Well, I asked

Lately, I've been forgetting that Sam is getting really smart and starting to think about things in a different way--but that way is not the adult way. So sometimes I ask her questions that are really dumb, like "what are you doing?" and she'll look at me like I'm an idiot and say "I'm running around with dis hanger scatting (scratching) things."
Clearly, I could see that she was running around the house with a hanger scratching things. I could also see that she was "making a big mess," "wiping dis booger on da wall," "rolling on the floor," "throwing dis toy," and about a thousand other bizarre things she does on a daily basis. Which means I probably should have asked "Why are you doing that?" instead of "what are you doing?" It's a lesson I continue to learn the hard way every day. I can hardly blame her for answering my question so literally, though. The look on her face when I ask seems to say, "Geez, Mom, you ask a stupid question, you get a stupid answer."
Sometimes, however, she answers a question in a way I never expected that shows she is thinking about things but still doesn't actually understand how things work. Take today. While I got out of the shower and was getting ready Sam asked "where we going today?" It's been a very busy last couple of weeks, and every day she's gotten dragged to at least one long appointment.
I looked at her and said "You know what? We don't have anywhere we have to be! No appointments on our schedule! So, we can do whatever we want. Is there somewhere you would like to go today?"
Sam looked at me with a huge grin and yelled "Yeah! I want to go to UTAH! Let's go."
Huh, I didn't see that coming at all.
So now, instead of a super fun day where she got to pick the destination, she is very disappointed and upset that we can't drive 12 hours to visit her "Mack and G" in Utah. Welcome to parenthood: "disappointing children through our best intentions for thousands of years."
Moral of the story: I shouldn't have asked.

Bad Call

Why, oh why didn't I write my speech for tomorrow night before Mockingjay was released today? It would have taken me so little time, but I put it off, and now I not only have to do it last minute, but have to drag myself away from the final installment of the Hunger Games series to do so.
I'm a moron who didn't think ahead, that's why.

I'm also someone who is still procrastinating by taking time to post this on my blog instead of writing my speech...

I'm a terminal procrastinator!

There's probably a lot of factors at work here...

Maybe it's the heat (our AC was accidentally cranked up to our "vacation setting" so it was 84 and climbing in our house this morning).
Maybe it's the pregnancy exhaustion.
Maybe it's Sam waking up at 6am and wanting to "sleep" in my bed for an hour, that hour mainly consisting of her smacking me in the face repeatedly with her gloworm as she attempted to hand it to me and asking to "turn the music back on!" (We only let it play music during the day, lights only at night).
Maybe it's a lot of things...
but seriously, Calliou has to be the most annoying, whiny, obnoxious child ever to grace the TV universe. The fact that there has yet to be an episode where Mommy drops him off at Grandma's "Just to get a freakin' break from all the whining, before mommy has a break down!" is endlessly fascinating to me. Far be it for me to rag on a kid that probably has alopecia, but geez, he drives me nuts.
.

Then again, I acknowledge that I could just be having a stressful day. It doesn't help that Calliou is Sam's favorite show on PBS kids and she wakes up before seven every day, just to make sure she doesn't miss it at 7:30. We have had talks at our house however, and Sam knows that "I do not talk like Caillou. No whining!" So, at least he's telling her how NOT to be.
I'm going to take comfort in the fact that it's probably not just me, however.
The other day at the library some kid was looking at books with Sam and opened up a book with a bald kid in it. She yelled "Mommy, look--it's Caillou!" The mom said "It looks like him doesn't it?" and then turned to me and said under her breath "Holy crap. I hate that whiny Caillou. Drive me crazy!"
There's at least one other person out there who can't stand a fictional preschool character. Anyone else out there who can't stand Caillou, I'm thinking of creating a support group?

Not what she thought it would be

Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. I've had a lot of things going on around here, including my brother's wedding (Congrats to the Boy and Kiki!) and a two-week stay with my parents, just because Daniel and I finally realized that just because he has limited vacation time, doesn't mean I do. It only took us nearly 3 years to figure it out. We missed him for the week or so we were apart before he joined us, but it was nice for Sam to milk some serious grandparent time where she normally only gets a few days. Plus, having help with Sam in the form of my sister has been absolutely awesome. Everyone should have a teenager in the house that they trust, but don't have the responsibility of raising when they have a toddler. Adjusting back has been hard, but that's part of the joy of vacation, right?

So what's going on with us that has us so busy?
Lately, Sam has been very much into telling me she loves "cute babies." She yells "Ohhh, yook at da cute babies!" at Gerber commercials. She plays with her baby dolls. She also treats all the kids at church under three and a half feet (even the ones older than her) as "babies" and tries to feed them her goldfish--directly into their mouths, which is more than a little embarrassing, particularly when the "baby" in question is pushing age four.

Apparently, however, all this love is purely in the abstract. When we went to visit a friend with a new baby, she was so excited to see him she talked about it all morning, and made him a "card" that she slipped into our baby gift when I wasn't looking. He was all she could talk about--"I gonna see da baby! Cute babies!" When she ran in from playing outside to see me holding the baby, however, she changed her tune. Standing squarely in front of me and pointing at my arms she very loudly, very carefully, and very slowly said "Put. Da. Baby. Down. You hold me, Mom. You hold me!" I have never seen anyone turn on another person so fast. In Sam's eyes, babies are only cute when relegated to their swing, or their car seat, or the arms of anyone but her very own mom.

Uh...if she doesn't find a way to cope with this, I think Sam is going to have a really tough February.

CLICK!!!

Okay, it seems only fitting that for my 100th post, I have an announcement that makes me very happy!!!
It clicked! Sam has officially been completely diaper free for two weeks as of tomorrow, and she now very rarely has an accident! No more cleaning up random puddles of pee around the house during the day!!!! She's started waking up at night before she goes in her sleep, and making a trip then going back to bed. We've even had great success on the road with public bathrooms--less success with Mommy, who still can not stand the idea of public potties and dances around nervously yelling "DON'T touch the seat! Please don't touch the seat! For the love of Pete, get that hand away from the seat!!!" the entire time...
I think I saw the Elmos on her undies breath a sigh of relief to not be peed on every single time they come out of the drawer.

Dare I say it? I think Sam is potty-trained.

If you're interested in my secret to successful potty training, it is only this...buy a huge box of wipes from Sam's club, and a brand new box of diapers from Wal-mart the day before your spouse decides he simply can not change another diaper and you decide to full-time underwear it. Something about all that wasted money must speed the process along...
Thankfully, the young women needed a bunch of wipes for girls' camp this week! They can thank our bizarre timing for their shiny clean hands.

Of course, like everything else I have ever learned from parenting, this too is a double-edged sword. If you want to know the downside, just ask anyone sitting in the pews around us at church this week--as Sam returned from a triumphant bathroom run, threw up both hands to her *percieved* adoring fans and announced "I pooped in the potty AT CHURCH! Hey!" Thank you for that display, Eva Peron. I'm proud of you too, now for the next training item: shutting up about it in public. I don't know who is going to teach her, however, since I just did my poop bragging on the INTERNET for crying out loud. Does it make it better if I'm bragging for someone else, and not of my own habits?

No more diapers--hip, hip, hooray!!!

Public Humiliation

So, Samantha has yet to "click" with potty training, although she does refuse to pee in her underwear now, she also refuses to pee in the potty, meaning she holds it all day long until we put a diaper on her which she fills until it bursts, or she pees a little at a time in her pants and then stops herself and yells "I have to go to potty!" We then rush like maniacs to put her on the toilet, and she chickens out and starts saying "all done!" before she even gets on the thing. Thankfully, due to her little leak, she has a little more room to repeat the cycle all again an hour later.

One thing she has completely figured out, however, is that other people expect parents to respond to a kid who has to go potty. Now, when we are at a store or public place that she finds boring, she starts yelling as loud as she can "Mommy! I need to go da bafroom! I've got to poop! Mommy! Da bafroom! PEEASE!"
I'm stuck standing there, whispering to her, "Sam, you do not use the potty, you will go in there, touch a bunch of public toilet seats (giving mommy a sick feeling in her germophobe stomach) and then say you are all done. You are wearing a diaper, and you are not potty trained!"

You should see the looks I get when I have a kid screaming "I need da bafroom! I've got to poop!" and I'm standing there refusing to drop everything and take her repeating, "but you won't use the potty!" I know she has no intention of using the potty, but she loves to explore public bathrooms. She is obsessed with going in the bathrooms at Wal-mart all the more because it is forbidden. I won't even use them, for crying out loud, I'm not going to take my little 2-year-old in there. It's a cesspool.

It's driving me crazy! How is it that she can figure out how to make Mommy look bad in public, and get an evil little kick out of it, but she can not figure out that it's not fun to sit in your own poop and it's better to use the potty!?

I don't even want to train her hard core yet, but I'm going to have to. I wanted to let her lead the way, but she's only using that power to screw with me.
At least if she's in underwear, when she yells "I have go bafroom," I'll have a reason to take her, and the remote possibility she'll actually go.
In the meantime, if you see me go by with a bruise on my forehead, it's only from banging my head against a wall.

A Letter

Dear Murphy, whoever you are,
Thank you so much for your concerted efforts to make your famous law known to me on several occasions today. I hope you realize your efforts did not go unnoticed--and I was appropriately intimidated. You may note proudly the tears you brought to my eyes at 4:34pm this afternoon, after what was your (approximately) 12th attempt to completely derail my day. I apologize that it took so long for me to crumble, perhaps if I had been more perceptive to the strength of your statute, Murphy, you would not have been forced to hurl your entire arsenal at me in the space of only six hours. I realize my mistake now.

However, for your future information, a phone call or letter is a much better way to announce your intended presence in a person's life. Perhaps if you decided to take this tactic, you would become known for something more positive and welcome than a bitter, broken, muttering of "Murphy's Law!" Perhaps your name would even be uttered in conjunction with markedly less profanity than it currently is worldwide--maybe even no swears (or near swears) at all. Just a thought.

Please enjoy your day. I hope it went better than mine did. Thanks for the memories, and nightmares.

Sincerely,
Carly