On our way down the driveway the other day (en route to an early 4:30 dinner), I stopped by the mailbox. And found this:
Apparently feeling like an old lady is qualification enough for membership. I blame the boys for my new gray hairs.
Case in point: the “incident” at school today.
When I picked the boys up from school this afternoon, the first thing I noticed was that Cooper was wearing different clothes than what I put on him that morning. Then the teacher tells me there had been an incident. Oh boy.
I prefer that the incidents only happen at home.
So apparently, Charlie dropped his pants in the middle of the playground today in front of about 40 kids and all the teachers and peed. He proudly informed the onlookers that mommy says that is OK to pee outside.
Oh my. My ‘Worst Parent of the Year’ Award will be the next thing I find in my mailbox.
And here’s the thing. I am guilty. We’ve got a big yard. I’ve got a big belly and I'm tired (and don’t forget, old), and so when the boys have been playing outside lately and someone has to pee, I’ve given the thumbs up for them to pee outside (preferably behind a bush). Otherwise, I end up having to race one kid all the way back inside to the potty - within the 5 second window before they'll need new clothes - while leaving the other two to their own devices in the yard. And at 27 weeks pregnant with a kiddo who is growing 2 weeks larger than average, I don't move all that quickly, and this is just easy. (And honestly, I've been quite impressed with the convenience the whole standing up to pee thing in the emergency-I-gotta-pee-right-now situations, particularly those involving port-a-potties. We girls really miss out).
So anyway, the teachers told me they had to follow “procedure” (involving bleach) after the incident (futher fueling my guilt), and while said procedure was taking place, Cooper apparently realized he was not gonna be able to drop trou outside like his brother, and proceeded to pee in his pants (hence, the new outfit).
<< Sigh >>
And this on the heels of an incident at home, wherein during naptime (during which no one actually naps any more), someone pooped in the potty, and emptied in the toy box. (I say “someone” because both Charlie and Zach proudly claimed to have done the deed.)
So somehow, I potty trained the boys, but forgot to teach them fundamentals, such as inappropriate places to relieve themselves. I'll do better with Baby #4. I swear.
And now, dear friends, it is now nearly 9pm, and it is time for this old lady to go to bed. Sweet dreams...