Whoa!

I can't believe I just asked the question, "Did you hold your penis down all the way?" What has my life come to? I'm just so tired of cleaning the toilet and have decided that it's worse than cleaning the catbox. Seriously. Ugh!

Can't help but think of yesterday

Why is it that I can hear a song on the radio (in my case it's George Michael's Faith) for the first time in probably 10 years and remember every word, yet I can't remember my parent's phone number?

These days I find myself writing everything on the calendar and putting post-it notes on the door to the garage and I still forget to bring snacks to the kids' schools.

Please don't tell me I'm turning into my great-grandmother - she once 'forgot' where she put all of her bras. I'm serious! She forgot she put them under the mattress of her bed. In her defense, she did have dementia. What's my excuse?

"I gotta have faith, de faith, de faith. Baby!"

When good intentions backfire

At Dillon's last doctor appointment, the pediatrician gave him the talk about how you're not a big boy until you use the potty. He listened intently, but on the way home, he told me, "Mom, I still want to be a baby." Awesome.

Another double edged sword: He's beginning to give up his nap. Yesterday was the first day he slept in four days! Yay! No, not yay. Now, the kid is up until 9:00.

The question is: Is it better to let him sleep and stay up late, or stay up and deal with cranky baby? Here's a pic of cranky Dillon at the Winter Wonderlights.

What to do? My instincts are telling me to let him skip the nap. I don't want to give up my favorite part of my day - bedtime. Well, the few precious hours after they're in bed and I can relax.

More Potty Talk

Picture this:

We're in the gym locker room. I'm changing into my bathing suit (bottom's on, top, not so much). Parker calls out from the bathroom stall. He's stuck on the toilet, and can't get off because it's too tall (we use a step stool at home). He's locked the door and this half naked women is not about to crawl under the stall and unlock it.

What's a Desperate Mom to do? Why, send Dillon under to unlock the door. That's right. That's what 3 year-olds are for.

And one more:

Why are four-year olds so interested in their poop? I'm finishing my dinner tonight and Parker calls out from the bathroom, "Mom, you have to come see this." Yay for me!

Farts are funny

Bodily functions are pretty funny at our house. We all got a laugh when Parker let out a huge fart tonight - even Parker. There are arguements about who has the stinkiest butt, we even sing about it (although every song these days is to the tune of "Shake Your Booty").

It was a particularly funny moment today when Parker decided he needed to go potty while we were at the park - at least I thought it was funny. I'm sure he's going to kill me when he's a teenager, but I can't help but laugh and give you all a laugh too.

Drumroll please....

"That's a lot of poop" and other things moms say

What's up with the fact that moms can talk about poop without wincing, or even batting an eye? We're used to poop. We talk about poop. We LIVE poop.

Case in point, last weekend JV and I were standing around talking about poop (to be more specific - the appropriate bun spreading techniques for maximum cleanliness). Up comes JC, "Are you ready to go?" Oh, yeah - we didn't even realize we were talking about poop and were happy to change the subject.

Poop just creeps into everyday conversation. "The weather's great today. Oh and Johnny just did the funniest thing with his diaper yesterday."

My friend AJ told me yesterday that I totally ruined his image of me (I'm not quite sure what that image was - Supermom?) and was disgusted that I mentioned poop in a recent FB post. I didn't even realize I did that. Sorry AJ, I'll try to keep it clean next time.

It's been a while

So, I've been a little lax on the blogging thing as of late. It was so much easier to keep up before I got myself a little J-O-B. It's only 5 hours a week, but still. That's 5 hours of my precious Becca Time. You know, that time that you can almost forget that you're a mom, even though there are dishes in the sink, and a load of laundry that's been wrinkling itself in the dryer for a couple of days already.

Parker started his second year in preschool and just celebrated birthday number 4. Dillon started preschool last week - I think he's a natural. Swim lessons for Parker start next week too. See what happens to all that precious Becca Time! I've become a chauffer. Awesome. Too bad I don't own a Hummer limo and a black suit.

I was going to promise to blog more often, but I'll just promise to try harder. I really miss this little outlet.