POTTY TRAINING is kicking my ass. I have never directly touched (and no the accidental knuckle graze moms of infants occasionally experience, then run screaming to the sink, doesn’t count) so much
shit fecal matter, and I’m pretty sure that nowhere in my motherhood contract does it state that I am required to do so. My daily treat, and the one thing that keeps me from jumping out the window of my little ranch house, is the period of time between 7:30 and 10:30 in the evening, when the boys are in dreamland and I exhale for the first time all day. Tonight I cleaned out my closet – neatly storing all my heavy winter sweaters in one bin and making a good size pile for charity – and it felt like a vacation.