potty trained?

Annabelle announced on Saturday that she is potty trained. Depending on how you count it, it either took a few days, a few weeks, a few months or a slap year to get this done. We bought the potty a year ago. Correction-- my mom bought the potty, because she said that at 14 months I was potty trained. Bull. Bull. Big fat Brahman Bull. I was mommy trained--where mommy was trained to take me to the bathroom. But occasionally Annabelle would pee on it. But we were still in diapers. We were off and on in panties since about the fall. Accidents were frequent and Annabelle would never tell me when she needed to go to the bathroom, so as soon as I got frustrated, the diapers came back on. Then we were more solid with the panties starting in about late February, but when I had to go somewhere, or on mother's day out, we were back in diapers. This past week, when I asked her if she wanted to wear panties or diapers to school, she said panties. And so I went to school and told the last hold out on potty training--Annabelle's teacher--that she was wearing panties and that was how it was going to be. Actually, since I am a little scared of her, it was more like "I am sorry, but Annabelle wanted to wear panties today, but don't worry, she has already pooped."

Then we went to fiesta in San Antonio. Fiesta is the best time you will ever have, with an event for everyone, including a Friday parade called the Battle of Flowers that shuts down the entire city and all the school districts. It is a completely wonderful, friendly, family-time that makes you fall in love with San Antonio because it is a city with an actual beating heart. But the bathroom situation is deplorable. I knew she would have to go. And I asked if she needed to and she said yes. So I dragged her and Hyphen (he was needed because I had a slight fear I would drop her down the outhouse hole) to the porta potty. Now, in my delicate condition, smells really get to me. Hyphen opened the door and got it all rigged up with a protective toilet paper covering. And I went in took a breath and gagged. This prompted Annabelle to say "No, I won't." But she was doing to potty dance, and I knew she needed to go, so I suggested that she go behind tree. She was cool with it, Hyphen on the other hand had some anxiety. He didn't want her to go to one tree, because it was too close to a cop. The other tree had dog poop near it. However, I pointed out that this made it a really good place to go, because dogs choose their spots carefully. So she went. We took off her panties, and she peed straight ahead like a man. Then we went back to our seats, where Grandma and Grandpa bought her a bunch of stuff made in China that they, in their 80s incarnation, would have told me and Audrey was for trashy people who like to waste their money. Viva Fiesta!

When we came home on Saturday and were unpacking our stuff, including but not limited to an inflatable Kai Lan doll, a pink parasol and glow-stick bracelets, Annabelle said "Mama, Papa, I am potty trained now."

So far, so good.

Dot

Well, we have some progress on the whole "the world revolves around me" aspect of being a toddler. Used to be that if you asked Annabelle what something's name was her reply would be "Annabelle," or in the alternative "Baby Annabelle." Consequently, her favorite doll is named Baby Annabelle, as is her friend Cecilia's doll, which Annabelle took upon herself to name. There were also countless stuffed animals and other random things that shared this moniker.

Now, there is a sudden shift. Dot. Dot is the name of the pet worm she had me dig up from our "beautiful garden" and is the name of all new dolls, a random dog we saw and two squirrels in the park. Oh, and our unborn child. It's name is Dot too.

Dot. I like it, it's kind of spunky.

Papa's girl

Finally, after 2 years, one month and 11 days, we have a daddy's girl. It came not a moment too soon, since I was at my wits end at 4:00 in the morning between a screaming Annabelle and a restless dog, it took all I had not to drive out to Chappell Hill and check into the Inn at Dos Brisas for a week of solitude and nature. She woke up snuggled up to him and then wanted to follow him around and watch him go potty and take a shower. All of which were obliged, which is a measure of Hyphen's great love for his daughter. This is the same Hyphen who I once caught cleaning the toilet seat with toilet paper before he would sit on it--AT OUR OWN HOUSE!!! And now he lets his daughter watch him make the poo-poo. He had to get her ready for Church and she wanted to sit on his lap during mass. All of this really came in handy and allowed me to go to the Heights Home Tour, (I am a house junkie) without a toddler in tow. We were both eating it up.

Until she fell outside before supper, and then it was mama all the way. But that's cool-- it was a glorious afternoon for everyone involved.

easter

what we did yesterday (and when I say we I mostly mean my mom although I was heavily involved, especially in the potato salad)

1. fill pinata for saturday easter party

2. attended easter party

3. make potato salad for sunday's easter party

3. made supper of baked frito pie, rice, and guacamole

4. prep beans for sunday's party

5. make easter bunny cake for sunday's party

6. make easter cupcakes for sunday's party

7. make cascarones with annabelle
a. dye eggs
b. put stickers on
c. fill with confetti
d. glue on tops

8. clean various messes made by all of this activity

all the while, checking on my dad, who was still suffering the remnants of a severe allergic reaction and helping to feed and shush little twin babies.

And we did this with virtually no sleep due to a deranged mockingbird that has taken up residence outside my mom's room (which I share with her when I visit). This bird, I suspect, was locked up in some kind of bird lunatic asylum, where it picked up all kind of exotic bird noises along with insomnia which causes it to chirp and sing and make wild matining all night.

which begs the question--how big of a sin is it really? to kill a mockingbird?

I will patiently await Harper's response.