why I hate children more than anything in the world

By christa 14 February, 2008 best of loafe, vol 1, random

I’m giving up potty training. It’s a ridiculous, mind-numbing, patience-eating, happiness-destroying pain in the ass activity that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Just when you think things are going swell, when you’ve crossed the threshold, broken the barrier, made it to the other side, you find yourself buried in a silo’s worth of soiled bedding, clothes and various household items, reminding you how much you suck as a parent and how well you’ve succeeded in raising the worst and possibly most retarded child in the history of children.

I don’t know what happened. Things were great. He was peeing in the toilet like a champ. Sure, we were struggling a bit with the whole pooping thing, but it was okay, we were making progress. Slow progress, but moving forward we were.

Then suddenly, overnight, we’re back to square one. Not even square one, we’re back to like square -12 or something, because not only is he refusing to poop in the toilet, he won’t even pee in it anymore. He won’t tell us when he has to go, he’ll just wet himself. When we sit him on the toilet, he screams and cries and carries on like I’m lighting matches to his tenderonies and still he won’t go.

He’s peeing his pants all the time now, peeing peeing peeing everywhere, soaking his clothes, soaking his bed, soaking the earth, soaking my love, all with his evil urine. I don’t want to traumatize the poor kid by making him sit on the toilet crying hysterically while I sit there next to him crying hysterically, cursing at him to just pee in the goddamn toilet already what the eff is wrong with you it isn’t rocket science just PEE IN THE FUCKING TOILET AHHHHHHH!!!

But I can’t take it anymore. I’m at my limit. I do not know what else to do. I can’t bribe him any more than I have, not with treats, not with toys, not with stickers, not with money. Nothing works. He has his own little potty. He has the big potty. He has the little kid toilet seat to place over the big potty. He knows it’s time, he knows how to do it, he’s done it plenty of times, and still he refuses. I beg. I try reasoning. He is a wall.

I don’t want keep putting him in diapers all day, because he’s 3 and a fucking half years old. But he is completely unfazed when he pees/poops his pants. And it’s not like I can just let him sit in his dirty clothes, I have to change him, so there is no real suffering or incentive on his part. It really just seems like I have no other choice but to go back to diapers. It feels like I’m giving in to him, he’ll know my breaking point and being the little devil he is exploit that to his full advantage, but I just don’t care anymore.

fucking kids. no wonder my mother hates me.

I probably should have put this post up yesterday, because thursdays are supposed to be about the divine, but there is little to be inspired by in the world of human waste. even if it is related to you.

in the throes

By christa 13 February, 2008 wednesday bitchery

Well, it’s finally happened. The headphones have thrown their hands in the air and said enough!

I tried my best to keep them together, gluing them as often as necessary, treating them gently, stretching their usefulness as far as I could. But it’s over. Only one earbud plays music now. The other just stares at me with its cold dead eyes, silent, mocking. I suppose I could keep listening to just the one side, but how annoying is that. Plus, the side that still works keeps shooting off these sort of buzzing electrical shocks which kind of hurt my ear. So yeah. I certainly most definitely need a new pair.

SIGH.

I can’t get the ones I really want, so I’m going to have to settle for something cheap and lame and not at all sexy or full of depths to puncture my works. I have to get headphones that play ordinary-sounding music for all the ordinary people and their ordinary ears. I curse the heavens and the hells. I shout “why me, universe? why give me ears of the finest making and then force me to use non-$500 headphones? why oh why?”

How am I supposed to live with those gorgeous Shures living their headphone life in someone else’s ears? Giving them all their splendidness, all their warmth, all their glory? I have to go to lousy best buy or something and buy superiorly inferior ear buds and I am not happy about this at all.

I blame McCain.

One should never have to deal with the death of one’s headphones while in the midst of some nasty PMS crankiness.

this video is only for the few

By christa 8 February, 2008 random

G recorded a video a month or two ago of the kid having some messy fun, throwing around the shredded documents from the shredder. it’s a few minutes long and kind of a big file, and really not very interesting except to a handful of people. so this is your warning. don’t come complaining to me about how boring it was after you’ve watched it.

finally, you all can see in action the mother-in-law I go on about so much. it’s probably kind of rude of me to put a video of her out on the internet. oh well. I do way worse things. believe me.

it’s funny when g throws confetti in his mom’s face and seeing him laugh about it. I like it when he laughs. it makes me feel good inside.

ry is having a great time too. this makes me feel good inside.

g’s mom, not having such a great time. this makes me feel good inside the most.

“me turn to try it.”

By christa 6 February, 2008 random

That is the phrase that is currently haunting my every waking moment. my sleeping moments, too. Constantly, all the time, with everything, Ry says, “Me tuuuuurn to try iiiit…” It’s great that he’s getting all independent and shit, but seriously. SERIOUSLY. How do you explain to a three-year-old that as capable as he may feel, he is just not ready to handle the blogosphere? and the fact that he says “me turn” and not “my turn” means he should probably just keep quiet?

Here’s what you say. “please. you sleep with stuffed animals in your bed. the internet is for mommies. here, take your little sippy cup covered in hopping bunnies and go play cars or something.”

“me turn to try it” he tells me again. as a warning. what he’s really saying is “unless you do as I say and give me exactly what I want, I will start crying and whining and pestering you until your eyes bleed. neither of us wants that.”

so fine, I gave in, let him have the computer. and created a monster. because now he’s addicted like his mom. His drug of choice? The white china that is Noggin. noggin noggin noggin. “I want to play noggin mommy.” from the time he wakes up until I drag him off it at night, kicking & screaming. He plays the same dumb games over and over again, and while he’s good with the mouse and everything, he still kind of sucks, which is hard for me, because the games are easy and stupid and made for little kids and it bugs me when he doesn’t do it right or makes mistakes or doesn’t “win”. I want to be all nick burns, “move! I’ll do it.” he cries and gets mad when I do that though.

anyway.

Super Tuesday was pretty exciting don’t ya think? It’s great to see the country so involved, so interested. People are caring, they are invested, they are willing to get off their asses and make a choice. Call me a nerd if you will, but I love voting. I want everyone else to love it, too. Voting is mad rad, my dogs. mad rad.

So I guess everything is still kind of up in the air, particularly in the dems corner, but I don’t think it matters who wins the nominations. Because I’m pulling a babe ruth, 430 ft to center, a mark messier guarantee, game six win. The next president is going to be black or have a vagina, either one works for me; I’m just pleased to punches that it will be a democrat.

Because I know the American people will not put another Republican in office (or even someone pretending to be Republican). I trust them. They feel bad about their behavior in the last two elections. They want to make amends. They say to me, “I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry for hurting you. don’t look at me that way. It’s just that sometimes, sometimes I have too much to drink. because I love you, see, I love you so much, and it makes me lose my mind. baby please. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. commere. I’m not going to hit you. I promise.”

Say Clinton wins. Obama becomes her running mate. She wins the presidency. She gets a 2nd term. Then in 2016, VP Obama takes over the reins, and goes on to a 2nd term as well. 16 years. That should be enough time to undue the damage of the past eight, you think? Scrub ourselves clean of his filth? A scalding hot, purifying 16 year shower. Rub us raw, democrats. I beg you, rub us raw.