Hit and run

There's a lot of talk about the "Mommy-drive-by" in the world of blogs lately. Getupgrrl got people talking about it. Moxie got people sharing their worst moments (perhaps drive-by invoking). Julie even got accused of it. And this recurring theme crossed my mind this morning as a well-bundled woman rushed her equally well-bundled daughter into the pediatrician's office this morning. Now frankly, its cold here. Temperatures are hovering just above freezing. Being all bundled up is not a bad thing. But nonetheless, I got myself a stare for not being properly attired myself and for carrying an infant from the building sans coat and hat.

My little gal has herself an ear infection, apparently, and so rightfully so we went into the doctor to have her checked out (although I *thought* we were going because of her nasty habit of puking her guts out this morning.) By the time we were called into the exam room, Meg was over-tired, mildly hungry and feeling generally crappy I'd assume. She ate a bit as a waited and managed to keep every single bit of it down. She started to drift to sleep JUST as the doctor came in and started poking at her. Not a happy gal. Not. At. All.

Now, add to that the simple fact that Miss Thing HATES being in that darn infant carrier when she's a) awake and/or b) not moving. She had already entertained the waiting room with her rendition of "child screaming loud enough to pop eardrums." I wasn't willing to allow her an encore by getting her back into the car-seat/carrier in the office when I could just keep the joy of the sound to myself in the car.

I also didn't get her in her coat since her coat was still at home hanging on her wall. Megan had fallen asleep just as we were about to leave the house and I had sort of hoped if I didn't jostle her too much she'd remain asleep. I got her buckled in and then piled on the blankets. She was toasty and cozy. Woke briefly to protest her captivity in that darn carrier and then drifted back to sleep.

Granted I could have wrapped her in her quilt before walking outside but I didn't feel coordinated enough to do so without launching an onslaught of baby screeches. I had 16+ pounds of cranky infant in one arm, a diaper bag loaded with goodies over the shoulder and a car seat with a hefty quilt and a wool baby blanket. The van was parked literally *just* outside the door. So I walked fast, but not fast enough. The well-bundled mother caught me and glared. I'm sure had I not been moving at the speed of light she may have had taken a moment to mutter loudly something to the effect of "Poor baby out without a coat or hat in this weather - no wonder why she's ill." To which I'd have to mouth off "Oh, please. You and your old wives tale. Germs make you sick not cold air. Apparently the coat and hat did nothing for your kid since you're here at the doctor's office too at a time when they aren't taking well-visits."

If we're being honest, however, I'm not sure what is bothering me more - the look that mommy-drive-by-wanna-be shot me, or the fact that I feel compelled to explain myself on my blog.


Shopping update. . .

Remember that shopping trip Megan took? The one where we went into Children's Place and she grabbed my face to plant a big wet sloppy kiss on my cheek at the mere suggestion that we'd buy a particular hat. The same trip where she pulled a skirt off the rack and refused to let it go. Well here's Megan modeling her purchases. . . Posted by Hello


random thoughts

The joy of potty training a wiseass is that he likes to follow you in the bathroom each time you go and give a running commentary. Its not so bad at home, but can be mighty embarassing in public restrooms.

"Oh Mommy! You're peeing! I'm so proud of you! YAY! Let's go get you a Hot Wheels!"



1. I never thought a toilet could make me so happy, but frankly, when its being used by a two and half year old meaning less diapers for me to change - the toilet makes me estatic. Although we still have the occasional accident, my little man (who bristles at hearing the world "little" in relation to himself. "I am a BIG boy!" he'll yell at me.) is a potty using champ.

2. To coincide with this 'big' kid status, he's also beginning to read. Its something he asked me to help him learn to do a few months ago and so we've been doing just that. He has just over a dozen words he can read regardless of where he sees them and then a few others that he can pick out throughout a few different books (or packages) that he sees often. Those words are on the brink of becoming ones he can read anytime, anywhere. He's so proud of himself each time he sees a letter combo and can tell us what it says. He announces what he's reading with a giant smile on his face. His eyes just glow with pride - and I'm sure mine do too.

3. Not nearly as impressive but I actually did finish reading my very own book. Now to just get myself in line to pick up another.

4. The baby has this funny trick she does. She plays on her side, rolls herself over onto her belly, acts all proud and content for a moment - and then she screams. What is remarkable about this trick is that she is fully and totally capable of getting from her stomach to her back because she has done it several times in the past. She *can* do it, she just would rather us do it for her.


World of Chaos

There's an entire world of chaos out there and some of it has felt the need to impinge upon my personal space. It's not my chaos - not directly - but it does belong to people I love and so therefore it pinches at my nerves and tweaks my heart.

There is my uncle enveloped in the return of a health crisis. Its not my story to tell and so I won't, at least not here. He faces a decision that will impact the independence he's valued and clung too perhaps longer than he should have. Those around him helping him make this choice of direction are met with anger and misplaced blame. I find myself praying for patience in dealing with him just as much as I pray for him.

My brother-in-law, well, I'm not even sure how you classify his crisis. To call it a relationship in crisis just down plays what he's coping with so much it'd be an insult to use the term. He's staring at the gates of his own personal hell and he's struggling with the view. Again, not my story to tell and while I've shared it with many of my friends that are reading now, its not a story to just plop out there on a public website like this. . .so I won't. I pray for his ability to get through today into tomorrow and then through tomorrow into the next day.

Its difficult to be on the fringes of their lives like this - to see them tormented without being able to do much to soothe the soul. If you're the praying sort just take what you can from the cryptic stories above and pray for peace to come to these men. Thanks.


Baby book review

This is Megan's current favorite book.  Posted by Hello
It just arrived in the mail yesterday and she's already run her fingers across the various textures on each page. The battle in our house is over which child of mine gets to touch which tail first. This despite the fact Logan refers to it as a "baby book."

I wondered if she'd take to books the way her brother had. Logan's always had a book fetish. We began reading together his first day in the hospital and never looked back. We read stories daily and now, at 31 months old, he's beginning to read himself. His favorite book, for this reason, is David Get's in Trouble by David Shannon. He's able to read most of the story to himself now - and that's before he had the tale memorized. There is a single sentence on each page. Simple sentences with the words Logan does recognize "No", "It", "My", "Not", and so on. He pulls it from his shelf, asks me to read with him...and then he reads me the story. Its an event I adore.

But part of that is just Logan being Logan. While our consistent story time certainly gave opportunity to nurture his passion it didn't create it. He just has it. There are plenty of children that are read to on a regular basis that enjoy books but don't live books. So we wondered...would Meg, given the same exposure, become a book lover.

Its early. She's only 5 months old. Its early but it seems the answer is hinting to yes. She was hours old in the hospital when we read "My Big Brother" together. Since then we read at least something each day - sometimes its a book her brother wants to read as we sit together. Other times its another of her seemingly favorite books - one of the Miss Spider genre. It seems the artwork appeals to her in those books, which is good since she now has four of them.

Reading calms Megan. A fussy girl will usually settle down and stare at the pages once you open a book before her. She likes to grab at the images. She likes to talk to the characters. Sometimes she does like to try to eat them too - and that's when we switch from standard picture book to board book or cloth book. The Tails book has really appealed to her though because its interactive. She can hear the words we read her as she runs her baby fingers across fluff and bumps. She can touch and stare at the shining foil inlay of a peacock tail or watch the wagging tales of the foxes. After just a day of owning it, Meg sees the cover come towards her and she kicks with glee.

SO its early. We have no idea what she'll think of her stories in a month from now let another a year, but so far, it seems she shares a passion with the rest of the family - and for that we're glad.


Welcome words

I think Mike Celizic said it best in his MSNBC column published on Tuesday:

Forget Groundhog's Day. Forget robins. Nothing heralds spring like "pitchers and catchers."

And so they do herald. Yesterday pitchers and catchers reported to the Yankee spring training complex in Tampa, Florida and yesterday we hit 60 degrees in my corner of the world. Today's afternoon rain drove away the remaining vestiges of snow. Sure, it's supposed to drop to freezing temps again this weekend and perhaps even dump more snow on our heads here. . . but that's ok now. Its ok because they've come to Tampa and the journey has started. Slowly but surely they're pulling on those pinstriped tight pants and slowly but surely the grey days of winter are being pushed aside for Spring.

In honor of the official pre-start to the 2005 baseball season, Logan got all decked out on his newest NY emblazon attire: Posted by Hello


Obligatory Child update. . .

Today Megan is five months old. Don't tell her that though because she tries so hard to be much older. ;) Megan's latest pleasure is standing. Yes, standing. Typically she does it holding on to our hands, but she's been known to cling to the edge of a table without as much fingertip supporting her. Yes, there are hands behind her waiting to catch her - but still, she beams with pride as she props herself against the plastic Little Tykes picnic table all on her own. She's also been caught trying to take steps as we hold her hands high above her head. Her little legs set apart wide as she shuffles and she doesn't get more than an inch or two, but try she does. Obviously she's much to young to be pulling up on various objects on her own, but she will do her darndest to pull herself up when you offer her your hands.

Of course, even without her feet, Megan is mobile. No, not crawling yet as that would mean she'd have to remain on her belly without screaming bloody murder for more than a moment or two. Megan is a roller and a wiggler. She can roll both belly to back and back to belly - she just doesn't do it often. Instead she does her favorite thing - rolls onto her side. She loves laying on her side so she can better play with a toy. She'll scrunch herself all up in a little fetal ball and attack whatever toy is nearest her. Sometimes that toy gets away, and when it does Megan will use a series of back to side rocks and lurches to move her baby body to a spot near the offending toy. I've placed her on her activity quilt before dashing off to help big bro with the potty only to come back and find her on the opposite side of her quilt facing a brand new direction - and laughing at me for it.

Megan very clearly has the ability to anticipate recurring events. For example, my little dare devil loves it when we drop quickly to a squat as we hold her and sing Rock-a-Bye-Baby. She giggles her fully body laugh every time we do it, and that laugh starts in early. The moment you cradle her in your arms and sing the first note she starts to smile. 2nd note and she giggles as she stares at you in a way that just says "Yup, I like this song! I know what's coming!"

She also LOVES play Peek-a-boo. She starts to smile and laugh as soon as you begin to pull something over her eyes. We tend to play this game at night after her bath and so her hiding place is behind a towel. If I let go of the towel - letting it drape loosely over her face - she'll pull it off herself and burst into a fit of laughter. And then, if you're not fast enough, she'll pull the towel back up over her head. Granted she isn't very good about getting both eyes covered at once, but cut the kid a break, she is, after all, only five months old.

She's also working on sitting for real. She can't be up on her own for long, but the second counts are indeed getting longer and longer. She is also become fairly competent at the tripod sit (hands in front for support.) She'll hang out like that for a pretty decent amount of time before tipping over to a side.

Megan is a very sociable baby. She loves talking to people. She loves when people talk to her. Yesterday we hosted a Valentine's Party for our playgroup. Megan made friends with a little girl just a few months older than herself. Meg stood in her excersaucer as her friend stood holding on to the outside of the tray. They babbled at each other and exchanged giggly smiles for a fairly decent amount of time. I've no idea what they conversed about but they both seemed to enjoy it.

However, her most favorite baby friend is the one she sees in the mirror. Megan loves to play with the baby in the mirror. She coos at her. She smiles for her, laughs at her and leans in as close as she can get without smacking their foreheads together. She pulls and reaches for the mirror until you position her close enough to touch. She reaches out her not-quite-as-balled-up-all-time-time fists towards the other babies. She opens her hand up wide and attempts to grasp that other kid's fingers. She never seems bothered by the fact that the other baby has weird hands you can't quite hold onto.

That said, we think her favorite toy is her brother. In fact, we're convinced some mangled attempt at his name will be her first word. She worships Logan. When she hears his voice she turns her head in the direction until she locates him. . . then she smiles wide. When she's crying he can often make her stop. Its amazing how fast those tears go off and the giggles come on. When he gets close enough to her she'll throw her arms around his head in a little baby bear hug and plant a big, wet, drooly, open mouth on his head in an attempt to kiss him. She clearly adores him and the feeling is mutual. He's already standing up for her, by the way. At the aforementioned playgroup some little kid started pulling out toys from Megan's basket of goodies. Logan, who was actually happily sharing all his stuff, ran over and attempted to yank the item from the 17 month-old's hand yelling "No! That's my baby sister's toy. You can't have Megan's toys. Give that back."

By the way, lest I forget the actual important stuff. (ha!) Meg saw her OT for her follow-up appointment this week. He was very pleased with the progress she made from just the various minor changes to her daily habits. In fact he was so pleased that we were told to just continue encouraging her to turn that head to the upper left as a means to stretch the neck muscles and then see him in three months. No PT. No tests to rule out bigger issues. No threat of harness or surgery. Just minor stuff. It really didn't surprise me. She's been fairly non-tippy for the last few weeks, leaning just a smidgen to the left only after a long day with little rest. So, I was not surprised, but very relieved.

That's my girl!

Megan is offically 5 months old today; and today we learned that she's Momma's girl through and through. Sure, there have been clues. We (as well as her brother) have the same exact color hair. We have features so similar most folks look at her and says "She's the spitting image of you!" She smiles when I enter a room and she'll lunge to my arms if she's not in them. And today we learned that she's a shopper.

Yes, at only 5 months old, Miss Megan Rose has made it abundantly clear that she's going to turn every hair on Daddy's head gray by sharing her mother's enjoyment for a good shopping spree. (A hobby, by the way, I happened to get turned on to from *my* mother.)

The boys headed south for another trip to the lighthouse, so Meg and I headed to the Mall to pick up my ring. While we were there I headed over to The Children's Place. Its absolutely insane the way these stores introduce clothes. So many cute Spring outfts are already sold out in the various sizes I need because I waited to - ack! - February to consider buying them. Knowing this I decided to make Logan's Easter outfit a priority, a lucky thing considering I managed to buy the last pair of navy linen pants and the last cute little tie in his size!

While we were there I decided to peek at the little girl clothes. I mean really, its impossible NOT to look. And that's when Megan releaved her budding skills. I plopped a hat on her head and she laughed at me. She lurched forward and grabbed my face with both her hands as she squealed with glee. Then she leaned in with her mouth wide open so she could deposit one of her sloppy wet excuses for a baby's kiss on my face. I assumed that meant "Mommy, I love this hat!" and seeing how much she loved it, well what choice did I have. It got added to my pile. Then she saw the matching skirt and she lunched again. I swear to you - I do NOT make this up. She grabbed at the skirt. She pawed it. She refused to let it go. I pulled her size off the rack and she held it tight in both fists smiling her little great big happy smile. We bought the skirt too and a little lime green t-shirt and a cute little yellow zip up sweatshirt so she can wear the ensemble even now.

Granted I'm sure her adoration of her brand new cute skirt had more to do with the busy pattern of colors and flowers than anything else, but that's ok. Its a cute skirt for a little girl and so now its hers. Daddy should be glad I didn't get her all the other stuff she wanted: like this dress (that I almost did buy in the next size -- if only I knew what size she would need by summer!), and this dress (same size issue as the previous) and an array of PJs.

A girl after my own heart. Ahhh....



I have two kids. Two children that arrived the good old fashioned way despite the fact we spent four years aching with the pain of fertility struggles. Two children that did not result from injectible drugs, swollen over-stuffed ovaries and many appointments with a doctor despite the fact that I do wear the badge of "in vitro" pincushion. In the end none of that mattered because both just happened to us.

You'd think it'd help remove the memories. You would think it would make all that old ache melt away. You would think that news of someone else's ease wouldn't pick at the scabs because in the end, we had our own ease. But it doens't.

There are two moms in my local Mom's group that strike deep chords in the wounded infertile that still hides in the crevices of my reproductive tract. The first will go in for her first IUI tomorrow. Her first child was an "oops" baby - adored and wanted the moment they knew of her conception but not at all planned. Her second has been alluding them for years now. We chat a lot. We talk about her RE - my former doctor. We talk about the tests. We talk about the things people say when they mean well but really they just make you want to scream and spit. We talk about how she couldn't bring herself to attend last night's group baby shower for the five current pregnant moms. We talk about how I understand and yet how I still feel so guilty that our talks of her struggles are peppered with talk of my almost 5-month old.

The second mom just announced that she's 5 weeks pregnant with her fourth child. A child she and her husband had planned to have - only a good year or two in the future. All four of her children were unplanned. All four are adored and happily recieved - but all four came not only without a few months of trying, but without a few months of planning. There was no wistful talk of "When we start trying next month...", it just came. Her news popped up in my inbox before she even told her own spouse. It sat that on my screen in the office and it poked at what remains of the scared emotions our long-past troubles left in their wake.

I'd like to say that the first thought I had was of my friend. That I inhaled sharply and worried how the news of this other woman was going to stab her in the heart the day before she went in with hopes that a doctor and a catheter could do what nature hadn't. Those thoughts did cross my mind but not before flashes of my history flew by. Memories of syringes. Memories of ultrasounds. Memories of drug induced hot flashes and mirgranes.

Perhaps all those things feel so fresh to me now because I've been reliving it as I hold the hand of this friend. Or maybe its just what it is. Maybe that very real, very difficult time of our lives is just so tightly woven into my fabric that its never going to go completely away no matter how things turned out. The truth is when my friend said to me yesterday - "Do you mind if I ask if your two came from the IVF?" - I felt guilty. I felt like a fraud.

"No. I mean we did all that. We went through all the tests and the ache and the treatment...but it failed miserably and we moved on. They just came along on their own accord - one a surprise and the other a surprise in that she came along so easily and quickly in our attempts." And then I mumble something about how weird it felt to have worn the label of infertile and never having a kid to being pregnant. . .and mumbled some more. . .and I felt the guilt of it. She understood though, and perhaps its because she's a mother already dealing with her own guilt. The flavor secondary infertility can awaken - the whole "shouldn't I be happy with just one?" and the "why is this so hard when I've done it before?!" She aches and guilts too. Perhaps that's why we're friends.


Messing with Daddy

There are an array of predictible baby sounds one can expect to hear in the first 12-months. Among the early ones is usually "DaDa" and may people take it for a real word even before it is. When Logan was 6-months old he said "Uck!" as he pointed to the rubber duck he wanted in the bathtub. He only said the 'uck' sound when he wanted that thing and so we dutifully recordered it as his first word. Around the same time he started making the sound "Dada." Daddy, happily declared this his second word. This despite the fact that little 6-month old Logan called everything from his father to the dog Dada. EVERYTHING. In short order, he got things sorted out and Dada was indeed Daddy. And at that time, I made note of it somewhere or other - ignoring Dad's instance that this momenumental moment of his own life took place a month earlier.

Little 4 month old Megan makes a lot of sounds. She loves making sounds. I think her first real hobby is babbling. I can see the future of my phonebill and its not pretty folks. This girl is a talker. Among her many sounds is the repeated humming of the letter "M". That's it. No vowels attached to it. Nothing but "Mmmmmmmm!" Its not one she uses often either. She tends only to start humming the letter "M" when she's put down somewhere she doesn't want to be but she's not quite sure its worth throwing an all out baby tantrum over it. She'll also use it when I hand her over to Dad for some reason or another and walk way from her. She'll stare at me, those eyes of her getting as big and round as she make them and she cries out "MMMMMMMMM!!!!!" Its her little way of peaceful protesting - no crocodile tears and screaming wails like she is capable of producing, just a sound that lets you know she's not happy.

But hey, its fun to toy with Dads sometimes, so I've pointed out to him that she only makes this noise those specific times as if she's trying to say "Mommy." Yup, I know, I'm fully capable of being a funny gal toying with his head.

"See!" I say, "Her first word is not going to be Dada! It's going to be Mama. She's already working on it. She's calling me Mmmmmm."

"That's not a word," he'll say.

"Neither was Dada when Logan used it to call the dog." I say with a sly smile.

"He said it when he looked at me." he sniffs back.

"Yes he did. And when he looked at his spoon."


"And his diapers."

"Uh huh."

"And his toys."

"I get it."

Is it spring yet?

I should have made myself a ticker to count down days to spring training so I could have some hope that Winter will one day actually take a freakin' hike. Don't get me wrong, I don't really want to live in a place that lacks four real seasons. . .I just want the winter one to be short and sweet.

What I dislike more than the cold, more than hefty amounts of snow that lingers and looks dingy in those places dogs abuse it and cars turn it black with all sorts of stuff, is re-frozen melted stuff. I know, you got lost somewhere in that giant sentence so let me rephrase. I hate when snow and/or ice melts on a day that is only seems practically balmy after such biter cold refreezes at night. There is nothing you can do to prevent it. You shovel away snow, you put de-icer crud down, you get your driveway perfect. Then it all starts to melt - the snow on the edges dripping into little riverlets making its escape to the street. The sun sets and then rises. You walk out attempting to make it to your mailbox and you nearly fall on your butt a few dozen times as you hit patches of ice here and there and everywhere.

Please, shove that ground hog back in his hole and ask him to pop up again in a way that predicts warm weather in short order.


10 Facts of my world

Fact #1
Somewhere along the way the notion of having to kiss diapers good-bye to be "big" got wedged into the boy's head. In the last several days he's gone from "I'm not using the potty until I'm 5" to "Give my old diapers to Megan because I'm a big boy now and I wear underwear." He's been mostly diaper free since Wednesday. He does wear a pull-up if we're out of the house for a while and over night. Although his 'performance' says he might even be ok without one as long as we're some public place with a bathroom. He's been in roughly six different places during that time span and he's taking a pit stop at each.

Fact #2
Growing up and moving to the great underwear phase of life apparently means ditching all that resembles 'babyhood.' Logan had fallen into the habit of taking the baby quilt his grandmother made him in the car. On Thursday when we headed out for his art class he handed (more like threw) his quilt over Megan (ignoring the fact she was already covered up by her own Grandma made quilt) and announced that he was giving her his quilt because its a baby quilt and he's no longer a baby because he uses the potty now.

Fact #3
Megan does indeed love ice pops. Logan had another after dinner tonight and the poor girl just spent her time staring at him and smacking her lips. We debated the merits of letting her have some...let's just say, she's a fan of orange. We'll be getting a pack of Pedialyte pops to keep in the house for the next "moster stuffy head" battle these two do. At least sucking down those pops will keep them both hydrated.

Fact #4
Not only does Megan like to ChaCha, she also likes to slow dance to Sam Cooke songs.

Fact #5
There's something strangely invigorating about buying a larger than you'd normally carry for just you purse with the plan of using it as part-diaper bag.

Fact #6
One shouldn't impulse buy aforementioned purse before triple checking whether or not the newly potty-fascinated boy is going to want to use a portable potty seat. Drat! Turns out he's ok on some...and turned off by others that are too 'big' for him. Stupid seat won't fit in my new fancy-pants bag.

Fact #7
IF you can't figure out where your child has picked up a word you'd wish he'd stop using so often - review your own vocabulary. Logan's newest joy in life is to call everything "stupid" just to push our buttons. Gee, wonder where he got that from?

Fact #8
Hearing Bear in the Big Blue House say the word "Potty" repeatedly is enough to make me giggle.

Fact #9
The Children's Book of the Month Club is dangerous because I buy to many damn books. I love books. I love Children's books. Luckily my children love them too. Both of them. Meg seems to be smitten by Miss Spider. She'll stare at those pictures for ages. And Logan, well he loves nearly anything.

Fact #10
As previously noted in a long ago entry - if you're seen in public with only one child, people will assume you only have one child. We stopped by the display Logan's future preschool had up at the Mall's something or other fair. They were at first quick to inform us that they didn't accept tot's Meg's age. Yes, we know.

Oh, where was Logan? He was off for his monthly sleepover with the Grands.


Only Mom. . .

Once again its become obvious to me how badly motherhood can warp your sense of humor and sanity. It takes what you once deemed totally unacceptable and just too gross to handle and turned you into an oblivious steel goddess - or at least someone so crazed that you're clueless.

Who else but a Mom (and ok maybe Dad) would find herself (and himself) all giggly and humored by a toddler reaching his hand between his legs while sitting on a potty as he says "I'm trying to pull my poop out." (He didn't use his hands for what its worth, but he did hold true to his promise and go another full-day in underwear using the toilet at each turn INCLUDING lunch out with Mom. By the way, only a Mom would want to repeat the story of her son yelling "Bye PeePee! I'm leaving you here!" as he walks out of public restroom.)

Who else but a mom wouldn't flinch as her infant rubs a runny nose on her shoulder (cold care of big brother's recent bout with germs) and flows up that snotty goo with a nice big spit-up. I'm a walking laundry pile and I honestly don't really care.

By the way, back to the potty, now that we seem to be at least at a starting point for this potty thing - how does one go about teaching a toddler to, ahh, wipe himself. ;) Our attempt tonight just put me in more giggles. I told him he had to sort of maneuver to lift up a buttock so he could reach -- and instead he gave me a nice high karate-chop style kick of his leg. Nice.

Only a Mom would want to take a pile of shredded paper glued with half-a-bottle of Elmers to blue paper on her wall and declare it the artistic zeith of interpreative snowmen.

Only a Mom would reach a hand into her back pockets to find a pile of compressed, used tissues (not her own) and casually toss them in the trash can, wash her hands, and then go about her day like she never touched something that icky.

Yup, only a mom...and maybe grandma



That's what it says on Logan's calendar - Potty and a whole lot of exclaimation points.

He got a calendar for Christmas as a means to teach him the concept of days of the week, months, etc. We write his entire social schedule on it - days with Grandma, art class, playgroups, doctor appointments and Sunday School. This afternoon we used a bright green marker to write the word "POTTY" across the February 2nd box and then a Crayola marker/stamper that places a green exclamation point wherever you stamp it. Its a celebration of what we hope is our big turning point in potty training.

Logan spent all but one hour of errand-running time diaper free today. Instead he was clad in his fun underwear (Matchbox cars before the only accident of the day and Thomas after it.) There were times he'd ask to use the potty and times I would invite him to use it. He'd go happily with any invite that came near a time he had to go.

He's so incredibly proud of himself for this and he should be. Its such a huge step. When he had emerged from the newly done bathroom one time, still shaking bits of water from his freshly washed fingers, he smiled proudly at my praise then said "I'm a big boy now, Mommy. I'm going to go to preschool. No more diapers for me."

And a full day into his pledge, I do believe he means it.

Three Cheers for Cheerios

Still not convinced this is *it*, but a few handfuls of Cheerios seems to have sparked a renewed interest in the potty for the Little Dude. He's happily drenched them six times over the last four days -- including two consecutive times today (well 3:30am and then 6:30am). This Mommy is hopeful.


Great things about being second

by guest writer Baby Sister Megan

When you're the first baby in a family people watch very carefully what you're doing at all times because:

1) you're new territory for them
2) they can.

When you're second in the family you get away with a little more because:

1) although you are uniquely you, you're a bit of old hat too. Its great when you roll-over but if you don't do it the day you hit 4-months a relative isn't about to call the ER.
2) they can't keep an eyeball on you 24/7 when your big brother is attempting to find out exactly how much water he can displace from the dog's water bowl with an array of balls and previously abandoned Little People.

For me this means that today, just a mere four and a half months old, I got to taste my very first "America Pop"! At least that's what Logan calls it. Mommy said it was an ice pop that happened to be colored red, white and blue. I just call it yum, yum, good.

My brother says his throat hurts so Mommy brought us to Grandma's house and then, before she ran off to some place she calls work, she went to the big Supermarket with the trains Logan loves so much. She got him lots of neat stuff like the America Pops and lollipops and medicine. Well Mommy left and it was just me, Logan and Grandma. Logan never finishes his pops and this time was no different. He said he was done and he handed Grandma what was left (which was most of it I think.)

Well my silly Grandma had me in her left arm. I was looking at the world - my head helded high and my feet pointing down to the floor I like to pretend I can stand on. I was wedged in nicely at the elbow, so Grandma put the America Pop in her left hand and used her right hand to help my normally half-monkey brother out the chair he was in.

Logan caught me before Grandma did. He was laughing so hard though I got a few extra licks in before Gram realized what was happening. That mean brother squealed on me once he could get the words out. "I think she likes it!" he said as he gasped for air. That's when I got caught. Grandma found me - a hand on the pop pulling it closer to my mouth which happened to be enjoying the cool icy yumminess on my gums. Grandma didn't think I should be having this heavenly treat so she took it away. For a lady that kisses a lot and loves us so much she can really be a party-pooper. I tried to tell her that I really wanted the America Pop, I mean after all Logan didn't want it and it was already open! I tried to say the words but all that came out was a very loud, very ear-piercing scream. I think she got the message though.

So it begins. . .

On February 9th the little man and I (with sister and Grandma in tow) will head over to preschool for a tour. Of course, he knows the facility. He knows the classrooms intimately, actually. The preschool he'll attend in roughly 7 months is run through our church. Logan has class in one of their rooms every Sunday morning.

Its not a "church" program, although our church runs it. They are certified by the State and often maintain a waiting list of non-members vying for a spot. You tell someone where he's going to go and they say to you "Oh, very nice!"

But to Logan, preschool is a forgeign concept. We tell him he'll get to go and play with the blocks, the sandbox, the paints. We talk about story time and art time. We talk about making friends and learning all sorts of neat things. He likes the theory of it. . . just not enough to push through to complete potty training.

As a church member we can sign up for the '05-'06 year beginning February 27th. We've been talking about sending him to school there for two years and now the time has finally come to sign the papers and hand over a check. It seems almost surreal. My little boy is going to go to school. I'm going to have parent/teacher nights to go to. We're going to get progress reports. He's going to make friends I've not hand-picked for him. (Ok, that one is scary!)

This tour next week is during school hours. They'll bring him into a classroom and let him see what the 'big' kids do. He'll get to witness real school. Not playtime in the church nursery during the week...not his Sunday School class where his teenaged teacher typically just lets them have at the blocks and art supplies without much in the way of "class" focus.

He loves learning and we've done quite a bit of it on our own - I mean outside of your typical growing up stuff. He's learned his colors, his numbers, his letters, some basic history and geography. He knows to write his name. He knows to spell and read a few words. He knows a lot of stuff, but he wants to be in a classroom with other kids and I want him to be there too. He'll go two days a week for just 2.5 hours at a time. I'm so excited for him!