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.

Happy anniversary

It was a year ago today that I told my new boss "take this job and shove it." I would like to say thank you to them for being making what would have been a difficult decision with the old boss a piece of cake.

What have I learned in a year? I learned how to slow down. I learned how to watch a child play and let them play at their own pace. I learned who my baby was. For the past 8 months of her life, she had been cared for full time by the day care. The last time I had spent so much time with her, she was three months old and all she did was sleep and stare at her toes. So I learned how to take care of a 14 month old--when she needed to eat(5 times a day, or else), what she liked to eat(dogfood) what she liked to do (get dirty), when she needed to nap(whenever the hell she pleased), how to keep her from electrocuting herself (Uncle Dale's method works the best-- telling her the plugs will bite her) etc.

I learned that drinking whole milk and eating eggs for breakfast can make you gain 10 pounds. I also learned that I am a really good cook. I didn't know that before, because Hyphen did all of the cooking, but I am a damn good cook, which also contributes to the 10 lbs.

I am good at making new friends. I am good at keeping the old ones. One is silver and the other gold.

What I already knew--if I were married to a normal person they would think I was a kick-a housewife, however being married to hyphen is like "Sleeping with the Enemy," but without the violence.

I wish I could say I learned something about my marriage, but I already knew that I am married to an incredibly generous and kind person (despite his hyphen-ess ) who is a wonderful father and works very hard for our family, and although he may notice the dust bunnies in life more than most people, he notices the real ones too.

All in all, a pretty good year.

La Primavera

It has been a long glorious winter. We had snow, actually it was Fall when it snowed, but once it snows, dates are mere technicalities. We had 5 days of temperatures in the 20s in January. It took out my foxtail ferns and pentas, but I enjoyed every minute of it. There was never a day that our heater didn't kick on and to celebrate we made meatloaf, and potpie and roast and had hot chocolate and cookies. I felt like God was rewarding us for enduring the terrible summer.

I never wanted it to end.

And then this week I went home. I drove past the green, rolling hills of Columbus and passed a muddy white pick up on I-10. It had farm tags and two men inside that were wearing cowboy hats. We saw cows, and "baby cows". We saw hawks and vultures and all kinds of other birds dancing around in the sky that was bright blue but at the same time full of thunderclouds. And then I saw them... bluebonnets. I felt like I was coming home.

Now, I am no Leon Hale. I can't drive to the southern most tip of Texas trying to find the first bit of spring, raising hell and carousing along the way, partly because my dirt-kicking companion is 2 and she falls asleep 20 minutes into the drive. But I felt it, nonetheless--La Primavera.

late night chats

I went to see my nieces yesterday. My nieces. That sounds so weird. Notice, I am already dropping sister from the equation. But she was there too, and she was tired out of her mind. They have two very distinct personalities. One, reminds me of Annabelle, a totally easy peaceful baby. The other one? Wants to be held all the time and can't function with a dirty diaper. Literally. She will stop eating and wait until she is changed. She is smart as a whip, she puts her arms where they need to go when she is being swaddled. Now the easy one may be smart too, but we will never know, because so much attention is spent on making Lilly comfortable that Sam is almost completely ignored. Except last night. The guest room is by the nursery and I am a light sleeper. I could hear one of them making some little noises. It was three o'clock so I waited to make sure the baby was really fussing before I checked on her. To my surprise, it was Sam. I picked her up and sat on the rocker. It was all quiet in the house. Just me and Sam. And I found myself missing those quiet, middle of the night, moments that I had with Annabelle, when we would chat a bit. I would tell her all the good stories, like about the first time I met Hyphen, or the time we danced on the parking garage, or the one my father-in-law always tells, about the night Hyphen was born. So here I was with my little niece and I found myself saying "Her is purdy. Her is a purdy girl. That's what an old lady I knew would say to you Sam, if she were here right now. And then she would say "is her hungry? yes her is." That is what she would say Sam. And she would be thrilled to death to hold you right now. Well, let's go find your mama. She is the one with the chi-chis."

Some how, it doesn't seem fair that these babies didn't get to be held in those soft, warm, arms-- whose hands that always glistened with lotion--and hear those sweet words. But such is life.