I have been followed by the lingering smell of urine all day today. It seems that no matter where I traverse within my home or car, it wafts sweet, stinky mockery in my face, “I will not be trained.” Burke, while trained to poop in the toilet for months, can only manage to “remember” to pee in the toilet on occassion. Does he even care? It’s certainly up for debate as I watch him playing in some other imaginative world (most likely a galaxy far, far away), standing in the middle of his bedroom with pee dribbling down his leg into a small pool on the floor. Liam’s yelling, “Burke! You’re peeing!” I’m yelling, “Burke! Get to the toilet!” But, he just stands there, staring at us with shock. I’m not sure he’s entirely to blame. I haven’t exactly been the iconic potty trainer: inconsistent at best. It’s another one of those logistical parenting things that I can’t quite master — along with brushing teeth (forget even mentioning the dentist — sorry John), planning meals (even at times, grocery shopping), and “chores.” So, I do it when I think about it (which, I figure, is better than never). We do bathe regularly. Although Mark and I use that crystal deodorant, which doesn’t actually deodorize all that well. Throw in the morning “work-outs” we’ve been doing with Kristen and Tim, and our living room smells like a boys locker room. Basically, if our present household scent were a math equation it would look something like this:
urine + bad breath + rotting potatoes in the pantry + old, sweaty gym shorts + mrs. meyer’s counter spray = our home today (God, bless Mrs. Meyer’s today)
Apparently, I’ve treated numbers with the same laissez-faire attitude around our home. We don’t really implement them into our time with the kids with the same consistency that we do language. Again, I just don’t think about it, until we have moments in the car when Liam asks, “how long will it take to get there?” “an hour and a half,” I reply. “Oh, so that’s about 3 hours then?” Or while our good friend, Latonya, is playing hide-and-seek with the kids, I overhear Burke counting “seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, eleven-teen” and Liam repeatedly skipping the numbers fifteen and seventeen on his way to twenty. Uh-oh.