It's starting! IT'S STARTING!!!

Fantastic news everyone! We've seen the light at the end of Luke's diaper-wearing tunnel!

By way of background, our experience to-date with potty-training went something like this...

We really thought it would be nice to only have one child in diapers at a time, and we naively thought it would be possible to have Noah potty-trained by the time he was 28 months old (when I was due with Luke). My mother told me, having potty-trained three boys herself, that I was dreaming. All but one of my friends with boys with boys echoed my mom. But my friend Katie is a wizard, and she had her son Trace trained within a month of his 2nd birthday, so I thought there was hope. Noah was more than happy to remind me who was boss. He steadfastly refused to even get near the toilet. We tried sitting; we tried standing. We used a stand-alone potty training seat; we tried one that sat inside a regular toilet. Nothing worked. We bribed him just to get him to try to sit on the toilet seat, but he still refused. One of my lowpoints as a mom came when I put Noah's favorite movie on the portable DVD player, and armed myself with a half gallon of juice and a gigantic bag of M & M's. I sat him on the toilet, put on the movie, and forced juice down his throat while offering him candy every time he tried to get off. I was so desperate just to get him to see the pee pee come out of his body in pathetic, misguided hopes that he would understand the cause and effect thing of bladder functioning. And hour and a half passed, and I gave up all hope that he would pee. I told him to get off the toilet and follow me into his room to put a diaper on. He peed on the carpet in the hallway on the way to his room.

At that point, I consulted the experts (among them, Mom, and the pediatrician). They all said he was clearly not ready, and not to bother at all any more. "Just wait until he turns 3, and then try again." Fine.

We spent Noah's 3rd birthday in the Dominican Republic for our friends' wedding (shout out to the Hellers). We were all in the pool on the morning of Noah's birthday, swimming, hanging out, and making frequent trips to the swim-up pool bar (widely known as one of God's best inventions). Noah was standing on the side of the pool, and started jumping up and down. It looked like he perhaps was having a seizure. Little did we know this was the pee pee dance! He didn't seem to know what was going on at first either -- he looked dreadfully bewildered. But then he turns to us and says, "I need to go pee pee in the potty." After we recovered from the shock, Matt took him to the cabana toilet by the pool, and he stood there and peed, as if he'd been doing it for months. And that was it. (Note that the second time in Noah's life that he used the "big boy potty" was later that evening. In the middle of B&N's ceremony, he stood up on his chair and announced to his father, "I need to pee pee in the potty again!" Thank God we were in the back row. That would have been an interesting commentary on the wedding video.)

Anyway, given that experience, we had prepared ourselves for another year (at least!) of changing Luke's diapers. And while I'm being careful not to jinx us, it might not be that bad... A couple of months ago, Luke started copying Noah's bathroom trips. Whenever the mood struck him (which is happening more and more frequently lately), Luke will march to the bathroom, lift up his t-shirt and lean into the toilet bowl, and stand there for a second. Then he says "all done," flushes, and insists on washing his hands (yay!). Well a few days ago, after an obvious moment of deep concentration and grunting, he patted his butt and said, "Uh oh, poop." (This happened in the middle of the Lowe's.)

And here it is -- this morning, about 15 minutes after we put on a new diaper and got him dressed, he grabbed his "winkie" area, and said, "Pee pee! Pee pee!" Then he RAN into the bathroom, lifted up his shirt and leaned into the toilet. I hurriedly removed his diaper, and sure enough, he had just PEED!! Do you realize what this means! He was aware of the fact that he'd peed, and he connected that event to the toilet! THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!! Now we just have to make the realization come BEFORE the act!

Wish us luck. This has all the potential of being one of the happiest moments of my time as a parent.

A Very Important Announcement

My fellow Americans,

I have been confronted with the reality that I spend too much time playing games on Facebook. How much time, you ask? Just check out my profile page, or any other page that informs the viewer what "Mary has been doing" recently. It seems ALL I've been doing is "beating my personal best" or "finishing another game." Do I have no life at all? No, apparently I don't.

Now, I know may surprise many of you, but I have somewhat of an addictive personality. It's possible I have been addicted to various things in the past. And when I'm blessed with a wake-up call, I know it's time to move on. For example, when you're four-year old asks, "Mom, are you playing the letter game again?", you know it's time to stop playing the letter game.

So, to my dear friends whose competition I've enjoyed so, so much in the past few weeks, please do not nudge me. And do not take it personally when I ignore all Facebook-generated attempts to get me to finish our games. I must allow our games to go unfinished. I simply can't go on like this anymore.

And to Hannah, the naive, well-intentioned friend who became aware of the depth of my obsessive personality only AFTER introducing me to the evil temptress known as "Scrambulous," please do not ever do that to me again. Or prepare to babysit my children, make my dinner, clean my house, engage in interesting conversation with my husband and perform all such other tasks I neglect while I explore a new fixation.


RIP Scramble, Scrabulous and Wordtwist. I've deeply treasured our time together, and I will miss you terribly.

What a difference a new camera makes...

As Noah will tell you, he is a big and giant boy, with super strong muscles.

On a recent hike with the boys...

Is Luke happy or sad to be getting up from his nap?

Some tips I've come up with in my short four years as a mom...

On moving -- anywhere -- with children: There will always be a better stroller out there somewhere, so don't make yourself crazy over that decision. We've now purchased 7, yes SEVEN!, strollers in our four years as parents. In chronological order: 1) the Peg Perego (clunky and squeaky and, now, broken somewhere in a landfill); 2) the Combi (bad handle); 3) the Maclaren Volo (LOVE it; the ONLY way to maneuver the streets of Park Slope, but now has a whole in the bottom); 4) the used single jogger (ugly as sin, but still functional); 5) the Maclaren Double (heavy as hell, but gets the job done and thankfully not used too much these days); 6) the Snap 'N Go for the Snugride (how did we live without this the first time around?); and 7) the Schwinn Double jogger (still the best way to get anywhere in the neighborhood). And then we were in the Babies R Us yesterday, and I saw THIS. I want to have another baby just to buy it.

On feeding babies: High chairs are stupid, and a waste of space. Buy your baby a $25 booster seat on move on with life.

On feeding toddlers: Toddlers are a finicky, fickle bunch. The logic they apply to their food choices is beyond my comprehension. So I developed some tricks to play the game on their level.

1. Peas are not "peas," because Noah doesn't like peas. Peas are "green corn."
2. Salmon is not "salmon," because who likes salmon?? Salmon is "pink chicken."
3. Soba noodles apparently don't sound appetizing to my children, so instead, they are referred to as "chocolate spaghetti."
4. "Green french fries" = green beans.
5. "Chocolate chicken" = beef.
6. Cover a waffle in "snow" (i.e., powdered sugar) and what fun-loving 3 year-old wouldn't want to eat it? (And for that matter, make it snow -- with parmesan cheese, for instance -- over anything to transform it into something more appealing.)

On toting children around on your body: The Bjorn is the original, the tried-and-true method on carrying around a newborn. I tried a sling, but I couldn't make it work for me. And then each of the boys outgrew the Bjorn at about 4 months old (or at least it became too uncomfortable to wear), so I moved on to the Playtex Hip Hugger. At $30, it's a relatively insignificant investment that bought me extra time outside with Noah while holding onto Luke, or got me through those last 10 minutes of making dinner with a 6 month old who only wanted to be held. And, like most "yippees" (that's yuppie/hippie fusion), we bought the Kelty backpack for our hiking trips. But then we realized that kids are heavy, putting them in a backpack makes them heavier, and lifting that pack onto your upper back makes all parts of your body hurt like hell after a mere 15 minutes. So, as Luke approaches his second birthday, we thought the days of carrying him around on us were long gone. That is, until Gina visited a couple of weeks ago and introduced me to my new favorite thing -- the Ergobaby. I love absolutely everything about this invention of crazy, over-the-top attachment parenters. It's perfect. It's comfortable for me and for Luke, it's lightweight, and it's easy to use. It's machine-washable! IT HAS POCKETS!! It can fit in a suitcase for vacations, and can live in the van to be ready at a moment's notice. It allowed me to spend two hours walking around the Farm (more about our wonderful CSA on another post), and last weekend we went hiking at the US Whitewater Center, all with Luke chillin' out on my back. Every parent should have one of these. (Matt wants me to find a way to earn commissions from my recommendations...).

On wanting your children to learn to talk: This is not all it's cracked up to be. Sure it's all cute to hear them pronounce new words when they're babies, and whose heart doesn't melt the first few times (or hundred times) you see those gorgeous faces light up as they exclaim "Mama!"? But somewhere along the line, something happens, and instead you start to hear things like, "Moooommmm, I wasn't talking to YOU, I was talking to my DAD, so don't say anything to me!" And then there's the incessant "Mom, why? Mom, why? Mom, why? Mom, why?" To think that with both of our late-talkers, we were so anxious to hear them speak. So naive.

On letting your children watch TV: putting on a fourth consecutive episode of Backyardigans so you can play Scramble and draft a blog post while your spouse pours over the Sunday NY Times is okay, right?