Confession #1: There is still a fully-decorated miniature Christmas tree in Alexis' bedroom. Every time I go upstairs, I see it and think that I should go down to the garage and grab the plastic tub for it. Every time I figure that I'll do it right after I do whatever it is that I went upstairs to do, operating on the theory that if I stop what I'm currently doing, I'll forget to do it. So I finish whatever, and then promptly forget why I wanted to go back downstairs. Putting away said tree is a two-minute job. Literally, it just needs put in the tub and escorted back to the garage full o' Christmas love. At the rate it's happening, though, I suspect I might as well just leave it up for next year.
Confession #2: Our living room usually looks like a bomb went off in it. I stopped cleaning up the toys or asking the Toddler to clean up her toys about a month ago. Strangely, nothing really looks different than it did when I still fought the battle. I think there might be a valuable lesson in there somewhere, but I can't seem to find it in my sleep-deprived state.
Confession #3: Treating a sick fish who suddenly became unsick, but that I treated anyway just to be safe, resulted in the death of $100 worth of saltwater fish. Now I'm the one who is sick. Project Saltwater Tank of Horrors is not going well.
Confession #4: I'm still trying to convince the Toddler that she likes NKOTB so that I can blame her when I buy the new album. She's not cooperating with my brainwashing attempts.
Confession #4: I told a bold-faced lie to a daycare teacher today. Since Shell left, potty training has gone to the crapper (horrible pun intended). The Toddler was going potty when she was at school, but hasn't since Shell's last day because no one is taking her. I tried asking nice. I tried friendly reminders. I tried back-handed remarks. I'm giving the "she's potty-trained at home" lie thing a try before I resort to drastic measures. If I don't start seeing some potty training going on at daycare, I'm sending her in underwear. Bwahahaha! It should only take a few puddles before they figure out to take her every once in a while. Why, yes, I am evil. I'll make sure they are Dora underwear so we can add a little pee on Dora's face to the shenanigans.
Confession #5: I have spent the past half hour trying to convince the Toddler to show me how she dances to Dancing with the Stars. Obviously, I forgot Rule #1 of parenting: Under no circumstances whatsoever will you have any control over your kids at any time. Yeah, I'll get Mount Rushmore moved to Canada before I get her to dance on command. This is the best I could do: