I told you people to not let me get too cocky. I dedicated my BSM to Addie and her potty-training achievements and have been running around patting myself on the back as if I was the one who did a spectacular job with the training.

And now I shall pay for all of the arrogance.

While sitting on the steps in a timeout this morning, Addie was screaming and carrying on and looked at me and said most defiantly, “I am going pee!” And she did. Right there on the step through her Cinderella skirt.

No sooner had I cleaned the puddle up and put her back in timeout (for the original offense, not for having an accident), when she started screaming about having more pee-pee. And so we had been running to the bathroom every 10 minutes up until lunchtime because I have been all about the “pee patrol” again.

Then we got home this afternoon after dropping Em off at school and Addie said, “I have to go poopy.” As we were walking back to the bathroom, I realized that she had in fact already “gone.” In her pants. So I cleaned her up and was taking her dirty clothes to the laundry room when I was sidetracked by the cat pee on the floor. (As a side-note, I scoop that stupid box every single day and they sit and WAIT until it is scooped and then will saunter over and either dirty the box within 2 minutes of it being clean, or even worse pee as close to the box as you can get without getting any of it IN the box.)

So I’m fuming, cleaning up the cat pee, and vowing to not let Smokey back in the house the next time she escapes. Addie is “airing out” until I can corral her to get her upstairs, clothed, and down for a nap, when she comes in and says, “Uh, oh. Poopy, Mommy! There is some poopy.”

At this point I’m not sure if it is human or cat poop, I can barely bring myself to follow her into the playroom. But I do, and there in the middle of the play kitchen area, all by itself, is a teacup. Filled with poop.

The girl pooped in one of her teacups.

POOPED. IN A TEACUP.

This qualifies as the most disgusting mommy clean-up to date.

As I was telling J. about my poopy day, I said, “See how much fun you are missing out on?”
He sarcastically says, “I can’t lie. It sounds like a blast.”

Not entirely the sympathy I was looking for. But I don’t expect any from you either, frankly I’d be amazed if you made it through this whole poopy post.

I must go sterilize…something. Everything.