Name that song

TEN years

Here we are. Made it 10 years. That's right, today is our 10 yr anniversary.

First I should probably apologize. Zoe is getting over a cold, so we were up at 11, 1, 3, 4:30 & 5:30. The 3am is my fault. I fell asleep on the crib sized mattress on the floor beside the toddler bed, and woke up at 3 and went back to my bed. But I'm still counting it. And now the kids are still asleep, and I'm awake.

So when Jeff came in to say goodbye & happy anniversary, I was a little more concerned with "Why are you waking me up then leaving?!" Oops. Sorry my love, I meant to say, "I love you. Happy Anniversary."

Maybe I'll get it right after another 10. :)

Potty training part II

I think we've made progress. The other day, Zoe got out of the pool, went to the 'pee zone' and peed! I'm counting that as something.

And no, not the community pool, our backyard pool. I had to establish a pee zone for Robert, so he wouldn't kill all the plants or pee in front of people. So you are allowed to pee behind the rock waterfall down the french drain :)

On the other hand, here's what Robert has to say about it-

"Mommy! Zoe pee-peed in the toy room!"

"Mommy! Zoe pee-peed on my scooter!"

"Ahhhh! Zoe pee-peed on ME!!!" This was a false alarm. She spilled some water and he got splashed. I guess he's a little gun-shy.

We did purchase some Minnie Mouse undies just to be prepared. I think we should have this thing licked before she turns 3. :)

To the most likely gay man in aisle 12...

this is dedicated to you :)

Some days just are going to fall into a perfect mess. I'm okay with that. What I don't like, however, is the random commentary from strangers.

I'm on the fast track through the grocery. Robert is sobbing and refusing to sit. Zoe hits him, he hits her... back and forth goes the beautiful play of siblings.

We nearly make it through the store. Robert has nearly stopped crying (He was mad that I insisted on saying SORRY when you KICK your sister. Inhumane of me, I know.)

And then, Zoe knocks a jar of spaghetti sauce out of the cart. Oh joy. Of course it shatters and splatters. I walk to the end of the aisle to ask the employee to call for clean up.

Enter the gay man on the phone. He starts shouting at people, waving his arms, to keep them from running their carts through the splatter mess. Now I have to wonder, how could you miss a giant pile of spaghetti sauce on the floor and why would you want to walk through it? But nice of him to warn the general public I suppose.

I walk back toward the mess with the employee who tells me she will stand there until clean up man comes.

Phone guy says, "Ma'am (with tone of distaste) are you planning on telling someone about this?"

Me, "I just did." (And the lady is standing there.)

Phone guy, " Because I've been standing here (all of 85 seconds sorry I was so slow), keeping people's carts out of this FOR YOU. So if you're not going to wait here until someone...

Me, "Sir, I JUST TOLD THEM. SHE IS RIGHT THERE."

Phone guy, "Oh, I've been standing there for you..."

Wow, um... Good thing my wits are completely numb from the 45 minutes of screaming I've just endured. Now, I'm not sure. Perhaps he would have preferred I clean up the broken glass with my hands? Or I should have stood there and guarded it, with my two small sobbing children? Or even better, MAYBE I should have left my cart there, with the 2 small children guarding the mess. The two children that regularly hurdle out of the cart. Now, that's a GOOD idea!

THEN, he gets back on the phone and says, "I tell you, being back in the general public is tough."

Perhaps wherever he was, they couldn't eavesdrop? Perhaps he was staying with his royal family in Europe where he did not go where the commoners were, like grocery stores.

Either way, I'm thinking that if dealing with me and a jar of spaghetti sauce is tough, the guy has a rough ride ahead of him. I realize I'm spicy, spunky and several other adjectives that I won't use here. But thank you for saying that sir, really made my day.

I would like to give some brownie points to the lady who stopped me on the way out and said, "You handled that better than I would have."

Looking for a miracle

A potty training miracle that is.

We have a little clothing problem at our house. Little as in with the little people. They are nudists, all of them.

Now with Robert, I'm not so worried. He is a wise old three year old, who knows that you are only allowed to pee in the potty. Or the shower when mommy isn't watching. Or on the trees in the backyard (we're slightly confused by the subtle difference between the backyard and front yard to the horror of daddy and half of the neighborhood.) We did have a little incident of trying to pee THROUGH the screen windows on the back porch. Again, I think it was just a misunderstanding. Technically, the pee was going outside. He just happened to be standing inside. Clearly a definition of terms problem.

But Zoe, oh Zoe. Constantly stripping off clothing. She's a master, I tell you. This is when the random advice of others is useless. You're reading this right now thinking, "Keep pants on the girl!" Obviously you have not seen my stripper baby at work. Pants! Ha! The girl can get a diaper off from UNDER a onesie. When was the last time you saw that? The only thing that kept her semi-clothed tonight was a cloth diaper (has snaps, she can get it off but it slows her down a little :) with Roberts pajama pants on top.

What's this leave me? Safety pins? Duct tape?

This gets me to my miracle. Potty trained at 16 months? Surely it's possible. If people can 'potty train' a 3 month old (If you haven't heard of the whole EC movement I'm not even going there right now- I'm sure it's great, I just don't have the energy,) then of course a walking 16 month old can handle it? Right? Please?


A friend told me once about her husband (you know who you are!) "He just doesn't have enough OJT- On the Job Training with the kids." This may have been in reference to feeding babies whole grapes or something, but I have photographic proof of this at my house.

Jeff took this photo. Thought it was cute that his little girl was playing with a fire truck. Look closely. Jeff, I'm sorry love, she's not playing. And have fun cleaning that up, and getting a diaper on that girl.

Follow up to the rain dance...

is the run of fear. With a background of Jeff giggling.

Zoe's rain dance

Do you move her?

I have a strict rule of "Let sleeping babies lie." But sometimes you have to wonder?