IMpossible!

right? It has to be impossible that thinking it is funny to MOON people is something that is bred into little boys, right?



please, please, please.



This morning, Little Monster walked into my office while I was working. I had asked him to put his underwear and shorts back on after he used the toilet. It appeared as if he had done neither. He showed me his underwear and then said:



"there's a car in my underwear"



"There's a car in your underwear?"



"No Mommy. See!" (He turns to show me the thing who is on the butt of his underwear. Then he bent over and pulled down his underwear, revealing his round little bottom. He giggled and ran away.



Where do they learn this stuff? We're pretty protective about what he watches on TV. PBS, Sprout, Noggin... I can't imagine Little Bill running around mooning people. I'd bet it was Calliou. Or that Moose guy who hangs out with Zee. He's always been a little suspicious to me, never letting Zee get a word in. Yeah, I'd bet it was Mortimer Moose.

And now it's our turn.

Do you remember when you didn't have kids? Do you remember when you used to know everything about raising kids? When you knew what rules your kids were going to follow, how they were going to behave outside of the house?








Isn't it funny how that all changes when you actually have kids? You become that parent that lets their child sass just a little bit, because it isn't worth the argument. The sticky chocolate fingers and vanilla bean frappucinno because they've been good all day seem a little less indulgent.






I used to know it all. My kid was never going to be that kid. The one with a holey pair of jeans, dirty fingernails, pajama shirt and messy hair running around the store making obnoxious airplane noises. Sometimes the Lord teaches us a lesson in humility by putting us in the place of those we have judged. I know I judged one too many parents in my single, child-free days. I apologize to all of those well-meaning, tired parents who just didn't have it in them. I apologize to those parents who really didn't think it mattered if their kid looked like a dork in sandals three sizes too big, a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee, T-shirt tucked into their spiderman underwear, Batman pajama shirt with cape and goofy sunglasses on if he was happy.




Yeah, I really sincerely do. And it has nothing to do with the fact that recently we left the house in sandals several sizes too big because they are his rocket boots. The fact that he wore those "rocket boots" to Costco with upside down, red goggle sunglasses meant for babies --his "race car goggles" -- has not influenced the decision to write such an apology. Neither has the fact that maybe we have left the house in pajamas, because it was too much of a fight to convince the kid that he wasn't superman or batman or whatever caped crusader he went to bed as the night before. None of those things have led me to publicly apologize to all of those I have secretly judged before.


Isn't it amazing how much you learn about other parents when you become one?

Ninety Eight Percent Complete

After days and days of cleaning poop from walls, toilets, legs, feet, hands, arms, trash cans, sinks, carpets, and potty chairs, we're almost done.

Little Monster has successfully gone in the potty with only a couple of accidents. During this training period, we've put him to the test too. We've disrupted our schedules, traveled long distances and given him full strength apple juice (creator of one of the accidents).

He's gone through more nights than not without using his pull-up and refuses to soil himself if possible. (It wasn't possible to avoid the accident after the apple juice).

So, I guess it's time I take him to the potty train. When he started yelling at me to change his diapers saying "I need a diaper change!" I told him it was time to be potty trained. He misunderstood and believed that there is an actual potty train. I tried passing off the caboose at the KOA we recently stayed at, but it didn't cut it.

So, the potty train trip is planned. Stay tuned.

How can you say no...

to this face??

We can't. We're in trouble. Big Trouble.

It's coming!

I grew up in a small-ish town. A town where when you went out to shop or eat, you were likely to run into someone you knew. It was annoying sometimes, but usually it just makes you feel like you're home.

Each time we move, I wait for the place to feel like home. Our house usually feels like home pretty quickly. I am quick to unpack and arrange, slower to decorate, but we know that "home" is where the family is. It can be in an apartment, a detached home, or between duty stations, our fifth wheel.

To get the area to feel like home, often takes quite a bit longer. Often, I have to find out where we 'fit in' to the community. We need to get to know how to get around the area without consulting maps, find our favorite restaurants, shopping centers, etc. I love it when I finally find that sense of community -- when wherever we live becomes like that small town I grew up in. I am always amazed when I start running into people I know when we're out and about.

I do get a bit sad, though, at the same time. Each time a place has become home, every time I start finding friends at Target, the grocery store and the take-and-bake pizza place, it means our time at that location is drawing to a close. It happened in Virginia Beach, and it's now happening here. Twice in one week I've been out and run into people I know. Are we really that close to a PCS? Where did the time go? Didn't we just get here? No. The area just became home -- I know my way around and friends are everywhere. The time to move is fast approaching. And although I'm excited about a new coast, a new climate and a new home, I'm saddened to leave another area that has become home.