Send Chocolate.

  I’d request wine…but since I can’t really drink it, chocolate will have to do.

  This child is driving me insane.
  I know…look at him…all “GASP!  You couldn’t possibly mean me, could you Mama?!?”, but I do.
  We’re potty training using this ebook…and it’s going fairly well, but, unsurprising to anyone who has ever actually potty trained a kid, is driving me bonkers.  He does perfectly for days on end…and then all the sudden will have a day where the potty is apparently the enemy.  If he gave me a reason that was less cryptic than “I CAN’T try to use the potty” it would be less infuriating. 
  Potty training wouldn’t be quite so rough if I at least got a break during the day while he took a nap, but in a move designed to jointly allow him to come ask for help going to the potty at night and prepare him for his move to a big boy bed when 2.0 arrives, we took the rail off his crib…and he now has decided he doesn’t actually need a nap about half the days of the week.  His behavior on the evenings he has skipped his nap suggests otherwise.  Upon being let out of his room after a sleep-free “quiet time” yesterday, his first comment to me was “I’m tired.”
  …do you think Godiva sponsors mothers?
  The final nail in the coffin of my patience has been the belly attacks.  For whatever reason, the last few weeks, G has been full-on, elbows and knees, stabbing me in the quickly-growing, rather tender guts.  Like, every time he comes within five feet of me.  Apparently he’s decided that since his future sibling is a baby brother he gets to rough house with him?  Does anybody make the pregnant belly equivalent of an athletic cup?
  I’m exhausted.  I love this funny, sweet, little man, but dear lord I’m about to sell him to the circus.
  Do you think they’d pay me in Ghirardelli? 
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