I read a chapter of Edward Tulane last night to B and MG.  I can’t say enough about this book.  Everyone should read it no matter your age.  It is a very short chapter book with beautiful illustrations and you will love it.

To recap, Edward was a very self-centered china rabbit who cared only for himself and his fine clothes and nothing for the little girl who owned him.  On a voyage across the Atlantic he ends up being thrown overboard and spends an unspecified amount of time a the bottom of the ocean until a fishing net catches him.  We are in the middle of the book, and the fisherman has taken him home to his wife, who quickly grows quite attached to Edward, whom she names Suzanna.  At this point, Edward is beginning to look outside himself and see the value of friendship.

I stopped reading at one point and asked the girls if they noticed a difference in Edward.  Bird said “It is like the bottom of the ocean was a medicine that made him better.”

And that sums it up quite nicely.

Some time last week Chip decided he can go potty “all by himself”. I’m thrilled as this accomplishment really relieves a mother of a toddler from the bonds of potty training.

Diapers are flexible and easy. But kinda gross as the toddler gets older. That, coupled with the threat of askance glances from “those” other mothers encourages us to start potty training, even with the knowledge of how much harder it will all become.

Potty training is incredibly unflexable and can consume your entire day. In the beginning, you can not leave your home because the quickest route to potty training is a naked bottom 12 hours a day. If you must go out, you better know the exact location of the bathroom in every store you dare to enter. Inevitably, you will be seen careening down isles as you rush towards said bathrooms with a cart full of items, the afflicted sitting in the front, laughing joyfully at the fun ride he has procured for himself, and one or two older kids jogging alongside (or not, which means you can add screams of “keep up” to that image.) Sometimes you don’t make it. If you do, you’ll have to whip off his shoes, pants and big boy underwear as you wipe down the seat and plop him down just.in.time. Then you’ll freak as he tries to flush the toilet with his hand. Then you’ll get his pants back on (did you know little boys have to completely undressed so they can straddle the toilet backwards - I’m telling you, it makes training a little girl - who can wear a dress when she goes out - a piece of cake), get his hands washed and get everyone back in/by the cart so you can get back to the opposite side of Target, only to be told by the 6 year old that now she has to go.

Once they are consistently using the potty, parents are still slaves. Little bladders must be relieved often and it takes a pretty long time for them to get the idea of going by themselves. Until that time comes, our days are interrupted many times by the cry of “I gotta pee!”

So the fact that Chip has decided that he does not need my help anymore is pretty awesome in my book. Now, I can read a chapter of my book paint my toenails cook dinner without stopping! I usually know he has gone because he no longer is wearing clothes on his bottom half (at 2 1/2, he isn’t dressing himself.) We’ll work on that, but in the mean time, its kind of cute.

We are still mastering lifting up the toilet seat but honestly, the kid is a quick study and I’m hoping that a few intense discussions and demonstrations about what exactly happens to mom’s bottom when he skips this step will solve this. Or not if what most parents of boys tell me is true.

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Leaving school last night after my last-ever Brownie meeting (whooo-hoo - I cleaned something off my plate), Chip started talking about the various vehicles in the parking lot, one of which was a fairly large dualie.

“Look! That is a big truck!”

“Oh, wow, Chip that is a big truck.”

“It has two wheels!”

You are impressed, right? No? Well, this is one example of the awesomeness of parenthood. Because I have read or seen several things on the research they have done into a child’s innate capacity for math. And so, it only stands to reason that my son, at 2 1/2, would be able to count that there are two wheels on each side of the rear end of a dualie truck. I know this is totally developmentally appropriate. And yet. I’m still amazed. Because? Because I’m his parent! Because he counted! Because I didn’t know he could count! To two!

It must be spring, because the invasion has begun. In our house, the ants like to come in either the kitchen window or the bathroom window, which is located in the shower stall. This year they started with the bathroom. When I took a shower two days ago, I saw a couple and thought that I should get an ant bait out and nip it in the bud. But I didn’t.

When I took a shower yesterday morning, I saw more ants and, once again thought that really, I need to get th e bait out right away because otherwise the kids are going to see them and freak out about using the shower stall because, you know, those ants are so scary.

Fast forward 14 hours to Bridget’s bath time. She saw the ants. She did not like bathing with the ants. I tried to joke with her about the ants feeling less than fresh - but she failed to see the humor. Overall, the shower was a fiasco, but the good news is it motivated me to actually put the ant bait out. And when I got up this morning, there was an ant party going on in the stall - obviously they had found the bait and were very busy collecting it and carrying it back to their village. Which means we will be ant-free for Bridget’s next shower. Whoo-hoo!

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Due to someone’s resignation, I inherited a laser printer to put on my desk. Man, I didn’t know what a pain it was to have to walk to the reception area to get my print outs all these years. I press print and poof! There it is, right next to me. And I didn’t have to walk the 30 feet to the main printer!

I feel my butt growing bigger already due to the resulting lack of activity.

I have three questions.

1. It was so thoughtful to put a hidden kangaroo pocket behind the front panel of my linen skirt.   Wow - its like a built-in fanny  pack - only across my belly!  My question, though, is what, exactly would I keep there?  Were you thinking I would keep my mobile phone in there?  Because wow, that would really improve the drape of the skirt.
2. Did you know it bunches and the sides gape open as I walk?   Attractive…
3. And finally, as to the idea of storing essentials in the belly area:  don’t you think we all have enough baggage in that area?

Here is a secret:  Women don’t want pockets in close-fitting clothes.  That is why we like our purses so much.

Mother’s Day was very nice - I was awoken by three beautiful children who brought me a donut and glass of milk in bed and showered me with many beautiful hand-made gifts and one Japanese-made gift, followed by church, brunch and time with my mom. The girls and I then headed off to the mall to look for bathing suits.

Ahem. For them. I spent Saturday at the mall with my little shopper (Mare) looking for a suit for me. And while such melodious comments as “that one makes you look too skinny!” (I think she had her adjectives confused) coupled with the ever judicial “that one isn’t your style” were helpful, I was still depressed enough to put off making a choice.

So. I decided to focus on spending money on my kids instead of me, my typical response to poor body image. The thing is, shopping for bathing suits for young girls is fun because my god, their bodies are just so incredibly perfect. What suit we buy is all about color and design and making sure it will stay on when they get a little crazy and, I dunno, swim. We found a cute one for Mare right away at Justice, where most of the suits are skimpy and tied on - not a good combination unless your six year old plans to spend her summer lying by the pool instead of getting in the pool.

There was nothing acceptable (tankini -not bikini - with straps that are sewed in place) in Bridget’s size at Justice, Limited Too, Macy’s or Nordstroms. Or, if we did find something acceptable it was, per Bird, ugly. Finally, we headed up to Dick’s where, at last, we found some cute, sturdy suits that were made for swimming.

I dropped the girls off and swung by my mom’s so she could go back to the mall with me and give me an unbiased opinion on, shudder, swimsuits for me. The fact of the matter is, the pool opens in two weeks and my kids will want to go. She agreed that the one I was leaning towards was the best option. My only hesitation had been the matronly factor. But in the end, well, who am I kidding?

After dropping a crap-load of money on a suit that makes me look like I’m 50 70, I came home to John feeding dinner to two of the three kids and the third kid in tears because nothing sounded good and dad had lost his patience with her. Bird continued to refuse to agree to eat what we had available so life went on and we decided to go for a bike ride. At the last minute, I threw a granola bar and a package of graham crackers in my bike basket. Thus, when the inevitable meltdown occurred half way through what was otherwise a wonderful family ride to the park, I was prepared, and, after Bird had a couple squares of graham cracker, we were able to all ride home together, happy.

As we were riding home I saw a friend in her Chevy Suburban at a stop sign. I waved, which caused her to look past the helmet and sunglasses and recognize me.

“Is that Sara?”

“Hi, Amy!”

“Oh my God!  I was just commenting on that poor mother who has to spend part of her Mother’s Day on a bike!”

I laughed and told her, truthfully, that I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We have two Sesame Street DVDs, and when I watched them for the first time, I wondered if my two most-remembered animated skits would be on them.  One, “Number 9 Cutie” is on 123 Count With Me, and whenever that segment plays in the van, I hit the back button about 20 times, listening and singing along to it while my kids scream in frustration.

The other clip I’m seeking was about the letter “I” and featured little men with ladders, coming out of the letter and scrubbing it.  The song that accompanied the animation was haunting, if I remember correctly.  When it would come on when I was a kid I would watch with a mixture of fascination and dread.  It creeped me out, and yet I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

Babble had a column on The 50 Best Sesame Street Moments and I eagerly clicked through them looking for my “I” song.  It wasn’t there, though Ladybug Picnic, a forgotten favorite, was.  Based on that column, I felt sure I would find it on You Tube.  Nope.

Sigh.  If anyone has a link to my lost Letter I skit, I would love to see it again!

Huh.  That last plea sounds like one of those recipe requests people send in… “Great Aunt Florence used to make the best Bologna Pie!  It had cabbage, onions and rutabaga piled on top of bologna and sandwiched between two pie crusts.  If anyone has a recipe similar to this, I would love to make it for my family!”

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On that note, congress recently voted to cut its funding of CPB, which effects PBS, NPR and other publicly funded media.  I’m livid and plan to write to my representatives and let them know it.  If you value public media, please do the same.

Exactly one month to the day of running the half marathon I ran again last night.  A local running store is holding Tuesday evening speed workouts at the hight school just down the street from me.  I was apprehensive about going, with visions of only elite runners showing up for something called “speed workouts.”

Not me…

I need not have feared, though.  There were lots of runners there and  they ran the gamut in ability.  I was squarely in the middle of the pack.

As to why I haven’t run for  a month, please read here.

So, after a great run, I’m limping today.  Sigh.

Last week I visited a local mall that is getting ready to close for a make over. It has the only Sears in the area, and I needed to return some Lands End stuff (and didn’t want to pay return postage) so Chip and I hoofed it on over there. We ended up walking through the mall and happened upon a Walden Books that was clearing out everything and had all books on sale for 40% off.

I never need new books as my best friend and her sister read voraciously and pass trash bags full of books on to me. I could never keep up and thus have more books stacked all over my basement than I will ever be able to read. So, I headed straight for the children’s section.

I picked out about six books for the girls including James and the Giant Peach and two Katie Kazoo books. The best, though, was another Kate DiCamillo book. The girls absolutely loved her last book we read, The Tale of Despereaux. In fact, they liked it almost as much as their mother.

Mare was begging me last night to start The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, but it was piano lesson night and then, when we got home, our neighbor was riding around on a Segway and we all stood outside and watched for a half hour. So, sadly there was no time for reading, though I’m looking forward to reading it so much that I briefly considered reading the first chapter, even though it was already 8:45 when I finally got them in bed.

Bird had a Blessing Cup ceremony last night in preparation for her First Communion. I took her into the school gym and helped her find her chair before leaving. As we walked in I saw a lot of the girls from Bird’s soccer team and mentioned it to her. She shrugged and kept looking down. As she sat down in her chair, Erin, a girl she has played soccer with for two seasons, was sitting across from her and said “Hi Bird!”. Bird kept looking down and mumbled hi in response, though I doubt Erin could hear it. Erin looked at her and her face told me she felt rejected herself.

It is painful for me to watch this.

In preparation for the First Communion on Saturday, I had my carpets cleaned yesterday. The van had just arrived as I pulled in the driveway from work and as I suspected, Chip was all over that piece of machinery.

“Whaz dat?”

“Well, why?”

“Why he do dat?”

“Well, why?”

“Where’d he go? Me too! I come too!”

“Who! Whaz dat noise? Mom! What dat noise?”

“Well, why?”

The young man smiled and awkwardly attempted to engage Chip in the way 20-something young men with no children of their own tend to do. I knew my afternoon was shot because there was no way Chip was going to let that guy and his various, fascinating pieces of equipment out of his site. And there was no way I could leave Chip alone with the equipment within his reach. Chip ran from truck to cleaning site, over and over trying, I assume, to figure out just what was going on. He examined the tanks and hoses. He watched the spraying and sucking.

And the whole time he talked about it.

As the guy finished up he looked at me said “Wow - he’s really talkative. How old is he?”

“Two”

“Is that normal for a two year old? I mean, he didn’t really stop talking the whole time I was here and, well, he talked about everything. And he was all over the place.”

Enter tight smile on mom’s part and thoughts of future conversations about dosage with teachers and pediatricians.

Actually, I’m not ready yet to let the observations of a childless 20-something carpet cleaner get me worried. But he is right with regards to the general observation that Chip’s a really busy boy who likes to talk about everything he does. Generally, I take it in stride, answering his questions and his inevitable “Well, why?” response to my answers. But often, by the end of the day, I just want quiet. And luckily, that is right around bedtime.

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I did managed to run over to the Catholic Supply store after the carpets were done and pick up a boxed set containing a Rosary and keepsake box.

I also got her a porcelain doll since she is really into her doll collection right now.

I hope she loves it because I debated between that and a statue of some sort. Mine isn’t monogrammed, but I’m thinking that might not be a bad idea.

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After the gift buying, I had time to go to the bakery and order the cake. I decided I am sick of the crappy cakes at Sam’s and I wasn’t going to do theirs again. So I paid twice as much at a small, family-owned bakery and, while I don’t know if it will be twice as good, I feel better knowing I’m supporting a local business whose counter woman was nice enough to give my son a free donut to shut him up keep him happy while I finished ordering the cake.

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Finally, I picked the girls up from school and we headed over the Ben & Jerrys for free cone day! Whoo hoo!