Princess Potty

On a positive note - miraculous, actually - Mud Pie, Wednesday morning, decided to strip to nothing and put on a pair of her brother's underpants. On a lark, I brought the potty down from the attic and asked if she wanted to use it. Why, yes she did.

I fully expected her to sit on it, chatter a while about potties and underpants, then get up having left nothing behind. I'd then put her in a diaper and go on with my day.

Only she emptied her bladder into the potty! And opened the potty up, took out the bowl, carried it to the big toilet (like she hasn't seen Fish do this a thousand times), dumped it in, and proceeded to rinse it out herself.

I figured, Ok, she's on empty now, so she won't wet for a while. I'll just let her stay in her brother's underpants.

Only a while later she did the whole routine again! Then she wet her underpants, but changed into dry ones. She stayed dry the rest of the day.

The next day she wet a pair of pants (and was irritated with herself for doing it), but otherwise stayed dry. Virtually no prompting from me.

The next day, while I was typing away on the computer (taking advantage of St. Nick's Curious George obsession), she came up, sat on the potty, then came in to me with the most bizarre look on her face. A cross between fear and pride and horror. "Come look at the potty, Mommy."

She'd left a solid deposit! She was rather alarmed by it and said several times that she would not put her stinky in the potty again. But, still. It was there.

Saturday and Sunday she did great. Dry all day. Today dry again. I forgot to put bedtime pants on her at nap, and wasn't surprised that she woke screaming. But I was surprised when I got up there. "There's poopy in my beddie, Mommy!"

Quick, easy, clean-up. I think she'll see potty as better than beddie for poopie. But I'm still in shock, afraid to say she's Potty Training because I'm not doing any teaching!

Two Years of Thanks

June 25, 2005

We are waiting for you. Not patiently, even though you were due just a few days ago. Your grandparents come from out of town to take your big brothers out for malts and to the park, and to meet you. You have other plans.

Daddy and Grandpa install new air conditioners while I sit poolside at the hotel and watch your brothers swim. You kick and roll. You are swimming, too.

June 27

"Girls bake longer," the midwife says and smiles.

Daddy and I exchange a glance. We have no pink in your layette, not after two boys, but deep in some secret place, I know we should.

June 29

Thunderstorm and we lose power. The temperature indoors soars with the blessed air conditioner stagnant. "Can we birth with no power?" We worry. Will you pick tonight to come, in the dark?

We call the midwife, fluttery, impatient. "A birth by candlelight! How lovely - I do it all the time."

At ease, we wait. Soon?

No, not yet, you say. Power restores at midnight.

July 2

Too hot to sit, too sore to stand.

Achey, testy.

When will we meet you?

4:00pm ~ What is this? A dull ache, hardly unusual, but intermittent and regular.

"Is it time?" Daddy asks.

"I don't know," I say. "I don't think so."

6:00pm ~ We go out for dinner, Russ' Restaurant and I eat something - I don't remember now. Eight minutes between trips to the restroom. "Bladder the size of a pea," I joke and think nothing more.

"Are you in labor?" your grandmother asks.

I laugh. You are nearly two weeks late - I have resigned myself to being expectant forever.

8:00pm ~ Your brothers are tucked in their beds. "Should we call the midwife?" Daddy asks. I shrug. I feel a gentle tightening, not at all like your brothers. "Maybe."

10:00pm ~ "I think this is the night," I tell the midwife. "I'm not sure, though."

She ignores my hesitation. "Shall I come now? You know you labor fast."

I pause, a contraction. "No, these are so slight."

"Well ..."

11:00pm ~ "Shouldn't the midwife come soon?" Daddy asks.

I laugh at him. "Am I even in labor?"

11:30pm ~ Something changes. Subtle, like a gentle shift from a major to a minor key. "You should call the midwife," I say. "No great rush."

11:45pm ~ "Could you ... gasp ... call ... and tell her ... to get here ... NOW?"

July 3, 12:00am

Your midwife arrives at the door and takes one look at me. She sends Daddy out for the stool. Your brothers sleep soundly upstairs. "Let's have this baby!" she whispers.

12:42am ~ We meet you - tiny, pink, and only blue to dress you in.


Your brothers sleep through it all, but I will never forget later that morning; Daddy brings them downstairs and whispers in their ears, "You have a baby sister!"



Never before and never since have I seen their eyes light with such wonder. And even now, two years from that day, you are still filling us with wonder. For God's abundant grace which sustained you those floating months, for each smile, each word, each step, we are grateful.

Happy birthday to you!

Update: Read more pregnancy stories at CHBM!

Straining

"Only boring people are bored." That's the quip my mother used to blast me with every summer when I spent most of my day being bored and complaining loudly about it. Why, oh why did she have to give me the mother's curse? St. Nick has been flopping from one piece of furniture to the next, bored bored bored bored.

He wants to use the computer.

I want him to break his digital addiction.

I'm the parent. I need to win.

On another note, this is how my morning went with Mud Pie...

me: (taking her out of snowsuit) Do you want your shoes?
her: shoes! shoes!
me: (trying to put shoes on her)
her: WAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
me: ok, no shoes. I see.
her: SHOES SHOES SHOES!!!
me: you want your shoes?
her: shoes shoes.
me: (approaches with shoes)
her: shaking head "no" and WAAAHHHHHH!
me: (puts shoes away)
her: SHOES SHOES SHOES SHOES!!!!!
me: (approach again)
her: NOOOOOOOO!
me: (backs away quickly)
her: SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSS!
me: (puts shoes on floor beside her) Here, shoes.
her: nononononononon! WAAAAHHHHH!

Wailing continued for several minutes while she thrashed on the floor. I at last picked her up (my shoulder is a dried snot slick now), "What is it, Baby?"

"COOOOKKKKKIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!"

Gave her a banana, all is well. Still trying to connect this to shoes.

Ta Da DA!

Mud-Pie-Muffin can PULL UP!

About time, pokey fourteen-month-old pants.