Long time, no blog.

Things have been busy at Casa de Monkeys. Children grow, grown ups regress, people go in and out of work and then there are the always the too-short weekends. I went to a writers conference. The kids are running around half naked in the warm weather. The boy knows his alphabet. The girl is being potty trained.

Speaking of potty training--I had no idea that it would be so hard. I never knew that "Do you have to go potty?" would become the most important sentence of my repetoire. And why can't the tv teach the potty training? I love the tv for so many reasons--it taught the boy his alphabet, it keeps them occupied in the mornings--would it be so hard to have it teach the kids the toilet training? And even though I'm virulently anti-robot, can't they make a robot to do this?

Because it's wearing on me. Parenting already makes me feel like a failure in so many ways, this inability to get a person to pee in the appropriate place--yes, I just cleaned up yet another accident--just makes me want to cry even more. And it hasn't even been a week yet. We're not even a week out, and I already want to cry.

I have a vision of the girl and I in the bathroom, me sitting on the floor, crying, begging her to pee in the potty, while she asks me questions in her incomprehensible Girl Monkey language and tries to fit her big girl panties on my head. Who is this supposed to be training, anyways?

Regardless. Prayers are appreciated. Valium would be appreciated even more. Contact me for address information.

Best,
The Main Monkey.