One would think, by nature, little girls would be neater in the bathroom than little boys. Not so much. I find my self cleaning the potty three times as much as I normally should. I just don't understand, logistically speaking, how a little girl can make this much of a mess when using the potty. But my high maintenence daughter has mastered it. And it really doesn't help that the toilet is one of the things I get a little OCD about. I just feel that any spot of urine must be cleaned and all the dust that accumulates behind it and around the bottom are from Satan himself. Honestly, the toilets are usually the cleanest single part of my home. So, if ever at mi casa and a terrible case of the stomach flu hits or you have indulged in one too many margaritas, you can feel safe to hug the porcelain god. Unless Madalyn went directly before you did.
Another thing here lately that disturbs me is my seemingly aging shell. I know I am not old, but the hormones seems to be already cycling downward. My husband thinks I am crazy for thinking this, but there are just changes I have noticed over the past couple of years. Night sweats, for one. And I am not talking about perspiration. Sweat. Pfrofuse sweating. Waking up several times during the night drenched in sweat, sometimes so bad that I must get up and change clothes. What the heck is that about? And the dry and sensitive skin. In the past two years I have had to switch to unscented nearly everything. No more froofy smelling bath gels or lotion. Unscented Aveeno and sensitive skin deoderant. It is just weird. I used to have to check my face for oil every hour on the hour. I can remember in high school pulling out my little compact at the end of first period and being mortified at the oil that stood on my face. Now my skin is so dry and tired looking that I long for the oily days of yore. I mean I still have the zits, so why not the benefits of natural moisture as well. I really need to go to the gyno and have my annual which is a little over due. Just a little, not much. But I am wanting to find a new one and there is something so humiliating about having to meet yet another man who will be looking where human eyes should never have to go. Oh, the thought.
Anyway. I am just rambling today. There's not much going on in my life at present, which is just fine with me. We will be starting up with baseball practice very soon, and then my life will be consumed with, "Mama, did you see me hit that ball? Did I hit it good? Did you see me get that boy out? Did you see me catch that pop fly? Do you want to throw baseball with me when we get home? Can I practice hitting balls, too? Did I do good today, Mama?" And it will be in a series like that, and when he pauses for air between questions, I will alternate between responses, "Yes, real good," and "Uh huh." And this year I need to purchase a glove, which I never dreamed in a million years I would need, but when you are throwing baseballs in the yard everyday after school, a glove is beneficial. Since Scott is a lefty, I can't use his. Oh dear. It is fun, but when David gets into something, he is all in. We still don't know what team we will be on, and that is a bit of anxiety. This is serious business here - little league baseball - and I don't trust my child to just anyone. There is only one coach that I absolutely do not want, so that's all I am really praying for. So, we'll see. Oh the dramas of city league babseball. They meet for the draft this Saturday to pick teams. Yes, you heard me right. The draft.