I Hate Potty Training

I've been immersed in potty training for nearly two weeks straight and I'm miserable.  I cried all weekend.  I was left alone to deal with it on Saturday for three hours, because my husband went to a CPR certification class and then I was left alone again on Sunday while he went to the doctor for a diagnosis of strep.  Blah.

Pretty much anything set me off this weekend.  Seriously.  My husband inadvertently washed a basket of clean clothes and I cried for like 10 minutes about that.  I cried for an hour after misinterpreting a text from my sister-in-law (sorry, Laura!).  Plus, I didn't have a chance to make up any pears or sweet potatoes for the baby and that made me super sad.  Poor thing.  This has been her second or third straight week of rice cereal.  I keep meaning to introduce a new food, but I've been so focused on whether or not Z's pants are wet that I haven't even had the energy to do anything but rice.  Hell, I'm not even sure she gets rice every day.  

But you know what, I'm not even sure she likes rice cereal.  I think she prefers her thumb.  I get about two or three spoonfuls in her and then she eats her thumb and turns away from me.  What a nut.   In other news, she has three new bibs.  They are not very noteworthy, though I rather like this one, which is backed with leftover towel material from those swim coverups:

I found a big chunk of that owl fabric in my scrap stash.  I can't, for the life of me, remember where it came from or what I originally made with it.  Why can't I remember?  Ugh.  Do you remember Quantum Leap and Sam's Swiss cheese memory?  I feel that babies have given me a permanent supply of holes in my memory.

In other news, Z only had one accident today at daycare and then she peed twice on the potty tonight.   Additionally, I did not cry today.