Today, Isaac announced that he had to go peepee and proceeded to take off his pajama pants and diaper. Now, we've been here before, and I was hardly thinking anything would come of it. He told me that he wanted to sit on the potty, which, ok, knock yourself out. So he took his bare little hiney up the stairs and the next thing I know, I can hear the unmistakable sound of tinkling! (One perk of toddlers never closing the bathroom door is the ability to remote monitor.)
I looked at Mikayla and said, "I think he's going peepee on the potty!!" Her little face lit up and we raced upstairs to celebrate. We jumped up and down, we clapped, we made all the fuss. Isaac was SO PROUD that he sat there and insisted on trying again which of course did not happen.
So basically he managed to use the potty without any assistance or prompting from his lazy momma, who didn't even move from the couch when he headed upstairs to the bathroom. (In my defense, I was working on a simple homeschool calendar.) I am so curious to see where this will go! He asked to wear his big boy undies which...what's the worst that could happen? A little extra laundry?
Stay tuned! For today we have one very proud two year old, who got to pick popsicles for morning snack. And I printed off a Cars-themed potty chart for him. Potty training 16 days before moving to our new house is the best idea ever, amirite?
When They Grow Up
As the kids were eating their snack of cheddar cheese and Rye with Caraway Seeds Triscuits (my toddlers have the palate of middle-aged men), Isaac asked me to sing my lullaby. One of the lines is, "Who will you be tomorrow? What are the paths you will follow?"
Mikayla interjected then with, "I will be a mommy!"
"I hope so, sweet girl."
Isaac, predictably, then declared, "I will be a daddy!"
"I hope so, buddy."
And then M again: "I will follow Jesus!"
Oh my melting heart. But wait... "I will follow Jesus there, and there, and there, and there!" This devolved into several minutes of my children giggling and pointing to all the places where they will follow Jesus. A bit literal, but still cute. Finally Mikayla reiterated, "I will follow God everywhere he goes!"
Bless. I hope so, sweet girl.
Mikayla interjected then with, "I will be a mommy!"
"I hope so, sweet girl."
Isaac, predictably, then declared, "I will be a daddy!"
"I hope so, buddy."
And then M again: "I will follow Jesus!"
Oh my melting heart. But wait... "I will follow Jesus there, and there, and there, and there!" This devolved into several minutes of my children giggling and pointing to all the places where they will follow Jesus. A bit literal, but still cute. Finally Mikayla reiterated, "I will follow God everywhere he goes!"
Bless. I hope so, sweet girl.
The Most Epic Bathroom Stop Ever
The kids and I just returned from an almost-two-week adventure to western PA to visit my family. It was a whirlwind visit full of friends, a Children's Museum, a birthday party, a wedding, a fantasy football draft (keep the dream alive, gentlemen), and more. While not exactly restful, it was refreshing, like a deep cleansing breath. I have returned ready to collapse in exhaustion organize and pack for our big move in just over three weeks.
With three children under four years old, not all moments were equally refreshing. Some were chaotic, a few were downright laughable in their absurdity. The following story relates one of those moments. And yes, I made a note in my phone so that I would remember to tell you about this, dear readers, because this was one of those tales that must be told. And since the kids are taking awesome naps today, no doubt because of our little chat on self control during story time, I have the opportunity to share it.
We had stopped for gas somewhere in the middle of PA. The details escape me, but I do know that it wasn't the time when I had only four miles left on my gas gauge and the good Lord dropped an exit out of nowhere 1/4 of a mile up the highway. The things we do to preserve car naps - why, yes, I did drive past a perfectly good exit with several functioning gas stations, with under 20 miles til empty. Only to discover that the next exit (only seven miles away, they said; you can get off the highway there instead, they said) had NO SERVICES. We were running on fumes and prayers that time.
But no, this wasn't that time. This was the time with the yellow jackets. It started minimally enough - Joel was pumping gas, and suddenly flung his sandal off of his foot at me. "What?!" "There was a yellow jacket by my foot." Oh. Ok. Aside from my questioning his aim (do I look like I need a flying sandal followed by a stinging insect in my life?), that was that.
A few minutes later, I pulled the van over to a parking spot so that I could sit and feed Oliver. Joel took Isaac along for a bathroom visit. Rather than keep the car running for the A/C, I decided to roll down the windows a bit. We began to nurse, and M had the run of the car because reasons.
Suddenly, M was freaking out and trying to leap from the front passenger seat into my lap or the CD player or wherever she could get to. Mind you, I was holding a peacefully nursing infant. This limits the mobility somewhat, particularly within the confines of a bucket seat with a steering wheel. So she's shrieking, and I'm going, "What? What?", trying to convey a sense of urgency and helpfulness while not disturbing my baby. "There's a bee!!!" she yelled. Sure enough. So now, nursing baby, steering wheel, freaking out three-year-old, and a yellow jacket. It was like one of those silly songs ("there's a frog on the bump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea") except with more danger and very, very real.
Somehow with no arms, I managed to eradicate the yellow jacket, calm the child, and roll up the windows. I will accept my Mother of the Year award at a later date (wait til you hear about the way I reached and returned my screaming baby's pacifier while driving down the highway). For now, imagine me continuing to nurse and accepting the new, warmer, stuffier atmosphere inside the van. And then?
"I have to poop! I have to poop!" I'm not even kidding. But don't fret, gentle reader, we have a small potty that we take in the van on long rides for just such an occasion. What mother wouldn't volunteer to be stuck in a confined space with recycled air with their child's waste, amirite? So M dropped her drawers and made it in time. But then. My eyes slowly began to water as the oxygen content of the van dropped precariously.
You know what's an awesome choice to have to make, while STILL nursing a baby behind the steering wheel of a minivan? Yellow jackets or muggy poop air. Which will be my immediate future until my husband finally returns from his apparently epic journey through Middle Earth to Mount Gas Station Bathroom? (P.S. WHAT IS HE DOING IN THERE?)
I decided to gamble with the yellow jackets. I mean, what were the odds that that same little bugger was hanging around just waiting to make my life a wailing, flailing nightmare again?
Yeah. And he brought a friend.
So, the muggy poop air cleared out a bit, but a moment later M's high-pitched Mommy Alert System was back in full force, notifying me of not one, but TWO BEES!! IN THE CAR!! Oh sweet mercy. I begged the yellow jackets with my eyes to return from whence they came, because at least if I could refrain from shrieking and jumping, then we wouldn't add a screaming baby to the mix. File that under "last thing I freaking need right now, or ever". Apparently they did fly out the window because they aren't still there, and as I again telepathically rolled up the windows (I guess? I was still nursing Oliver?), Joel finally emerged from the Gates ofMordor Sunoco. He was carrying a small bag of snacks, by way of explanation for why it took him three days to get to the bathroom and back. You would admire my self-control; I didn't even chuck the baby at him and run away in tears.
Yes, twenty ounces of Sprite and some Cool Ranch Doritos TOTALLY made up for my having to battle the Death Eaters by myself (great, now I am mixing my epic movie references). At least I survived to tell about it! And to make up for my great travail, Joel volunteered for potty dumping duty (wait, did he volunteer, or did the look in my eyes leave him no choice? I'm not sure.). At the end of the day, thankfully, nobody was stung, and no accidents were had.
All in all, then, I guess I'd call it a success. Bahahaha.
With three children under four years old, not all moments were equally refreshing. Some were chaotic, a few were downright laughable in their absurdity. The following story relates one of those moments. And yes, I made a note in my phone so that I would remember to tell you about this, dear readers, because this was one of those tales that must be told. And since the kids are taking awesome naps today, no doubt because of our little chat on self control during story time, I have the opportunity to share it.
We had stopped for gas somewhere in the middle of PA. The details escape me, but I do know that it wasn't the time when I had only four miles left on my gas gauge and the good Lord dropped an exit out of nowhere 1/4 of a mile up the highway. The things we do to preserve car naps - why, yes, I did drive past a perfectly good exit with several functioning gas stations, with under 20 miles til empty. Only to discover that the next exit (only seven miles away, they said; you can get off the highway there instead, they said) had NO SERVICES. We were running on fumes and prayers that time.
But no, this wasn't that time. This was the time with the yellow jackets. It started minimally enough - Joel was pumping gas, and suddenly flung his sandal off of his foot at me. "What?!" "There was a yellow jacket by my foot." Oh. Ok. Aside from my questioning his aim (do I look like I need a flying sandal followed by a stinging insect in my life?), that was that.
A few minutes later, I pulled the van over to a parking spot so that I could sit and feed Oliver. Joel took Isaac along for a bathroom visit. Rather than keep the car running for the A/C, I decided to roll down the windows a bit. We began to nurse, and M had the run of the car because reasons.
Suddenly, M was freaking out and trying to leap from the front passenger seat into my lap or the CD player or wherever she could get to. Mind you, I was holding a peacefully nursing infant. This limits the mobility somewhat, particularly within the confines of a bucket seat with a steering wheel. So she's shrieking, and I'm going, "What? What?", trying to convey a sense of urgency and helpfulness while not disturbing my baby. "There's a bee!!!" she yelled. Sure enough. So now, nursing baby, steering wheel, freaking out three-year-old, and a yellow jacket. It was like one of those silly songs ("there's a frog on the bump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea") except with more danger and very, very real.
Somehow with no arms, I managed to eradicate the yellow jacket, calm the child, and roll up the windows. I will accept my Mother of the Year award at a later date (wait til you hear about the way I reached and returned my screaming baby's pacifier while driving down the highway). For now, imagine me continuing to nurse and accepting the new, warmer, stuffier atmosphere inside the van. And then?
"I have to poop! I have to poop!" I'm not even kidding. But don't fret, gentle reader, we have a small potty that we take in the van on long rides for just such an occasion. What mother wouldn't volunteer to be stuck in a confined space with recycled air with their child's waste, amirite? So M dropped her drawers and made it in time. But then. My eyes slowly began to water as the oxygen content of the van dropped precariously.
You know what's an awesome choice to have to make, while STILL nursing a baby behind the steering wheel of a minivan? Yellow jackets or muggy poop air. Which will be my immediate future until my husband finally returns from his apparently epic journey through Middle Earth to Mount Gas Station Bathroom? (P.S. WHAT IS HE DOING IN THERE?)
I decided to gamble with the yellow jackets. I mean, what were the odds that that same little bugger was hanging around just waiting to make my life a wailing, flailing nightmare again?
Yeah. And he brought a friend.
So, the muggy poop air cleared out a bit, but a moment later M's high-pitched Mommy Alert System was back in full force, notifying me of not one, but TWO BEES!! IN THE CAR!! Oh sweet mercy. I begged the yellow jackets with my eyes to return from whence they came, because at least if I could refrain from shrieking and jumping, then we wouldn't add a screaming baby to the mix. File that under "last thing I freaking need right now, or ever". Apparently they did fly out the window because they aren't still there, and as I again telepathically rolled up the windows (I guess? I was still nursing Oliver?), Joel finally emerged from the Gates of
Yes, twenty ounces of Sprite and some Cool Ranch Doritos TOTALLY made up for my having to battle the Death Eaters by myself (great, now I am mixing my epic movie references). At least I survived to tell about it! And to make up for my great travail, Joel volunteered for potty dumping duty (wait, did he volunteer, or did the look in my eyes leave him no choice? I'm not sure.). At the end of the day, thankfully, nobody was stung, and no accidents were had.
All in all, then, I guess I'd call it a success. Bahahaha.
An Opening Party, Guest List: You
So, I am officially an old person. Mr. UPS heaved a giant Amazon box into our front entryway, and I proceeded to open it while taking multiple photos and uttering phrases like "Oh my stars!!" No really, I used those exact words. Out loud. My kids were gracious enough not to notice. Possibly because they were able to do THIS:
What was the gift? You mean besides hours of free entertainment for my kids via packing themselves into a giant box and wearing a big blue bag around the house?
You guys.
Possibly the best house-warming gift ever. At least that I can remember, but I guess that isn't saying much since my brains leak out through my kids these days. Shout out, Aunt Patti and "hey you!" (Aunt Pam. What, you said I could call you that!)
The kids say thank-you too:
I seriously typed this to the sound of Mikayla, from inside the box, begging her brother, "Pack me up!! Pack me up now pleeeease!" But of course he was too busy bumping into things in his new blue world. Oh and don't think I didn't notice that we now have TWO boxes and one giant blue sack for packing up when we move in a few weeks. Jackpot all the way around.
And because I find the ruckus so hilarious when I tell the kids to say cheese:
What was the gift? You mean besides hours of free entertainment for my kids via packing themselves into a giant box and wearing a big blue bag around the house?
You guys.
Possibly the best house-warming gift ever. At least that I can remember, but I guess that isn't saying much since my brains leak out through my kids these days. Shout out, Aunt Patti and "hey you!" (Aunt Pam. What, you said I could call you that!)
The kids say thank-you too:
I seriously typed this to the sound of Mikayla, from inside the box, begging her brother, "Pack me up!! Pack me up now pleeeease!" But of course he was too busy bumping into things in his new blue world. Oh and don't think I didn't notice that we now have TWO boxes and one giant blue sack for packing up when we move in a few weeks. Jackpot all the way around.
And because I find the ruckus so hilarious when I tell the kids to say cheese:
So thank you to my dear Aunts, and we will think of you often when we cook, well, anything in our new home! It was all I could do not to pull every single piece out of the box to ooh and aah over it all, but I realized that I will never get it all packed back in there quite the same way it is now. But in three weeks, believe you me, that stainless steel will get some serious lovin'.
Edited to add: The reason this is such an amazing and much-needed housewarming gift is because I packed up my nine-year-old non-stick cookware and gave it to my sister-in-law, as she is moving out of the house the week before we do. (Yes, it's about to get very quiet at my in-laws' house. I imagine crickets chirping and voices echoing.) The set was about shot anyway, but Amy said it would make a great starter set for her as she gets on her feet. So, we are (were!) in need of cookware in order to eat anything other than Easy Mac and Doritos which, even though they were my favorite in college, the Mom part of me has developed something of a culinary conscience regarding powdered food. Scrambled egges? You got it. Spaghetti and meatballs? Coming right up. FROM SCRATCH. Good heavens I can't wait!
(See? Old person.)
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