt like hell. 

5:30 PM. This is when I realized I wouldn't have dinner ready soon enough for my children who, according to Travis, were "STAAAAARVING, MOM!!!!!" So I made their impatient and ungrateful asses some sandwiches, even though the entire reason the food wasn't ready in time was because THEY were running around like patients in a looney bin. Whatever, it's fine, enjoy your boring sandwiches, you heathens. But when MY delicious Marsala mushroom pork chops, buttered egg noodles, and green beans were done, I ate in peace all by myself.

YEAH RIGHT! That there is what we like to call the "dream sequence" of the story. In reality, I pretty much vacuumed up my dinner while hiding in my bathroom, and I only had a small amount because by then I'd basically lost my appetite. But I will say it was really good, so, at least there's that. 

6:15 PM. Successful toilet use--note the time between the last one and this one? That's almost three hours. Which is awesome because there were NO accidents during that time either. I am SO proud!!! 

6:30 PM. This is about the time I started running out of patience (though not with Roger, oddly enough he was the easiest one this evening), as well as losing the ability to be clever, so, I'm just gonna state this as plainly as possible: out of beer; send help. Fast. 

7:15 PM. Two kids in bed, one left to go, and I'm ready to pass out. Is it Saturday yet? I'd like it to be Saturday. 

7:29 PM. I just realized my husband is working this weekend, which means Saturday will be just as hellish as a weekday and I kind of want to vomit now. 

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Adventures in potty training, day 2.

So far so good, but it's only 9:30 AM so we'll see. I haven't yet had to deal with poop in his underwear, but then again, he hasn't done it in the toilet yet either. I would imagine it will be any time now and I've never been so afraid of a poop prospect in my life. 

11:00 AM. NO ACCIDENTS YET! And three, maybe even four, successful toilet uses. I am ecstatic. 

12:40 PM. So, Roger doesn't take naps anymore, hasn't for a few months, but we make him have quiet time in his room. He gets to play on the iPad while laying in bed, usually because I'm trying to get Bettie to take a nap and she won't sleep if he's around the house making noise. Well Bettie hasn't taken a nap in a couple weeks (which means she's oh so much fun by evening), but today, she actually took a nap--in her crib--and is still asleep! Kind of wondering if my husband drugged her or something, because it's so unusual nowadays. Anyway, so Roger has a pull-up on right now for quiet time, just in case he falls asleep (yeah right), and because he isn't at the point where he'll announce when he needs to go, so frankly I'm hoping that when he gets up he'll have already pooped so that it doesn't happen in his underwear later. I know, I know, I shouldn't hope for that because I need to get him to do it on the toilet. But now that my husband has left for work, my anxiety about today turning out like yesterday is increasing, and I'd really like to not deal with massive amounts of crap in underwear and all over the floor. More than I'm already cleaning up from the dog, anyway. Seriously, why did we think potty training would be a good idea right now? I can only assume that if our marriage survives the next few weeks, it can survive the rest of our lives. Right? 

2:30 PM. So. Much. Pee. All over my dining room chair (note: MY chair, the place I sit my fat ass to eat the dinners I manage to cook amidst all this chaos), all over my floor, leading in a trail into the living room?! I don't know if there was so much that it soaked his pants and got on the floor as his pants dragged, or if he peed while running to the living room to yell the word POTTY over and over again (no, the irony here isn't lost on me), or what, but there was a trail of pee, and none of it was from the puppy, and it was, well, gross. Also my dining room chair cushion is soaked and I don't even know how to begin dealing with that other than putting a towel on it. Which Roger then immediately turns around and takes off of the chair and waves around like a horrific, pee-soaked flag of victory, as if he's staking a claim to this chair as his new territory (which would explain pissing all over it, I guess). I now know that buying more beer was a good idea. 

3:30 PM. Not potty training related, but I've decided that in the interest of being healthy (despite all the beer), I'm going to make myself some chicken taco salad for dinner. The kids, being opposed to anything involving lettuce, and being on my last damn nerve a mere 20 minutes after my eldest arrived home from school, will get sandwiches. If they're fucking lucky. 

Oh, and actually potty training related, there WAS one successful toilet use a few minutes ago. But my happiness, excitement, and pride were all slightly overshadowed by the rather large temper tantrum Roger threw when he only got two Skittles as a reward. Even though he only got two each time he used the toilet all day yesterday and all morning today. I can't really get mad though because I, too, think one can never have enough Skittles, and at least he comes by it honestly. 

4:30 PM. There is poop everywhere. No time to explain. 

5:40 PM. There's been...I don't even know anymore. Two? Three accidents? Since I last made a note at 4:30. Along with an equal number of toilet refusals and subsequent tantrums. Never in my eight years of parenting have I been more thankful for having pizza rolls in my freezer than I am today. And yes, I AM including the time during pregnancies and post labor/c-sections. 

7:00 pm. So, the weirdest thing happened tonight. After dinner, not only did Roger go potty without a shrieking crazy fit, not only did he put on extra warm comfy pajamas without a shrieking crazy fit--but he also SPECIFICALLY ASKED TO GO TO BED. Hold on, let me check the number of beers I've consumed to make sure I'm not making up some sort of false memory in a drunken stupor. Okay, yeah it definitely happened for real. 

THEN, to make matters even more unbelievable, Bettie went to sleep in her crib right away, despite our puppy making every possible annoying effort to keep her awake by barking incessantly at Travis's pant legs (he has a thing about pants, I...I don't know, he's weird). 

So, in many ways, today has been ridiculous and insane and long as hell. But, the last hour has gone by fairly easily, and everyone is still alive and (relatively) in tact, so I'm gonna go ahead and consider today a win. Cheers!

Adventures in Potty Training.

Yes, I know, it's been a year and a half since my last post. I'm back now, so, I'm trying not to hate myself too much for neglecting this thing for so long.

Now, on to the real deal...


...the adventures in potty training!

My husband and I are clearly gluttons for punishment.

We recently moved our 3 year old son into our 8 year old son's room so that our 6 month old daughter could finally have her own room. We are also working on getting her to sleep in her crib. We are also housebreaking our 8 week old puppy. So what better time to finally say enough is enough with our incredibly stubborn 3 year old and get him potty trained? On a Tuesday? When my husband has to leave for work an hour after we begin?

What could possibly go wrong there?!


I'll be chronicling said adventures right here, as often as possible. I'm even keeping notes in my phone so that I can try to post and share them at the end of the day. So, here are yesterday's events.


Day One.

Roger peed in his underwear four times in a 45 minute span. Never pees this often in diapers, but suddenly now he's expelling liquid like a fire hydrant. I should have bought him more underwear. Down to two clean pairs only about an hour after I got home from the store.

Out of the entire day, he told me when he needed to go potty only once, at about 11:10 AM. Got him to the toilet, he suddenly throws a tantrum about not wanting to go. Finally manage to strip him of his underwear so he can go, and he pees on the floor. Dammit. All the while, my daughter is in her bouncy seat screaming because she's hungry and ready for a nap (which she never took anyway, as luck would have it), and my delightful dog has chewed up a pacifier and peed on the rug--again. By 11:15 AM, I am literally counting down the seconds until noon when I can crack open a beer without feeling like a total alcoholic. I've actually set an alarm on my phone that says "It's go time."

No, I wasn't joking.

It's 11:35 AM. Close enough. Open a cold Budweiser. Realize I'm low on beer, kind of wanting to cry, kind of wishing I'd purchased both beer and underwear in bulk. Already washing Roger's underwear because he's almost out of clean ones. Also realizing I'll be doing a lot of laundry for the next several days and hope I have enough detergent.

12:00 PM. Successful toilet use; lots of praise and two Skittles as a reward. Alarm goes off, reminding me to open a beer. Joke's on you, alarm, I already finished one and am considering a second one. Alarm kind of makes me feel like a failure. 

1:00 PM. Another accident, down to one pair of clean underwear, the rest are in the dryer, I feel like I'm racing a clock, quickly trying to dismantle a bomb. Oh, wait, that's just my head feeling like it's going to explode. Okay. I tried making him wait a few minutes before cleaning him up and changing his underwear, in the hopes that he would get uncomfortable and realize that this is clearly no way to live. This bright idea failed spectacularly, as he doesn't seem to mind being covered in his own pee at all. Finally had to force him into clean underwear against his will, and he screams at me and throws a huge fit, because what kind of horrible mother would inflict this kind of medieval torture onto her child? I'm obviously the worst. Having a second beer.

2:00 PM. The inmates have taken over the asylum. 

2:15 PM. Successful toilet use; feeling a little better about the day, very proud of my son, but still on the verge of a heart attack because I'm trying to do about 500 things at the same time (as opposed to the usual 400 things on an average day). Haven't had time to sit down. Already checking my bank account to see if I have money for more beer. 

3:15 PM. Another successful toilet use. Things are getting a little better, but more chaotic (if that makes any sense at all), because now my 11 year old brother and 8 year old son are home from school and the house is starting to resemble a junkyard and the kids are as loud as a rock show (or what I remember of one anyway). Fortunately my mother is here, and I have someone to rant to.

3:45 PMGo to store for more beer, because I'm sure I'll need plenty for the next few days. Ha! Yeah right, like it will last a few days. Come home, start getting things ready for dinner. Starting to feel crazed again, but the food in the crock pot smells delicious, so I'm okay with it.


After that, I stopped logging times and events because, well, between potty time, accidents from both the toddler and the puppy, dealing with the baby, making and serving dinner, homework with my 8 year old, bedtime, etc., etc., there's just no time for note-taking anymore. 

But! Roger successfully used the toilet several times and only had one more accident between about 3:00 and 5:00, because I realized I'm obviously an idiot for constantly asking when he needs to go and instead, I just started making him go every 30 minutes, and he actually did, every time. By bedtime, everything from the day felt like a blur, and I wanted to cry and eat a lot of candy and sleep. It was also really hard not to eat his Skittles as they mocked me mercilessly from on top of my fridge.

As I'm typing this, I'm also making notes about today's events for me to post tonight or tomorrow, and I'm hoping and praying (yes, praying, just in case) that today is much smoother than yesterday, because rereading all the events from yesterday is making my stomach turn.