I have a whole new appreciation for this phrase.
Maddie is refusing, for the second week in a row, to go poop. Last week, I let her deal with it for three days before it finally got so bad that I gave her a suppository and a dose of Senakot. The strength of the human will is amazing. Truly. I'm coming at this shit from two directions, and she STILL is walking around like,....well, like she's got a rod up her ass. Which she does.
I sit her on the pot, she slaps me in the face. I leave her alone, she climbs down and continues the rod-walk. She finally went last Thursday at 7 p.m. I got a phone call at work, much to the amusement of my co-workers, who are not used to seeing me as Mom ("You went poop? GOOD GIRL! See? Doesn't that feel much better?"). Since then, she has again refused to go.
There is no reasoning with this girl.
She's just like her mother.
God dammit.
TWO WEEKS. TWO FULL WEEKS OF, "Mommy, my bottom hurts."
I am losing my sympathy.
Okay.
Venting complete.
Back to school.