What do you get...

...when your mommy washes your most favorite, softest, long-haired kitty who goes to bed with you every night tucked into your arms so that you can gently rub the top of her head over your face as you drift off to sleep ?Any kitty you want!

Complete with a nighttime trip to the toy store 10 minutes before closing time to test out every kitty they have so that you can choose the softest one to replace the cotton ball with legs that your mommy can't even look at without crying! Oh yeah. It was that bad.

Guess what I forgot to take on our field trip...

...the camera. : ( So here is a big ol' boring bunch of words!

I didn't mean to be mysterious about our field trip yesterday but I wasn't sure we were actually going to make it there so I kept it vague. Also because I am a super secret mom of mystery or so my kids like to think! Now I can tell you that our field trip yesterday was to an out of town college where another homeschooling group had arranged for a presentation on the election process, electoral college and some presidential trivia. Following that, the kids were invited to attend a rally for Ron Paul's 2008 presidential campaign which included a speech by the man himself and was supposed to be followed by a press conference. Now, I freely admit that we went for the opportunity to see the process in action. I am not any kind of political junkie and while we did read up on him before we went, it was in the car 20 minutes prior to our arrival. I liked some of what I read, but this field trip was not about supporting a candidate as much as it was just an experience.

Now, that said, back to your regularly scheduled blog post....

There was some confusion with the parking situation and not enough assistance to go around, but once we were frustrated beyond belief parked, we made it to the room where the homeschoolers were supposed to meet just in time for the presentation. The mom who talked to the kids had an incredibly creative way of teaching them about the electoral college and making it easier to understand how a candidate could loose the popular vote but win the election. She created a fictional United States that only consisted of 3 states and using the correct percentages to determine electoral votes for these three states she was able to show them three different scenarios and who would win in each case. For some reason, my kids kept getting confused by the fact that the word "vote" was being used for the people and the electoral college so on the way home I told them to think of the electoral college votes as marbles. Whichever candidate won the state of Texas would get the number of marbles assigned to Texas and that the ultimate winner was the person who had the most marbles at the end of the race. (Husband just piped up as I was writing this with, "Yeah, the guy who doesn't win usually loses his marbles!) That seemed to help them understand it a little better especially when we talked about the reasoning behind the system.

Back to the field trip... when the presentation was over, we went into the room where the rally was being held and lamented how the kids wouldn't be able to see anything all the way in the back but excited that they could still get to see it happen first hand. The next thing we hear over the microphone was a call for the homeschoolers to come to the right of the stage up near the front. The room was filled with mostly college students and adults connected with the university. Our little minority was just that, but after that announcement, the crowd began cheering for the homeschoolers! Shouts of joy and applause from the whole room! The Professor was even clapped on the shoulder by a kid no more than 10 years his senior who told him, "You keep it up, man! You stick with it!" I guarantee you that back when my MIL first started homschooling she never would have imagined that someday her grandchildren would be cheered and applauded at a campaign rally for being homeschooled! It was amazing and such a nice moment for the kids!

Well, up front things were great and not so great. People were packed in pretty tight and BigBoy was afraid of the man on the stage holding a trombone because he just knew that thing was gonna blow and blow loud! The girls were right in front of me and right in front of the place where I guessed Ron Paul was going to enter the room based on the number of policemen on both sides of the door. It looked like they might get to shake his hand. After about 15 minutes, The Professor was given a sign to hold and BigBoy was being entertained by some nice college guys behind us who were making faces at him and then looking away when I turned my head. He thought it was great fun and was even starting to forget about the threatening horn. The crowd was told to push back away from the door and make some room. Everyone was getting their cameras ready and holding them up over their heads. And then, BigBoy says...

I have to go potty!

Seriously. Sigh. I would have asked the kid if he really had to go except I had already used that trick back in the presentation room but there hadn't been time for a potty break on the way to the rally. So, although it is true that sometimes he thinks he has to go when he really doesn't, I couldn't be sure this time. I thought about asking the nice policemen if there was a bathroom behind the door they were guarding but thought I'd better not chance getting on the 10 o'clock news. Mother rushes presidential candidate with a three year old covered in an unidentified liquid. Film at eleven! We pushed and squeezed our way to the back and out of the room.

Yes, I did consider looking for an empty cup in my bag. Yes, he really did have to go. And yes, Ron Paul entered the rally while we were in the bathroom.

What can I say. When ya gotta go... ya gotta go!

Love,

State of the BigBoy Address

With Lent beginning tomorrow, of all the things I would miss, this would be the hardest to do without!

We usually set aside our normal nightime prayers in favor of the Divine Mercy Chaplet which means that we wouldn't be saying our usual God Bless Mommy, Daddy, The Professor, Sunshine, etc... prayers. Well, this year, we might have to start our evening prayers a little early to include both sets because BigBoy has been providing us with a daily update of his life when we get to his name that has had us in stitches for the past week.

Last night our prayers went like this...
God bless Mommy, Daddy, The Professor (of course we use their real names), Sunshine, Shortcake and BigBoy (this is where he always pipes up) the Loverlove who Daddy gave a shower before I was ready (once the snickers die down we continue with, grandmas and grandpas...etc).

Loverlove is the pet name I had for him as a baby and now it's his special term of endearment. I am his Loverlove Mom and Husband is his Loverlove Dad but he is simply- The Loverlove.

Tonight's report was:

God bless... BigBoy, the saddest Loverlove which wanted to watch one more episode of Superman...

Sorry, but I'd give up a mountain of chocolate before I give up my nightly updates. I figure the extra prayers should make up for all the giggling.

Shark Boy

OR...

...how to get your fussy 3 year old to eat all of the salmon loaf (aka... fishy bites) that you made for dinner!

Climbing Mt. Laundry

Newscaster: What you're hearing right now is the voice of the doctor who's at Base Camp and who's doing physiological testing with Matilda.

Doc: Jane was sorting through and washing the winter clothes for her four children when the youngest one started throwing up. Because she was taking care of a sick toddler, Jane left her coffee sitting on the counter until it was too cold to drink. Who was Jane taking care of?

WM: She was caring for her toddler.

Doc: Two seconds. Who was the coffee for?

WM: For Jane.

Doc: That was also two seconds.

WM: ... (inaudible) I'm sorry. ... (sob).

Doc: As you probably realize you caught us at an extraordinary moment. We never expected that this live broadcast would come at the very moment that Matilda reached the summit. What we were doing up there is—we call it psychometrics or neuro-psychiatric testing to determine whether or not her brain has been affected at the summit.

Newscaster: She sounds like she's in good shape. But..what was that last response?

Doc: Well, Matilda, as are all of our climbers, are only human. And, you know, most people get to the top of this mountain and don't even realize they're there. Lack of oxygen, sleep, coffee...

WM: (whimper, whimper, sob)

A One Track Behind

The Potty Train left Paddington Station a little over 2 weeks ago and has finally arrived at Waterloo.

BigBoy is officially potty trained!!!!!!

No more diapers. No Pull-Ups either. (And all without terrifying flashbacks! Yeah!)

We went a little 'retro' and invited Potty Scotty aboard for our final stretch of the training track. They are potty training pants like the kind my MIL used but I had no idea they existed. Pull-Ups felt too much like diapers to him and threatened to derail our efforts. He only wears Scotty at night and most mornings wakes up dry. He has even conquered his fear of the giant white throne when we have been out and about (although he still prefers his comfy little potty chair at home) and we have fixed that nasty *directional issue we first had with his new underpants. Why in the world are the cool superheroes on the bum side where you can't see them?
Suddenly he looks 3 inches taller and 5 pounds lighter. His pants are fitting better. It doesn't matter if the diaper bag is empty. I haven't changed a diaper in weeks. Sniff. I do however get to enjoy a play-by-play of all the "action" and color commentary too. Sigh. This is good, right?

(*Please tell me it's not just my kid who wanted to wear his underwear backwards!)

Weekend Wrap-up

Our other excitement this weekend apparently wasn't enough to keep us busy so the Divine Planner added to the fun:
We came home from Mass and errands on Friday to find that we had lost a third of a tree. Thankfully, this tree is close to the street, not the house, and the side that went fell on top of our mailbox and not on top of the neighbor kid's truck parked in his driveway next door. Husband spent most of the weekend chopping up the ginormous section (it's in the dictionary!) of this Bradford Pear that came crashing down because of the sheer weight of the 20 year old tree. The kids and I were only gone for a few hours and there was no wind or storm to speak of that would have caused this. The most frightening thought I had was that Husband had been mowing under that tree Thursday night. He teased that he must have bumped it pretty hard. (I guess he just doesn't know his own strength! : ) I am envisioning several guardian angels holding it up as he darted under it with that loud machine that would have prevented him hearing any cracking before it was too late... OK... not going there.

In other news this weekend, I am now officially considered capable to keep children safe by our diocese. I attended the required three hour waste of time training session yesterday. Please don't mistake me, I am not making light of the subject, just laughing at the ridiculousness of the way the information (of lack thereof) was presented. I think I learned more watching a Dr. Phil interview with an offender behind bars. They spent so much time talking about why we need to be trained, how it benefits the children and the church and so little time actually giving us "the rules". But, I completed my three hours so now, I am perfectly qualified to participate with my own children in the Blue Knights/ Little Flowers group in the parish hall. That's right. I had to take the class in order to help my own children study the virtues and do crafts. Again... not going there!

The last of our excitement was probably the most unpleasant... BigBoy got an owie on his ear. Not the soft, fleshy, lobe part but the hard part in the middle (or the antihelix as I just learned by googling "ear anatomy"). It looks terrible! All purple and swollen with a white line running across the skin. I actually called the pediatrician last night. (Even though I luh-ove our doc, I don't usually run to him for every little scrape and sniffle but this owie was a doozy!) Bigboy had tripped and hit his ear on the side of the coffee table in the playroom after scampering inside from playing in the "ool". He is bearing all things with patience and cuteness as is his way.

And on that note, I will close our wrap-up with the Potty Training Weekend Report... Light tinkles scattered throughout the day. Unexpected stinks during the naptime hour. Minor trauma but no serious loss of confidence with this accident. Lots of juice and watermelon in the forecast to help any high pressure systems move down into the potty.

Wait... this just in. We have a report that there's something strange in the potty. Details will not follow, I promise.

All aboard!!!

A good friend of mine potty trains with her own system called the "Naked and $75 Method". Basically you let the child run naked and figure you will have to spend about $75 on carpet cleaning when all is said and done.

Today we have our own success to report (after one false start) using a variation of this method.
Here are the steps we followed:
1. Spend a few days watching this movie over and over until your eyeballs bleed.

2. Be sure to pay attention to the words of the songs so that you are able to sing them loudly and off key. Especially this one.

3. Buy one of these on clearance for about $75.

4. Bring the potty chair outside and inform the trainee that there is no "P" in this pool.

5. Watch him get so excited playing with his brother and sisters and fall down in shock when he announces he has to go.

6. Be sure to sing the songs even though you are outside and try not to think about how many of your neighbors can hear you.

It worked. I can't believe it. We didn't plan this, we just thought "Hey, let's see what happens". In fact, a sweet friend had convinced me just last night to wait a bit. The pool was our attempt to combat the cabin fever everyone is suffering from. We were only watching the movie while waiting for some other reinforcements to arrive; I was determined not to push the issue. We weren't going to jump in feet first today, but here we are splashing and playing.

He used the potty chair twice outside, so before he came inside we replaced all the diapers in the diaper basket with underwear (Superman, if you must know) and he has used it twice again!

Husband asked what are we going to do about church tomorrow. I say... full steam ahead! Choo-woo!

Sunday Obligation

If you have to spend part of Mass at the checkout counter of the local pharmacy... does it still count?

Let me 'splain....

We arrived at Mass this morning, after driving through a mild torrent of rain and, having employed a small army of umbrellas, we managed to get everyone inside with only a few stray drops tagging along. Ignoring Husband's protestations, I took BigBoy and told Husband to enjoy a nice, quiet Father's Day Mass. I settled into the back of the church with my precious child and prepared myself for a slightly wiggly, but mostly uneventful Mass. I was even a little pleased when I saw that Fr. J. would be the main celebrant for the day. Fr. J. was my philosophy professor in college and I have long since outgrown the overwhelming urge to fall asleep at the sound of his voice. (Having a wiggly 3 year old in your arms helps! : ) We were surely in for a rockin' good homily!

The beginning of Mass was punctuated by the usual fussing and squirming. The first reading was punctuated by a pungent smell. BigBoy had filled his diaper. (Yes, the potty train is still stuck in the train yard. Thanks for asking.)

Of course I had left the diaper bag in the car. I didn't want it to get wet! (Wait...it gets better.) So we grabbed an umbrella and headed to the van. BigBoy promptly climbed into position on the floor of the van and I grabbed the diaper bag.

No diapers.

Now, we won't say who used the last one without refilling the bag because... well, it's Father's Day. But the fact that the bag was empty couldn't be changed. The fact that the rain had picked up considerably since we had first entered the church also couldn't be changed. And since BigBoy had assumed the position on the floor of the van and I had to use the umbrella to shield him while also futilely searching through the empty diaper bag, the fact that the tilted umbrella had dumped a gallon on water on my backside sadly... could also not be changed.

At this point, I should have just headed back into Mass with my damp derriere and spent the rest of the hour drip drying, but this was one of those diapers.

It. could. not. wait.

So I trudged back into church to collect my purse from the foyer. No, I didn't take it with me... I didn't want it to get wet!!

I realized that I needed to go get some diapers but that meant taking BigBoy with me which would require him to sit in the car seat.

Did I mention it was one of those diapers?

I used the wet wipes in the diaper bag (which were actually pretty dry compared to my backside) to clean up what I could, then put the dirty diaper lined with the remaining wipes back on the kiddo who responded with a very supportive "Thank you dearest Mother for all your sufferings and sacrifices." which sounded like "Eeeewwwwwww!" to the untrained ear.

We headed back into the deluge for the fourth time now with purse and umbrella (although it was pretty pointless by this time) and into the van with prayers that Husband wouldn't try to come find me for the old "toddler switcheroo" at Communion. Down to the first place I could find that sold diapers, out into the rain again, both of us squishing down the aisles and then back to the counter where the perky blond comedian-with-a-day-job says "Ya'll stay dry out there!" as I turned on my soggy heel and headed out the door.

I quickly changed BigBoy using the back door of the van as a kind of shelter from the gawking stares, questions regarding my sanity and concerns for my child's safety that were coming from the heathens motoring by because by this time, my skirt was stuck to my backside like Cling Wrap (thank goodness I remembered to wear a slip!) We waited for the rest of the gang back in the parking lot with a plastic baggie on the driver's seat (I didn't want it to get wet!!!) and my shoes on the arms of the captain's chairs drying in the breeze of the AC.

"What happened to you?" Husband asked sympathetically.

Deep breath.

Let me 'splain....

The best laid plans...

I was supposed to get everyone in the van at * am to get to our favorite church for Mass.

I wasn't supposed to be hurrying them into the closet at *am thanks to an early morning thunderstorm that produced a tornado just to the northwest of us.

I was supposed to clean out and reorganize the garage to make it easier to get to my craft closets and better facilitate some summer activities.

I wasn't supposed to have to drive my husband to the urgent care center because our littlest one poked him in the eye at our less-than-favorite church.

I was supposed to get to finish some errands that I didn't complete earlier... you know... a little Mommy Alone Shopping!

I wasn't supposed to have to take the little person to whom the offending finger belonged with me while I tried to finish said errands because Husband couldn't watch the little guy at home. Literally. He couldn't even open his eye.

I was supposed to cook a fabulously healthy dinner for my loving family.

I wasn't supposed to bring home bags of greasy chicken, over-salted fries, prescription drugs and a couple of eye patches for dinner. Why two patches? Because "Pokey" wants to be a pirate too!

Some days you're the windshield and some days you're the bug.

Potty Train Derailed

I am a patient mom when it comes to potty training. I believe in child-led potty training. I don't mind changing diapers even on a toddler who is big enough to turn on the bathroom light, brush his teeth and wash his hands.

My first experience was my oldest son who had, shall we say...some issues. We waited until he was well past 3 before we even talked about it mostly because Sunshine and Shortcake were already on the scene (yep, three in diapers~ been there, done that). He took to the idea... half-heartedly.

The tinkling half was fine, the other...not so much! He didn't want to do that in there and so decided he wasn't gonna! And he. could. hold it. Boy, could he hold it. EIGHT DAYS he could hold it! There must be something wrong with him. Can it get stuck in there? Surely the doctor will want to see him. "Call me when if he hits day 12!" is what the doctor said. DAY WHAT?????

It was horrible. It was traumatic. And I am sure my son didn't like it much either. We tried everything to "force" the issue. Coffee, mineral oil, prune juice...you name it. We thought if he could just have a couple of successes he would get it.

Nope! Every eight days was another battle.

My mother sympathized. She claims she would have bet money that my brother's wife would have to change his diapers. Well, The Professor is nine now and his future wife has nothing to worry about!

Since then I have had the pleasure of helping two little ladies through this rite of passage with far less trauma for all involved. Experience has taught me to look for certain signs of readiness in the child.

• Ability to identify what bodily function was happening when it was happening (use what ever terminology you like)
  
• Expressed interest in what exactly goes on behind that closed door
• A strong desire (won't let you leave the store without them) to wear these or these
  
• Frequent dry diapers (exhibiting the ability to hold it)
  

So when BigBoy started exhibiting these signs last week we thought it might be time to try. He will only be 3 at the end of May and I know that boys typically take longer. Trust me! I wasn't rushing him. He had all the signs!

We picked up a potty chair recommended by an expert in this field. We made it accessible to the playroom where most of his activity takes place. We even had an insert ready in the event that he wanted to be just like the big kids. We turned our half-bathroom into a little man's dream room. Two white steps on a plush plum colored rug led the way to his throne where a basket of books waited patiently at his side to entertain and distract him. A treasure chest of secret delights was perched high on the shelf behind him ready to open and celebrate as many momentous occasions as necessary.


Two days. That is how long it took. After two days of anxiety attacks, tears and flashbacks to son # 1 the throne has been dismantled and all evidence of this apparent torture device has been hidden away in the back of the master bath where it shall remain until I-don't-know-when. I am OK with that. I just have one question.

Should I write a letter of explanation to his future wife now or just roll the video tape?

****************************************

Husband: So, those aren't for me when I put the seat down?