I'm going to put this here, because while it's not parenting related it's mom-life related. Since the first of the year I've steadily lost over 15 pounds. Even better, I've managed to maintain the steady weight loss without exercise, not that I'm bragging of my lack of fitness but rather I'm proud of the weight loss that I'm keeping up with.
I'm now lighter than I was when I got married, I weigh almost as much as I did when I met Mac for the first time but I'm way less toned. Part of the plus side to this is I'm feeling more confident in my own skin. I'm wearing carpi's, skirts (that are knee length, not maxi skirts) and jeans that are loose and I'm down 2 sizes!
None of that is as impressive as what I did today. Today I wore shorts, in public for the first time in over a decade! And my thighs don't rub when I walk anymore! If you don't get why I'm bragging about this, sorry I'm boring you.
Nixon still is demanding help wiping his ass. I know he can do it, he just knows its easier if mom or dad does it for him. Tonight, after the especially hellicious morning we had together, he knocks on the wall and demands one of us helps wipe his butt. Mac tells him to wipe it himself. Nixon stays in the bathroom for a couple more minutes, then comes out sans undies and says "MOMMY I said I need HELP!"
I get up and follow him back into the bathroom. I look at him, as he's got his butt in the air at me saying "I touch my toes mommy." and all I can think of is I'm so over this phase.
me: Nixon, I'll wipe your butt but you have to wipe mine next time I go potty. It's only fair.
Nixon: what?! No! You wipe my butt.
me: Yeah, no. If I'm going to wipe your butt, you need to wipe mine. That's fair, right?
Nixon: NO! I don't wipe you! You grown up, you wipe yoursself.
me: Well, if you're not going to do that, then you need to wipe your own butt.
Nixon: I need help.
me: Well, okay then. *I fold the wipe for him and show him how to wipe*
Nixon: Oh, I know how to do this!
me: So you'll wipe your butt and no one will wipe mine?
I leave the bathroom and fall onto the floor in the living room, where Mac sits on the sofa, and collapse into laughter. Mac "Well played", and all I can say is "I really never think before I speak to him." I might also need to start saving for therapy.