toilet training, terrible twos and other trials and tribulations

I always say that our money habits have karma.  If we’re being good and living within our budget, when an unexpected cost comes up it always seems like an unexpected check arrives in the mail on the same day.  Lately, however, we’ve been faced with bad money juju.  Our garage door opener broke three times and we’ve replaced the entire system now (three seperate parts totalling $600), our fence gate blew down in a windstorm yesterday ($250), and every imaginable sporadic bill (homeowner’s dues, irrigation bill, etc.) hit us at the same time.  So our credit card, which we’ve worked so hard to get to zero, is now at over $1000.  And, unfortunately, karma knows that we deserve it.

Siena is potty training.  She’s not even two (her birthday is tomorrow), so I’ve had reservations at starting so early but she’s decided she’s ready all on her own.  So we’ve had her in big girl underwear for most of the week and she’s only had one or two accidents a day.  Of course, I had to pause in typing this post to clean up a nice little pile of poo, so there is still a lot of one-step-backing going on.  Connor is getting a little jealous of all the extra attention so I’m trying to spend some one-on-one time with him each day during his sister’s nap, but it’s obvious he thinks Siena is the favorite child which is heartbreakingly untrue.  Do other parents have a favorite child?  I certainly don’t.  At times one might be easier than another, but it has no bearing on the equally infinite love I feel for each of them in my heart.

Speaking of Siena (and of children swapping who is the most difficult on a whim), she seems to have been issued the two-year-old training manual.  My sweet little “easy” girl has moved from being excessively clingy to Mommy to being independent to the point of stubborn.  (Where does she get that from, anyway?  Oh yeah…)  She’s insisting she do everything herself, won’t hold my hand even in a parking lot never mind trying to strap her down for a stroller ride, and temper tantrums are appearing on her daily to-do list.  It’s funny how much calmly I react this time around to them, though.  They aren’t so personal with the second child.  So far.

I’m sick again.  Probably bronchitis.  I’m pretty sure I’ve been sick more this last 8 months than I’ve been well.  (Did you know that in the UK, if you say that you are sick it means that you are vomiting?  I’m not.  I’m “ill” or “unwell”.)  My hypochondriac self is starting to conjure up images of strange lung diseases and I am thinking that I need to go see a doctor but I’m afraid I’m already labeled as obsessive in his folder, so I’m putting it off.  But for now, the housework, laundry, and marriage has suffered for it.  No, not seriously, and not because of the housework and laundry exactly.  Rich is big into physical affection and when I’m coughing up my own body weight in phlegm I’m not really in the mood to cuddle.  Yet, just like the amazing man he is, he’s been picking up the slack when it comes to housework and child care and doesn’t complain a bit.  I do not deserve that man.  Thank heavens marriage karma doesn’t seem to work the same as money karma for us because I’d be in serious trouble.

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