April's Real Blog

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Mike's Flashbacks Go To Potty

Remember how the theme of Mike's flashbacks this week was going 2 B him teasing Liz cuz he thot she "deserved" it? No? Don't feel bad, I don't think Mike does either. Here's his l8est installment:
April,

Formerly little sis. After I told you yesterday about how I wanted to go outside to play in the dirt, I thought I would remember something from 1979 about Lizzie doing something to give her equal time.

As you may or may not know, April, toilet training varies from child to child. My son has gone back and forth. I remember when he was a little over two years old , he had a definite sense of what the toilet was and how to use it. However, this last year, he was regularly soiling his diaper. And yet still he sometimes surprises me by wearing green-polka-dotted boxers.

During mom’s day, it was much easier. “Grandma Marian” would call her up and tell her to do it. There was one time I remember when mom was on the phone receiver with the cord obviously disconnected from the base of the phone, having a great, conversation with “Grandma Marian”, while sewing at the same time. She would say, “Of course I’m going to train Lizzie, Mom—I just don’t think she’s ready for it yet!”

Then she would sew some more and say, “Yes, I do have a potty…She just won’t sit on it.—Sure it’s a regular one. No, it’s not too big…”

Then mom would look at little Lizzie walking around. Lizzie learned to walk at a very young age, and the way she would keep her balance was by putting her potty on top of her head. This would cause mom to make some kind of comment to “Grandma” like, “I’d say it was a perfect fit.” or “Lizzie doesn’t let her potty go to her head.” Or “Lizzie is very headstrong about her potty” or “When it comes to a potty, Lizzie likes to immerse herself in the subject.”

Now, you are probably thinking, what is mom doing spending money on a training potty, when she wouldn’t do that for you? The answer is that mom didn’t actually spend money on a training potty. Little Lizzie’s potty she put on her head and walked around with, was an actual metallic, grey, pot with a handle. Yes, April, mom loved Lizzie that much and why? Because she was cuter than I was, so she deserved it.

Love,
Michael Patterson
W8, Mike, R U saying that Mom had, like, pretend-phonecalls w/Grandma Marian, where she didn't even have the receiver connected 2 the phone? Was this supposed 2 B a "pressure" technique 2 get Liz 2 use the potty? That seems pretty mean!

Apes

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10 Comments:

  • At 6:59 AM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    That seems pretty crazy, if you ask me. It's as if she were following a script written by a woman who hated living in Lynn Lake, Manitoba and wanted to take it out on the whole world.

     
  • At 11:38 AM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    April,

    Formerly little sis. It is difficult to say if mom and Grandma Marian’s telephone conversations are really pretend or not. When I look back at pictures of the time, you can see clearly that the cord on the phone receiver does not connect to the base of the phone while mom is talking on it. On the other hand, Elizabeth has been known to have a telepathic conversation with Grandpa Jim. Iris also seems to know what Grandpa Jim is thinking in times past. So, there is a possibility that mom had a similar talent with talking to Grandma Marian over a long distance, and just used the phone to mask the talent in front of others. I asked mom about it and all she would say is, “Mike. Telepathic conversations with my mother? Michael, dear. You have got to stop talking to April, and get back to reality. You need to finish writing your second novel, so I can edit. You have mouths to feed and bills to pay. Snap to it!”

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     
  • At 11:46 AM, Anonymous liz patterson said…

    April,

    I have to protest, I want you to stop writing about Mike's rememberies on your blog, or letting him do it, they are going to keep me from ever getting married!!!, for instance, this new one, it's a huge slandering lie, if Grandma and Mom were thinking about potty training me in 1979, then I would have been about 2 years old, which means that I would have been born in 1977, and I would be 30 YEARS OLD TODAY!!!, and that would mean I am officially a SPINSTER!!!, and not marryable, well, I am sick and tired of this remembering crap, it always leads to bad rumors about me, and I know this last one got to Anthony, I saw him looking at me, and I could hear him thinking, "What if her lady parts are too shriveled up to give me more babies?", AAAAAUGH!, so, stop talking about 1979 like I was there, I wasn't, I was born in 1981, like the official story says, oh, and I never wore a toilet on my head either.

    Liz

     
  • At 5:11 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    Elizabeth,

    Slightly older little sis. Now that you and Anthony have the same home, and Anthony seems to be a little slow to propose, perhaps the time has come to mention a common-law marriage. Let me get my Johnston Institute for Better Living literature out:

    In Ontario, the Ontario Family Law Act specifically recognizes common-law spouses; the requirements are living together for three years or having a child in common and having "cohabitated in a relationship of some permanence". The three years must be continuous; however a breakup of a few days during the three-year period will not affect a person's status as common law. To define this “cohabitated in a relationship of some permanence” more specifically, according to the Canada Revenue Agency, as of 2007, a common-law relationship is true if:

    a) the couple have been living in a conjugal relationship for at least 12 continuous months;
    b) the couple are parents of a child by birth or adoption; or
    c) one of the couple has custody and control of the child (or had custody and control immediately before the child turned 19 years of age) and the child is wholly dependent on that person for support.


    I hope you will notice that your little half-Quebecoise child meets the standard of item (c) and so once 12 months is completed of you and Anthony having the same home, then you will be married due to item (a), even if Mr. Caine never managed to get on bended knee. Admittedly that is not nearly as romantic an option as what Deanna and I had; but really, when you are a 30-year-old spinster, you don't have a lot of room to complain. Just make sure you don't do anything to get yourself kicked out of yours and Anthony's home.

    As for wearing a toilet on your head, all I can say is that you deserved it because you were cuter.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     
  • At 5:31 PM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    april, leafs & sabres @7:30 @my place. also eva sed her bf duncan’s silhouette sed he’s bringin’ dark chocolate 2 make up 4 the last tyme we got 2gethah & he decided to wear that toilet seat on his head. i dunno wut he wuz thinkin’. just cuz the leafs beat detroit, duzn’t mean u hafta put a toilet on ur head, eh?

     
  • At 5:43 PM, Blogger howard said…

    April,

    Considering how your brother has already revealed your sister’s early infatuation with watching him urinate, I suppose it was only a matter of time before he started regaling you with stories about her with her head in some kind of toilet.

    During the entire time I worked with your sister back at Lakeshore Landscaping, I can’t remember a time when she mention anything to do with a toilet. However, I can remember, thanks to this Blog, your brother telling the story about how he went to his Journalism School reunion and cheered the guys who put a working flush toilet on the roof of the school theatre. I can also remember when he claimed his father and he prepared your grandfather’s apartment for his return after his first stroke by replacing the toilet seat with one that was easier to move to. I don’t know what the term is for people obsessed with toilets; but I suspect it is your brother with that problem and not your sister.

    Love,
    Howard Bunt

     
  • At 7:58 PM, Anonymous liz patterson said…

    AAAAUGH! HOWARD!!! Wasn't it bad enough when that got brought up the first time, now you are mentioning it again, EVERYONE PLEASE STOP TELLING STORIES ABOUT ME THAT MAKE ME LOOK BAD!!!, I am NOT going to have to get a common law marriage, I want a big white wedding day, and a real husband, and besides, I still have my own apartment.

    Liz

     
  • At 9:21 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    hey, i'm writing in from jeremy's place.

    liz, hey, i'd luv it if we cd get off of mike and the remembrances and move on 2 what's happening w/u. mom keeps saying that every1 hasta focus on the past 4 a while and that the johnston institute will decide when it's time 2 focus on u again.

    howard, now that u mention it, mike is pretty fix8ed on toilets. and both his kids have flushed inappropriate stuff down it.

    apes

     
  • At 12:39 AM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    april, sabres 1 leafs 0. ur v.v. good @helpin' me get undepressed.

     
  • At 12:43 AM, Anonymous michael patterson said…

    April,

    Formerly little sis. I have discovered that one of the unfortunate side effects of remembering about wanting to play in dirt or sticking a toilet on your head, is that it brings up the unpleasant memory of having to be bathed. I mentioned back on Monday that mom was not really keen on the bathing, and that’s why we had those bugs flying around our heads. Well most people didn’t notice the bugs. In fact, April, you denied that they even existed; but that’s what comes from having a mother who is much more interested in having a clean house than a clean child.

    Every once in awhile, Lizzie or I would get so dirty that we would pass a certain threshold of dirtiness, which required us to be cleaned. I think that threshold was usually when Anne Nichols or Connie Poirier would make some off hand comment about how I was starting have the same skin colour as Lawrence, or something about an offensive odour. I don’t know for sure; but I do know that when this threshold was passed, I had to take a bath.

    Mom is an excellent cook and housecleaner, but she left a little to desire with respect to bathing kids. I suspect that she considered cleaning children to be not unlike removing a stain from a piece of furniture; because after being bathed by mom, I usually felt as though I had gone through a wrestling match and lost badly.

    For example, I remember one occasion where I was sitting in the bath tub with the bubbles just right and I was playing with my boat, The Windjammer, and my little featureless action figure; when mom dumped shampoo on my head and started scrubbing away. Naturally I said, “AAAAGH! Noo! I don’t want my hair washed, Ma! CUT IT OUT!” Of course my pleas fell on deaf ears.

    Namely they were my ears, after mom started scrubbing them with her wash cloth. She pinned my right arm between the bathtub and her right arm, which she used to get me in a headlock. Then she started vigourously scrubbing my left ear with her left arm. You know one of the most sensitive parts of your body is your ears, and a powerful scrubbing of them can be quite painful. I remember yelling, “Lay off the ears! You know how I hate water in my EARS!” This is quite true. After a bath from mom, not only were my ears sore and tender, but I often couldn’t hear well from the water in them for a few days afterwards.

    Mom was not sympathetic to my plight and I could sense my Windjammer sailing away from me to safety. I just wish the rest of me could go there with it; because then mom would grab my right arm and jerk it upwards as she slapped a wash cloth so heavily across my ribs, it would make me bug-eyed and stick out my tongue from having the breath knocked out of me. Sometimes I would get a little faint from the blows and imagine my foot was detached from the rest of my body. As this was going on I could hear mom say, “Enough, Michael—You need a scrubbing—You are filthy!”

    As mom locked her left arm around my back, and shoved a wash cloth into my right ear, I protested, “I AM NOT! YOU JUST LOOK TOO CLOSE!!” These kinds of protestations were rarely effective, particularly since they complimented mom on some cleaning she noticed need to be done. If mom was on a real cleaning rampage, sometimes the pain elicited from the ear-scrubbing alone could cause me to pass out. I am not sure if that happened on this occasion; but it probably did. I’ll ask mom.

    If I passed out, then I will reminisce about something else tomorrow. If I didn’t pass out, then there will be more reminiscing about bath time. I know you can’t wait to find out which one.

    Love,
    Michael Patterson

     

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