Carson doesn’t want to poop on the potty anymore.  Not that he ever actually, you know, pooped.  Or peed for that matter.  He won’t so much as even sit on the potty anymore.  I guess he was getting bored, too.   (Amazing really, since I thought men relished in sitting on the pot for hours.)

He is back to his poop denying self.  “No poop,” grunting.  “No poop,” turning red in the face.  “No.  Pooooooop.”

And all is right with the world again.

I guess wishes really do come true!  So yes Internets, there really is a Santa Claus.

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Post #1 about moving.  I’m going to count them so that in the event I’m on Post # 548, I’ll know I need to shut up about moving already. 

One of the things I’ve had to do to get ready to move, was to get our dismantled alarm system fixed.  To save you from having to click the link and get caught up, I’ll quickly recap my (mis)adventures with said alarm system.

• We were robbed while moving
• Tate had to go out of town right after the robbery, so I messed with the alarm system
• I f*cked up the alarm system, causing it to set
• We had no code to disarm the alarm
• I called the cops to help, they laughed
• I disassembled the alarm

Caught up?  Good.

So I called ADT, for the very good reason that they were the first alarm company I came to in the phone book.  I got the ole run-around at the local office so they sent me to their 1-800 number.  Not surprisingly, I got the ole run-around when I called the 1-800 number and was switched from operator to operator.

“No, I don’t have an account.  I just need someone to reset a code or something.”

“You’ll have to call your local office.”

“They said I had to call this number.”

“That’s strange.  Let’s see what I can do.”

“That would be great.”

“I called the local office and they said that it’s not worth their time.”

“No they dint.”

“Yes, they did.  If you’d like to sign a 36-month contract we can help you.”

“Kiss my ass, you anal-wart-heads you.”

(I didn’t actually tell them to kiss my ass or call them anal-wart-heads.)  I did tell them that I thought this was a poor business practice and that when I am in need of having an alarm system installed or monitored that I won’t be calling their sorry-ass excuse for an alarm company. (I didn’t actually say the sorry-ass part.)  ADT Home Security Systems blows donkey balls.

So next up in the phone book was Brinks.  Brinks Home Security Systems was very helpful.  They came the very next day to help.  Brinks Home Security Systems didn’t give me the ole run-around.  Me loves Brinks Home Security Systems lots.

Actually the first guy that came out to fix the alarm told me that since the alarm was set he wouldn’t be able to re-program the alarm.  He explained that it was set up this way so that potential thieves couldn’t break into your house and simply re-program your alarm system, then proceed to rob you blind.  A new motherboard would need to be ordered and I’d be charged for at least an hour of labor.

“Fine, fine, fine.  Whatever,” I said.  “We just need this alarm system fixed.”

He told me he’d return the next day.  But the next day, a different Brinks Home Security guy showed up.  He proceeded to start pushing lots of buttons on the control panel and within about five minutes, he’d re-programmed the system. 

“I just saved you a bunch of money.  I hacked into your system and reset the code.”

While I do love to save money, I’m a WHOLE LOT disturbed that my alarm system was so easily hacked.  Gee, that’s reassuring in the event of my house being robbed.  But the good news is, is that the alarm system is now fixed and I’m ready to be hacked by every potential thief in Lower Alabama.

Did I mention my disdain for ADT Home Security systems?  No?  Well, ADT BLOWS.

Brinks Home Security systems gets my Binky Bitch seal of approval.

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Tags: Go Fly a Kite, Life in LA, Need to Know, hear me roar, movin' nawth by Jennifer
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Braden wants to know 8 things about me, Ella. 

My really pretty Mommy talks way more about my brother, Carson, which is so completely unfair.  So here’s about 20 posts worth of super exciting tidbits about me.

Ella! 

1.  I’m in lurve (see how I know how to use the bloggy lingo!) with my thumb. 

2.  Just within the past few days, I’ve finally learned how to sit up and roll around the room.  My lovely Mommy thinks it’s great and is feeling a great sense of relief now that I’m coming out of my blobdem.

3.  I could watch my brother Carson all day long.  He’s so funny and entertaining.  I hardly cry when he snatches my thumb out of my mouth or drops Thomas on my head or pokes my eye.

4.  My favorite foods are booby milk, peas, green beans, squash, mixed vegetables, carrots, pears, applesauce, prunes, bananas, apricots, sweet potatoes, rice cereal, and oatmeal.  I don’t like avocado.

5.  I have the cutest hat in the whole, entire world…see…

My talented and charming Mommy wishes she had one, too.

6.  Lately I’ve been sleeping all night.  Naps are overrated in my opinion since I might miss something fun that my awesome and hilarious Mommy and Carson are doing. 

7.  Whoever invented the game “Patty Cake” should be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor or an Oscar or something.  I’d play that all day if my gorgeous Mommy would let me.

8.   I’m supposed to tag 8 people, but my smart and sassy Mommy says, “no,”  unless you’d like to play along, that is. Instead of tagging, I’ll give you one more picture of me looking cute.

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The gateway drug…

Here’s how Carson looked after taking a toke off this Thomas crack pipe…

And oh my god, more crack Thomas…

This toddler is feeling NO PAIN right now…

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I’ve had a secret
I’ve been dying to tell you
No, I’m not pregnant

Bye, Alabama!
We are headed for cornfields,
fried pepsi, the moosh!

Let’s go Hoosiers! Colts!
We will be moving next month
Hope there won’t be snow

Oh this feels good, really, really good to get out. I’ve been DYING to say something, but had to wait until the move was  officially announced at Tate’s job. Since October I’ve been teetering on accidentally spilling the news, it’s so exciting I feel like it’s been sitting at the edge of my lips, ready to fall out. This news that I couldn’t share made NaBloPoMo even more challenging since SO MANY of my topic ideas centered around this very important detail. Remember my orgampage? It was so hard not to just say this orgampage is because WE’RE MOVING.

This is so liberating.

Now I can talk about the challenges of having a house for sale AND having two very messy babies and two very messy hound dogs. Now I can tell you just how flippin’ ridiculous it is to even be considering potty training since the whole moving situation is likely to put a huge damper on any progress we’re (unlikely) to make. Now I can ask for advice like, “how the hell am I supposed to do this?!” “How will I keep my kids warm in the winter?” “Will I have any friends in Indiana?” “What if people think it’s weird that I blog?” “Should I leave out the fact that I blog in new social situations?” “Should I just never say the word ‘blog’ just to be safe?” “What is wrong with me?”

Be prepared and put on your thinking caps, Internets. I need A LOT of advice.

****Also, if you are interested, I wanted to let you all know about a haiku contest at LeastLikely2Breed.net. Details can be found at their site, but the basics are if you e-mail them a haiku about one of their products, you can win a cool prize. And for each entry they receive, they’ll donate $.50 to Doctors Without Borders. Deadline is Dec. 22.

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.

2. Sign the Mister Linky below with your name and the link to your haiku post (the specific post URL, not your generic blog URL). We will delete your link if it doesn’t go to a haiku. If you need help with this, contact Christina or myself.

3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

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As part of my glamorous job as “Mom,” I was cleaning the toilet a few days ago when Carson walked in and requested to go poop on the potty.

I was so shocked and unprepared, I had to ask him if he was sure.  “You want to go poop?  On the potty?  Really?,” I asked with a furrowed brow.

“Go poop on potty, ” he assured me as he started to attempt to pull down his pants.

Seeing as how I was certain that he was not even close to being ready for anything potty training related, I had not bothered to buy him a potty chair.  So I plopped (pun intended) Carson up on the toilet, holding him really, so that he wouldn’t fall in.  He was so proud of this accomplishment, of sitting on THE POTTY for the first time ever.  We sat there.  And sat there.  And sat there.  And sat there some more.  Finally after I thought my arms would fall off from supporting his weight over the toilet, I decided we were all done.  Carson, of course, vehemently protested, claiming he needed to “poop on the potty!  POOP on the potty!  Poop on the POTTY!” 

To appease the little tyrant him, I promised a trip to buy a potty especially for him.  We got that very special chair yesterday, complete with car stickers that he plastered all over it. 

I put the potty chair in the living room encouraging him to just sit on it (pants on), per the instructions on the “Potty Train Your Child” handout I received at Carson’s two year checkup at the pediatrician.  “Allow your child to get comfortable with the potty chair in a relaxed area of the home.”  Check.  That lasted all of 10 seconds and he demanded to “go poop on the potty.”  I attempted to move the potty chair into the bathroom because pooping in the middle of the living room next to the Christmas tree somehow seemed so wrong.  This move was met with great resistance, so we stripped down and sat on the potty right there.  And sat there.  And sat there.  He pointed out all the car stickers.  He pointed out the dog hair on the carpet.  He pointed out his p*enis.  After about 15 minutes of just sitting there, I encouraged him to move along and said we could try poop on the potty again later.

I know I’m supposed to be more patient at potty time.  The handout instructions specifically stated that “you should be patient and allow your child to sit on the potty as long as necessary so as not to make your child feel rushed.”  Rushed?  Rushed?  What? *exasperated sighs*  I have another child to care for and two dogs!  I don’t have an infinite number of minutes each day to do this potty training stuff.  I’m obviously not fit for being a potty trainer.

Carson has quickly figured out that when he says “potty,” Mommy listens.  We only just got this damn potty chair yesterday and he’s already used the potty excuse to stall dinner time, bath time, bed time, and nap time.   I feel very conflicted, wanting to encourage pottying on the big boy potty, feeling manipulated when I know deep down that no poo is coming out of that boy and falling into that potty chair, and irritated for having to devote hours of my day to sitting on the floor next to a toddler toilet while looking at cars and a p*enis. 

Potty training blows.  I’m praying that the novelty of “going poop on the potty” wears off soon and we can return to our normal routine.  A routine that does not include sitting on the floor for hours on end next to a toilet.

Diapers Rule!  Goooooo Diapers!  Rah!  Rah!  Diapers!

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Tate is completely incapable of keeping my Christmas gifts a secret.  Ever since the beginning of our relationship, I’ve somehow figured out what my gifts were going to be.  Not only do I have extensive detective training from all my years of watching Scooby Doo, but Tate is a bumbling idiot when it comes to hiding the evidence of his purchases.

So far this year, I’ve found out that I’m getting a calendar which was delivered by the UPS man in a box with the words CALENDARS.COM in big! bold! letters.   Usually when Tate orders something online for me, he gives me a heads up and tells me not to pick up any of the packages left by the UPS man.  This year he forgot.

The other night when I was wrapping presents (I went ahead and wrapped my calendar *rolls eyes*), I needed to look under the bed for more boxes.  Guess what I found?  That’s right, Scooby, I found another one of my gifts, a digital frame keychain.     Tate won this keychain at his company’s annual Christmas party, but he’s trying to pass it off as a gift he went out and purchased himself.  Apparently he’s forgotten about my super sleuth skills (the gift had a sticker that made it obviously a company gift.)  This gift luckily is accompanied by a funny story, so that in the future I can say things like, “remember the year you regifted that keychain to me, your wife?”  By the way, I went ahead and wrapped this gift, too.

A few weeks ago, Tate was on the phone with his mother when he came into the living room and attempted to non-chalantly pick up the Land’s End catalog.  In a very exaggerated tone, I heard him say to his mom, “I wanted to talk to you about Carson’s gift….,” then in hushed tones in the other room, I heard him say,”Okay, I really wanted to tell you about the things Jennifer wants out of Land’s End.”  My detective skills are really being put to the test.  Gee, I wonder what I’ll be getting from my in-laws?  Hmmm. 

Last year, I found the post-it note with all his purchases stuck on the inside of our desk drawer….a drawer I used most everyday.  Other years, I’ve been reconciling the checkbook and come across purchases at stores like The Limited and Ann Taylor.  It doesn’t take Velma to figure out that he’s purchased something at these women’s stores for me.  Even my engagement ring wasn’t a surprise, since the jeweler left a message on our answering machine saying the ring was ready for pickup.

I’m hoping that I’ll at least get one complete surprise, even if it’s a cheesy coffee cup.

What are you getting for Christmas?

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