Buyer’s Remorse

Several years ago, when I bought my beloved Audi TT Convertible (brokenhearted sniff), I did so while saying, “This is the last car I will buy before children, so it needs to be worth it.” I loved that car. When I found out we were expecting a mere 18 months later, I investigated and discovered that I could, in fact, disable the passenger airbag. Living in a mountain town of 20,000 residents and virtually no traffic accidents, I found myself justifying keeping the car. I was so clever!

Until my eight week check up, when we saw this:

(For anyone completely inept at reading an ultrasound, that is not a Roswellian alien inhabiting my womb. This is a surveillance photo of the first meeting of the East Side Plinkas plotting to take over the world.)

I knew, when I got behind the wheel that day, that our days together were numbered. The car was gone by March, when I could barely fit into it, but I put the top down one last time (in the snow) just for a proper farewell.

I am telling you this story for reference – for both timing and as evidence of my sane and reasonable state of mind. So, the question is this: How, eight months after buying the car (the last car before kids) did I coerce my husband into purchasing a beautiful, modern ivory leather sectional? What was I thinking? I will tell you what I was not thinking…

I was not thinking that anyone would mistake it for a trampoline, jungle gym, or crash pad.

I was not thinking that twenty tiny toenails could be as destructive as a feral cat.

I was not thinking that twenty tiny fingernails would find it fascinating to pick at the new and interesting texture created by feral-cat-child-toes.

And never, not ever, in my wildest imagination did I think it would get peed on.

But really, what do I know? More than I did then, that’s for sure.

Currently, I am moderately successfully potty training the East Side Plinkas, but they have established the living room as the battleground and taken the poor sofa as their prisoner. Two days ago when TwinXY was climbing the jungle gym – oh, I mean the sofa – I am guessing exertion got the best of him. I noticed a puddle on the floor and followed the trickly trail up the side of the arm rest. As previously stated, it is leather, so it cleaned up really easily and it was like it never happened. TwinXX, has been a Wee Rock Star. She made it Days 2 and 3 with only one accident per day, and she was really good at letting me know immediately. I read that getting upset about it was bad and could create “issues” so I have been very supportive and calm when they happen. Because they will happen. For awhile, I am guessing. So was it embarrassment, frustration, disappointment (???) that compelled her to hide her accident from me today? I don’t know exactly when it happened, though I can isolate a half-hour time frame because the kids were in and out of the kitchen while I made snack. I emerge to discover all the pillows from the couch on the floor – not at all uncommon these days – so I take my time setting the table and getting the kids set down. TwinXX was wet, so I immediately scanned the room for a puddle. At first glance, everything looked fine. Upon closer inspection, I notice a tiny wet spot creeping out from under a cushion. Under my breath, “What the…”, lift the cushion, “…^&$#*@”. Yep. A full pee. Right there on the floor. Completely concealed by… not the beach towel they use as a dry-mat on the sofa, not the clothes fresh from the dryer sitting on the ottoman… nope… she chose to use EVERY cushion instead.Yeah. Because I’ll never notice that.

On the bright side, I discovered the leather washes really well.

Tags: potty training, Twins