Toots and Poops

We finally pulled out the Diego potty yesterday that we had bought for Mr. A a few weeks ago. As you can imagine, it was pretty interesting to him and it was new. For a while he will tell us that he has to go poopy ("ca-ca" actually) while he's in the tub, so we would put him on our toilet and let him sit there. Of course, he would do nothing and run back to the tub.

So, last night when he said, in the middle of his bath, "Mama, ca-ca's" I asked him if he wanted to get out and go poopy on the potty. He said yes and ran into the other bathroom where his Diego potty was. He sat on it for a while, would get up, run around, shut the door (because every man needs his privacy, right?), come back and sit on it, and repeat. At one point he "tooted" while sitting on the potty and I told him to do more of that. He got up, came back and sat down and did more. Before I knew it, his toots had turned in to real poops and we went balistic (I had to get DH to come up from downstairs, but there were hi-5s galore). Then, I told him to sit down and do some more and...he did!! He had a complete poop on that little toilet!

Thank you, Diego, for starting what we hope to become a very long-lasting tradition at our house and here's to the beginning of a house where only 1 little person is wearing diapers at a time (I can dream, right?!).

And for those of you thinking "It won't last" - well, he went peepee on the potty today. We shall see! :) I promise...I'm not too optimistic, but I can dream.

Greatest Guy Sunday Award

Some days the little ones just don't cooperate. After a late night of game-playing with friends and a long party day, we all couldn't wait to come home from church and settle in for a "long winter's nap." We all fell into sleep and just a short 1 hr. 15 mins. later Mr. A was screaming and ready to not be napping anymore. Excuse me?! He usually takes a 2 hr. nap (at least) because he's so exhausted from all of the running around in Nursery class!

Well, my sweet husband got up, shut the door to our bedroom, picked up Mr. A from his crib, and I didn't hear another peep until I had gone back to sleep and finished my nap an hour or so later. Thank you, thank you, to my DH. I needed that today. Here's what the 2 of them were busy doing. Love you both!

Turning 2

Our fantabulous babysitter, Miss Jane, commented the other day, "I think someone snuck into Mr. A's room in the middle of the night and told him that he is 2 now and can act accordingly at anytime." I think Jane is right. And I think we’re in trouble. It’s like someone hit the switch on the kid and I certainly can't find the off piece! He's crazy, but so sweet sometimes.

And so, to my Mr. A, because you're 2, and because I love you so dearly, I will let you celebrate your birthday all week long. On your real birthday in the middle of the week, we'll make you cupcakes (yellow, with homemade choc. frosting, of course), blow out some candles, eat your favorite foods (homemade mac n' cheese, applesauce, and mushrooms), watch Wiggles (“Googles” to you) at 7 am and Shrek at some point in the day, go to the library, eat at Chick-Fil-A and play on the awesome playground, and then top off the day with a delicious bubble bath. Many people that love you will call and sing “Happy Birthday” to you, and you will insist that they include Nana, Papa, and Uncle Matt. No clue why. Guess you’re just good at sharing like that. Even when I come to get you out of your crib on your real birthday morning and to start to sing, “Happy Birthday to you,” you’ll shake your head and grumpily say, “NO! NO!” Sorry, but at our house, you are not permitted to be grumpy on your birthday or to deny us the pleasure of singing as many times as we want.

The cake - yes, it's Shrek, and no, I'm not offended that you think it doesn't look like him.

Mr. A and his BG (beautiful grandma) - thanks for coming to celebrate, Mom!

No, really, it's Shrek! Can you believe that?!

Blowing as hard as he could - we're working on the effects of the blowing - promise.

And, then, on the weekend, we’ll have another day of celebration with swim class, a great nap, all of your favorite people coming over to jump on your bouncer, dance to the rock-out version of “Hokey Pokey,” eat your “Shrek” cake that your mom painstakingly made (and that, most likely, none of your siblings will ever have the privilege of getting [homemade characters, that is] – sorry, siblings) had to tell you was Shrek before you realized it, sing more Happy Birthday to you, eat Shrek fruit snacks and other healthy fare, and then top off your night with a little bowling on the Wii (you asked for it). Aren’t your dad and I the nicest parents ever?!

How do you not love this?

Is it too much to ask you in 20 years to still call me “Mama,” let me kiss your owies, hold your hand while you walk down the stairs, cuddle you in my lap while I sing “Sunshine” and read you “That’s Not My Train” before we go to bed, finish your prayers with “AAAAA-min,” let me sneak into your room before I retire each night, to put socks on your feet and cover you with a blanket and marvel at how big you’re getting, give me fishy kisses, say sorry when you hit me (“saw-saw”), stay firmly rooted on the stairs when you’re in “time out”, get so excited when I walk in the door with your eyes lighting up and that darling grin sneaking its way across your mouth, ask where I am if I’m not in the same room as you, to hold your blankie on my shoulder while you cuddle with me, to pour the bubbles in your bubble bath and let you kick so hard they spread like crazy, only want to jump to me when we’re at the pool, and be just as passionate about your dad as you are today? Just wondering. Know that I love you and am so proud to be your mother. Happy 2-year birthday, my sweet prince!

Climbing Up Mt. Anything

So Mr. A is into the phase of climbing up anything and everything. Over the weekend he discovered on Sat. morning that his beloved battery-powered Percy had been stashed (by him) in the "on" position in the corner of the sofa cushions all night long, thus rendering it "broke" or broken, as we all like to say. Devoted husband (DH) and I were busy eating our nutritious cereal and told him that we would have to "fix" it after we finished our breakfast. Without waiting, Mr. A decided to take matters into his own hands. He promptly ran over to the bar stools that we have in our kitchen, pushed one of the stools over to the opposite counter, climbed up on it, opened the "tool" drawer, pulled out the screwdriver, and began trying to unscrew the cover to Percy so that he could "fix" it (knowing full well, apparently, that you do have to unscrew Percy's cover in order to replace the battery). DH and I were in shock that this was happening and kept looking at each other in awe as to how this kid figured that all out.

This morning the climbing continued. After having, with full force, hucked a golf ball (yes, a real one) from the play room at DH's upper lip, Mr. A followed DH upstairs while DH went to nurse his fat lip. While DH was finding items to assist the fat lip, Mr. A proceeded to push the aforementioned bar stool over to the refrigerator, turned the ice maker setting to "water" and pushed the button and held it down for a very long time, leaving a quickly-formed pool of water on the floor, a soaking wet little boy, a very wet area rug, and an extremely frustrated DH.

So, if you come to visit anytime soon, be prepared to park your rear on kitchen and dining room chairs only. The bar stools have been banished to a secret location.

Oh, and he'll be 2 tomorrow.

Seeing Pink

********Spoiler alert for those who are patient enough to wait all 9 months to find out the sex of their child! Unlike you, I need to have something on the not-too-distant horizon to look forward to while I spend days, nights, and any other time for 15 (last time 20) weeks over my toilet and away from my kitchen, work cafeteria, and any food establishment that might smell like anything remotely fried, cooked, or otherwise prepared. So, we find out what we're having at exactly 20 weeks so that I can continue to love this child and not want to give birth to it at 12 weeks. ******

As is probably obvious from the title of the post, though, we are sending out the calls for help with Barbies, Disney princesses, and American Girl dolls. We have NO idea what to do with a girl, but we will quickly figure it out. Did I mention that I always wanted an older brother growing up? How lucky will this little girl be to have sweet Mr. A as her very own protective, loving, friend-sharing, older brother?! We are so excited to have the first granddaughter (of 4 grandchildren so far) on my side of the family (we all thought we were going to be destined to making numerous basketball teams and having no girls to push them around) and the 16th grandchild on DH's side (but only the 4th girl - they need to STICK together!!). So, off to Old Navy I went with a few pennies (or so) in my pocket to pick out some sweet sale clothes for this new little one.

Now, let's just hope after all of this the ultrasound wasn't faulty (the dr. and tech swore it wasn't!)! Smile.

Trying again...

Busy at play at Nana and Papa's house over Christmas

A very cheesy Merry Christmas to you!
Mr. A's favorite super sweeper - it was Papa's so we had to come home and buy one of our very own!

I am recommitted to updating my blog on a regular basis. After sitting here and enjoying everyone else's I should probably contribute! So, I'll try to add some pictures and also add some news. Wish me luck!