Today I am facing three delimmas. Perhaps one of you can help me.

1. My Toddler is afraid to poop. I have done everything I can think of to help him. Prune juice (daily,) fiber supplements, anything with fiber in it … tons of fresh fruit, olive oil, etc. Finally I called the pediatrician’s office and the nurse told me the next step is suppositories. Hopefully that will help him poop with ease and therefore get over his fear.

2. I have a fear of administering said suppositories.

3. My acne cream (Clearasil) bleaches stuff. I never worried about it because I used to have white sheets on our bed, but I just bought 500-thread count chocolate brown sheets. They are AWESOME. I cannot ruin them. What can I use on my pimples that won’t bleach my pillowcases?!

That is all.

Good day.

“How is the Toddler taking to his new bed,” you ask?

Allow me to answer you, in photo.

Note the blurry picture quality. This is because I’m simply too tired to care.

This weekend, my little boy tried to escape his crib. We have moved the mattress down to the lowest level and we were hoping it would last at least 6 more months. But, alas. He figured out that if he stood on his pillow, it made him just tall enough to put one foot over the rail. Luckily, I caught him just before he heaved himself out.

We were faced with a decision: should we buy one of those crib tents to trap him in, or just bite the bullet and convert his crib to a toddler bed?

Knowing the type of child we have, we opted to just go with the toddler bed. I would rather deal with him getting up in the night than worrying about him strangling himself or — more likely — somehow figuring out how to get out of the tent and falling out of bed anyway.

I never thought I would be the type of mother who didn’t want to let go, but I am. I was sad when he stopped using his paci, and now I’m sad that the crib is gone. It’s all so sudden … it’s strange. And next, we will start potty training and soon this tiny boy will be running around in Underoos.

… I can wash clothes.

My husband came home and declared that our new washer is, in fact, broken. I feel validated. It wasn’t that I was too dumb to operate it, apparently buying a floor model wasn’t worth the headache that it caused.

Our attempt to save money was a failure. I just want to wash my clothes. Seriously.

We got a new washer and dryer.

How is it only Wednesday?!?

I miss my husband. He’s out of town on his first business trip for his first professional-level, requires-a-bachelor’s-degree, job. I couldn’t be more proud of him.

At first I enjoyed the quiet. I don’t think it makes me a bad wife to admit that. It had been a LONG time since I had the house to myself. It’s nice to leave the house in a clean state and come back to it 9 hours later, to find it exactly as I left it.

However, I’m lonely. The days are dragging. Last night I put the Toddler to bed at 7:15 and I put myself to bed right afterwards. In three short days I have become even more old lady-like than I was to begin with. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I realized that without my husband home, I have no one to look decent for. I had globs of Clearasill on my face. My hair was a wreck.

I had on a crazy ensemble that I shall henceforth call “Bag Lady Comfort.” It involved purple, fluffy socks that have lost their elasticity and settle around my ankles. Paired with slippers. Slippers that have sheep on them.

I seem to be going through a rough patch. Life isn’t always easy, as we all know. I don’t want to dwell on it, but let’s just say that I’m ready for things to get better.

When life gets hard, and I feel like I am seriously losing it … that is when my little boy seems to shine. Maybe it’s because God knows how much I can handle and dealing with a screaming toddler on top of everything else would simply send me over the edge. I don’t ask why — I just accept.

This week has been particularly difficult and Toddler has been an absolute ANGEL. He holds my hand while we walk through the house. He beams up at me with cheery glee. He hugs me for no reason. He follows instructions. For the past two days he has been nothing but pure joy and it has done wonders for my spirit and my outlook on life.

Children are such a blessing. I often wonder what I did before he was born. I feel like I must have been extremely self-absorbed. All of the worries of the day suddenly become unimportant when I arrive at the daycare and see him running toward me with arms stretched in the air.

I wish I was more of a crier. I think my husband would understand me more if I just bawled my eyes out every time I felt overwhelmed.

Instead, I  am an internalizer.

Internalizers hold in their stress. I don’t know why I do this … I’m normally a good communicator. I don’t have a problem talking about my feelings. But STRESS is different. I bottle it up and it manifests itself in other ways, like making me act like a complete and total bitch. Sometimes, I get these weird canker sores on my tonsils. When I was little, I would get stomach aches.

WHY can’t I cry more?

I imagine that if I went home this afternoon from this horribly stressful day at work, collapsed on the couch and boo-hooed like a total wimp, my husband would probably cook me dinner and clean the entire house so I wouldn’t have to worry about it. He would express concern. He would be … worried.

In reality, I’ll go home and be cranky and he won’t want to do ANYTHING helpful, because who wants to be nice to a bitch? Not me!

Does anyone have suggestions on how to become a total cry baby?!?