I can't get no privacy at home or on the job.
At home, it's constant.
The cats follow me to the toi toi and lurk around me, sniffing and trying to get under my thighs and into the bowl while I sit and attempt to do my business..
At The Cousin's house, both girls also follow me in, even after I've bribed them with toys, tippy-cups and cereal bits to keep them distracted so I can have 30 seconds of peace and solitude while I pee.
The Cousin runs in and stares at me with those eyes.
"Bal La Lee. What you doing?"
"I'm going potty."
In crawls Sweet Pea. She resembles my cats. She lurks around on the floor trying to get up and into the toilet bowl. I can't even wipe.
I'm making all kinds of lame attempts to get them into the other room,
"Can you go get me your Cat in the Hat book?" I say to The Cousin in hopes she's feeling cooperative and hoping Sweet Pea will follow her out like a shadow. No dice.
You can't always get what you want and they stay right there like shit in a diaper.
The Cousin's parentals are starting to introduce the toilet concept to her, so they bought her an Elmo toilet. I think it's kinda funny.
She digs Elmo, so to them, it makes sense that she'll want to sit on Elmo and go potty. Hmmm.
I'm thinkin she might be intelligent enough to not want to shit on Elmo's face.
It's going to be a long road and I'll tell you why. For starters, many of The Cousin's toys are in the living room, she therefore likes to drag the Elmo toilet to the living room for playtime.
I move it back to the bathroom, telling her it's not a toy, which obviously makes no sense to her whatsoever.
When diaper changing time comes, I ask The Cousin if she wants to sit on her "big girl toilet" and go potty. She says, "Yes". So, I put her down from the changing table, butt-naked, and she walks down the hall to the bathroom. I'm feeling very cool and optimistic and I'm secretly hoping that I am the one who makes this break-through happen! We get to the Elmo latrine, I joyfully encourage her to sit down and she simply says, "No."
In fact, The Cousin sees a much better solution.
She puts Kitty on the toilet.
Kitty goes everywhere with her these days, and it's Kitty that needs to be "potty-trained".
I actually hate that term, "potty-trained". The whole 'training' of a baby kinda reminds me of
training a mule or a dog in a way, but whatever. What the hell do I know? I'm just the nanny who aspires to win the "2013 Nanny of the Year Award" for getting the kid transitioned from diapers to the pot.
I'm also the nanny who would LOVE to change diapers 5 times in a day rather than 10.
During Sweet Pea's 30-40 minute morning naps, The Cousin and I always slip away to
'project-land'. Today, we dipped chalk in water and made cool drawings such as "purple rain from the clouds" and "grass at the park" The Cousin's favorite color is purple, hence her "Prince-like" reference to rain.
It was a cloudy, cold and overcast Wednesday, so the girls and I decided to stay inside and wear our sunglasses.
It made sense to us.
Sweet Pea's outfit is the bomb. Her little knitted sweater-vest is a throw-back to the '70's.
I totally dig her look and it suits her personality. She's a mighty strong little girl and don't we want girls to be that way? Of course we do. We need more of 'em. I will spare you my "men rule the whole damn world" soapbox today, however I will say this. Her strength drives me to drink.
Actually, the 3 of us drink together in the afternoon. It's our "after walk, after naps ritual".
I make the beverages and we sing a song that I made up in a 'desperate moment of resorting to anything to keep the peace'. It goes something like this, give or take a few weird words:
"It's drink time! It's drink time! Let's quench our thirsties now! It's drink time! It's drink time!
We're gonna show you how! Cheers! Cheers! Cheers!"
I mix up the tune. Usually, it's similar to Row Row Row Your Boat or something like that.
Sweet Pea's 'beverage of choice' is warmed boob milk. The Cousin's is an organic pear and green veggie smoothie and mine is straight vodka.
I'm grateful that I'm not Sweet Pea's mom and it's not my boob. Because lately, I'm having to do a lot of "finger sweeps" in Sweet Pea's mouth to remove, paper, faux leather, yarn and other debris and damn her teeth are GINORMOUS AND SHARP! I'll leave what those fangs must feel like when they bite down on her mom's boob to your imagination.
Well, that's the story, folks.
Except that when 5 o'clock comes, and the papas walk in, I bolt!
You would too. Cheers!