Stuff + nonsense

I am making you smell it

I have to admit, I’m pretty much a tool when it comes to other people writing about their children’s journey to a diaper-free existence. I roll my eyes at it and think, “No one wants to hear this, you guys. Right? Right guys?” Which makes me a jerk, but what takes me all the way to full-fledged tooldom is the fact that while I am thinking that, this, this, this, this, this and this all exist. That’s right, capital JAY-EE-AR-KAY.

But what can you do? It’s always, ALWAYS going to be more interesting to you than it is to any other person on the face of the planet how your offspring is doing in the potty-training field. And yet you forget every time you’re in the trenches that no one else cares about it as much as you do. It’s like that thing people do when they smell something disgusting and then pass it over to you, saying “Dude, this REEKS. Smell it.”

So anyway, like I was saying, Rosie is learning to go to the bathroom. Let’s talk about it!

It is … challenging. I mean, as if we needed another thing to show us in large all caps how our children are completely different from each other. Rosie is crafty. Like crazy crafty. We began employing the jelly bean method for potty-peeing enticement a couple of weeks ago, with somewhat successful results, and then Rosie got hip. (Let’s get real: Rosie was born hip.) She can eke out an eighth of a teaspoon of urine into the tiny plastic basin—enough to count for going, but not so much that she can’t do exactly the same thing in five minutes. For another jelly bean. And at that point we are had, because what are we going to do? Not give her one? Tell her she held back, thereby forfeiting all her jelly bean acquisition rights? No. No, we’re going to clap and act excited and open the jar again and let her stand, pudgy finger to mouth for thirty seconds carefully decide which color she will select this time. Because we are suckers. And she is so dadgum cute.

I know, I know, I KNOW, ok? It’s a slow process. She’ll go eventually. But at this rate, it will be long after her teeth have rotted out of her head and the stock for jelly beans has gone on premium.

Words or phrases I’ve written on the back of my hand in ink in the past seven days:

orange dye


black mask



doughnut box!



I think this means two things: 1.) My life has been very full and bizarre lately and 2.) I should just invest in a planner already.

I am in a show. It is so fun.

You guys, this show. It is so fun. No, but like for real. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced talented people taking words on a page (that you’ve read through and thought were medium funny) and bringing them to life in a way that you couldn’t have ever imagined. If not, I recommend it. It’s inspiring. Sure, the material may be about vibrators and the gang from Scooby Doo judging American Idol, but the actors make it so vibrantly, transformingly, creatively gut-busting that you know you’re experiencing magic. I feel really privileged just to be a part of it, and that’s the truth.


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