Yellow Snowmen

It is tax season, which means Chad is rarely home...which means that every day is a weekday for the rest of the family. It's the "chicken nuggets for dinner" season of our lives; a time when the TV is on a little more than usual; a time when the nighttime bath becomes a little more infrequent; a time when we just try to make it until daddy is home again.

Of course, this is the time that Hadley chooses to potty train HERSELF! Personally, I think she is too young for this. Hadley, on the other hand, is determined and routinely takes off her diaper and goes in the potty. It is quite hysterical to hear her saying, "It's comin', mom, it's comin!" when she goes. We gave training pants a (not so) dry run on Friday and Saturday with limited success. She happily will "go potty" and beg to "go potty more," but the multiple accidents tell me her body isn't quite there yet. At least, I don't think it is...and I'm the one who has to clean up the pee pee pants...the one who is prisoner in her own home until Hadley masters this task. Therefore, in diapers she will stay...at least until tax season is over.

Not to be outdone, Harrison is also making waves in the bathroom department. As I was feeding him yesterday, I felt a massive explosion in his pants not one, but four times. The force of said explosion was so great that I could actually feel his diaper move. I stopped feeding him and gingerly removed the thick, fleece, snowman sleeper he was wearing. The entire back was covered in what my father lovingly refers to as "baby sh*t yellow." The snowmen were yellow as was the bedspread on which I had placed Harrison to change him. It had actually seeped through the FLEECE sleeper and into the bedspread. As I was cleaning him up, he proceeded to pee all over my brand new pants and the clean sheets that were on the bed (under the poop-soaked bedspread). Harrison and I were drenched in pee, poop is on everything in sight, so naturally, Hadley chose that moment to let me know she needed to "pee pee in the potty." Of course.

Once upon a time, I dealt primarily with top secret documents, war plans, foreign heads of state. Now, the tools of my trade are pee, poop, and breast milk. Oh, how far I've come.