Curly Straight

T is 2 years old. Almost two years and one month. We started the process of potty training today and are following advice of a book I downloaded, www.thepottytrainer.com. It tells me to put him on the potty every twenty minutes and put him in big boy underwear.

My two observations so far:

Potty training is exhausting.

This would be much easier if I could drink.

Every twenty minutes a timer goes off.

!*****!potty time!!***** woowoowoowoo

You peed in the potty? What a good boy!

Still waiting for the poo.

This is exhausting.

Potty training is exhausting. It's also boring and makes you stick around the house at least at first. I haven't gone anywhere with TJ for three days, today is the beginning of the fourth. It's terribly awful being stuck in the house.

We are having fun. I search for my ipod all day and we play with play doh and paint and color and watch dvds and videos (he doesn't understand the rewinding part but likes to imitate the noise), I email and text my friends and family and T begs for cuckoo clocks on youtube. We go outside on the swing and blow bubbles, but it seems like once we really get into it, "it's potty time!" and it's time to come in.

So much so that when I have to go to the bathroom, I think to myself "Mommy has to go potty."

The cat's cat litter is stinky. John bought an air "freshener" that I am convinced also smells like cat pee.

I had a dream last night that I found my ipod in the bottom drawer of a box or a dresser.

I found TJ's Elmo backpack today in the bottom drawer of his dresser. Guess what was in the pocket?

At 4 1/2 inches long (head to bottom) and 3 1/2 ounces, your baby is about the size of an avocado.

T is usually really well behaved, attributed to luck and some good parenting, I like to think. Having a kid in my late thirties definitely makes so much more patient than I would have been if I had one in my early twenties.

On that note, I was standing in the kitchen talking to John, when suddenly I had a (literal) pain in my ass - my right butt cheek more specifically, where Little Mister had taken it upon himself to bite a chunk out of my derriere.

OW.

I yelled in pain. John started yelling because he didn't know why I was yelling.

T ran away and left me to tend to my wounded butt myself.

Numchucks are not an age appropriate toy for a two-year-old.

I do not recommend leaving them within reach of your little ninja.

My pinky fingernail is broken halfway down.

Does stuff like this only happen to me?

I just made a late Friday night trip to Shaw's to pick up a few things. $87 later, after bagging my own groceries and complaining about it to the guys behind me, who definitely felt my pain, I'm trudging out of the store, pushing my cart.

Get to my car, unload the groceries into the trunk when the two young guys who were behind me, get to their truck, parked parallel to me - "Oh, you left your eggs in there," the blond one says, "do you want me to go get them?" "Yes, if you don't mind, thanks!" I said. I was psyched not to have to go back into the store.

Chit chatting with the brown haired one while we waited. "This is his good deed for the day," I told him, "I'm pregnant, so it makes it extra good." He replied "I can't wait to tell people that he saved a pregnant lady's eggs."

Blondie comes back out, eggless. It's against Shaw's policy, he said, so he couldn't get them.

Valiant effort and thanks for trying, kid.

Now you have an even better story to tell!

For the first time, I felt the little baby last night in my sleep. Felt a couple of little pushes in my belly. CUTE!

T's culinary delight is Annie's Cheddar Bunnies baked snack crackers dunked in whole milk.

He tickles everything in sight, including this computer, the dog and the window.

Head to bottom, your baby is approximately 5 1/2 inches long (about the length of a large sweet potato), and she weighs almost 7 ounces.