Potty training is still going well, surprisingly. Just one accident yesterday, and that's probably Ryan's fault. Anyway, she's doing great. We're still nervous about taking her places, but so far we did go to Target accident-free, and went to the park accident-free. Whew.
Speaking of Target, because that's where I spend too much time and money, I went there last night solo to get a few necessities. Upon coming home, Norah and I unpacked the bags, I cleaned up her little accident (stripping her down, putting her on the pot, throwing the clothes in the washer, washing the floor in the kitchen, soothing her, washing her shoes, wiping her down, etc.), and ran a bath for her. I asked Ryan if he'd like to do bath time and he said:
"You just got to go out. Why don't you do it?"
And I did. But here's what my brain was saying as Norah and I facilitated Ernie and Elmo's diving contest in the tub.
"45 MINUTES AT TARGET DOES NOT EQUAL HAPPY FUN TIME FOR ME."
(Before you think I'm a selfish jerk, Ryan works many different shifts, like 2 to 10 or 7:30 to 4, so he has a great deal more alone time than I.)
And it's not like I don't love spending time with Norah-- I do. She is hilarious and sweet and perfect. But once in a while, I want Ryan to give her a friggin bath so I can have 30 minutes of solitude.
Don't worry-- I'm not a complete wuss. I told him that doing errands isn't considered Heather Leisure Time after Norah went to bed.
Anyway. This isn't a very funny or well written post. I just wanted to vent. Thanks!
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