OK, mommy cred = ZERO. Diaper Disaster Day.

That's right - ROCK BOTTOM.  I called Elisheva a spoiled princess in Lawrence Square for insisting on the stupid bike that looked cooler rather than the one I really think would have been better.

 

And for making me drive her there, and setting her mind to buying a bike (okay, with her own money, which she earned).

And for whining and pouting and asking if we were just going to LOOK at a bicycle because naturally she wanted to walk out WITH a bicycle, otherwise there is just no point in living.

(roll eyes)

In fact, she'd already made plans to go biking with her friend Nechama this afternoon, so we had better find a bike RIGHT THEN AND THERE.

(roll eyes)

 

Did I mention I bought her a used bike last year that she refused to even look at, let alone ride, because, well, it was ugly?

Did I mention she had two bikes stolen this spring because they were used bikes that she had condescended to ride but they were not good enough, in her opinion, to actually lock?

 

Anyway.  We did find a bike, two bikes, and I thought the Raleigh would be better.  In fact, I said no Supercycles, because, frankly, every Supercycle I have ever seen is twice as heavy as any other bike, and once the newness has worn off, twice as clunky as well.  I guess they're not total garbage in that they last and last and last... but frankly, almost anything is better than a Supercycle.  I can't even say the word "Supercycle" without wanting to

 

But, alas, they dress the garbagey old Supercycles up to look sporty, with a bouncy front suspension and a seat that kind of floats in mid-air (dunno what that's called).  And it's a nice silvery colour and looks rather slick.  Whee!

 

And the on-sale Raleigh (regular $220, down to $150) just did not look as good alongside.  Okay, it was sort of a burgundy -slash- "blood" colour.  But in my opinion, it was made up of better-quality parts, and more importantly, seemed to weigh at least 10 lbs less.  The main drawback, in my mind, was that it had no kickstand.  Okay, also it has a quick-release front wheel and seat, which could be a security liability, given the theft situation at our local library.  But it also has a five-star rating from reviews at the Canadian Tire website.  The Supercycle is only 4-star.

 

Honestly, I was mad at the whole world, not really Elisheva.  Dunno why; just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.  PMS???  Cumulative progesterone fatigue?

 

And then Gavriel Zev melted down, in the bicycles section.  I had him in the Ergo because that Canadian Tire store is (for shame!) not accessible AT ALL.  I knew from past experience that there is no way to get a carriage upstairs except the cargo elevator (ask me how I know...).  So I stuck him in the ergo,  having heard other mamas chatting about how lovely and convenient it is to throw their babies on their backs.

 

Well.  As soon as we got into the bike area, he started squirming, and then grabbing at the back of my shirt, and then he said, "kucky."  Which means POO.  But for him, it just refers to excretion in general, and not necessarily with any particular tense attached - in other words, he could mean the poo or pee of the past, present or future.  It's usually pretty random.

 

So I ignored him until he was grabbing my shirt hard and starting to cry.  I figured he wanted to go down and play with the bikes, so I let him down to go see them, but he kept on crying.  And crying.  And screaming.  "Kucky...!"  (rhymes with lucky!)

 

And so I called Elisheva the name, after we bought the Supercycle and left the store.  After I asked her to haul the bike to the car while I waited with the sibs at the curb.  But, of course, she couldn't lift the bloody thing into the car so I called her back to stay with the screaming baby and Naomi so that after the bike was stowed we could go to Fortino's and pick something up for supper.  Ha ha ha.  She couldn't get the bike in, so I screamed at her to come back and stay with them and then I couldn't lift the thing because it was so bloody heavy (I have hefted Ted's bike,  my bike, my sister's bike, my mother's bike into the car... so I'm not a total weakling!), and then it smashed my lip.  And then it finally went in and I slammed the car shut and went back to my screaming family and she just looked so SMUG and happy with her new stupidcycle bike.  I wanted to slap her but I called her a spoiled princess and walked away, leaving her to escort the littles.

 

And the baby screamed "Kucky, kucky!" all through Fortino's.  Non-stop.  He has never cried so loud and long in his life.  I said, "I know you are very uncomfortable, but you will have to wait until we are at home.  When we get home, you can use your potty, I will give you a fresh diaper."

 

He cried in the car.  Loud.  As we raced down Marlee to get to our house, I coached Elisheva to prep her for arrival:  "When we get there, I am going to grab the baby and run... please let Naomi Rivka out and bring the groceries."

 

FINALLY - home!  Got him inside, tugged everything off of him.  It was a WET diaper.  He had a WET diaper.  Okay, it was very wet.  But this is definitely the downside of potty training:  the awareness of being wet, the extreme discomfort with something that would have been NOT an emergency just a month ago.  The screaming stopped instantly once his diaper was off, and he did nothing in the potty, just wandered off to play after a minute.  Emergency OVER!!!

 

Hmm... I wonder if this is also the downside of having used disposable diapers for a couple of weeks in there?  (not that disposable diapers are not, in themselves, a down side)

Because he would never feel wet in a disposable.

 

Hey, but we did have a potty SUCCESS this morning.  After one pee-in-the-highchair and one false-alarm-in-the-potty, we had a POO-in-the-potty.  Yay!  One less "kucky diaper" to change.

 

Yes, "Kucky" should probably be spelled with an A.  But then it looks and sounds too much like khaki, the pants colour.  It looks really kind of stupid spelled like this, but on the other hand, it really does rhyme with "lucky" the way we say it.

 

So there it is.

 

I am so tired, so demoralized from the screaming, so disgusted with myself for calling a 13-year-old a name.  I'm probably resentful because their grandmother gets to spoil them so much.  Jealous?  Ha.  She lost her only son... I should be thanking Hashem every single day for all these amazing brachos.  And it's Elul, too, now.  I am doubly ashamed.

 

Here are pictures of the bikes.  Like I said, she chose the slick silvery Stupidcycle.