Charmin Czar

Picture of the Day:

There are few things in life that I treasure; one of those is good toilet paper. Regardless of the fact we are cutting back, the good toilet paper stays. I know, in essence we're flushing good money down the drain...

There was no problem with our uses of toilet paper until recently. The other day I heard a scuffle and decided to follow the mysterious sound. There Madison was, squatting and furiously wiping the floor with an entire unwound roll of my beloved Charmin Ultra.

"I went pee-pee on the floor" she said. Then to make it all better she decided she'd better add, "I went little bit in potty." Then she grinned at me. It didn't really make everything better, but it helped.

Last week she attempted to feed the commode half a roll of toilet paper. The story goes as follows: While in the other room I heard, "Uh oh." Knowing that the phrase, "uh oh" was not something good, I ran to see what happened. The evidence, an empty cardboard tube, lay on the tile floor while my daughter stood looking over the toilet - pants down, teetering from top of her red and purple Dora stool. The story ended well; although once again, I had to climb upstairs (remember I'm still mothering a broken toe) to steal from our wholesale stash of 2-ply.

It seems like attempts to control Madison's fascination with massive amounts of toilet paper are futile. We've tried the Cottonelle special Kids paper (with the paw prints and puppies) but that seems to excite her moreso. And really, what kid needs 6 squares of toilet paper? Come on Cottonelle!

So two days ago, in my last attempt to save trees (and my only sustained luxury as a SAHM), I've started rationing squares. Yes, raise your hand up high to me - the Toilet Paper Nazi. Hail to me and make me a chair of Charmin. For now, upon the empty toilet paper holder I place 4 (count them, 1-2-3-4) sheets of TP; no more, no less. Every time Madison proudly mounts her Dora potty seat (yes, it matches perfectly with her stool), she reaches out with eager hands, rejoicing at her beloved 4 squares just prior to dismounting and doing the "pee pee dance". Mary Lou Retton would be proud.

So far, so good...right?

Well, last night Madison must have gotten up in the middle of the night to pee, because no sooner than a sliver of light broke through the blinds this morning I heard a voice from downstairs calling, "I finished! I finished! I fiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiished!" She was relentless. I stumbled downstairs (toe in tact) to commence my appointment as the Charmin Czar. All hail... *yawn* What was I saying?

Four years ago I was making major design and construction decisions on new residential projects; today I am weighing my options - contemplating whether sleep or my 2-ply is ultimately more important. And by the way...Yes, as Charmin Czar I WILL take that executive office with the view of the park and a competitive benefits package. Yes, thank you very much.

Competitive

Picture of the Day:

Toddlers are smart. If they weren't, SAHMs all over the world would be watching soaps and downing Dibbs. Don't believe me? Ask any parent what happened the last time they turned their back for 30 seconds. Madison dumped 2 bottles of nail polish onto our beautiful wood table in hopes of creating a new fabulous paint color for the wall. (Hence why you can find me flailing through the junk drawer, for my key to my locked cosmetic case, anytime I want to wear sandals.)

Recently, while browsing the ABC News website, I clicked on a headline that read, "Are You Smarter Than A Toddler". Thinking it was a story on keeping kids out of trouble, I got comfy. (Or as comfy as one can get on a stool in front of a computer monitor.) When the page loaded, I realized the story wasn't a 10-lister of "Best Toddler Safety Products", but rather a story on child prodigies.

Now Jeff and I are like most parents; we want the best for our child. We've made sure that Madison knows her A-B-C's, her colors - the building blocks for when she enters pre-school. We read three books before bedtime each night and we've even begun teaching Madison how to tell time. We feel felt like we are ahead of "the game".

There's nothing like knowing that another child, younger than your own, can rattle of 78 countries. Worse yet, find them on a map. Suddenly I'm reminded of conversations from my first Baby Bunch, "Your daughter can't crawl yet?" Crap.

It's not that I'm expecting Madison to be a Nobel prize winner by the time she learns how to roller skate, but it would be nice to know that I'm ahead of the game; actually, even in the middle would be of some comfort. Of course, now that I know what I'm up against I might as well wait for that flat of Belgium Chocolate and an icy glass of caffeine to fall from the sky...and, what the hell...Patrick Dempsey.

Maybe I just need therapy to erase the bad Baby Bunch conversations from my head. What happened to "Kids need to be kids. Let them play, make mud pies, splash in puddles...live." *looking up* Yeah, what happened to that?