A “Raven”-esque Glimpse at the Saga of a Potty-Training Train Wreck (a work in progress)

Once upon a Tuesday evening,
While I watched my children, seething,
Due to excruciating hours spent perched upon the bathroom floor,
While I suffered, nearly breaking,
Suddenly with no mistaking,
I earned clarity while faking, faking as never before.
” ‘Tis a blessings,” I debated, “raising babes…” (still on the floor)
Still I yearn for something more…


The Secret to Investing as a Broke Mom of Four

After ponderous thought involving at least the amount of time between each threat to remove the twins’ door from its hinges, I have determined that the best way to improve our family’s finances, which are stretched as thin as the surface of a balloon (after inflation) to say the least, it to invest.

I played the Stock Market game several times in middle school, so not only do I understand the basics, I also know that my skills must have matured and grown over the years, much like other things in my life that should never be pondered while already in a mildly depressed and slightly stressed state of mind.  I figure it should be broken into several easy steps:

1.  Consider the amount of money I can reasonably afford to invest.

As a teacher on a fixed income married to a man who works several jobs to help our family of six stay afloat, I understand that money is tight.  I know the importance of keeping up with even small amounts of money and storing it in safe places.  With that said, I am pretty sure that between my wallet and the girl’s eight piggy/kitty/princess banks (How the heck did we end up with so many?) I can scrounge up at least $11.52.  If I wait until after pay day, I may be able to round that up to an even twenty bucks!

  1. Determine the desired net return.

I want to be realistic.  Given the fact that I have four children in need of college educations, I must invest well to ensure I maximize my return.  (Let’s face it, these princesses are on their own for their weddings, so I don’t have to worry about that figure.)  Given the cost of schooling now, compounded by the inflation that will occur before the tuition checks have to be cut, I estimate that I will need to turn my $11.52 into at least a million dollars.  I am sure that this is attainable if I only keep my eye on the prize.

  1. Understand the time frame in which I want to be able to cash in.

Considering that my oldest in in first grade, I need to be ready for her to seek higher learning in a little over a decade.  The twins will follow suit roughly four years after that.  (Do colleges and universities offer group discounts for having three children on their rosters at the same time?)  Perhaps we can pretend that Abby and Makayla are the same person and pay for two copies of their degree…

  1. Search for reliable products to invest in.

I would like for this to be a product I am familiar with and use regularly.  My choices are as follows-

  • Tissues- Never did I understand the speed at which a trail of snot could travel down a toddlers face until I had twins.  Tissues are not only a necessity but must be kept in multiple rooms and both vehicles at ALL times.  If we prefer to buy them in bulk, I am sure others do the same and thus the company must be stable
  • Hair detangler- Those who have seen the length to which my children’s hair grows will not question this one. Additionally, anyone who has heard them wail as I GENTLY attempt to tame their tresses will beg me to support this product to ensure its production is continued.  (Side note: They will die if my mother ever attacks their hair like she attacked mine.)
  • Toilet paper- In my house there are four female potty users, two of which are still in the training phases. Need I say more?
  1. Spend the money.

Once the decisions have been made, all that is left to do is place the order, though I am not sure how this will go down.  I cannot call in my shares as I cannot easily talk on the phone while my demure and shy girls run through the house screaming like possessed banshees from the underworld.  The computer is out of the question as I am unable to sit for more than two minutes at a time without becoming a living jungle gym, complete with cushioning and sound effects as two or more of them squash the air from my lungs and attempt to “he-yelp” me with every task.  Post is also not an option because it would require taking all of them to the mail box, which ultimately would lead one of them into the road in front of the onslaught of traffic (which will surely include three cars, an eighteen wheeler, and a tractor- we live in the country).

Now that the steps are outlines and the options are clear, beginning is sure to be a breeze.  Once I wrestle the piggy/kitty/princess banks from my children, decide on the proper toilet paper company (I’m not really brand specific as long as it comes in two-ply), and train the carrier pigeon that I have decided is the safest bet for transporting correspondence, all I have left to do is sit back and wait while my millions grow.

Anticipating the First Day Back/Away (Or… Proof that I Suffer from Mom/Teacher Syndrome)

Today is a perfect lesson in the oxymoron that is my life.  While I have not updated my followers, I have spent the past months creating, growing, and meeting the unexpected miracle that is number four.  (More on that later, I promise.)  But for now, on to today’s post.

I have been away from work for eight weeks.  In that time, I have experienced an eventful hospital stay (including the amazing birth of a beautiful human being, frightening blood loss and painful procedures to make it stop, and a 5:00 am fire alarm), come home with a newborn in a snow storm (high stress for me), had oral surgery, and potty trained twins (most of the way).  An entire online class has been taken (final exam due Wednesday), my teacher book has been worked on, and the grades my long term sent me were always entered in a timely manner. I have cleaned out all of the cupboards in my kitchen and straightened the closets, vacuumed several times a day, and cleaned up continuous messes made by the previously mentioned potty-training twins.  I have sorted and packed up eleven Rubbermade totes of out-grown clothes and multiple boxes of too-small shoes, which I have toted to the shed (also straightened by yours truly in the past few weeks).

There have been countless appointments, forms, applications, and phone calls completed in this time.  Most difficult for me is the fact that I’ve been alone most days from sun up to sun down (or later) due to a husband who works so hard to help provide for us and had very little interaction with adults or the outside world.  I am a social person!  My children make for interesting company, to say the least.  To say I am ready to return to work tomorrow is an understatement.


Tomorrow I will not be able to snuggle my tiny, warm baby or receive random kisses from my twins.  I will have to call or text to know how their day is going.  I won’t be the one to care for them if there is an accident or they get upset.  I will not be able to run to my first grader at the drop of a hat if something happens at school.  I will have to leave them in capable hands that are not my own, and though I trust the one who will be caring for them, it will not be me.

Tomorrow I will leave my house with a smile of gratitude to be going to something less exhausting and tears for all I am leaving behind.  (I may also be yelling something akin to “Free at last!” while sobbing and hiccuping.)

Y’all, please pray for me.

How to Not Potty Train Twins

Dear World:

Just in case you mistakenly believe that I have this whole mom thing figured out, let me be completely honest.  There is one thing, one huge, smelly, icky thing, that I totally suck at: Potty Training.

Maddie took forever.  There was much attempt at patience as well as smiles, silly songs, a cute potty chair, and an extra attachment for the adult toilet.  Then came the frustration, the accidents, the crying (mainly on my part), and the utter despair.  Finally, my mother-in-law laid down the law.  Maddie was told, in no uncertain terms, that if she peed in Grammy’s floor, she was going to get a spanking.  That’s all it took!  After a year and a half of effort on my part, my mother-in-law’s voice was the answer.  There were almost no accidents from that point on!  It was like a blessing from the heavens.

With the twins, I knew it would be more difficult.  The plan was to wait until they were older than Maddie was when we started trying to house break her.  The problem with all best laid plans, however, it that my twins don’t like plans.  They don’t follow the directives given them, and they make their own rules.  At about twenty months, they began ripping off their diapers like it was the greatest game ever invented.  Imagine, or it may be more pleasant if you don’t imagine, the effects of ripping off a diaper filled with liquid and often solid toddler byproducts, often at high velocities.  Most dramatic were the times when the removal occurred before naps, and again, if you are brave of heart, imagine what that looked like by the time they woke up.

So, with a heavy heart and knowledge of what was in store, I began the journey toward civilized bathroom usage with our identical mass producers of foulness.

What I have learned follows:

  1. Never get too excited too quickly.

When I began this journey, I was so excited to see the twins happily sit on the potty, or even the full-sized toilet.  Maddie never cooperated and we had to coax her to remain in a full-upright and seated position.  I was ecstatic!  Surely this would not take as long with them as it had with her.

  1. Never assume that your positive attitude will affect the attitudes of wee small ones.

I was all smiles.  We were going to do this.  It would not only save me the time wasted in cleaning their goo-encrusted bums, but think of the money that would be saved not having to buy diapers for two!  If I kept smiling they would happily “Let it Go” and the process would be over.  (In fact, we even sang that song as they sat, time after time, on the potty seats and produced NOTHING.

  1. Never believe that buying cute products will work wonders.

When I really got down to the business of training them, necessitated again by a frenzied drive toward total nakedness on their parts (I swear no one else in the house is driven by nudist tendencies), I sent my husband to the store to buy a second potty chair that closely resembled the one left over from our trials with Maddie.  Armed with not one but two Froggy Potties, the twins and I excitedly renewed our vigor.  Now they fight over who gets which seat… fail.

  1. Never waste money on specialized butt covering devices.

While I haven’t wasted money on pull-up style training diapers this time around, we did have some left over from several years ago, so out of storage they came.  The babies do quite well putting them on themselves, but guess what else they can do…  Those suckers come off with a fluidity and a velocity far surpassing that of the previously mentioned flying diapers.  I swear!  You could do physics experiments based on the trajectory of these little pink and white missiles.

  1. Never feel bad for ingenuity.

I must admit, in my frustration, that there have been days (many of them) that I have needed a break.  Twice, so far, I have resorted to taping diapers on them.  Interestingly, the sound of the tape being unrolled sends them into panicked sceams, and I am not sure why.  In all honesty, as I type and they run around their room bare butted and threatening to flood the world, I am eyeing the packing take with great intensity.  I am attempting to resist the urge, but resistance is often futile.

In total honesty, the twins are almost no closer to being potty trained than they were when I began this journey.  I am more frustrated than I want to be, but we will continue to persevere.  If nothing else, I can always buy stock in cleaning products and hope for the marked to increase…

Yours truly,

One very tired Mommy

What’s in a Name?

To my beautiful daughters,

By now I’m sure you have realized that your parents bicker. We love each other very much, but all decisions are accompanied with a healthy amount of friendly discord. All decisions save one: your names. You mean more to us than any other thing we could have wished for. You are our pride, our joy, our sleepless nights (Mommy’s especially), and you are as strong and powerful as the women you were named after.

Madison, I dreamed of you years before you were born. I knew what it was to hold you in my arms, and in my slumber I called you by name. Your middle name is shared with your Grammy. She is a unique combination of love, strength, and courage. She would fight a grizzly bear to protect any one of you, and she would win. It is not by coincidence that you, our cowgirl princess, share her name. She loves all three of you so very much.


Makayla and Abigail, you were named after three amazing women. Though they left us before you arrived, you are their legacy.

Your Aunt Joyce taught me strength and dignity. She was long-suffering and spunky. Joyce shared a middle name with your Granny Bowman, who helped raise me. She was the type that thought babies were meant to be held at all times. She was my refuge. Makayla, it was with purpose that we gave you their middle name.

joyce      granny

Abby, when we learned we were having twin girls, we chose to honor the third of the matriarchs on Daddy’s side of the family. Your Aunt Marilyn was warm and nurturing. Living beside her when our marriage began, she taught me a great deal about how to be a wife and mother.


My wish for you is that you all know that you are loved. Your names were crafted uniquely for you. They embody the strength and love possessed by women that have shaped your world. They love you beyond belief and to the moon and back.