Merry Christmas, My Bloggy Peeps!

Just got home from our Christmas Eve service at church, and remembered I hadn't yet posted my Christmas greeting to you, all of my wonderful bloggy peeps!

Totally remiss of me.

I can't find the sweet Baby Jesus artwork I had wanted to put up along with my "What Christmas Means To Me" posting, and I've run out of time so this is going to have to do it for now.

I must say that I really enjoyed singing the old favorite Christmas carols in church this evening, and found it especially poignant to do so in a mixed-service with our Spanish speaking congregation, every other stanza sung in different languages. Beautiful.

I also had a Snow Day posting that I never posted thanks to our recent hospital field trip. Would you believe we had over a foot of snow in our desert? And I have pictures of snow on the cacti to prove it!

I'm just full-to-bursting with all that has gone on around here since then...like the MIRL trip to Palm Springs to finally meet up with my bloggy peeps Jenster and HisGirl. OH MY WORD...such fun! They are wonderful Chicas! Just as vibrant, and real, and funny as they are on their blogs (if not more so)...and WAY fun to hang with. So many laughs. Seriously, I would SO do it again!

I wasn't even nervous about meeting my internet friends in real life, because I know these gals pretty well.

But did you know that in meeting up with your blog friends, even those you feel you know well, you will find there is a whole new etiquette in talking to them?

Yeah, apparently saying things like, "It'll be great to finally meet you in the flesh" is creepy and frowned upon. (Sooo glad I decided to use the much more tactful in person when texting and e-mailing to firm up our plans. Major faux pas averted.)

And the whole meeting in a remote location in the middle of the desert didn't bother me too much either. Nor the talk of, "I know where you live now, mwahahahaha" and the clipping of hanks of hair from my head.

Totally kidding.

Kind of.

Ahhh, such fun! I chuckled half the way home thinking of that one.

And I haven't even gotten to how we turned that MIRL visit into a day-cation for our family (who had driven there with me thanks to the possibility of snow again)...stopping off to see the giant dinosaurs that were once featured in a sunset scene in PeeWee Herman's Big Adventure. Ahem, or so I've heard.

It was all quite an adventure...but I'm afraid that's all I can post about it for now.

I've got a turkey to take from the oven.

I decided to go ahead and cook it and carve it up today to conserve oven space for the big dinner here tomorrow.

Well, that and because our thermostat also chose the week of the Blizzard of '08 to konk out and the house is currently very cold. And we're expecting snow.

If I don't freeze to death in the night, I will post about all those wonderful aforementioned things later this week.

(Don't worry, we have space heaters for use during our waking hours, and down blankets for our sleeping ones. We're in no real danger of freezing to death.)

And to leave you with Merry thoughts on the eve of this very special day of the year...I pray you and your families all have a wonderful, reflective celebration of our Savior's birth.

May the Lord bless you and yours both this Christmas and in the New Year.

Boy, Oh Boy!

Ahhh, nothing like the hustle and bustle of the last few days before Christmas, all the good food and fitting into dress clothes to get you thinking about stomachs, huh?

Ever seen the inside of one? Totally wild.

I had that privilege just last night.

Oh, don't worry...I'm not talking about the contents of ones stomach...I'm talking about the actual inside lining one.

As in pictures taken by fancy scope cameras in a hospital.



Stomachs are surprisingly pink and beautiful, even with bubbling gastric juices. Fearfully and wonderfully made, for sure.

But wait...what is this?



A net? In the stomach?

Why yes, yes it is.

Why, you ask? Why on earth would a net be in a stomach?

To retrieve this, of course.



Here's a close-up.



Yes, the Frump Family had to spend a day in the ER yesterday for a little surgical procedure called an "Upper Endoscopy", which is where they move foreign objects from the upper 'end' of a body. (Love how they add oscopy to upper end to make it sound really official. And to distinguish it from it's sister procedure the colonoscopy.)

I'll give y'all one guess as to why, or rather, who was behind our trip to the hospital...



Yep. Our little Judah. Looks so sweet, doesn't he?

True to form, he couldn't have picked a normal, hum-drum average day to "swallow da money".

Not Judah.

No, he had to go and pick the day after the Blizzard of '08.

When our desert was covered in highly unusual amounts of snow. (I'm just not buying all that global warming stuff.)



We had a total of14 inches at our house and upwards of a couple of feet elsewhere in our area.

This not only meant that school was called off for three days essentially extending Christmas break for students and teachers in our community (which should have been a wonderful, celebrated thing), but it also meant that getting anywhere would be very, very dangerous.

They don't have snow plows around here like they did when we lived in Minnesota.

Believe me, you haven't lived until your toddler is clutching his stomach and moaning in pain, "My tummy h-u-u-u-uurts!" while squirming uncomfortably in his carseat as you very, very slowly navigate treacherous snow and ice covered side streets trying to get to the nearest E.R. all while frantically calling your insurance provider on your cell phone hoping beyond hope they won't make you go clear to the hospital in the next town (as is their usual M.O.) and worrying about such things as quarters blocking air passageways.

We'd had the foresight to hold out a handful of coins and ask him to point to which type he'd swallowed. Each time he pointed to the nickel. It eased my mind somewhat on the way there thinking that at least he hadn't pointed to the larger quarter, but still...could we trust him to know the difference?

Of course, our journey wouldn't be complete without having to first sit in the ultra-crowded ER with people hacking up their lungs and spewing flu and who-knows-what-else type of germs into the air we had to share while sitting across from bloody victims of snow-play and sledding catastrophes.

Who would have thought that a cozy, idyllic morning of bundled up boys playing in the soft, pillowy snow would have ended the way it did?

I am very thankful our ER visit didn't involve blood.

I can't handle blood. Especially blood issuing forth from my children.

And my husband can't handle me when I'm hysterical worried and/or fainted dead away.

It's bad enough that to remove a coin from where it was lodged in our son's 'tummy' involved x-rays, as well as a surgical procedure in the operating room.

The G.I. Specialist, thankfully, turned around on his way home to come back for this emergency...otherwise we might have had to transport him between hospitals.

God bless both him and the anesthesiologist who probably would have preferred going home and sipping coffee beside their fireplaces in that dreadful weather after a long, long day in the ER, but returned to help our son.

When we thanked them profusely for everything, they both said very graciously, "My pleasure". As Jeff's great-uncle Lawrence would have said, "They be good people."

Of course this tale wouldn't be complete without informing you that our 'precautionary' visit to the hospital also included hearing big scary words like, "Pre-op", and "There are risks" and "It could take a while to bring him out of the anesthesia".

Oh, and did I mention that they'd need to insert all manner of tubes and scopes and a sheath to protect his vocal chords and windpipe for his 'small procedure'?

Or that Judah was rushed off to the OR on a gurney with strangers and only a toy pony to cling to for comfort?

This brought back to the surface a lot of the same unpleasant feelings I had during the first few days of his life which were spent in the NICU.

I fear that with this child, I am destined to feel that horrible cold-fingers-of-dread feeling grip me at least two or three times a year.

Did I mention the expended MATCHES I found in the sink two days ago when I went in to help him after he'd gone potty? After being out of my sight for only one minute? Dear Lord, help us all.

He is, as my grandma would have said, "A quick little operator". Gets into BIG scrapes in very small allotments of time.

But who would have thought he'd find 'moneys' in his bed, of all places, especially while he was supposed to be napping?

Turns out that what had been rattling around inside the G.I. Joe tank he asked to sleep with wasn't G.I. Joe gear, but was in fact coinage.

Later, when Jeff asked, "Why did you swallow the money?" Judah replied simply, "I wanted to."

Which sends cold chills down my spine.

Especially since I've been re-reading an old favorite fook, Anne of Avonlea.

All you Anne of Green Gables fans might remember the problem child dear little boy named Davy Keith (who came to Green Gables to live along with his twin sister Dora) and gave Anne and Marilla a real run for their money?

Let me put it this way...I used to enjoy reading about that precocious child.

Now, I find myself wondering if such antics are my lot in life.

Scares the bejeebers out of me.

Because to get our little Judah to cooperate for all the pre-op procedures (like inserting the little port where they would both draw blood and insert meds), we were forced to resort to bribery once again.

The Xray tech and the nurses gave him these:



And then we stupidly went and promised him a G.I. Joe toy.

Because how can you not when you see him come to the realization that he's going down the long sterile hallway without you? Especially when he says "But I want you to go wif me, mama!" and is threatening to tear up and do that pitiful little trembly lip thing...well, you'd do just about anything to avoid that.

It helped, of course, that the nurse introduced "Bucky" the stuffed pony right about then. "Here, Judah, you take care of Bucky so he's not afraid, okay?" Happily occupied with this task, he didn't even cry.

Even if we felt like doing so just thinking about it in the waiting room.

The doctors and nurses reported that he took everything like a champ. Everything went according to plan without any problems, the net apparently preventing any injury on the way back out of his esophogus.

He even woke up from the anesthesia smiling and in good humor, chattering like a magpie and asking about everything within reach.

True to his word, it was a nickel!



When we finally got to see him, he showed us his "Chwistmas wight" (the pulse/Ox monitor) which he wore on his finger like E.T. phoning home. He also enjoyed that cool hospital bed that went up and down like an "elabator".

I guess my biggest fear is that with all the excitement of his experience there, and all the cool stuff he got just for "swallowing da money"...





...is that he might pull other crazy stunts to land him back in the hospital again. Oh, Lord, have mercy.

A Rambling Post About Letting Go at Christmas

I'm finally over that horrible lingering cold/flu thing. I'd been staving it off with vitamins and Airborne for a few days, and when I let up and didn't stand strong in the battle, the illness won out, making me feel like I either had an exceptionally long bout or had two separate incidences of it.

Of course it cycled through my family.

And then the kids I babysit for.

Which made the past week or so a real joy because as every mom knows, there is no getting anything done when little ones are sick.

So Friday morning, I finally managed to get on top of the dishes and laundry, and even had dinner in the crock pot by 8 am.

One good side effect of the kids being sick is that their little bodies needed more sleep than usual, and they all took a very long nap at the same time, which allowed me a window of time in which to get a great deal done. I wrapped gifts, got packages ready to mail, and was also able to get started on my Christmas cards.

That meal I threw together is one of those that makes it seem as though I had been slaving all day over a hot stove, the smells are so mouth-watering. Judah even followed his nose to the kitchen around noon, asking, "What awe you makin', mama? It smeaow good!"

I made such a meal mostly to entice my MIL over to the house to take our annual Christmas card picture because I wanted my family to have a good meal that said, "I love you". They did all seem to thoroughly enjoy it.

After the dinner, we all got dressed in our matching forest green sweaters (we can't get away from that color, I tell you!) and assembled in front of our tree, my MIL acting as our photog.

183 total shots Hours later, we wrapped things up because my poor MIL was about to fall over from exhaustion, Judah was no longer cooperating and my camera was acting up. It got locked onto some setting that I had never seen before, and I couldn't seem to get to stop...and was one that made it very prone to blurriness.

The kids were cooperative for quite a while. Real troopers. However, after the fifth or sixth time I went to load the pictures onto the computer to view them at a larger size, we did have to resort to bribery.

The candy and Star Wars figurines were worth it, though. I was in a mad rush to get those photos done that night because normally my Christmas cards would be sitting on people's mantels by now. Hard as I tried to get everything done early, I got off to a woefully late start with such things this year.

Which is silly, considering I have very little else going on around here lately. (Heavy sarcasm intended.)

I was actually very proud of myself for learning to "let go".

I 'let go' of doing the big batches of Gingerbread snowflake cookies with piped icing coated in sugary 'glitter' decorating their tops in time for Christmas package mail outs.

I 'let go' of our Awana Club's participation in the local Christmas Parade (accidentally missed the deadline on that one, woopsie).

I 'let go' of my dream of building, priming, painting and decorating my fireplace mantel in time for our Christmas picture.

I also 'let go' of my desire to make tri-fold Christmas card marvels that give a nod to my graphic design background.

Yup, this year I returned to the whole dash-to-Costco-at-the-last-minute-to-have-duplicate-photos-made routine.

To put in the bargain photo frame cards I got for 75% off after Christmas last year. The sum total for the cost of my cards amounted to $15 (not including postage, candy and Star Wars figurines).

Quite a significant savings, the only hitch in my plans being that the cards are a glossy paper that stamping ink doesn't dry very quickly on, which is going to require another step involving tissue paper inserts inside the cards to keep the ink from smearing.

Because of course I couldn't just send the cards as is...I had to put my own personal touch on them. (Why can't I just leave well enough alone?!)

I did actually learn something wonderful in the process of our belated photo session this year:

Even when I think there isn't one suitable picture out of 183 shots, I will at 1 AM finally realize that it's just not worth a round two the next morning to get the perfect photo I will wake up early, look them over with fresh eyes and narrow it down to five prospective shots.

And will actually laugh at the outtakes, even if I did spend an inordinate amount of time growling at pleading with the kids behind my pasted on smile to "cooperate and look like a happy family!" and "smile like you mean it!"







Please, Lord, let it be over soon!

My family is nothing if not longsuffering.

Also, after several years with that same camera, I just learned that I can put a blank photo card into the reader on my computer and copy an edited picture file back to it, and take only the teensy tiny card into Costco with me to get it printed...proving that old dogs can learn fabulous new tricks.

And though the only photo that I deemed suitable out of our entire photog session had one son looking a bit stoic instead of smiling (probably actually plotting as to how he could weasel the StarWars figurines out of us now that I think about it...), I 'let go' of the temptation to doctor it up on the computer.

In spite of all this 'letting go', I fear my OCD perfectionism frustration with ongoing unfinished projects around this house are going to make me stark-raving mad.

I probably already LOOK that way seeing as my last trip to the butcher hairdresser left me with a 'do' that resembles barn-floor straw and feathers sticking up all askew on the back of my head. Why not throw in a few wild-eyed rants and out-of-nowhere hysterical laughter into the mix, too, to really make the season bright?

*sigh* I'm thinking it might be time to grow it out long enough to be able to put into a more respectable, comfortable pony tail once again. (I'll cross the bridge of whether or not an old gray-headed woman should still be wearing pony tails whenever I retire.)

I feel a little like a cattle rancher wrangling an unwieldy beast to the ground just trying to get everything done by this coming Friday. That's our self-imposed deadline to have everything taken care of due to the Youth Group Christmas party were having here, and after that we really want to spend the last few days before Christmas focusing on The One the occastrion celebrates.

My list is long.

My hands are chapped and crackly.

The house is cold today because we finally got some cold weather and we hadn't yet turned on the heat. It was snowing earlier, which will probably finally bring an end to the profusion of roses we still had blooming as of three days ago.



However, the kids are all snugly tucked in for early naps today, the house is blessedly quiet, and Lord willing I think I may just be able to get a few things done while they're sleeping.

Randoms

I was feeling flu-achy yesterday morning and even stayed home from church.

It was the day we'd planned to get our Christmas tree and decorate everything for Christmas.

Though I've never not participated in the actual picking out of the tree, dreading going out in the frosty air was enough to change my mind. "You guys go ahead."

Jeff sent me pix messages with pictures of various tree choices, and so even though I wasn't there, I still got my say, lol.

Ahhh, the wonders of technology.

:: :: :: ::

The other day after my trip to Costco, ahem, someone smuggled a Nonni's chocolate decadence biscotti into the guest/craft room and ate it by the computer.

Judah wandered in and was talking to me by the computer. He saw the wrapper and looked at me accusingly, "Wha???"

Then he frowned and said, "Wet me smeow yo bweff!"

So busted.

:: :: :: ::

Ever wondered how to keep a rambunctious tot from getting into trouble when mom is sick and wants nothing more than to curl up under a down comforter with a good book and not have to worry about anything but getting better, but can't because her hubby and older son have to be at church?

First, you gather up a bunch of toys and books that the kid enjoys. You put them on your bed or sofa, and then call the child in.

As he nears said sofa or bed, you yell out with absolute fear in your voice, "Watch out for the SHARKS* !" and you will see that kid scramble as though his life depended on it to take refuge on the 'boat' where you can 'pwoteck' him.

If they dare throw a leg overboard, you simply yell, "The sharks are gonna get you!"

They will sit and close and enjoy the books and toys for much, much longer than usual.

Not that we've employed this technique around here or anything, but we've heard it works like a charm, lol.

*Wolves, bears, lions, dinosaurs, snakes and hot lava also work well, but there is something about Sharks that really stirs the imagination. Or so I've heard.

The Usual Chaos in Frumpville

So this morning, my husband took a personal day off of work to study and prepare for an important exam he has to take tomorrow and needed us out of his hair for a while.

When my little babysitting charges arrived on our doorstep at 6:30 this morning, it occurred to me that if I could get Jericho out of bed and ready for school earlier than usual, we could go grocery shopping before I took him to school, the idea being that his help would make navigating the grocery store with little ones a whole lot less stressful.

Having spent a gift card left over from his birthday just last evening, Jericho sat in the passenger seat all the way to the store consumed with the new game he was playing on his Nintendo DS.

Which was fine, because I was busy mentally mapping out how we would manage the logistics of the shopping trip, having only 30 minutes to get in and out of the store if we were to do this thing right.

It's always a big production to get all those little tots under three in and out of their carseats and shopping carts (especially under a tight time constraint) and the effort usually leaves me frustrated beyond measure a tad stressed out.

Adding to this fiasco is that I'm used to only one little octopus tot grabbing at everything in sight in the check-out lanes, but today had three. It's like 24 arms are flailing about grasping at everything in sight.

Why do they do that to moms, piling all the packs of gum and candy within reach of the shopping cart seat?

I tell you, it's a test of my multi-tasking mettle to have to load a cart full of food onto the conveyor belt, keep little hands from grabbing and eating all that candy and gum, make sure the kids that aren't belted into the cart don't fall out and break their necks and then to still be able to converse with the cashier and remember any coupons I might have floating around in the depths of my purse.

The trip began well enough. After getting the little kids loaded into the shopping cart in the store parking lot, I noticed that Jericho's DS was sitting in full view on the dashboard in the van.

In our area, you just can't do that, or you'll find the window busted in and the item missing when you return. So I quickly unlocked the van and quickly stowed it in the center console out of sight before relocking the door.

Armed with my list, we hoofed it through the store as quickly as we could getting everything on the list, then jumped in line at the check-out lane.

When I glanced at the store clock found we had 15 minutes to get Jericho to his school which was 7 minutes away. We hadn't even been checked out yet, much less got the kids properly loaded into the vehicle, so it was one of those times where you silently plead with the cashiers to Hurry, please, and I was glad she made quick work of it, because I was busy putting out fires trying to keep the kids from grabbing everything in sight, search for coupons and converse politely with the cashier.

On the way out to the van, I said, "Okay, Jericho, you get the kids buckled into their carseats while I unload the groceries, or we're going to be late!" He's always done this for his little brother, and does a great job of making sure it's done properly.

Meanwhile I morphed into high-speed woman, practically throwing the groceries into the back end of the van while barking out frantic instructions casually reminding Jericho to buckle the youngest girl into her car seat first so she wouldn't fall out of the van.

I closed the doors, locked the van, ran the cart to the holding pen, then raced back to the van, jumped inside and double-checked to make sure the kids were all properly secured in their car seats.

A quick glance at the time told me that provided there were no abnormally long traffic lights we might just squeak into the school parking lot on time.

Jericho climbed into the front seat just then, and frantically looked around for his DS.

I was buckling myself in, starting the car and checking my side and rear-view mirrors when I noticed this, and told him, "It's in the console."

He looked in there and uttered a sigh of relief before popping it open to get his fix continue his game.

Sarcastically, I said, "Thank you, mom(for looking out for me and making sure your DS didn't get stolen)".

He grinned and said, "Oh yeah. Thanks, mom."

But before he could get his thanks out, I'd spotted a lone piece of Almond Roca left on the dash from our shopping trip last night and while backing out of my parking spot snapped added, "And hand me that piece of Almond Roca."

Jericho burst out laughing.

Drawing from a vast array of character voices he uses to mimic or otherwise jokingly mock people, he suddenly pulls out his gasping for breath harried mom voice for me, "Buckle the kids in their seats!...get that soup off the ceiling and get your brother a pickle!...Say "thank you" to me, now!...Get me that Almond Roca!"

I tried to be firm, especially in light of his exaggerations, but my face betrayed me with a smirk.

And he laughed.

And then I giggled.

Then outright guffawed.

And we managed to get him to school on time.

It was a great way to start off the day.

:: :: :: ::

Jericho's history class was recently studying about ancient Egypt, and as part of the unit had to do a big project about the Pyramids which included researching and building a replica of one of the actual pyramids.

He told me on the way home from Bible Study Tuesday evening (the day before he was to turn his project in) that he felt kind of sorry for some of the kids because you could tell they'd done theirs all by themselves. "One boy had a three-sided pyramid, and another kids was made of sugar cubes dyed red with food coloring." He truly felt sorry for them, because he was feeling pretty confident that his own project was shaping up to be awesome.

Jeff and I had helped him with his project for a couple of days over Thanksgiving Break, both the research, writing and design aspects, completing the final touches and the typing of his project until the eleventh hour.

Wednesday he came home uncertain as to whether or not his passed muster. "There were some really good ones there," he said, his confidence having waned.

He apparently didn't think this one was good enough after seeing some of the ones with sand that had been glued on to resemble actual blocks):




His depicted what it is said to have looked like immediately after it's building was compled in all it's royal glory.

This afternoon when I went to pick him up (minus the little tots since their parents picked them up early Jeff kept Judah home with him), he carried the pyramid to the van and proudly exclaimed, "My art teacher wants me to add a couple of extra features and enter it in the art contest!"

We he plans to throw a lush oasis, the Sphynx and a few sand dunes on there and turn it in Monday.

Now that's the kind of project this mama likes...killing two birds with one stone!

Of course, all this was said just before he mimicked me anew for the Almond Roca comment earlier this morning.

So, to punish him, I dragged him to a discount home decor store to look for drapery panels for the house, with plans to cap off the afternoon with a long, dull trip through Costco for the remainder of our first-of-the-month shopping.

As we were walking into the decor store, he sees one of those beautifully decorated shortened bed displays where you can see how the whole room would look if you purchased the matching sheets, comforter, shams, bed skirt and drapes...and it was lovely.

However, for unknown reasons, my 12 year old son (who would normally lag behind me the entire way through the store sighing loudly in displeasure and complaining and asking when we could leave the boring store and go to the nearby Toy's R Us)...suddenly breaks rank, darts across the store and takes a flying leap onto the bed display.

Only to find out it wasn't a soft cushy bed at all...

...but instead just a laminate cube propped up on cinderblocks, the entirety of which promptly listed to the right under the assault.

He sprang up suddenly and did what he could to right things, and turned around with big wide lemur eyes and exclaimed, "That's not a real bed."

No, ya think? LOL!

A nearby employee witnessed this spectacle and her eyes went wide, "Oh, no no no! I know that looks comfy, but it's not really a bed" she said, fluttering about to make sure everything was back in order and be certain he was okay. "It's just a display!"

By now, of course, I was blushing. And scolded my twelve year old knows-better-than-to-do-such-things son, and apologized to her profusely.

I dragged him into the depths of that store asking, "What on EARTH would possess you to do such a thing?!"

"It looked so comfortable" he muttered, a look of both sheepishness and surprise still etched on his face.

This time the tables were turned, and I threw my head back and laughed.

"This is SO going up on my blog."

And so, here it is.

:: :: :: ::

Wednesday evening, Jericho casually announced around bedtime, "Oh, by the way, my Strings recital is tomorrow night."

Yeah, thanks for that last minute notification, Son. You know, since there isn't anything else going on in the month of December.

"Oh, and I've got a surprise for you there, too."

Of course we attended, and politely listened to the eardrum-bursting renditions of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and a number of other 3 note solos from all the budding prodigies beginners.

Jericho, I was proud to say, plucked out the notes quite well, even if I do say so myself.

What thrilled me more than anything, however, was his surprise.

Turns out he'd been asked to get up and narrate a short piece about the Barouque period.

He spoke loudly and with confidence and clarity so that even those in the back of the room could hear what was said...all without the usual cotton-mouthed case of nerves he's had in the past over speaking roles.





We are just so proud of him, thankful he's finally overcome the stage-fright and nervousness.

Here he looks like a young man, and it makes me feel all wistful thinking that in just 4 years he'll be driving. *sigh*


His entire piece was presented flawlessly, with the minor mispronunciation of "Barouque" as "Barack".


However, we'll let that one slide on account of all the recent happenings in the news, lol.


:: :: :: ::

I tried to take an autumn photo of the boys recently to have enlarged for my soon-to-be-mantle.
They weren't being entirely cooperative as I tried to set up the photo, because we did this on a whim on the church lawn (one of the few places in our desert that has trees, let alone fallen leaves) and there were kids standing around distracting watching the boys.

I was ready to give up even trying, but Jeff said, "Just one more."



Good call, Jeff, 'cuz this one is definitely frameworthy.

Potty Training and Other Records for Posterity

Disclaimer: If you're eating or easily grossed out...you may want to just skip through your reader to a different posting.

Just thought I'd warn you up front.

Are you sure you want to go through with this? I will be discussing potty training issues.

I'm warning you, peeps...if you're squeamish, you do NOT want to read this one. Just sayin'

Here goes...

...Playdough turquoise is not a color you should ever see in diapers.

Can somebody please tell me how a scant cup of dry generic fruit loops cereal given out in baggies to tots watching a Veggie Tale's movie could produce bright, technicolor poo?

Freakiest. thing. ever.

It's horrible how much food coloring is in that cereal.

:: :: :: ::

Never allow your almost potty-trained 3 year old son to go potty by himself in the bathroom.

Especially when he doesn't understand the whole, "Call mama when you need me to help [wipe] you" like he should.

Because he will do his business and get off the pot all by himself (so proudly), except that in the process, he will smear his little behind all over the seat.

Then he will apparently sit on the edge of the bathtub contemplating what to do about the mess he just left on the toilet seat.

It is supposed that he will then determine that shutting the lid of the toilet seat will hide all evidence there, but that in doing so, he will turn around and notice what he left on the edge of the bathtub.

Knowing he is going to be in big trouble, he will then sit on the toilet lid for a few moments to figure out how to hide what was left on the tub, at which point he will ostensibly climb up on the counter and open the bathroom mirror where he remembered that there was some white Gol.d Bon.d Med.icated Pow.der that might hide the mess on the tub.

Only he will decide instead to fill his socks with it, because he saw big brother do this once for a mild case of athlete's foot and he is just sure he's missing out on some important rite of passage...something that will truly make him that big boy that he longs to be.

And he will do this all in that minute before you realize he's been quiet for too long.

:: :: :: ::

The next day, you will find need of his shoes, only he will not remember where he last had them on, and of course, neither will you.

You will go on an exhaustive search of the entire house trying to find them, and will only happen across them when you enter the main bathroom for the morning laundry, when you spot one of the pair beside the toilet of all places.

Further searching will finally yield the other shoe sitting immersed in an old diaper wipes container beneath the bathroom sink, fomenting in some unidentifiable and gaggingly stinky substance of unknown origins that you were fearful of flushing lest it lead to some septic problem of major proportions.

In the end it will be determined that it's just not worth it to try and salvage the shoes because, unlike your grandma's War era experience of having to wash her son's shoes off after he stepped in a railway spittoon, you are not rushing with four children to catch a train or worried about him being shoeless because of rationing.

And you breathe a prayer of thanks that you have the rescources available right then to buy a new pair of shoes.

And the ability to lock the doors on the bathrooms at all times to avoid such hassles in the future.

:: :: :: ::

Do not allow your 12 year old son to have more than one bean burrito in one sitting, especially without first taking a dose of Beano, because he will become just like Visa (everywhere you need to be)...stinking up the air you are trying to breathe, preferring the closed in and confined spaces like cars and elevators at places like IKEA.

Then he will catch you unaware, passing gas in the aisle at the grocery store and then disappear so that other shoppers believe that it was YOU who was the guilty party, and will laugh his head off about it when you tell him how rude and inconsiderate such behavior was.

:: :: :: ::

Your almost potty-trained toddler son will become obsessed with this new aspect of daily life (going potty), and looking forward to the day when he finally gets to wear his Thomas the Train underwear.

He will be so proud of himself for 'going' to the bathroom on the toilet all by himself.

However, he will eventually go to the bathroom all by himself and not tell you.

He will quietly go about his business, first pulling down, and later pulling up his own pull-up and pants.

He will even wash his hands.

You will congratulate him on being such a big boy.

And you won't know anything was amiss until he grows uncomfortable from not having, ahem, wiped himself, and will loudly voice his complaint in the only way he knows to explain while sitting at the Thanksgiving Supper at church, whining, "I have a waa-a-a-ash on my butt, mom".

Niiice.

The View From Here

I'm a night owl, but this early morning view from the kitchen table makes getting up early much easier to handle.