Tag Archives: moms

I’m Tired Of Smelling Like Pee.

This is the one we use.
This is the one we use.

I’ve been trying to potty-train my toddler for the past few months.  It’s been difficult, to say the least.  And I know it could be worse.

I know what you’re thinking, you moms.  Your fingers are itching to type some advice into the comments section below.  If you tell me to throw some panties on her and it should only take a weekend, I will beat you and then strangle you with a used, dirty diaper.

I have 2 teens, remember?!  I have done this before and know how this is supposed to go.

Also, don’t tell me that maybe she’s not ready yet.  She’s ready.  Again, I have been through this twice already.  I threw underwear on them, and they took to peeing in the toilet pretty quickly, even with a few accidents.  Pooping was another story with my son.  That took awhile, and I’ve read that’s normal with boys.

My toddler wants to wear underwear.  She rips her diapers off and even tells me what particular kind she wants to put on, depending on her mood, “Mama!  Kitty panties!” (meaning Hello Kitty) or “Mama!  Faerie panties!” (meaning Tinker Bell).  Most of the time, she doesn’t mind sitting on the toilet, as we have a stack of books nearby and she listens attentively when I read.

In fact, she has been ripping her diaper off after she pees or poops since she was a year and a half.  I didn’t want to start potty-training her then because I felt the whole concept would be lost on her.  I didn’t feel she was ready.

The current problem:  She doesn’t want to stop playing or doing whatever it is she’s doing to go to the toilet.  When I try to take her, she’ll complain, “No!  Don’t want it!”  I know she’s gotta go; I know the signs and I see them.  She’ll hold it, too.  So I try to carry her to the toilet, and she’ll kick and yell.  She’ll arch her back when I try to set her on the toilet.  So I’ll say, “Okay.  Fine.  Just don’t go potty in your panties.  Tell me when you have to go potty.”

“Okay, Mama.”  Then she runs back to whatever she was doing.

Then I lose track of the time, and it’s an hour later, or it’s only 10 minutes later, and she won’t hold it anymore.  Won’t, not Can’t.  She takes the time to stand up and look down, or squat and look down, to pee right where she’s playing.

Oh, and, yes, she understands the concept of putting her potty in the toilet.  She makes Tinker Bell and all the other faeries go potty on the toilet in Barbie’s house.  And it’s not like she hasn’t gone potty in her toilet a bunch of times already with no problems.

I’m at my wit’s end, and I’m sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo tired of cleaning up pee, and I’m sure my teens are, too.  (They’ve been so awesome helping me with this!)  Good thing we have tile in most of the house.  I’m also tired of smelling like pee at the end of the day.  Even though she doesn’t pee on me and, when I carry her to the tub to be washed, I don’t think I get any pee on me, I still manage to smell like it.

I took a break yesterday.  I had to.  For my sanity.  I tried to keep her in diapers all day.  She kept asking for her panties.

Okay, so here’s where I ask for advice.  Have any of you had to deal with a difficult child when it comes to potty training, or maybe this same situation?  Please, please, please, throw some suggestions my way.

I cringe at the thought, but I am totally ready to start bribing her with chocolate chips.

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Homemade Creamy Almond Butter. Yes, It Exists.

IMG_3007

Maybe it’s just me that’s finally figuring it out – I’m usually the last one to figure stuff out.  Apparently, I’ve been making almond butter all wrong for the past year.

I wasn’t processing it long enough.

I started making almond butter after reading about it on Mark’s Daily Apple, a site where I first started learning about Primal and Paleo diets.  Maybe I read it wrong.  I don’t know, and I don’t remember.  I’d add some raw almonds, coconut oil, and salt into my food processor, and then whirl it a bit.  It would come out like a chunky nut butter, but it wasn’t very spreadable.  My son and husband would eat it anyway, spooning it onto apples or bananas or chunks of bread.

So the other day, I noticed a jar of peanut butter on the counter.  I was slightly horrified.  My son had bought it because he missed the creamy-ness of it.  Peanut butter is actually very bad, bad, bad for you, and peanuts aren’t actual tree nuts either.  Look it up on Google, or even in the dictionary, if you don’t believe me.

Hey, I love peanut butter, especially on toasted English muffins.  Mmmmm… that’s the best.  But I’m trying to eat healthier, and peanuts are a no-no.

Anyway, I felt bad that I couldn’t make creamy almond butter for my son.  I didn’t think it was possible.  So I went online and searched for recipes.  I found a lot, and they all stated that almond butter can be as creamy as peanut butter.  I love a challenge, and any experiment gets me excited.

I got my food processor out and threw in:

3 cups raw almonds  (I bought a big bag at Costco, but I know you can buy them at Sprouts in the bins.)
3 turns on the grinder Himalayan pink salt  (A large pinch of any salt will do.)

Most of the recipes I read had 10 minutes for the processing time.  Mine took closer to 15 minutes, including stopping it to scrape down the sides.

I promise I’m not lying about the creamy part.  I thought it was a lie.  I was standing there watching the almonds go round and round, thinking for sure it would need some oil to make it even close to creamy.  Every time I opened it to scrape the sides down, I kept thinking to myself, “Creamy?  My ass.  This is never going to get creamy.  Liars!

But I kept going out of curiosity.  Here are the stages I witnessed:

1)  Bolus.  It formed a large, clumpy ball, that just stuck to one side and didn’t move.  Then it just gets pushed around and around the side of the container.

2)  Pottery wheel.  I shit you not.  An indentation formed in the middle of that clump and, moving round and round, looked like it was forming a fancy vase.

3)  Creamy.  The vase was whipped apart and, I’ll be damned, it got creamy!

Mind you, this nut butter isn’t as smooth and creamy as Jif.  I don’t think that’s even possible, using a food processor.

Also, many of the recipes stated that if you add coconut oil or honey to the butter that it will decrease its shelf life.  I didn’t see any explanation of why that is, and I haven’t looked into the science of it either.  It does sound a little suspicious to me, though, because coconut oil and honey can sit practically forever, without refrigeration.  So how it could reduce the almond butter’s shelf life is a mystery to me.

Regardless, great add-ins for small, personal helpings are honey, shredded coconut, cocoa powder and/ or nibs.  Use your imagination and your taste-buds!  You can even roast the nuts, and then process them.

You can, also, substitute this almond butter in place of peanut butter in cookies and other recipes.  I’ve made an experimental flour-less, gluten-free cookie recipe with almond butter and cocoa powder that tasted, and had the consistency of, cake-y brownies.  I’ll have to perfect it first, before posting it.

Dear readers, do you have any good recipes using almond butter or a yummy almond butter recipe of your own?

How Do You Iron Without Strangling Someone With The Cord?

I hate you, Iron.  I hate you so much.
I hate you, Iron. I hate you so much.

I was ironing this morning.  My husband has an interview this week, and he needed a shirt ironed, to go with his suit.

I hate ironing.  With a passion.

I tried to pass it off on my oldest daughter last week, but, being a teenager, she conveniently kept forgetting to do it.  So I did it today.

It’s not that I don’t know how to iron.  I do.  My mom taught me, and I did it in Home Economics class in 7th grade.  Do they even still have Home Ec class?  I just found out the other day that Health class in Jr. High isn’t a requirement anymore.  Sad.

Anyway, I know how to iron.  Maybe it’s my OCD nature that makes me hate ironing.  You know those irrational thoughts, “If I don’t get this one wrinkle out, something bad will happen.”  And getting every single wrinkle out is completely impossible.  You iron one sleeve, then the other.  You look back at the first sleeve, after you’ve ironed part of the shirt, and it doesn’t look so cleanly pressed anymore.  That drives me C R A Z Y.  So, yeah, I iron it again.  I’m a perfectionist, so that doesn’t help either.

Do you see why I hate ironing so much?

My mom irons my dad’s shirts for work all the time.  She watches TV while doing it.  I’m sure most wives can accomplish this feat.  Not me.  How she has the patience to iron that huge stack of shirts is beyond me.  Maybe it’s relaxing for some women.  I don’t know.

I rarely have to iron though.  I’m just complaining.  Do you like ironing?  If you do, why?