Brought to you by the letter "P"

I only have one item in my make up case that costs more than ten dollars. It's this:

That would be an M.A.C. blush brush. It may not seem like much of a splurge; but consider the fact that I will use the same goopy Wet 'n' Wild mascara for six months until BJ's runs a coupon for it. So a thirty dollar blush brush? Big splurge. But it makes my cheekbones look great.

So here's the scene. Bella is on the potty.

Her clothes are covered in green paint. "Baby Isaac and I are going upstairs for one minute to get you some clean clothes." I say sternly. "Do not get up off this potty."

Well. Those of you who have had an almost-three-year-old know that I may as well have said "Please get up off the potty and do the most disgusting thing imaginable while I am gone." Have you guessed yet? Forty five seconds later I returned to find her painting the bathroom walls with her own pee. Her choice of paintbrush?

I was actually so beyond repulsed and angry that I burst out laughing. Isabel, relieved, laughed as well. Then, before I could decide what to do with the monstrous mess in front of me, she solemnly sprinkled the baby and I with the pee, like a Catholic priest blessing the congregation with holy water.

To be fair, our lesson theme for the day was the letter "P". We made cute little toilet-paper-roll Piggies, hand print Penguins, Painted Pictures of Peacocks, and ate Pasta with Peas. So, I guess this seemed like a fitting end to the morning?

Thank you, God, for a sense of humor. And also for Clorox wipes.

Potty Training

Just when I thought it was impossible for me to become more preoccupied with poop…

When you’re a parent, you think a lot about poop. The presence of too much of it, the absence of it, sometimes even the consistence and/or color of it become regular topics of conversation.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Lately my main poop-related concern has been the monumental task of getting it into one of these receptacles:






We are making some progress, though. And I’ve learned a few things.

1. You are a slave to the potty. When your child says that they have to go, you go. Right now.

2. Specific descriptions of rewards work better. For a long time I told her that if she went on the potty she would get a “big treat”. Not interested. When I showed her the bag of M&Ms, and described them in great detail, it made a big difference. For the next few days I would hear her muttering to herself “There are green M&Ms, and red ones and yellow ones and blue ones. But not silver.” Then, like magic, she went.

3. You can’t really spell “M&Ms” aloud as a way of talking about them to another adult without your toddler catching on.

4. Don’t expect your two year old to understand why this is such a big frickin’ deal. The first time we saw pee in that potty, Mr. Monkeysparkets and I did a conga line through the kitchen, singing, “Pee-pee in the Po-ttee! Pee-pee in the Po-tee!” She looked at us like, “I don’t know what’s wrong with you people, but you’d better deliver the M&Ms before you go completely bonkers.” It doesn't matter, though. I never thought it was possible to feel so proud of someone for not peeing in their pants. They grow up so fast...