Workin' Nine to Five

I got to complete a puzzle on the dinner room table with my oldest, followed by a good long trampoline session. I read her a book while we both laid on my hammock in the evening dusk.

The following day, as I worked in my home office, my two year old, Ellie was playing with her playhouses in the living room. She had a character that was creatively named, "Ellie." While she conversed to herself through the dolls, I heard her call to it, "Let's go, Ellie bell!" That is what her mom and I call her most of the time. It just sounded better from her mouth.

I have only worn socks at bowling and at my uncle's funeral since the beginning of June.

I have not been woken up by an alarm for work in that time either. Instead, my children are my wake-up call.

I have had conversations over coffee most every morning.

People ask me how working for myself is.

Two for the Show

I realize that many of you are going to think that I am a disgusting piece of work. I would have to assume the same thing considering this confession. I am sure most people are not consumed enough with this subject matter to dump it onto the internet for any bystander to stumble across it. Most individuals would wad the memory right up and flush it down the toilet, never to utter a single word of it's existence to anyone. But this is not your blog.

This is where my warning message must be posted:
If you have a disagreement to potty talk and feces, then I suggest you skip over the following text. If you are disturbed by human waste then I recommend that you do not, under any circumstance, peek at the link posted below.



Ellie is a poop-hoarder. She holds it in for all it is worth. She has been doing this for a very long time. She is completely disinterested in the toilet or becoming potty-trained. We have had to feed her natural diarrhetics for months and months. Lately only Benefiber has kept her regular. Grammy has offered toys as rewards for her to sit and perform on the toilet, but she still has not allowed the toilet to be her friend. She holds it until she can hardly pass it, which only propagates the hatred for becoming an outstanding "trained" individual.

Tonight she was amidst the theatrics involved in order to keep from having a bowel movement. She was screaming, crying, and holding her knees tight and straight in order to hold the lump inside of her. We were outside in the backyard encouraging her to go, but she refused any words, and kept in line with her battle plans. Finally, I picked her up and brought her to her training potty in the bathroom. I held her down on the toilet as her hollered at the top of her lungs. Abbie came in and helped to persuade her as she yelled at me. Within seconds after Abbie told her, "Go poop, baby."

Ellie flatly responded, "I did."

Abbie and I had been listening for the distinctive drop into the plastic bucket to signal a successful download, but heard nothing. I released my grip and Ellie slowly stood to show off her dropping proudly like a mother hen with an egg.

What we discovered was something that blew our minds.

She was so excited, we called the grandparents and gave her a lollipop as a reward and incentive to continue. I think we have broken new ground. My only concern is that she chose to break the habit on 6/6/06.

Of course, I did hold her down.

Lastly, I don't want to hear any shit about me tramatizing her. If you care to partake in the shinanigans of her previous process, then you can wear the badge that gives you the right to criticize me, otherwise, chalk this up as a win for the toilet bowl, and smile with her family.