My previously potty trained child did not have 4 accidents, two of each kind for those of you who are the curious type, in less than 24 hours yesterday.
I was not secretly happy that I was busy and unable to help with the clean up of the two of the messier variety.
I do not have a mountain of stuff needing to go into the washer at the end of the hallway due to Naters wetting the bed twice last night. This pile does not include one matress pad, 2 waterproof (call ’em what they really are people – pee proof) sheets, 2 fitted sheets, one green blankie, one yellow blankie, one comforter, 2 pairs of underwear, 2 pairs of socks, and 2 sets of pajamas.
Jill’s diaper would never dream of leaking on a night such as last night. The above mentioned pile would not also include one crib pee proof mattress pad, one crib sheet, one pair of baby pj’s, and a sleep sack.
Along the same laundry lines, I would not have been brought to tears this week over the ruining of a favorite shirt we’d bought Jill which she only wore once (the one in the header picture). I would never have the desire to burn the dark pink bib which rested next to the favorite shirt in the bucket of oxyclean water in an attempt to remove nasty carrot spit-up stains.
I wouldn’t be mentioning this in hopes of someone having been in this position and miraculously saving a favorite shirt. (Been there, tried that with a resoaking with oxy-clean, regular shout, advanced shout, and 2 trips through the washer – no, it’s not been in the dryer)
I also am not ready to do an investigative study on the implantation of muting devices in soon to be three year old boys who can’t control the urge to whine regarding everything.
I would not have resorted to this as my only option after exhausting all others: time out, ignoring whines, whining back, polite reminders, pulling my hair out as i run away screaming for it to stop, and others.