Reasons for Laughter

Daddy takes LM to the potty -- in a public restroom. Potty training is working!

He helps LM to use the toilet. Then tells LM to wait patiently while he uses the bathroom himself.

As Daddy is washing his hands, LM asks:

"Daddy, did you get all your pee pee out?"

Yes, Little Monster.

"Good Job Daddy!!!!"

Conversations

(Whispering)

Me: LM, Go bug Daddy now.

LM: No, I budding woo white now.

Me: I think it's Daddy's turn.

LM: No, It still yours turn.

I'd like to tell you a story...

But I think it's cuter coming from Little Monster...

Wast Night Dwami and Dwampa tum in airpwane. Dey tum in bwoo airpwane. And when Dwampa dwives eveebuddy say "aaaah, we all die! We twash!" And wast night we go wif twaiwer to mountains. In da mountains we went on dadenture for tweasure. Tweasure wike sticks and tine tones. And we see dween birds. And I hold one. Den we go twimming in da pull. I pwash and pwash and dwampa a shark! AAAH! Dwampa det me!! And me get apple boose and i need doop in mine pullup. I no want doop in mine pullup, but apple boose hurt in mine tummy. Me go on potty twain. Den we brock off Dwami and Dwampa in da airpork. Dey fwy home to eh-eh-ehbwasta. And I doop in da potty. and I get one deterdem (M&M). But me want big chalk-it. Big chocate me big wike YOOOOOOU!!! Dat a me talkin' bout.

Did you catch any of that? He speaks pretty fast. Here's the translation:

We've been busy the past week. We picked up Grami and Grampa from the airport and headed East to Yosemite. Mommy and Daddy tried to teach me that when Grampa was driving I was supposed to say "AAH! We're all gonna Die! We're gonna Crash!" But instead I just ratted them out and told Grampa I was supposed to say that when he drove.

We spent our first day in Yosemite without Not the Momma, but it was fun anyway. We went on a "treasure adventure!" Mommy made up a "treasure map" so that I would know to look for some things. At the end of the map, when we got home, he'd find real treasure -- Daddy!! On our adventure we saw an avalanche,

A waterfall:

BIG ROCKS!!! They were THIS big!

We climbed on even more rocks!

Look how much fun I'm having on my adventure! Don't you love my "jungle hat?" Grampa loves the new one we bought him. They FLOAT!

Butterball wasn't sure about the heat. She's never felt anything this hot in her whole life. Mommy almost went insane because she cried about the heat so much. This is what she thought about the cold nights and hot afternoons:


One day during the trip, Grami, Grampa and Daddy went on their own Adventure! Mommy said it was too long and too scary for me and Butterball so we had to stay back at the trailer. I think they all had a good time though.

I can't believe Daddy climbed up this despite the Danger! He's a superhero!


Here's Grampa right before they climbed up the scary, scary cables at the top of Half Dome:


Here's Daddy on the cables. Grami stayed behind for this stuff because it was extra scary! Daddy has a jungle hat just like mine. I think he wants to be cool like me.



Grami had fun though, and they saw lots of pretty scenery:

I was really good and didn't use my pull ups the whole time. I was a big boy and used the potty. Everyone was proud of me. Butterball cried a lot, but Grampa was the cure for all of her tears. She loves him very much and stopped crying every time he held her. See, here's Grampa holding her. Isn't she cute? I like that outfit on her. Grampa is wearing his new floaty hat too. I'm glad he likes it. It took me forever to pick it out. Mommy got tired of standing in the store while I dug through the racks.


When we got back from our adventure in the mountains we found my friend George at Fisherman's Wharf. He let me hold his bird. I was scared, but I didn't let on too much.

We went swimming twice while they were here. Once at the campground, and once at home. I had a ton of fun both times. Grampa swims like a shark, but I'm a shark hunter, so that's okay. I was scared at first, but he helped me get past it and he helped me jump into the pool a bazillion times. I even got to spend some time with just Grampa in the pool here at home. That was the best!

After we went swimming, we had to take Grami and Grampa back to the airport so they could go home to Nebraska. It was sad, but Grampa shared his snickers, so it was a little better. It was a lot of fun having Grami and Grampa here. I hope they'll visit us again so that we can have even more fun adventures together!

Apologies. And then, the rest.

First, I need to take care of some business. Little Monster has taken to saying "Stupid Woman!" in a rather rude and hilarious tone. I blamed Not the Momma, because he has been known to say those words, with that inflection when he is driving and a woman cuts him off, etc. (You don't want to know what he says to guys. Praise the Lord that Little Monster hasn't repeated that!) So, I blamed him. We are not allowed to say the "long S word" in our house anymore, because each time LM hears it "Stupid Woman!" or "Stupid Dog!" or stupid something comes out of his mouth.

This morning as we were getting ready to leave the house, Little Monster was watching one of his favorite shows -- Calliou. I used to hate the show, but because it grants me 30 minutes of peace, I've made peace with it. Yes, the kid is whiny and the parents are perfect and never lose their patience (even when it is freezing, snowing, you lose your keys, the car won't start and you were already running late). BUT, there are generally lessons learned. This mornings lesson: Stupid isn't a nice word. It all starts when a skateboarding kid nearly crashes because of some birds and says "Stupid Birds!" with the same inflection that NtM and LM say Stupid Woman! So, perhaps Little Monster learned that word from somewhere other than NtM. I apologize sweetie. But you still can't say that, or any other fun words around the kid.

That kid of ours. What can I say? He's a parrot. But if you tell him he's a parrot, he'll probably say. "No, I too loud." And then go on to tell you about how he's a "duper-hero" and how he has to "ressssue teeple." If you're really lucky he'll tell you about how he and his blue hands are taking a rocket ship to the moon with Mickey Mouse. No joke. He really thinks he's going to the moon with Mickey. I hate to spoil his fun, though. At least we're getting past the whole "poop" everywhere thing. We've not had an accident or wet pants or pull-ups (during the day) for a week now. Progress! Of course, we have had to discuss the texture and shape that the, um, fecal matter takes once it lands in the potty. Isn't that a fun discussion? So, while I'm not cleaning up the poop so much, my life is still heavily saturated with discussions about it.

Even though I won't miss the potty-training clean ups, I'm going to miss the 2 1/2 year old version of this child. This child whose imagination knows no bounds. The child who makes up stories daily, pretends to be a dog, cat, Buzz Lightyear and Boo-bot Monsters or Dinosaurs. I'm going to miss his giggle and the dance and song he preforms when goes poop in the potty. I'm definitely going to miss hearing his demands for the cowboy song at nighttime, and his know-it-all attitude. Especially when I tell him he's cute, and he says "No, I'm LM."

Poop. Poop. Poop.

Have you ever potty trained a boy who refused to poop? The other day Little Monster told me that he had a lid on his butt and that was why the poop wouldn't come out. After a few hours of whining, crying and yelling, James finally listened to me and took the "lid" off and threw it away so he could sit on his frog potty and get his poop out. I have to give it to the kid. He's smart. He knows that if he goes a little bit, he'll get his M&M for using the potty. Then he'll wait a few more minutes and go a little more to get another M&M. But the poop, the poop is killing me.

This being a mother of a potty-training pre-schooler and an infant, it is hard. Probably, no definitely the hardest job I've ever had. My days of making Blizzards and shooting whipped cream at my friends, or playing with my preschool class, or working on ID Card templates, heck even listening to people yell at me because they were too stupid to know the difference between the power button on their monitor and their computer were easier. What did I do with all of those free Saturday afternoons when I wasn't cleaning poop off of walls, toilets, trash cans, floors, and carpets? I don't know, but I'm sure it was time wasted. Well, maybe not. My apartment was usually generally clean. By "generally clean" I mean it didn't look like a toy tornado came tearing through the place dropping stuff off as it went.

Life was definitely easier when I wasn't trying to potty train a child. That in and of itself is hard enough, without trying to keep an infant happy. Butterball is a generally happy baby, but it seems that the second Little Monster does something that requires my full attention, she has a fit and won't stop until I'm holding her. And nursing her. Have you ever tried to nurse an infant while cleaning poop off of every surface of your home? It isn't fun.

But then there are days like yesterday. When there was no whining, no accidents. Days when my child behaved as though he were an angel who knew how to use a potty (even if it is shaped like a frog, sitting in my living room and requires being cleaned after each use). Days when my little girl is all smiles and coos and giggles. And suddenly cleaning up all of that poop isn't such a bad deal. After all, even if the job requires biohazard removal, at least I get to come to work in my pajamas.