Take Note

This is the baby

Who went pee-pee on the potty for the first time today.

She is very proud.

Dangle Down

If you aren't here because of the kid stuff (then why are you here? My book recommendations? Oh please, let it be my book recommendations.), turn away.

Berit needed help on the potty today because her princess dress was so big and so froofy that I had to hold it up while she peed.

She said, "Mom, Angelina Ballerina definitely doesn't have a wee."

Me: "Um, I think she does."

B: "Where is it?"

Me: "Where yours is. You just can't see it because wees are private, and we wear clothes over them."

B: "What does it look like?"

Me: "Well, she's a girl... mouse... so, probably like yours."

B: "Like this, or a dangle-down wee, like Liam's?"

Filling You In On Things You Might Not Even Want To Know

First, Polish Festival pictures:

Dancing with Grandpa

"Dancing" with cousins

Oh my gosh. Can you even stop giggling about this?

Talking and laughing and smiling and SUGAR and DANCING!

Looks the part, don't you think?

********

Today is a rainy day, but don't you think rainy days can be kind of lovely? I keep planning to take the girls outside and stomp in puddles, and just when I'm about to announce it the rain pours down in those heavy drops that might knock my little ones over. I feel strongly that Marta would relish the challenge; Berit, not so much.

I think we're going to scrap our plan to take the girls to the waterfront to throw stones in the little stream by the waterfall, and instead make our first trip out to the Gaylord Sportsplex. Their website shows a neat looking kiddie pool, and at a price of $10 for the family we think it's just the thing for this rainy day. (Is it ironic that we're driving 40 minutes to pay to get soaking wet when it's raining cats and dogs outside?)

I've spent the past couple of weeks doing smart shopping for back-to-school clothes for Berit and Berit's-old-clothes-are-too-small-in-the-waist clothes for Marta (nom-nom-nom pudgy baby belly), and by smart shopping I mean eBay and Gap's online sales. Also, longing for the ability to go to an actual Gap and hold up sale jeans to determine whether or not they'll fit said baby belly. Anyway, this morning being chilly and rainy I pulled out a pair of Berit's 4T jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt and... they fit! Who would have guessed that clothes that were too big just a few weeks ago would fit our 3 1/2-year-old? We're not sure just how she's growing, since she drinks a half-cup of juice in the morning, eats oatmeal before bed and survives on water during the rest of the day, but somehow she's turning into a little beanpole.

Oh, and Marta has started calling her Berry. As in a nickname (having been able to say "Bewit" scarily early), used most often in the following adorable phrases: "G'night, Berry." "Wove you, Berry."

Also, for posterity's sake (and if you don't read this blog because you're also up to your neck in kids, you might want to just skip to the next blog in your reader), Berit has now started pooping in the potty almost exclusively. The big push (ahem) came from her cousin Annie, almost 5, who pooped in front of her a few times during a recent visit. Now Berit goes, then shouts, "It's as big as Annie's!" Which truly, how can it be when all the child eats is oatmeal? After she's finished she insists on calling her personal list of Very Important People to inform them of her feat, and who are all dutifully impressed and ask appropriately graphic questions, furthering her on her path to be just like her father in all ways, especially in his need to mentally dissect poo. (Oddly, for some of you this may be TMI but for most of you, probably fairly normal to think about Trevor and #2 at the same time.) (I did not know this before I married him.)

And on that healthy subject, I'm off to get Marta up from her nap and whisk the family away for a wet weekend, no matter where we decide to go.

C'est Fin

Yesterday Morning:

Berit: "I need to use the potty."

Me: "Oh, yeah, OK. Go ahead."

Berit: Does. For the rest of the day. Even in public. Is continuing to do so.

Just like that.

The Lazy Mom's Admission Re: Potty-Training

It was so cold today that Trevor called me from the road to report that his temperature gauge had not stopped dropping since he left home. At the time of his call it was -12, -13, -15. Yet I couldn't stomach the thought of being cooped up again, so we braved the weather and went to the college to run off some energy. We met our good friends the Darts there, and Berit and Liam, who are like sister and brother with less fighting, had a blast. 

However, at one point I turned around from my chit-chatting with Ellen to notice Berit hanging onto the side of the toy bin, engaged in a very serious poop. I took her into the bathroom to change her Pull-Up, and found no diaper changing station. So I put my mat on the floor of the dirty bathroom, fed up with the potty-training refusal, and told her, "You know, if you would just go on the potty we wouldn't have to change you this way." (She is disgusted by germs and anything that might get her dirty.) "Oh," she said, unaffected.

This is the kid I thought would breeze through potty-training. She tries to be like a grown-up in every way, yet apparently loves the feel of a big gloppy poo on her derriere. I'm trying to stick with a program recommended by my sister-in-law, who also has a daughter like our Royal Sensitivella, which is basically ignoring it altogether. We told Berit that the potty was around, and if she wanted it she could have it. And though she loves wearing Big Girl Panties all day long, still no potty on the... potty. 

I will admit this, though: I love, love, love not having to sit with her in a bathroom while she poops. Pull-Ups make shopping, playtime, driving, everything easier. I see how long it takes her to complete a Number Two and I thank my lucky stars that I wasn't on the hook to watch her while she did it in the bathroom. 

So maybe I should give up the worry. I mean, I guess it works for me. The garbage is awful and the Pull-Ups peeking out of her size 3T pants everywhere we go scream "Bad Parent," but really, REALLY, if I'm completely honest, it's a whole lot easier this way.