A Bit of Fun, A Pain in My Hiney, and a Major Faux-Pas

Bit of Fun

I heard the back door open yesterday and thought little of it. Paul often follows Daisy out back to check out the latest backyard news. When I finally peeked out of the door, here is what I saw.

Hi Heather. Yes, this is the exersaucer I borrowed from you 2 years ago. It's been on my back porch providing entertainment since Paul outgrew it, about a year and a half ago. Look at those legs all bunched up under there!

Getting in must have been easy. But getting out proved to be a bit difficult, especially when one is wearing sneakers that are a bit unwieldy.

It took a lot of will power on my part to not help him but instead just photograph the whole learning process. Now there's parenting for you - encouraging the learning process. Yup. You won't find me enabling my toddler.

Almost out. And then that dern sneaker gets frisky.

"Hey Mom...wanna give me a hand?" Or as Paul would say, "Mama. Hep!"

"Mom! Seriously!"

A Pain in My Hiney

The measure of true love one has for their child can be measured in how willingly the parent is willing to unselfishly give up certain things. Like, oh, say, sleep. On that meter alone, Kevin and I love Andy the most, as he has given us the most trouble. People say to me, "Do your boys sleep through the night now?"

Yes, yes, they do for the most part. More accurately, Kevin and I don't wake up that much anymore. Andy, however, still manages to worm his way in now and then.

This is our bed. As in Kevin's and mine. And do you see our oldest son stretched out under our covers? I kid you not, I got out of bed, grabbed the camera and took this picture. My side is where his head is and I woke up to a serious pain in my back, like someone had put a bowling ball in my bed. And Kevin? I found him on the living room floor with his covers.

Good times were had by all.

A Major Faux-Pas

I like to say that I'm in the process of starting to potty train Paul. I like to talk about it, but haven't really done much with Paul. I've brought it up a couple times, but he doesn't care.

This evening after bath time, the boys were toweling off and Paul looks up at me, in all his naked spendor, and say "poo poo?" And pats his naked rear.

Holy moly, this is it! Woohoo! I turn around and oh no! Where is the dern potty? Oh, wait, I put it in the front bathroom, for reasons I cannot fathom, especially now.

"Paul go poo poo? In potty?" I say in my bestest, sweetest, most mommy voice.

"Poo poo." Paul says with an affirmative nod.

I take off running out of my bathroom, through my room and into the hallway, headed for the front bathroom to grab the little potty. And I literally run over one of Rachel's little friends coming out of her room, apparently with a need to use the front bathroom because she was turned away from me and toward the bathroom.

I squawked something rather loudly and I think I may have shoved the poor girl in my attempt to get that dern potty. A look of horror crossed her pretty little face and I wondered how insane I must have looked.

And then it hit me. I looked completely insane, running down my hallway, yelling something probably unintelligible to this teenage girl who doesn't know me all that terribly well. I looked completely insane because I wasn't wearing any pants.

I had been in the process of getting my own jammies on when the boys got out of the bath. Jammy top on. Then someone said "poo poo" and I immediately went into potty training mode, which requires you to drop everything and run. Sometimes from the middle of WalMart. Sometimes in the WalMart parking lot. Sometimes in your own house in front of teenage girls who are probably now scarred for life (although, someday she may have a toddler in potty training and perhaps she'll remember this incident with fondness...heh).

I'll leave you with the words Rachel yelled out of her room a few moments later.

"Mother! Stay! In! Your! Room!"

Yes, I think I will.