Maybe Charmin Really IS Better

I have GOT to stop screwing up my kids. Number three, the oak that she is, would easily get a prescription for something STRONG if I ran her stress level by any medical professional. I'm not talking Prozac or Zoloft. I'm talking the real stuff. For psychosis. It is not right.

Last night's crisis was, let me see if I can do it justice, it was the very real possibility that the tigers would escape from the zoo and swim the very large river and run the many miles to our house and break down the doors and eat us. There was no consoling her. She prayed REALLY HARD that the tigers would stay in the zoo. Repeatedly, we're talking lots of prayers


Tonight's crisis centers around a slight rawness in her private area. A chafing if you will. She made me aware of it last night and requested that I investigate. Nothing too concerning. I inquired as to whether her "area" had, for any reason, been left damp for a period of time. She acknowledged that she had recently taken to peeing JUST A LITTLE BIT in her pants before she makes it to the commode. I advised her that she might want to consider NOT DOING THAT ANYMORE and perhaps, while she's at it, she could stop doing her potty spinning. Beck, you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about. I bet you laughed just reading potty spinning.

Potty spinning is CUH-RAAAZZZYYY time, nuts, cuckoo for cocoa puffs. She has to go potty, but instead of just dropping her drawers and letting it flow she chooses to stand outside the bathroom door and spin. Really fast. And she sort of flaps her arms and rolls her head around. It's like she's having a seizure while standing. And spinning. About every fourth rotation she lets out a squeal/laugh thing that sounds like, again, she's crazy. Then she starts chanting The pee is going back up the pee is going back up. Of course, we did secretly video tape it, cause, come on, it IS funny. Funny in a very concerned parent, hope my kid isn't ACTUALLY crazy, sort of way.

So, I encouraged her to stop doing THAT and to make sure she's wiping really well and getting all the way dried off down there. She's not feeling that confident in her wiping abilities and has requested that I take over that role in her life for the time being. Awesome. That means that I'm officially in charge of wiping everyone in this home who does not yet possess pubic hair. And myself, I do wipe myself and I do possess pubes. I'm tempted to admit that I possess more pubic hair than I should and I have earned the loving nickname of "free bush", but that would probably be WAY more info than anyone wants.

Tonight we are so tired and short fused that Daddy rushed her getting ready for bed routine, not letting her find me to do the wipey-wipey. This was a terrible mistake. She was, for real, hyperventilating, sobbing Mom, I can feel a little pee still, its got a little spot of wet, mom, and I know I'm gonna get a rash again and I hate having a rash it really hurts and if Dad let you come wipe me I wouldn't get a rash, please can we change my WHOLE OUTFIT and WIPE AGAIN so I won't get a rash MOM PLEEEAASSEE. Big tears. So sad. Being the patient, loving mother that I am I told her to go to sleep or you're going to wake up your baby sister. You won't get a rash, I'm sure it's fine, if you do I'll just put rash medicine on it.

I wonder what fears tomorrow holds for little oak tree.