Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures...

There are few times in my life that I can remember stooping to a new low out of complete desperation....OK well maybe not, but at least in my adult life with kids...Ok, yeah, not then either, (as I think of all the bribes, partial truths and desperate TV measures for survival.) So I guess what I should just say is, my desperation is sending me to a dark place...a place that is so bad to me, that nails on a chalk board sound like the Mozart Requiem in my ears...

Elmo’s World

Now I am fully aware that there are huge Elmo fans in this world...I have nothing to say to them except...I don't know what gene mutation they may have in their family gene pool, but I didn't receive that one.

Henry has been "potty trained" since last fall. I put "potty trained" in quotes because I use that term lightly. He can pee in the potty, always, and rarely has an accident. However, the boy continues to poop in his underwear every day. There were all sorts of medical reasons at first, dietary excuses to chalk all the accidents up to, and to keep me from throwing him and his nasty underwear out the window.

But now, after countless hours of gagging, rinsing, bleaching, begging, bribing, pleading, yelling, reasoning...I have resorted to...yup, Elmo. I netflixed "Elmo Potty Time."

If this doesn’t work, I am going to paten a pair of underwear that is like a self cleaning oven so that I don't have to do it anymore, maybe they can self-incinerate...that is if I have any of my mind left after hearing Elmo and his Father discussing toilets, and listening to Stevie Wonder or who ever it is, sing cheesy songs about "trying, trying, trying" … Or if I can stop talking about myself in Elmo language…

Well, Pie is going to go and clean up to go for a Hike, because Pie needs to get out today. Pie is feeling a little housebound…

Uh-Oh