A family fun weekend of epic gardening fails, saint doll arrivals, & potty refusals, settle in!

Hi all! Gosh, it's been a busy week. A pretty good week, mind you, though I have to admit that I feel a little what I term "wimpy." That's what I call it when a person feels a bit fragile, a tad vulnerable, not feeling 100% physically. There are a multitude of reasons:  the kids going back to school soon, the semester starting up and subsequent work craziness descending on both Mike and I in just a few weeks.

*sniffle*

So I'm hanging on to my 54 Day Rosary Novena like a life raft and trucking on. I think I'm also going to pray the St. Monica novena this year, which begins next week. More details on that to come!

At any rate, some fun stuff from the weekend to report in to you about. I know, I know, it's Wednesday already, what took me so long?! :0 I do what I can. ;-)

This weekend I spent lots of quality time with my cute Mike, and our ever unpredictable offspring. First up we have the Very Serious Henry:

This is his version of smiling :0

And the Ever Sassy Anne:

"I'm about to go hide this puzzle piece, so that the next time I ask Mommy to do the puzzle with me, she will think she's losing her mind!"

For the most part, Henry was low maintenance this weekend, as he usually is. Our daughter on the other hand...you know, she's 4. Mass these days? SO MUCH WIGGLING. It doesn't help that the Children's Liturgy of the Word program is on summer hiatus until after Labor Day, so she's in the pew with us the whole time:

"MOMMY. Why is Father Joe doing THAT?!"

"Shhhhh, we need to whisper, Honey, or better yet, wait until after Mass to talk."

"I *AM* WHISPERING, MOMMY!!"

"He's getting things ready for Communion, Sweetie."

"I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM! RIGHT NOW MOMMY!"

"Anne! You are SO LOUD!" That would be a beleaguered, long suffering Henry.

#funtimes

In a thrilling discovery, though, after we got home: an Amazon package was awaiting me! Given that it was Sunday, I was rather surprised. I quickly squirreled it away, as I knew it contained a future feast of St. Nicholas gift for Anne. Last week, Shining Light Saint Dolls was having a sale, and thus I procured Our Lady of Guadalupe for Anne. When I had a moment to myself, I pulled her out and found her levitating:

Apparently her journey was a little rough. :0

But after a soothing session with me, she was as good as new:

It seems that their Amazon store is a bit cleaned out now following that sale, a bit of a bummer. But their Facebook page mentioned that they are restocking with new dolls, so keep your eyes peeled! These are nicely made, plastic dolls for smaller children. I have a beautiful wood St. Nicholas doll on order for Henry's feast day gift, so everybody is receiving a saint this year, like usual. ;-)

After I tucked Our Lady of Guadalupe away, Mike and I trudged out to our poor, beleaguered garden. To say that we do not have green thumbs would be the understatement of the millennium. We usually manage to keep a few tomato and pepper plants alive until the fall each year, but this year we got a little overambitious and also planted cucumbers and small melons.

!

Next thing one knew, we had vines climbing up our fence and attacking the other plants. Bad, so bad. And apparently grape tomatoes think that they can just take over the world by spreading their leafiness over top of the entire garden and sucking up all the sunlight. It wasn't pretty.

I felt guilty (because Mike loves those tomatoes) but I encouraged him to take one of the tomato plants out. We would still have one tomato plant, but there was no way anything was growing with the wild, feral situation we had on our hands. So he did, and also beat back the other plants a bit. And now the remaining tomato plant looks like the garden version of Charlie Brown's Christmas tree, and the melon vines put out some sort of liquid that gave me hives. So you could say that things are not going all that great back there.

On the up side, we found two gigantic cucumbers hiding amongst the forest-like conditions:

Anne dancing with the cucumbers...which naturally, she would not eat :0

...and we are getting a nice crop of sweet banana peppers. The bell peppers, not so much, but you can't have everything. I wish I had asked him to take out the melon plant instead, but there really was no way to even GET to it with the way that the tomatoes were growing.

#sigh

In other news, Monday morning found me strengthening my resolve as I entered Anne's room to get her up for the day: I was going to push the issue of her heading to the bathroom first thing upon getting out of bed. Anne has been potty trained for a few years now, but through the night? An absolute OCEAN of pee pee. So we still buy diapers and she wears one overnight. Lately though, she's woken up dry a few times, so it got me to thinking that she may be moving towards being able to go through  the night. Only one thing gave me pause: her bad habit of "not having to go pee, Mommy!" when she first wakes up:

"Anne Honey, the entire WORLD needs to use the bathroom when they first wake up. You are not going to be the lone exception."

"BUT I DON'T *HAVE* TO GO MOMMY."

Standoff!

I wanted to push this a bit, figuring that if she develops the habit of peeing right when she gets up, she may start to be dry on most mornings. If not, so be it. I know that some kids take a long time to be able to go through the night. But this is a bad habit that needs remedying, regardless.

So Monday morning I pushed the potty, and Anne pushed back. No potty, no sir. As expected, tears became involved in this process, as well as a refusal to even get dressed or cooperate with a single thing that I asked of her. Eventually, I went downstairs, and Mike volunteered to take a turn.

Next thing I knew, I heard the toilet flush and see a cheerful Anne coming down the stairs, fully dressed. When it was Daddy, you see, she was willing to pee and cooperate. An inadvertent Good Cop/Bad Cop situation. ;-)

For the remaining time until I left for work, it was clear that Mike was The Favored Parent. She bustled about, fetching him a napkin and offering to get him juice.

*narrows eyes*

Yesterday morning was more of the same, but today we had a good experience, and she cooperated without too much complaint. We'll see how this turns out.

So dear reader, any nighttime potty success stories you want to share? Are you a gardener who wants to shed some light on my abysmal gardening skills? :) Have you got your saint doll list together and ready for the early ordering season?! Do chime in!

Apparently, poo explosions aren't limited to just infants...

Encouraging title, no? For your amusement, we have the scene at the home of the Catholic Librarian Sunday morning, approximately 20 minutes before we had to leave for Mass:

"MOMMY! Anne is hiding under the table, and she STINKS!"

Two, indeed, incriminating pieces of evidence.

Ugh.

"All right, I'll investigate, just give me a minute. I'm going through my yarn."

Because we have to have priorities here, people.

"Anne, are you ok, Honey? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Mommy, I'm fine!"

Three incriminating pieces of evidence.

"Let me get you out of there. Oh yes, you definitely do stink. Do you have to go potty?"

"No Mommy!"

Lies, all lies.

"Let's go into the bathroom and see what's happening, shall we? Let's just get your sleeper off. Oh. Oh dear."

I had suspected that the horse was already out of the gate on this one, but the damage was far worse than I ever imagined. We had a messy poo situation that covered Anne's back, legs and feet. Her sleeper was going to require extensive repair work and her underwear appeared bound straight for the trash. It was THAT bad.

"Ok Honey, let's get these messy things off of you, and then, oh, oh God. There is poo now on the floor. Don't move, Anne! Oh the RUG!! Don't move Sweetie, I need to go get some wipes!!" I leave the poor child standing there naked.

I dash upstairs, which really makes no sense. Why didn't I immediately whisk Anne upstairs to the tub with me? The fumes were obviously affecting my brain power, to be sure.

"I'm coming with the wipes, Sweetheart!"

"Mommy! I HAVE 3 NIPPLES!!"

This statement caused me to stop in my tracks halfway down the stairs. Clearly, my intervention was needed ASAP.

And no, Anne does NOT have 3 nipples, she just doesn't always distinguish between numbers correctly. :0

"Let's get the worst of this off of you Honey, and then get you upstairs for a bath."

Moments later, I'm hoisting a befouled Anne up the stairs and into the tub of running water, which  degenerates into a sewer situation in record time. A complete hosing off was needed, poor child.

With only five minutes to spare, we left for Mass, the house ventilation system still recovering from this breach of odor. Life of a Toddler Parent. Never a dull moment. ;-)

Just a night in the life...

My evening yesterday:

Mike is teaching, Tiffany is making dinner for the kids. Henry is playing a video game in our home office, and Anne is watching him.

"Mommy! I go pee!"

I know she isn't in the bathroom.

!

"Mommy, you be so happy!!"

"Ohhhhhh. I'm sure, Sweetie." *weak smile as I transverse the house* "You are such a good girl."

I arrive at the doorway of the office. Anne hands me a bowl full of pee.

"Look Mommy!"

Anne is standing proudly next to her little pink potty, pants around her ankles. The detachable bowl is what she handed me.

"Oh whew, this wasn't nearly so bad as I feared. Good job, Anne! Can you pull your pants up?"

"NO!"

You can't win 'em all.

"Mommy! Can you watch me do this board?"

"Well, my hands are a bit full now, Honey, just give me a minute."

*struggle to pull up Anne's pants while carefully juggling the bowl of urine.

"Mommy I'm hungry!!"

"Yes, I know, dear, I have to clean up first. Hank, not too much longer on the computer."

*a chorus of "Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes" strikes up behind me as I head to the bathroom to dump out the pee*

So much glamour. :0

A Catholic Librarian weekend of hookah, potty training, and visits to the periodontist...

Aren't you all just simmering with excitement. :0

Lots happening, let's see...I suppose we should just start with Friday:

My face continues to heal, but it is still bruised even today, so you can imagine that on Friday it looked even less good, if that makes any sense. I was determined, however, to have a night in which I felt normal again. Prior to dance class, I applied makeup for the first time all week, slathering on the concealer and carefully straightening my hair. I thought I looked pretty decent. :0 I arrive at class, and:

"Oh my gosh, ARE YOU OK?! You look so different!!"

Let's just say I've been feeling pretty self-conscious about the whole thing. I know it isn't permanent, but looking different than you usually do is tough psychologically, you know? I'm so impatient about healing processes. A day is fine, but after that I want to be back to my normal self. :0 I probably still have a week or two to go before the bruising is totally faded, so I'm steeling myself for the long haul.

At any rate, Friday night after class I went with a few dance friends to a local hookah lounge to see one of our troupemates perform. Happily, it was dimly lit, so I wasn't too worried about my face. :0 I had never been to a hookah lounge before. I'm not a smoker, so the intensity of the smokey environment isn't really my thing, but it really wasn't that bad. It was pretty low key, the owner and other employees were very respectful of the belly dancer. I had fun, although I do so hate being places in which the music is so loud you can't talk to/hear your table companions. #signofaging?

Too depressing to contemplate.

Anyway, it doesn't matter how many times I've seen someone dance, I ALWAYS love to watch them again and again. Everyone brings something unique to each performance and each interpretation of a song. I love dance. It's a real lovefest.

Saturday, our potty training adventures with Anne continued. It appears that our potty training experience with her goes as follows:

Day 1 - Anne = 1, Potty Pushing Parents = 4. There is much rejoicing.

Day 2 - Anne = Too Many to Count, Potty Pushing Parents = Totally Defeated.

Day 3 - Anne = 3, Exhausted Parents = 3. It's neck and neck.

Day 4 - Anne =5, Parents Losing All Hope in a Joyful Tomorrow = 1.

This morning, however, I get a phone call at work. I answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi Mommy."

The kid can now have full phone conversations? I wish she would stop growing up so fast!!

"Hi Anne. How are you, Sweetie?"

"I am good. Guess what, Mommy?"

"What?"

"I went poo!"

It's a true sign that you're a parent when you get excited about bowel movements and talk about them on your blog.

"Did you go poo *in the potty*?!"

"Yes, Mommy!!!"

"GOOD GIRL!! I'm so proud of you. Mommy will bring you home a treat!"

"*happy giggle* I have my green ball, Mommy."

*rest of the conversation is a bit odd* You know how that goes. ;)

So, today may be a good day. Tomorrow may make us lose our will to live. We will have to see.

So that's the potty news. In periodontal news, I went for a post op followup yesterday. My periodontist is just the sweetest person. He saw me and I could see a pained look of chagrin cross his features.

"Oh, I really got you good, didn't I? I'm sorry!"

A periodontist who apologizes? This guy is a keeper.

He looked in my mouth and declared that I am doing excellent, that the healing is going smashingly. I have to leave the lower sutures in until next Monday (which is a drag, they're really loose and bothering my poor beleaguered tongue) but everything looks great. I go back in a week for the final suture removal.

And so, that is that. I'm hoping that next week my bruising will be almost gone. I've been a woman on a mission, trying to look up natural foods and creams that cause bruises to heal faster.

*Mike comes home* *sniffs the air suspiciously*

"Honey, did you make...a really big salad?"

"Why?! Does it smell like vinegar in here?!"

"Well yeah."

"No."

*does not elaborate, due to bizareness of concoction*

We'll get there. :)

Tune in tomorrow for January's edition of the Catholic Book Club! We'll be discussing Walking with Mary, by Edward Sri.

How was everyone's weekend? Leave me a comment!

Bellydance Monday, plus a weekend of toddler wrangling and potty training, join the fun!

I'm back, and I'm certain that you all missed me, just as I missed you. :) Read on for a 4th of July weekend recap!

Essentially though, the 4th of July is rather anticlimactic for us since we never go to watch fireworks. We always have a child who cannot stay awake late enough to go, so we don't go. Next year I'd really like to try though, even despite the crowds, because there is nothing sadder than a quiet 4th of July. But I digress.

Friday was belly dance night, and if we were on Twitter right now, I'd hit "favorite!" for our class this past week. We're still working on our new choreography, and in addition to our candle trays we're using wings of Isis. These look exactly like you would expect, gauzy fabric that attaches at your neck and drapes out at both sides like wings. Our wings arrived during the week, and so we all arrived atwitter on Friday to play with them.

They are, well, not exactly *comfortable*, but that is the case with so much in dancing and yet we do it anyway because it looks beautiful. The thing that fastens around ones neck was giving some of my classmates claustrophobia, and while that wasn't the case for me, I did find the material rather scratchy and ended the evening with angry-looking red marks on my neck. They are so lovely though, and we added on to the choreography using them. You have to love that our group has worked together so long that we can talk in code and know exactly what the person meant:

"Ok, remember, outside ladies: hip drops, swoosh and undulate, bump bump. Inside ladies: vibrate, scoop! Swirly swirly."

LOVE.

We've been invited to dance in a festival at the end of July, and the organizers want us to fill quite a few sets. We'll do our regular group number of a Middle Eastern pop song combined with a drum piece (Claire says that her husband jokes that he could put on a costume and do this one at this point, because he's seen it so many times) and then we have to get creative. We're thinking of using the beginning of the candle tray dance sans candles since we don't have enough time to perfect that little balancing miracle just yet. Claire suggested that we rubber cement some flowers on our trays which seems like an ideal solution. She also said that anybody who wants to do a solo can do one, since there will be plenty of time.

!

I'm quite terrified, but I see solo opportunities akin to eating vegetables: it's good for me. So I will be totally sans props (I can't think of anything worse than attempting to be graceful while wrestling with a silk veil in a wind gale) and improvising. I just need to pick music. We'll see how this goes.

*bites nails*

So, we fast forward to Sunday. I once again braved bringing both children with me to Mass (by myself, hence the terror) and really, it didn't go too bad. We just had,

(a) A very active Anne who climbed every surface available to climb,

(b) One faux pas in which I asked Henry to go back into the sacristy rest room to refill Anne's sippy cup with water, at which time Anne reacted to Henry leaving as if he were being dragged off to prison in chains: "HHHHEENNNNRRYYYY! Want to see HENRY!!!!" During the consecration. Awesome. So I had to quickly scurry after Henry with Anne slung over my shoulder,

(c) My veil was off my head as often as it was on, but it wasn't the veil's fault. It's hard to keep a veil on your head when your head is upside down retrieving a toddler from under the pew for half of Mass, and

(d) The instant Anne stood still long enough to trace the wood cross on the end of our pew out in the aisle she seized the opportunity to pass the most unladylike of noises.

You can't win 'em all.

She's also been expressing an interest in using the toilet, so we've vamped up our potty training efforts to little actual results, but such is the way of things with 2 year olds. I brought out her adorable little pink Baby Bjorn potty which she screamed at and stated that she would NEVER sit on, fantastic. I had to hold her on the toilet which she suddenly loves despite the fact that she could easily fall in. I think it's because she likes being next to the toilet paper roll that she will immediately begin shredding.

So, yesterday found us at Toys R Us shopping for a toilet seat insert for toddler bums. She had her choice between Disney princesses and Sesame Street with Ernie and Bert, and she chose the latter. I was surprised, but then again she *does* have a real thing for Bert. She ran through the store lugging the potty seat cover behind her, because we're just classy like that.

We got it home and I will say that she sat on the thing. None of the promised pee-pee was produced ("pee pee coming!") but she doesn't appear to loathe it like she does the pink potty.

*long suffering sigh*

Oh the day when I don't spend half of it in the bathroom, how I long for you...

Big snow storm brewing...

...do YOU have enough yarn?!

I know I do. Whenever I'm snowed in, I want to make sure that I have:

(a) enough to knit;

(b) enough to read; and

(c) enough to watch.

We can't have ourselves being bored, now can we? Not that my children would ever allow that. Henry will pepper us with requests to play board games and throw a football around the living room (not happening) while Anne will just generally require our intervention to assure that no terrible fate befalls her.

This morning, she once again told me that she had to go potty. We travel to aforementioned potty. I prep her and she insists on getting completely naked. Although this is not technically necessary, I oblige her. I hand her the bottle of Elmo shampoo that she covets. And...

She refuses to sit down. When I try to encourage her to sit down, she won't bend her knees. Sigh. It's early, I know that there's no rush, but I guess I was secretly hoping for the "Easy!" button to be available on this one.

In other news, I make my Marian consecration on Monday and I'm excited. I may try to make it to daily Mass that morning. And I'll post early next week about my plans for Lent. Have a safe weekend everybody!

It's official

(1) My kids are very cute. I mean, look at their little faces.

Actual Henry conversation from last night:

"If Mommy makes a special Valentine's Day dinner, Hank, what would you like it to be?"

"Pizza."

"We just had pizza from the Super Bowl for the past 3 nights, try again."

"Mozzarella sticks."

"That's sort of the same thing. Something else? How about stuffed chicken?"

"NO! What about, you know, all sorts of stuff."

"What on earth does that mean?"

"You know, cheese and crackers and dips and stuff."

*sigh*

(2) After championing the potty for months, prompting me to buy her her very own little pink potty chair, Anne now hates the potty:

"Potty!"

"Ok Sweetie, let's go upstairs to your potty."

"Upstairs!"

*arrive at bathroom*

"Ok Honey, look! It's your very own potty, and it's pink with a little bear on it. Let's get your sleeper and diaper off."

"No!"

Fantastic.

"Here let me help you Sweetie, you're not making this easy."

*Anne struggles*

"Elmo!"

"I'll get you Elmo if you sit on the potty."

*Anne giggles*

"Ok, THERE!" *manage to finally bend Anne's knees* "Here's Elmo and you're on your potty!"

"Off!"

This is going so well.

(3) Felting is only fun if you *intend* to do it:

 *Mike and Tiffany fold laundry*

"Sweetheart." *holds up sweater that now falls in the vicinity of my belly button* "Did you put this in the dryer? I had it lying out to dry because it's wool."

*deer in the headlights expression*

"Well, but it was LOW HEAT, that should be ok, right?"

"Well, no, Sweetheart. Wool can never go in the dryer."

"But the socks you knit can go in the dryer and they're made of wool."

"That's *Superwash* wool darling. It's treated specifically so that it can go in the machine to wash and dry and not felt. Not all wool is like that."

"Oh."

That about sums it up. He felt really bad though. I'm sure that I can milk this to buy more yarn.

Potty time

My Downton Abbey discs still haven't shipped. MEWING!

*sighs*

I may or may not have just gone into my order and changed the shipping speed, hence paying for shipping anyway even after the order changing shenanigans of yesterday (we don't have a Prime membership. Yet). I'm denying everything. But hey, sometimes $2.98 is just worth it.

UPDATE: This morning my shipping speed moved back from "Shipping Soon!" to "Not Yet Shipped," hence my agony. In the *5 minutes* since I upped my shipping speed, it's now once again "Shipping Soon!" and the delivery date is set solidly for Monday, rather than late next week. It's very obvious to me that Amazon loves me, and knows how much I want Downton Abbey. That is all.

Anyway, potty training wasn't expected to be on my radar screen at this stage of Anne's life considering Henry would have rather died than sit on a potty until he turned 3 years old. And even then he wasn't all that crazy about it. But Anne is a completely different child. She's been coming up to me, saying "Potty!" with pleading eyes and pantless legs for at least a month now. But when I take her into the bathroom she shrinks in terror from the Big Bad Toilet. I can't really blame her. She's tiny. She could realistically fall in.

I kept putting off looking for a new potty chair, but this past week she's been bringing me one of her little "Learn New Words!" board books and pointing to the picture of the potty that is in there. Obviously, she's ready to start trying to learn.

So the hunt begins for a potty chair. I spent the quiet portions of my morning reference shift carefully examining the current potty market and looking at adorable pictures of chubby toddlers sitting on a potty while reading a book. I looked at potties shaped like frogs. I looked at potties that played music and offered a real flushing sound. I looked at potties that cheered for the baby when a "deposit" is made. Finally, I settled on a simple Baby Bjorn potty in Anne's favorite color of pink. It looks very much like the potty in her little book, so I think she'll be pleased.

I ordered it right on Amazon. It actually cost less on there than I even dreamed of spending, and it saves me from stopping at our scary Toys R Us on the way home from work today. It's due to arrive next week. We'll see how this goes.

"Uh oh. Boom!" - Anne's world at nearly 20 months, and an update on my at-home retreat

Ok, so I'll get to Anne in a moment. I read day 2 of my 33 Days to Morning Glory retreat, and I have to tell you gentle reader, that I adore this book. I have a difficult time reading what I would call deep theological books. Classic works by the saints, for instance, are obviously so, so crucial in our faith, but I simply don't enjoy reading them cover to cover. I suppose I'm not as mystical as they were. :) I enjoy very practical, slice of life memoirs when I read non-fiction, and thus I have read and enjoyed St. Therese's Story of a Soul. I actually even found St. Frances de Sales Introduction to the Devout Life very approachable and read the whole thing. Although not a memoir, I could easily understand what he was suggesting and apply it to my own life.

So in 33 Days to Morning Glory our author is very much giving us real world anecdotes to drive home the points he is raising about devotion to Jesus via Our Lady. And I love how he divides the retreat into concentrations on 3 great Marian devotees in our faith: St. Louis de Montfort (obviously), St. Maximillian Kolbe, and Bl. Teresa of Calcutta. It all feels very contemporary and reachable. St. Maximillian lived not that long before I was born, and I overlapped with Mother Teresa for quite a while before she died in the late 90's (I remember the day she died vividly). The book is also humorous and light. I'm so glad that I decided to do it. I can even renew this retreat every year if I like, and I will remember the date that I begin since it's the day after my wedding anniversary. Very handy. The consecration date is a week before my birthday, which these days could use a bit of a spiritual boost, let me tell you.

Anyway, I'm very happy with the book and I will continue to post updates as I work my way through the 33 days.

So, Anne. She slept all night but was up for the day at 5:15 am. Why God, why?!?!

When I got downstairs, I found her in sour spirits, unsurprisingly.

"No!"

"Anne, what are you saying 'no' to, I didn't ask you anything?"

"No!"


That chica is so, so sassy. I can't believe how quickly she picks up new words and understands what we say to her. Oh, AND, I think we need to invest in a potty chair; she's showing signs of readiness.

*long suffering sigh*

Oh, the day that the only butt we wipe is our own... *cups palm over eyes, looks far off into the distance*

*silence reigns for a moment in the living room. I bask and then realize that this is not a good sign*

*glances to left*

*Anne is on floor, struggling to remove pants*

"Anne Honey, don't take your pants off."

"Potty!"

"Honey, you hate the toilet. You can go in your diaper. We'll get you your own seat soon."

"Potty!"

"All right, but I know how this is going to end."

*takes Anne into bathroom*

"Potty!"

"Yes, that's the potty. I think you already peed though, Sweetie. But ok, let's take your diaper off."

*pops Anne on top of toilet*

*Anne resists sitting on toilet*

"Down!"

See how that goes?

She obviously knows now when she goes. I don't know that she's telling us BEFORE she goes, it seems to be after the fact. And that's fine, she's still very young. But it's obviously bothering her to have a wet or dirty diaper. And she's AWFUL on the changing table, she hates the process of having her diaper changed. A lot of the time, I notice her grabbing herself (SIGH, *so* much crotch grabbing goes on in our house between the two of them) and she seems distressed. In each instance, her diaper is very wet or dirty. So she didn't tell us that she had to use the potty, and it's almost like she's upset about it. I also notice that her diaper will be dry, and then when she does go, it's suddenly very heavy, so she's able to hold small amounts and then go a bunch at once. In other words, she's showing signs of being ready to train.

One potty chair, coming up.

She's also very into books, both of my children are.

*beams with pride*

Henry now READS IN BED. Isn't that just the most precious thing ever?! As soon as I sit on the couch in *my spot* (next to the end table with lamp where I can put my knitting supplies) Anne rushes to the bookcase to select one of her books and brings it to me. And she has her favorites, clearly. I don't know how many more times I can read We Go to Mass. I'm thrilled that she likes that book so much, but variety is the spice of life.

All right, back to work for me. I just helped a patron on our online chat service find historic weather data for Ithaca, NY.

*fastens Super Librarian cape*

She'll just love reading this story when she's 18...

At the home of the Catholic Librarian this morning...

*Anne strolls into living room wearing no pants*

"Oh, you took your pants off? Do you have to go potty? Pee or poo?"

*squealing sound*

"I'll take that as a yes."

*Anne demands a tube of toothpaste to chew on while I take off her diaper*

"Ok, this is where you put pee and poo, into the potty. This is where the big girls go potty."

*I hold Anne's small form onto the regular seat, since we don't currently have a training seat*

Anne displays a wide eyed look of alarm

"Do you have to go pee or poo?"

"NO."

First potty training attempt is in the books...

Pre-Thanksgiving preparations, and accompanying 'poo event'

When you're the parent of a young child, the word 'poo' comes up in your everyday conversations with alarming frequency. You also realize that you also have lots of stored information about color, consistency, ease of cleaning, and the always key: regularity of deposit.

I thought that once Hank was potty trained, our potty life would be golden. I'm here to tell you (in case you were wondering, and even if you're not) that this simply isn't the case. Unfortunate though that may be.

It seems that many children, boys especially, like to hold on to their poo as if they had the crown jewels up there. They have it, and they don't want to give it up, no sir. Sneaking stool softener into their morning juice, adding pineapple to every meal, all of this makes their work all the more difficult, it's true, but still, they will not give up the ghost. I'm not certain if it's that they don't like the sensation? Perhaps that's part of it. And holding it does nothing to make it more comfortable, to be sure. Mostly, I think it's that they simply don't want to stop what they're doing (playing with a bat cave) to go sit on the toilet for a few minutes. Unfortunately, this means that about 5-7 days will go by, and then Mommy makes him sit on the toilet, and *then* he's stuck there for about 20 full minutes while much discomfort ensues which will almost certainly end with a plumbing crisis. Oftentimes, tears are involved. Every time, complaining and whining will be involved. It's very unpleasant for all parties.

So, this morning, we had one of those. And with my in-laws arriving from Florida this afternoon, I really didn't want this poo thing hanging over our heads. My mother-in-law tends to fret about the poo thing much more than I do, and even though I blog about poo, I really don't want to be discussing it over Thanksgiving dinner. So thankfully, even though it caused Hank to nearly miss his bus, we had poo production. Much rejoicing and celebration followed. The glamorous joys of parenthood. We deserve a medal for it, each and every one of us.

With company coming, as you can imagine, I've been tornadoing (I've officially coined that word) around the house like mad. This weekend, I:

(1) Cleaned out the refrigerator. Anybody with me that this is one of the grossest chores ever? "Something going bad" smell makes me gag much more than kid poo.

(2) Swept and cleaned the kitchen floor.

(3) Gave the stove and counter tops a much needed scrubbing.

(4) Swept the side entracenway, which seems to accumulate dirt faster than any other spot in the house.

(5) Did several loads of laundry.

(6) Scrubbed the downstairs bathroom and shower.

(7) Cleaned the guest room.

(8) Touched up paint on a few places in the trim, and on the kitchen ceiling.

All told, especially #8? Pretty neurotic, I'm certain you'll agree. I can't help it. It makes me feel better.

I haven't even been grocery shopping yet. Going to tackle that tomorrow morning, and I'm certain that it will be a near occasion of sin. But I'll do my best. The rest of the day will be taken up cooking and baking. And I am very much looking forward to it. :)

I won't be online much until next Monday, so no blog posts until then. But rest assured that I'll report in every detail then. Happy Thanksgiving!

Belly dancing and child handling...

I had a very, very busy weekend, but a happy one :) My solo choreography is really coming along, and I received the items I ordered to make a costume. Professional belly dance costumes can cost upwards of $200-$500, so obviously, I wasn't going that route. Not at this time, at least. I have a very pretty chiffon skirt from one of my troupe costumes in a wine color. What I ended up doing is ordering a black hip scarf and top to use with that, and it cost me less than $50 :) I was very pleased with myself. When we use those skirts we layer matching color hip scarves and choli tops, so with the black it looks like a totally different costume.

I also liked having the freedom to order any top that I wanted. Our choli tops are really nice, but many belly dancing tops are a bit, ahem, scanty :) I wanted a bit more coverage. This one is a pretty halter that extends down to my belly button and has hanging coins there. I feel very comfortable in it.

So, I half feel extremely excited, and half feel like I may vomit. The typical reaction of a lifelong introvert.

We took a bunch of pictures on Sunday in our instructor's new studio and it was tons of fun. I just love those ladies. Middle Eastern dance has enriched my life in more ways than I could count.

So, the other fun weekend event was that my sister Shauna'h was in town visiting. She came to my house for a quick visit, and then we were headed out to do some additional family visiting. This entails about a 20 minute car ride. I brought Hank along with us, planning to include him for a grandparent visit and then drop him back at home with Mike so that I could join my parents and Shauna'h for a late dinner.

That was the plan. And this is the "reality of life with a 4 year old" version:

As we're about to hop on the highway, I hear a little voice from the back seat.

"Mommy, my stomach hurts *really bad*!"

*sighs* Hank has many stomach issues these days. Why, you ask? Well, because the child hates to poo. There I go, flinging the word 'poo' around my blog again. Sorry to the people who are not yet parents. Someday, you'll use the word 'poo' with all kinds of recklessness too. For whatever reason, many 3 and 4 year olds, especially boys, hate to poo with the fire of a thousand suns. I have no idea why. I'm certain that if given a choice by our Creator between having to poo and not having to poo, we'd all choose not to have to. But this is the way we are made, and we pretty much have no choice in the matter. But since being potty trained, Hank has filed for official conscientious objector status with regard to poo, and holds out for as long as humanly possible. Hence, the stomach aches.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry. We'll use the potty as soon as we get to nana's, ok?"

I glance in the rearview mirror and see Hank squirming unhappily in his car seat.

Approximately 5 minutes later (that's right, exactly halfway into our journey) more unhappiness radiates from the backseat.

"Mommy! My stomach hurts REALLY, REALLY BAD. Oh Mommy! Oh, it hurts!"

Oh sigh. Shauna'h notes a fast food restaurant off the upcoming exit, so I signal and exit the highway. We pull in and I hustle Hank into the ladies room.

Thus commences 10 minutes of real tears LOUD sobbing.

"Mommy! Oh, it hurts, it HURTS! Mommy, HELP ME!"

I was starting to get a bit concerned. I was pretty sure that he just had a very bad case of debilitating gas pains, but one never knows. I made lots of encouraging "push sweetheart, push!" exclamations, but there was no poo making an appearance, so I brought him out into the eating area to lay down on a booth. I was hoping that certain positions would, you know, *alleviate* the problem. I got him some apple juice, but nothing would soothe him. He was utterly inconsolable.

Shauna'h and I got him strapped back into the car seat, and I sped to the local grocery store to see if I could find a children's version of Gas-X. I found some children's Tums and hoped that would work. Shauna'h was out in the car with Hank, and I come back to find that Hank was sobbing "HELP ME, HELP ME! I WANT MY MOMMY!" so loud that she feared a shopper may conclude that a child napping was in progress and dial 911.

I had Hank chew one of the Tums (which he did only under protest) and made the decision to take him back home. Thus, an hour after we embarked, we arrived in the opposite location from our ultimate destination. Hank had specifically asked to go home, saying that he wanted to go to bed, but after chewing the Tums he fell asleep in his car seat. I hoped that meant the Tums was starting to work. Based on the smell emanating from the back seat, I had a good feeling.

We got him in the house, and Hank voluntarily processed right up to lay on his bed. Poor baby. Mike gave him a bath and made him some toast, and reported in later that Hank had pooed and was feeling much better. All was right in Hank's world again.

Poo notwithstanding, they are so very precious :)

Big News

So, finally, for the first time yesterday, Hank told us that he had to go poo on the potty, and then went and did it. Words cannot express how thrilled we are :) It's been a long haul, but *knocks on wood* I think we're over the worst of the potty training hurdle. I'm certain we're not totally in the clear; I've been a parent for long enough now that I'm not that naive :) But we've made significant progress, and we couldn't be happier. Now, the big question is: do we want to do this all over again? Jury is still out on that one :)

One of these days...

I'll be able to relay my daily goings-on without having them dominated by the bathroom habits of my 3 year old. *sighs* Overall, I had a very nice long weekend with Hank. I don't often take time off from work, and I'm realizing that this needs to change. I need to recharge sometimes too, and I should take advantage of my paid vacation time. I'm having a bit of "spring fever" going on, and I've had a strong desire to be home more cleaning and clearing - thus time off right now is refreshing and productive. I was a little tornado of energy Saturday morning, dragging Hank upstairs with me to assist in cleaning out our storage room. I hauled out a truckload of crap and created a pile to be donated to St. Vincent DePaul that is currently dominating our basement. I was so feverishly obsessed with my task that it caused Mike to nervously ask if a baby CatholicLibrarian could be on the way...I'm a neurotic nester. But no, I do not think baby CatholicLibrarian #2 is imminent :) I just have lots of house task energy to burn right now.

In other developments, Hank continues to vex us with toilet training. We're going to go broke buying fresh fruit to "help things along" at this rate. In a few of his more amusing moments related to this topic:

- Upon wake up one morning, and vehement denial that he has to use the potty, a soaked Pull-Up results within minutes.

CL: Hank honey, why didn't you tell me that you had to go potty?
Hank: I didn't have to go potty.
CL: Well, your Pull Up is soaked, honey.
Hank: A *MONSTO* did that.
CL: A monster peed in your Pull Up?
Hank: *complete poker face* YES.

- Repeated, 8 hour denial that he has to go poo. Many frustrating trips to the bathroom ensue. Hank strolls into the living room, very, *very* casually.

Hank: Hi Mommy. I not pooing.
CL: *groans* Great, so you're pooing.
Hank: No I not. *strikes odd pose*

A rush into the bathroom (inevitably, right in the middle of dinner) results in aforementioned jaws of life being implemented to prevent any actual production. By this point, I'm considering breaking into the liquor cabinet early.

Hank: Mommy, could you hold me?
CL: Hank, do you have to go poo?
Hank: NO.

30 seconds elapse.

CL: Hank, do you have to go poo?
Hank: *pitifully* yes.

So, in the end we had a success, but I tell you, I've never spent so much time in the rest room, not even when I was pregnant with the little frustrater.

"Mommy, Iron Man Got Poo on Him!"

This is what Hank announced to me as I came in the door from work yesterday. Given that the only Iron Man Hank owns is on his sneakers, I immediately feel some apprehension. Other clues include the fact that Hank appears freshly bathed, and has on different clothes than he did in the morning. Mike appears at the door, and the plot thickens:

"Honey, there's been an incident."

The lead-up to all of this is that in our efforts to potty train Hank, he has developed holding mechanisms that bear strength reminiscent of the jaws of life. He can hold pee-pee all day at daycare, insisting that he doesn't have to go until he gets home. The kid is developing a complex, which I don't like. And the poo...sigh.

"Hank, do you have to go poo?"
"NO!!"
"Honey, I know you do, look at how you're standing. Let's go sit on the potty."
"NO!! I *NO HAVE* to go!! I go, at...at CHRISTMASTIME!"
"Hank, we're not waiting 9 months for you to go poo. It's good to poo. Everybody poos. Let's go."
"WAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

This is how it happens *every time*. You'd think we were forcing the child down onto a live grenade the way his butt avoids the potty when he has to go. He holds it until he makes himself sick. The other day he went 3 times, 2 of which made it into the potty. The other waited until I was distracted long enough to not realize anything was amiss until the house stunk. And then came yesterday...

Apparently, he told his daycare teacher that his tummy hurt, and he resembled a small Buddha. Knowing his phobia, she told him that it was ok to just poo in his Pull-Up, so that his tummy could feel better. He did, and the situation quickly turned dire. Poo went everywhere. Mike arrives as the cleanup process was well underway. Hank's pants had to be *thrown into the garbage*. Poo went into his socks and *into his shoes*. It was quite traumatic for all involved, except Hank, who exclaimed "I sure feel better!" and found the whole cleanup process endlessly interesting. Feeling upset that my baby was in need and I wasn't there, I exacted a promise from him that he would never hold it like that again.

This morning, as I rushed about the house trying to get us on our way to daycare early since I had a doctor's appointment at 8:15, I approach Hank for a potty run. He's standing funny.

"Mommy, could you change me?"

Oh LORD. Yes, another cleanup project. It's going to be one of those days.

Things that make me laugh...

Well, I had a pretty nice weekend. We worked with Hank a lot on the potty, and did have a few successes. Granted, they were successes that took place while we held Hank down onto the potty as he sprayed pee pee everywhere, cried, whined, and went though a series of pelvic gyrations in a desperate attempt to escape. But in the end, we made some progress. By midafternoon yesterday, our living room smelled like a horse's stall. It was below freezing, and we were tempted to crack a window to get a little air circulating. Good heavens. All the Febreze in the world wasn't strong enough to cut that odor.

At any rate, the other day as I was driving home, I heard a Christmas song on the radio that makes me laugh every single year. It's a pretty corny song, but I re-enjoy it annually. I don't even know it's official title, something stupid like "The 12 Pains of Christmas," I think. What it does is mimic "The 12 Days of Christmas" with little holiday disasters instead, and each time the count comes past their number again, things are elaborated a bit. A few really make me laugh, hard.

My favorite is I think number 2, the guy who is putting up his Christmas lights. He has a real porky sounding voice, and for a while just says that his pain is "stringing up the lights." As the song progresses, he starts to get more and more pissed off. It reminds me of Christmases past with my dad putting up the lights, which he always hated :) Eventually, our guys says "What, don't we have any extension cords?!" And "Great, now they're blinking!!" Finally, "Someone get me a flash light, I think I blew a fuse!!"

Other mentionables include the effeminate sounding guy who hates writing Christmas cards. At the last go round, he exclaims "Oh, I don't even *know* half these people!!" I also like the woman who bemoans having to see her in-laws at holiday time. Finally, she flat out says "She's a witch, I *hate* her!!" But the one that I relate to most is the pain of Christmas shopping. On each pass through, a surly toddler demands some complicated and noisy sounding toy. Finally, we hear the toddler exclaim "I have to go potty!!" and then, just sobbing.

Survivor: Potty Island

Well, we're persisting and Hank is still complaining. But I'm hoping (please God) that the consistency will have a stinky end result sometime soon. That's really all the new news with me. Sad, huh?

Oh, well, I suppose it's noteworthy that I've fallen happily back into listening to a nauseating amount of Christmas music like I do every year. Mike is already rolling his eyes. I've created a new holiday playlist for my beloved iPod Nano, Max, and am populating it with much enthusiasm. I've taken a real liking to Enya's new holiday album, And Winter Came. I chose not to download the whole album (cost cutting, sigh) but a few of the tracks are excellent and I bought them, specifically the title track and O Come O Come Emmanual. iTunes has a new Essentials list that I'm really digging (I totally fall trap to their devious marketing plan, don't I?) called Melancholy Winter. It's not depressing, honestly, it's really good stuff. You should check it out :)

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast

Yes, this is potty training a toddler. Only the strongest will survive. Hank is now 3 years old. We introduced him to the potty back when he was about two and a half. He wasn't too interested, just thought the flushing thing was pretty cool. About two months ago, we started sitting him on his little potty a bit. Bought him some big boy underpants (Spider Man, that really sweetened the pot), and gave it a go one weekend. I think it was about the time that I was mopping up the sixth river of pee pee on our wood floors that I decided that he just didn't seem ready yet for full scale underwear trial. So, we bought some Pull Ups thinking that he would feel it more when he went, and gave it some time. Well, I'm afraid we got a bit complacent. Because, to be frank, potty training sucks. I work full-time, so I tend to want my off-time at home to not suck. Keeping the suck factor low is a high priority in my world. So potty training got pushed to the side.

Mike and I talked about it the other night, and we agreed that Hank seems to be getting a bit too big for his Spider Man britches. He's started to take advantage of our complacency, and has become even more obstinate than usual. When I tried to get him to sit on the potty the other day, he flat out refused and threw a noisy fit. Thus, the big guns had to come out. Hank is king of the roost no longer... :)

Starting yesterday, Hank has to sit on the potty first thing in the morning, after school, after he eats, and before bed. Or anytime he needs to or otherwise appears to have to go. But he was really used to us not making a big deal about this potty business. So, yesterday morning, the following transpired:

Hank: I want to watch Blues Clues!

Mike: You can, but you have to sit on the potty.

Hank: I NO WANT to sit on the potty.

Mike: You're going to anyway. Otherwise, I'm unplugging the tv.

Hank: *shocked silence*

Mike: What's it going to be, Hank?

Hank: NO POTTY, NOOOOOO POTTY!!

Mike: Fine, the tv is unplugged.

Hank: WAAHHHHH! I want MY MOMMY!!!!!

The child is a master manipulator. Well, most toddlers are, I suppose. When I came down and reinforced the potty thing, he looked dazed. Within two minutes, he was unhappily sitting on the potty, sniffling as he watched Blues Clues. Nothing was produced, but we're determined to stick with a routine. Day after day after day. Eventually he will have to submit.

This morning started off similarly. The announcement that he must sit on the potty was met with stunned and righteous indignation. A multitude of hostile protestations followed, concluding with a tearful plea for mommy. Mommy too turned against him, and he was forced to realize that his morning was going to be cartoon-less unless he complied. He did, with much huffiness and bum squirming. No production, but we are far from deterred, much to Hank's chagrin.

This is a battle we're determined to win. He's ready; he knows when he's going now, and he has the control to hold and release. He actually told me - triumphantly, I might add - a few weeks ago: "I pooing in my Lightening McQueen Pull Up!" I'll keep reporting in, beleaguered, from the battlefield, and update on our progress...

OSHA for belly dancers

This was my favorite line from my class Friday night. It is referring, of course, to our ever present nemesis, the veil:

"now remember, ladies. Arms with moving veils are always above your head, or in second position. It's like OSHA for belly dancers. 'Arms above this level for job safety!'"

We learned a few new combinations, and are going to start a new routine after Thanksgiving. Excited :)

In other news, we're upping the ante with potty training Hank. It's really not possible for it to be going any worse. Well, I suppose it could, if Hank were perhaps throwing human waste across the room and dancing in it. But aside from that, it's going as poorly as could be. It takes a lot of convincing to even get his bum to approach the potty, and then after a lengthy session, no production. This has been going on for months, and the convincing is getting more and more difficult. He's now at a point where he's downright obstinate and refuses to sit on the potty. Well, last night, Mike and I made a decision: Hank will become potty trained whether he likes it or not. He's three: we are the adults. We can handle this, right? Well, of course, you know that the answer isn't quite so easy. But that notwithstanding, we've seized some control over the deteriorating situation. Hank was told this morning that there would be no Blues Clues unless he sat on the potty for a few minutes upon waking up. The look of shock on his face was priceless. We mean business now. There was a series of protestations, which we weathered, and in the end, he sat on the potty. He didn't go, but I figure, if we do this every day (no more diapers at home except overnight) eventually he's going to have to produce. The kid can't hold it forever. I'm certain that he's going to test that theory, but we're prepared. Well, as prepared as parents who have never done this before can be :)