Another (UN)Successful Story

IMG_0531.JPGShe insisted she didn’t need to potty before we left.  I sat her down like a good little mommy and waited an appropriate amount of time before dressing her to leave.  She, of course, chose to announce she DID need to go when we were at the front of the store… oh no… she waited until we had a cart full of groceries and were trying on shoes (because Diem’s feet grew last week) in the back of the store.  Good thing I have cat like reflexes.  I threw those shoes so fast in the shopping cart I think it startled the lady next to me browsing summer sandals.  In one swift motion i shoved Cori in with Diem and raced to the front of the store where the restrooms are conveniently located praying all the while that nobody was in there.  The store is relatively empty at 8:30am (which is also why I find it acceptable to go shopping in my pajamas…like I need an excuse) so I knew the odds were in my favor.  But of course things never work out so easily for me…We enter in with 3 other desperate mothers who are lucky enough to have quiet children, except one that was screaming at the top of its lungs in protest to this potty.

Oh wait… it’s my kid.

So in solidarity, Diem threw herself on the floor and cried.  As I began to sweat and squat, teetering Cori’s body on my arms showing her she wasn’t technically on the bad potty, offering her every candy on the shelf and hoping the other moms weren’t swallowing their vomit like I was over Diem’s cries on the floor of the stall. Then as each respective mother flushed the potty, her wails increased in a way I didn’t think possible.  I wanted to politely ask for them not to flush anymore, I would do it for them to save myself from this, but it was done.  3 flushes – that was it.  She lost her ever loving mind.  The whole entire mind.

Needless to say…not a drop of pee touched that potty water.  I hung my head in shame and humiliation as I exited the stall, kicking myself for not bringing in the diaper bag loaded with sanitizer.  I tried not to make eye contact with the other mother’s and their well behaved children, but I did hear one say “The struggle is real.”  I held up my fist as a sign that we were, in fact, a team in this still.  I tried to brush off the mortified look on my face and willed my heart rate to return to normal speed when I opened the door (which had some slimey substance – second swallowed vomit of the morning) in an attempt to play it off like it wasn’t my kid that just raged in there.  I proceeded to check out my basket full of groceries only to find that this was not a private performance… the whole front of the store heard.  As if on a count, they all paused and turned to me and my staph infested baby and potty protester.

But I checked out those damn groceries.

I smiled at the clerk who handed my children too many stickers that are now stuck all over my car and soul and brought my child home who proudly peed her own potty, all the while telling me that it was, in fact, the only acceptable potty.

Silly me.

I contemplated bathing the baby in bleach, but decided against it because she has a really nice natural tan.

Then I burned all her clothes and danced around the flames.

But this is it… this is the one instance that I dreaded from the moment I decided to become a mother.  The public restroom.  I already hate using it myself, so I knew it would never go down easy with my kids.  But you know what, I made it out alive.  And I only forgot one thing on the grocery list, but it’s Chris’s so I don’t really care.

Parenting, in general, is a 1 step forward, 2 steps back deal.  It’s all so consistently inconsistent and I urge whoever is not all about having children, think long and hard about embarking on this journey because however embarrassing this deal was, I signed up for it knowing that one day down the road, I would be squatting with my child in my arms, begging her to take a piss on a toilet that thousands of asses have graced before us.

It’s their whole job to make us miserable, at home and in public.  It’s our payback for making our parents miserable.  And they’re just getting better at it.  Much better.   But I drummed up the last of my smiles and praised her for the success of not peeing herself in the store… only for her to have an accident an hour later.

I’m hoping her new super hero undies spark a drive in her to have no more accidents, but I’m not getting my hopes up.

In the meantime, here you go!

Sriracha Lime ShrimpScreen Shot 2017-04-07 at 1.37.46 PM.png
1 lb 16/20 shrimp, peeled and deveined

3-4 tsp sriracha

Zest and juice of 1 lime

1 tbsp mayo

1/2 tsp garlic powder

1/2 tsp onion powder

1/2 tsp cumin

1/2 tsp paprika

pinch of salt/pepper

1-2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

  1. Combine all the ingredients and toss shrimp in.  Set in refrigerator for 30 minutes (the longer the better).
  2. Heat 1 tbsp of olive oil in a medium sized skillet and cook shrimp 3-4 mins each side.

You can serve over a salad or with some roasted veggies.