As I sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor today staring straight ahead at a toilet very in need of a honest-to-goodness scrubbin, I realized that... this is it. THIS is what my life has come to. My new cubical is the bathroom. It's where I'm spending the majority of my time at home, thus far, in the throes of a not-so-successful potty training experience with Eve. We've been workin' it for a while now, and I still feel like the light at the end of the tunnel is about as close as... frickin' A - I can't even think of anything clever. It sucks, and it's nowhere near over. Rewards, encouragement, tears, screaming... none of it working. We can't get that kid to drop her kids off at the pool for nothin'.
I know someday we'll be prancing about town in our big girl undies like nobody's business, nary a worry about pee-pee accidents on our minds. But for now, I'll be hanging out on the bathroom floor. And not in a good way.
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