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Something that I used to despise when I was in design was area rugs placed over broadloom (wall to wall carpeting.)  Then I had kids, and I thought that area rugs were cheaper to replace if they got ruined, so I have taken to putting decorative area rugs in all our living spaces that are high traffic as an extra buffer from the boys and all their nastiness.  I have had several opportunities to express my gratitude to the rugs and the universe, for “sucking it up” (thanks, rugs) and doing a design idea that I normally don’t like(thanks, miraculous universe)!

Yesterday was no exception!  My house was in desperate need of cleaning, and when Grammy and my aunt who is down visiting offered to pick Michael up at school and bring him home to me, I knew I needed to get crackin’.    I’m very proud of my little house, and I also need for people to think that I have it all under control.  I love the idea that when people come in to my home they don’t see evidence of children until they get to their bedroom and playroom, and even then, everything has its place.  No, I don’t have a prepaid college plan for either of them—I’m putting the money into a “my-mom-loved-her-things-more-than-me” therapy fund.  But if I didn’t have my house looking pretty and stuff in its place most of the time, then they would need the “my-mom-screams-hollers-and-beats-me” therapy plan.  I figure this is the lesser of two evils, and it teaches them about the value of nice things…

Well, Pierce showed me, yesterday, how he feels about my philosophy.  As we know, we have been working on potty training, and it’s going pretty well as long as he is naked from the waist down,  We’ve even taken to pooping on the potty nice man-sized  BM’s.

Anyhoo, I was doing the “flight of the bumblebee” (to quote Jeff Foxworthy)—cleaning bathrooms, windows, mirrors, dusting, vacuuming and everything else I could get done before my mom and aunt showed up.  When Pierce had evacuated both his bladder and his colon, I thought that I would put the cotton training pants on him and talk to him about pulling them down to use the potty or holding “it” until I could help him.  I figured if he had an accident that at least it would make him cold and uncomfortable. 

So, I went about my business of making my home appear as though no children live here, while Pierce played and entertained himself—he’s great about that.  Somewhere midway through my process, he meets me in the hallway with the front of his shirt wet up to his chest, and his undies soaked.  Oh…no…I reacted with shame and guilt (note to self—maybe start another therapy fund) and asked him where he wee-wee’d.  He lead me to the green, wool area rug in the play room.  Sure enough—in spite of the miracle t-shirt and und-y fabrics’ ability to soak up liquid, there was still a nice squishy puddle on the rug.  Immediately I get the “Spot Shot” and try to work its magic, and then I realize that I better see if it soaked through to the carpeting.  Thank God, it hadn’t!

Okay, so I dealt with the possibility of an accident and the inevitable clean up of one, but then I was shocked to learn (silly me) that Pierce, my laid back guy, didn’t find piddly pants uncomfortable– so much for that tactic.  What next…