Potty is a four letter word.

Yesterday I turned 29 years old. I feel like that can't be right, because I'm pretty sure the second I gave birth to Molly I entered my mid-thirties. That's how those things work, right? Either way, I was born allegedly 29 years ago.

I celebrated the lead up to my birthday with a weekend of strep throat and a couple trips to the clinic. Karl had plans to go away this weekend so when I woke up feeling like death warmed over on Friday morning I asked him to take the day off work so I could have an actual sick day. Because I wasn't feeling any worse when he left Friday night I told him to go and hopefully my antibiotics would work enough to bring me back to life. Praise the Lord they did, and I only missed out on one night of blissful time to myself. Because I love my husband but I also really love an evening all to myself.

I celebrated my actual birthday with a toddler that only napped for 20 minutes then woke up screaming and raging as I was halfway through a piece of cake. His mood did not improve.

I strongly suspect I will be gray by the time I'm actually 30.

This morning while I was getting ready to take the kids for a photo shoot for a friend's Etsy store I noticed that Parker was playing with the toilet brush. He had put my actual hairbrush in the toilet brush's holder. It's fine, I probably needed a new one anyway.

You know how they say to be careful what you wish for? I have long wished that my son would potty train himself when the time comes. We're going on holidays next week, starting with an 18 hour road trip, and guess who has decided that he's completely in love with the potty? I won't go into any details, aside from saying that I'm utterly traumatized by it all, and that mine and Karl's efforts to downplay any potty interest are not working. He's not even two and a half yet.

Because I've been strong armed by a 30 lb child into potty training this week I took the kids to Superstore to buy him underwear today. Did you know that Joe doesn't make underwear in Parker's age size? That's because normal two year old boys do not potty train this early. I had to buy him size 3T and hope to God that they won't fall down every time he stands up. They were, however, days of the week underwear (I am so deeply jealous) and 25% off. I'll be going back for more tonight because something tells me that seven pairs won't be enough.

I had a few other things on my grocery list that I completely forgot about after Parker started pulling shoes off the shelves and slapping all the displays. I checked out with the underwear at the self checkout, thinking I could make a quick, clean getaway with enough energy left over to stop at Booster Juice on the way back to the car for my free birthday smoothie.

I learned something new today. Life is all about learning. This weekend I learned that Americans and Canadians have different flour, and today I learned that self checkout scanners have buttons on them that only toddlers can see and push. I also learned that it takes three store employees, including one manager, to set that scanner right. I also learned that when you push the wrong buttons on the scanner it will shame beep at you loudly, repeatedly, and it will just add to the impending trauma of potty training a week before 18 hours straight in the car. But at least someone told me about a car seat insert to contain any system failures.

If you think of me tomorrow, send prayers and cleaning tips.