You are all invited!

Okay, I am not the most eloquent person on the net. I’m not even the smartest. But I do know when I’ve been duped.


Duped in the sense that I’ve been had, bamboozled, conned, hoodwinked, hornswoggle, swindled, or jerked around.


In a word: I’VE BEEN FOOLED!


(Okay, that's three words but who’s counting?)


As some of you may know already I have children. (Critters if I’m feeling my southern roots). They are my life, my world, salvation, and virtually the sneakiest people on the face of the earth.


(Okay, the last statement was overkill, but so true).


Well, I’ve been toilet training my 2 year old for the last few weeks and was sitting at the computer to compose a fairly lengthy post to you all about the injustices of the world, the economy, a 70 year old pregnant women, the latest scams and so forth when I heard something.


(HA! Who am I kidding? I hate the news. Unless it’s entertainment tonight. Now that’s REAL news).


This sounded like someone was in my lovely, need to get away from the world bathroom. I then heard what sounded like water running so I shrugged my shoulders, chalked it up to the hubby fooling around in the bathroom, and kept on typing.


Two minutes later hubby taps me on the shoulder as I am one paragraph away from hitting ‘send’ and says:


“Do you smell that”?


I sniff and proceed with my typing. Stop! I turn to look at him with eyes wide as saucers (whatever the hell that means. I never looked in the mirror to see if I could make my eyes wide as saucers). And ask him:


“Why aren’t YOU in the bathroom”?


He looks at me as if I’m taking this blogging thing WAY to seriously as it has corrupted my brain circuitry ‘cause now I can’t even tell if it’s him or a small child that is moving around in the bathroom. And he’s standing right there in front of me!


(Which of course I am taking it seriously. But I’ll never tell him that).


We both approach the bathroom with caution. Him behind me because the man is so scared of his children. And mice. And bogeymen. And UFOs.


I’m sweating ‘cause I don’t know if it’ll be another 2 foot kid we didn’t know we had, opossum, or a ninja dressed in black trying to have his revenge on us ‘cause that’s what ninja’s do. I think. Or maybe I just made the last point up because I have a vivid imagination.


(Okay I do, but that’s beside the point).


I open the door slooowly and see what I’ve been praying for to happen for the last three months.


Trinity has begun to use the potty!!! YEEEHAAAAAA!


“Gosh, she stinks”.


“But its wonderful hon. No more pampers YAHH! Now, I can finally get those sneakers that I’ve always wanted at Wally World”.


“No, she really stinks. Can’t you do something about it”?


“You know we should have a party. A potty party! We should invite all the two year olds within a three mile radius and ask them to bring their potty chairs”.


“You’re weird. Please clean that up. She stinks”.


“Oh honestly, it’s so adorable. Don’t you see; all of that screaming and yelling and threatening a visit from Jack Frost paid off. It’s a time to celebrate. Come on, help me clean her up”.


“NOT part of my job description”. Hubby is obviously not in a celebratory state of mind and walks off.


Me mumbling under my breath: “Killjoy”.


I then start giving Trinity smiles and hugs and kisses, and telling her that momma loves her soooo much. 36 seconds later I hear the ‘PHHHHH’ sound of an air freshener being sprayed behind me. (I so suck at sound effects).


Shouting to cover the noise of the spray as it stings my nose and throat: “Thank you captain obvious”!


“Well, you asked for my help”.


Point taken.


So filled with pride, I failed to notice that quite a few times the potty chair has left me some ‘surprises’, and I never really paid it any attention. I just went into ‘maid mode’ and cleaned up what needed to be cleaned up.


Anywho, Trinity is now officially a big girl. I’ll send out invites with little potty chairs on the front to all of my neighbors with two year olds who are still potty training.


They will be soooo jealous.


NOTE: The pic above is of my lovely baby at eight months. She loved that swing!