Mommy tells lies

Hannah:

I’m so excited.  Mommy has been telling me all week that we’re going with Aunty Jess to IKEA to get a brand new big-girl bed!  My friend in the U.S. has a big girl bed, and she can get in and out of her bed whenever she wants.  No big high bars to stop her from climbing out.

Mommy told me I was supposed to sleep on the way, but I was way too excited!  How could I sleep!  Sorry Mommy, no sleeping here.  “Go to IKEA, Hannah get a big girl bed!”  I told her instead.

When we finally got there, Mommy and Aunty Jess took ages to finally get to the children’s section.  There was fun stuff EVERYWHERE!  I saw a big chalkboard, a play kitchen, lots of play dishes, wooden toys, stuffed toys, tables and chairs.  I really liked the play kitchen.  It had a sink, an oven, a microwave, a cupboard, and even burners!  I could do a lot of cooking with that!

Mommy showed me the beds.  She really liked the one with the sheep on it, but I didn’t like that one.  After climbing all over the beds, and bouncing a little, I decided that  I liked the pretty girly day bed one best.

“She has good taste.” Aunty Jess told Mommy.  Turns out Mommy liked the sheep one better because it was cheaper.  She said we were going to get the sheep one anyway.  Humph.  Why do you ask me which one I like if you’re not going to get me the one I want?

After much more shopping, and getting through the IKEA maze, and me getting cranky because I was so tired, we got to this funny place with really big high shelves full of boxes.  Mommy went to the bed section to get my new bed.

“They’re all out.” Mommy told me.  “I guess we’ll have to get the one you liked best sweetie.”

Yay!

Aunty Jess lifted the boxes onto the really big trolley.  Mommy says she can’t lift things right now.  Mommy used to lift things, so I’m not sure why she can’t anymore.  Maybe Baby Brother doesn’t like it.  “That’s what I’m here for.”  Aunty Jess said.

“Daddy put together Hannah’s new bed!”  I asked when I got home.  Daddy was telling Mommy that he didn’t think there would be time to put it together, but I know how to get Daddy to do what I want, so he went to get his tool box as soon as I asked.  I love Daddy!

I got to help Daddy put it together with all of his different screwdrivers and wrenches.  Daddy calls them spanners, but Mommy calls them wrenches.  I don’t know what to call them.  Maybe I’ll just point and say “that” when I want to use one.

My new bed is so pretty!

Putting things in my new bed

I didn’t want to sleep without all of my toys, so I started putting them in the bed.

“No sweetie, it’s not finished yet.  We have to put the mattress on still.”  Mommy told me.

“I’m not sure how this is going to work.”  I heard Mommy tell Daddy.  Uh-Oh, that didn’t sound good.

Daddy put the mattress on, but it fell off on both ends.  How could I sleep on that?  I’d lay down and end up falling head first under the mattress!  Daddy turned the page in his how to make it book.  His face looked funny.

“Is there anything left in the box?”  he asked Mommy “there are supposed to be slats.”

Mommy looked through all the boxes, but she couldn’t find anything.  I kept putting my toys in the bed.  I didn’t want to be without them my first night in my new big girl bed!

“I’ll look it up.”  Mommy said.

“Oh.  I was supposed to get the slats separately.  They are included in the price, but the website says I’m supposed to get them separately.”

“I’m sorry sweetie, you can’t sleep in your big girl bed tonight, Mommy forgot to get some of the parts.”

Don’t be silly Mommy.  I kept putting toys in.

“Sweetie, you can’t sleep there tonight, I’m really sorry, but I forgot to get some of the pieces.”

“Hannah’s bed.”  I said.  I was really sad.  Mommy told me I’d be sleeping in my new bed, but now I wasn’t allowed to.  Daddy put

moving my toys from my new bed to my portable cot

up my portable cot.  Mommy told me I’d have to sleep there and then we’d go to IKEA again tomorrow to get the missing pieces.  Fine.  I put all the toys from my new bed into the portable cot.

This morning, we went back to IKEA.  I was really excited, but it took us so long to get there!  Mommy said people forget how to drive when it rains.  Lots of cars were in the ditch and all the other cars were barely moving.  I’m glad Grandma was in the back with me to keep me entertained.

Mommy took me to Target to get some new sheets for my bed.  I really wanted Minnie and Mickey Mouse sheets, but they didn’t have any.  Mommy showed me some other sheets and I picked the pink polka dot ones.  I didn’t really like them any better than the others, I just like to say polka dots!  Polka dots!  Then we saw some Minnie Mouse sheets in another shop, but Mommy said they cost too much and I couldn’t get them.

“Who would pay $95 for a set of children’s sheets?!”  She said to Grandma.  I don’t know how much 95 dollars is, but it sounds like a lot.

When we got home, Mommy put the slats on the bed and I helped her put my new sheets on.  I put all of my favourite toys and

putting my toys in my bed

blankets on the bed too!  Mommy wanted me to sit in the bed while she read me a story, but that’s no fun!  I can get in and out of the bed all by myself!  As if I was going to just sit there in bed when I could be getting in and out and playing!  Silly Mommy….

Ready for my nap!

Mommy laid me down, tucked me in, turned on my sleepy music and then shut the door.  Ha!  I wasn’t going to stay in bed!  I played for my whole nap!  I pulled all the clothes out of my closet, got all the dirty clothes out of the hamper, took my sleepy suit and pajamas off, and played dress ups!  I even got to play with the baby monitor!  I can turn the music off and on whenever I want!

Nope, I didn’t sleep at all.  But then I started getting cold.  And I pooped.

“Mommy cuddles!!!”  I yelled.  Mommy ignored me.  Usually when I start getting cranky, it means I’m going to sleep.  But I wasn’t.  I was standing up at the door waiting for mommy to come in and dress me and change my nappy.  I had to take it to the next level.  I screamed and cried and screamed some more until Mommy came in. Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of time to sleep in my big girl bed tonight.  I love my new bed!

I made a mess in my room and took my clothes off. I didn't sleep...

UPDATE:

Mommy read me a story while I laid in bed.  As soon as she left, I fell asleep in my brand new big girl bed!  But in the middle of the night I started coughing.  I’ve had this cold that everyone has for a while, and sometimes the coughing wakes me up.  Usually when I wake up I’m in my cot.  I was a bit scared, I was all by myself in a big bed. The coughing was starting to gag me.  I yelled for Mommy and she came.  She picked me up and cuddled me and told me it would be ok.

Then YaYa came in and the dogs ran all around my room.  Oh, play time!  “Hannah go outside!”  I said to Mommy.  Mommy told YaYa to go away and yelled at the dogs to get out of my room.  I was wide awake now.  Humph, I thought I’d get to get up and play.  Mommy held me while I finished all my coughing and then laid in bed with me until I fell asleep.

But then I woke up coughing a while later and I was all alone in my bed again.  I called out to Mommy and she came and got into bed with me.  Mommy stayed with me for a long time, and I went back to sleep.  I woke up coughing a few more times after that, but I wasn’t scared anymore.  If Mommy isn’t scared of my new bed, then I shouldn’t be either.

I just hope Mommy isn’t too tired today.  She gets grumpy when she’s tired.

 

Can a toddler have her own artistic style?

Hannah loves to paint.  The other day, when she was supposed to be napping, she noticed where I’d stashed her Dora pencil pouch containing her precious finger paints.  I have to hide it or she wants to paint all day every day, and would unzip that hot pink Dora case, flip open the paint caps herself, and paint anything and everything in her path.  Sigh. We hadn’t actually done any painting in a very long time.  I couldn’t even remember where I’d put the paints.

I could hear her through the baby monitor “Hannah want THAT!  Hannah want THAT!”  I thought she’d just thrown one of her toys outside of her cot and couldn’t reach it.

When I went to get her up, she immediately pointed her chubby little baby (fine, toddler, she’s growing up so fast!) finger towards the top of the closet , shouting “HANNAH WANT THAT!” with way too much glee/excitement.

I got it down as she ran off to her toy bin, scooping up her art smock that she has only worn about one time in her entire life.  “Hannah need this too.”  She told me.  How did she know that??  Seriously, it’s been months since we’ve done any painting, and we don’t draw or colour with the art smock on.  Ever.

I got her colouring book out and pulled out a page with a girl on it.  She told me she wanted to paint a girl.

“Which colour do you want?” I asked her.

“Blue.”

“Where do you want it?”  As if I was going to let a 22 month old squeeze her own paint out of the bottle.  I’m pretty sure the entire bottle would have ended up on the page.

“There.”  She said, pointing to the girls face.

She coloured it in with a combination of her left index finger and her paintbrush.  And then she was done with that one.  She wanted a different one.

We repeated the entire exercise.  Over and over again.  She always wanted blue, and she only wanted to paint people’s faces.  Then she was done.  Once she painted a girls hands blue too, but only once.

So I’m wondering, can an under two-year-old toddler have her own artistic style already?  I guess I’ll have to just draw a whole bunch of faces for her to paint.  Otherwise, we’ll be going through way too many colouring books….

Bears face had to be blue (what’s up with this image? Seriously, nightmares anyone?)

Man’s face had to be blue

Trolls or gnomes, whatever they are, faces are blue too

This one got blue hands too. She is clearly special.

Yeah, paint all over her face

Girl had to have a blue face too

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The sound of silence

I think it’s good to let toddlers play by themselves sometimes.  It develops creativity and imagination.  I like to close all the doors in the house except the one leading to her room, and of course the kitchen which leads to the playroom.  That way she can run around the hallway to her heart’s content, and if she feels like playing in her room by herself, then by all means, she can go for it.

She loves going in her room and pulling all of her shirts off the hangers, pants off the shelf, and singlets out of the drawer.  Mostly she just puts them on the ground, but she loves trying to put them on too.  Often when she comes out of her room, she is running, giggles coming out of her mouth, 5 shirts around her waist, and a pair of underpants on her head.

Sometimes she sits in her room and pulls half the books off of her shelf, looking through each one as she goes.  Upside down, right side up, it doesn’t matter, she looks at them just the same.  She talks as she points to the pictures in her books “OH!  Kangaroo!  BIG Kangaroo!”

Usually I can hear her in her room, having a great time, giggles here, sentences there, thuds as pulls books off the shelves.

But the other day, it was quiet.  She’d been in there for a while.  Last time she was in there for a while being quiet, she had shut her door so I wouldn’t know what she was up to (CHEEKY!) and somehow managed to get a hold of her wipes, pulling nearly all of them out of the packet.  When I went in, she jumped a little, knowing she isn’t meant to be getting out all the wipes.  “Just one.”  She told me nodding her head as she tried to take one more to wipe Mickey Mouse’s bottom.  He was nicely laid on the change mat, ready for a nappy and a bottom wipe.

I went in her room, totally expecting to find an entire packet of wipes scattered about her room, a cheeky look on her face.  As I approached the door, she started giggling.  And jumping.

“How did you get in there?!”

More giggling.  More bouncing. She was clearly very proud of herself, excited at her new feat.

She loves climbing in there now.  She does it all the time.  We asked her to do it for the camera last night, so here it is, little miss cheeky doing her new trick.  Just keep in mind that despite being 22 months old, she is very small, at least 2 inches shorter than all of her friends, and she only weighs 10 kilos, so this isn’t really easy for her.

Just so you know, I only had a roll of masking tape around my wrist because I was in the middle of getting Baby Boy’s room ready for trim painting…..

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Where does the bin man live?

Today I took Hannah to Bunnings to get some new heat lights for the bathroom.  It is FREEZING in there!  The current bulbs have been in there at least 20 years and when they died, no one ever changed them, they just left them in there, all dead and useless.  Humph.  I like to be warm, rather than cold, wet, and bedraggled and on the verge of getting frostbite when I step out of the shower ,thank you very much.

Anyway, I spotted a pink set of drawers that would be great for Hannah’s socks and things for the bargain mark down price of $15 bucks.  Done.

We got it home and Hannah decided she wanted to open it.  She ran to her playroom and fetched a little pink and blue plastic toy knife.

“Need a knife!” she told me.

Trying to open it with her little plastic knife

She poked and prodded at the plastic packaging with the “knife”, unable to free the lovely pink drawers inside.

She flipped it over and tried the other side.  No luck.

She flipped it on its side.  No luck.

She got frustrated and wanted a real knife.  I opened it for her with my finger nail instead.

“Hannah open it!  Hannah need a knife!”  She yelled.  It was nearly nap time, so she was starting to get cranky.  She somehow snapped her toy knife in half.

“Oh no, broke the knife!” She told me with a sad look on her face, tears threatening to escape. “Mommy fix it.”

“No sweetie, it can’t be fixed, we’ll have to throw it away.”

“Put it in the bin!”  Hannah said excitedly.  She really likes putting things in her bin (that’s garbage can for those Americans reading this).

Hannah: “Bin man take it.”  FYI, the bin man is the garbage man.

Me: “Where’s bin man going to take it to?”

Hannah: “Bin man’s house.”

Me: “Where does the bin man live?”

Hannah: *points to cupboard* “in THERE!”

Me: “Oh, he lives in the cupboard?”

Hannah: “YEAH!!!  In the cupboard!”

Me: “Where does Daddy live?”

Hannah: “In Daddy’s cupboard!”

Kids are so funny!

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Come on, it’s for a good cause

Ok, so I’m participating in a fundraiser for Pencils of Promise, a charity that builds schools and provides children with access to basic education in developing countries.  If I raise the most money, Justin Bieber (HAHAHAHAHAHA, I know that is HILARIOUS, because I think the whole Justin Bieber thing is sooo silly, but hey, a lot of kids like him, so what the hay) will go to a U.S. school of my choice.  Since I don’t actually live in the U.S. but lots of you readers do, and have kids that go to schools in the U.S., and said kids may secretly or not so secretly have the Bieber fever, I could be easily swayed as to which school.

So come on, donate some moolah for a good cause, and try to get that crazy Bieber boy to your kid’s school.

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A bad nights sleep

After we checked in, unpacked Hannah’s things and set up her portable cot, there was a knock at the door.

“Hi,” the hotel worker said as she walked into our room. “Is it ok if I come in?”  As if we had a choice, she was already in there.

“I just wanted to let you know that there is a function downstairs tonight so it might be a bit loud.  I’m very sorry, I just wanted to give you the heads up.  It’s supposed to go until about 12.”  She told us.

We didn’t think too much of it, picturing some loud voices that when altogether sound more like muffled white noise.  Not too much of a concern really.  I mean, it was only a pub downstairs.

We put Hannah to bed at 7:30, retreating to The Jess and Jim’s room down the hall with the baby monitor so she could put herself to sleep.  When we got back to the room, the noise wasn’t too bad.  There was so quiet-ish music and loud-ish voices that all mingled in to one muffled jumble.  Not too bad.

I didn’t really have anything to do.  I couldn’t read a book, as Hannah’s cot was just a foot away from our bed.  I couldn’t really turn a light on.  We couldn’t watch tv for fear of waking her up.  Aaron played his D.S. and I decided to just go to sleep.  Catch up on some z’s and have a really good rest.  Sure it was only 8ish, but I was sleepy anyway.

I fell asleep just fine.  Then 9pm rolled around.  I guess the noise before was just pub noise, not party, I mean “function,” noise.  They seemed to have a DJ.  The DJ seemed to like playing obnoxiously loud dance music that all had the same ‘duff duff’ beat and vibrated through everything in our room.  The noise was deafening.  It was like trying to sleep on top of a giant speaker that was blasting torture.

Hannah somehow managed to sleep right through it.  Aaron and I tossed and turned.  We couldn’t sleep.  I was getting more and more frustrated, annoyed, sleepy, crazy from not being able to sleep, and impatient. I kept looking at the clock.  The minutes seemed to tick by as slow as hours.

Finally, it was midnight.  The lady told me the torture would finally stop at midnight.  I waited a bit.  It kept going.  I’m sorry (not really, but I’ll pretend), but it’s ridiculous to have hotel rooms above what seems to be a for hire night club in the first place, but then to go over time when they’ve only paid to be there until 12?  Not cool at all.  I fumbled in the dark to find my phone and the laminated print out of important hotel numbers and took them to the bathroom, where I could safely turn on the light without waking Hannah.

Humph, the numbers were only extensions to be called from the hotel phone.  The one next to the bed, which also happened to be right near where Hannah was sleeping.

I tried to go back to sleep, willing the music to stop.  It didn’t.

Phone next to Hannah or not, I picked it up and dialled the night supervisor’s extension.  Sure, I could have gone out the door myself and told them to shut up, but when you open the door and hold down the handle, an alarm goes off.  If you try to close the door with the handle up, it makes a loud banging noise.  So it would be an alarm or a loud bang.  Not really an option.

“Hello.”  The man said.

“Hi, I’m just wondering when the obnoxiously loud music is going to stop?”  I huffed.

“Oh, that should have stopped already, I’ll go speak to them.”

I thought the music would stop rather quickly after that.

It didn’t.

We tossed and turned some more.  Hannah woke up and started talking to her stuffed animals and playing in her cot.  “THIS rrraaabbbbiiiitttt.”  She said “BUS!”  She was having a good old time. At least we could giggle at how cute she was instead of thinking about how we were not sleeping and being subjected to horrible torturous loud music.

1:15am.  Finally, the music stopped.  Phew, I can finally sleep now. 

The people from downstairs were drunk.  And loud.  And obnoxious.  And a lot of them seemed to be staying in the hotel.  They trudged up the stairs and began congregating right outside our room, which was annoyingly next to the stairs and off the large hallway that housed the sitting area of the hotel.  They carried on and on, right outside our paper thin door.

Loud door and alarm be darned. “Excuse me, people are trying to sleep here!”  I yelled at them.  I probably should have put some clothes over my bra and underwear first.

They quieted down, but more people banged up those stairs for quite a while after that.  Hannah couldn’t get back to sleep.  She wasn’t playing anymore, she’d started crying.  At home, that’s fine, we’d just turn on the sleepy music (remotely of course), and she’d lay down and go to sleep.  But she could see us.  We were right there.

“Mommy up!”  She held out her little arms and cried, wanting me to pick her up.  I let her cry for a little bit, hoping she’d give up and lay down.

She didn’t.  I picked her up.  I didn’t want the entire hotel to be kept awake by a screaming toddler after being subjected to hours and hours of loud music followed by annoying drunk people.  I rocked and patted her.  Aaron fell asleep.  Aaron getting a good nights sleep was the only reason we were staying there in the first place.  Aaron was running a half marathon the next day.  He didn’t want to get up at ridiculous o’clock to make the starting time of 6:45am.

I held her, patted her, rocked her for an entire hour. My arm was going to fall off.  My back was in danger of permanently curving.  I laid her in bed with me and Aaron.  She crawled half on me so her little head and shoulders were laying on my side and she fell asleep.  Just like that.   It was 3:30am.  Only 2 hours until Aaron had to get up.

And to think we actually paid to sleep at that place.  Humph.

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Flashback Friday: Who’s laughing now?

I was about 11 years old. My friend, let’s just call her P (to save her from total embarrassment), was about 9.

We had just eaten lunch. Or dinner. Maybe a snack. I’m not sure, it was a long time ago!

One of us didn’t eat our chicken. Most likely me, since at that stage, I was probably the fussiest, pickiest, most annoying eater on the face of the planet, surviving pretty much only on turkey hot dogs (preferably cold), cheese pizza, macaroni and cheese, breakfast stuff (i.e. pancakes…), and of course, my personal favourite, deserts.  I certainly didn’t eat chicken, unless it was all mushed up and stuffed inside a deep fried nugget and branded by McDonalds.  That kind of “chicken,” I loved.

We went out to the balcony at the back of the house.  No sense in wasting the chicken, might as well give it to the dog.  One of us threw it over the railing.

Plop.

It somehow managed to land in the only bucket full of water in the entire vicinity of the balcony.  It’s not like we were looking where we were throwing, we just threw things and called it good.  Just a little toss off the side and the dog would come a runnin’.

We didn’t even know there was a bucket of water beneath the balcony.  We were not expecting that noise!

Being easily entertained juveniles, we thought the chicken plop noise in the bucket was the funniest thing ever.  We looked at each other in unison, breaking out into uncontrollable laughter while trying to peek over the railing to see the bucketed chicken.

We couldn’t stop laughing.  We stood on the balcony in hysterics for quite a while.

But then P stopped laughing.  She had this look on her face.  This oh-my-gosh-what-just-happened, no-way-I-did-not-just-do-that, horrified sort of look.

I looked down.  She was in a puddle.  Her not-so-awesome-but-were-very-in-style-at-that-time stretch pants now sported a giant wet patch.

I laughed harder.  The fact the chicken going plop in a bucket of water made P laugh so hard she peed her pants was absolutely hysterical to me.

Until I realised that those weren’t her pants at all.  No, she was wearing my pants.  She peed my pants.

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Poo face

Yesterday Hannah and I were without a car due to the expensive 6 month/12,000k service (where they check stuff and charge you a lot of money but didn’t really do anything).  I’ve kind of been dreading the start of potty training.  Fine, I’ve really been dreading it.  Pee on the carpet. Poo all over legs that run around with reckless abandon.  Getting her to sit on the potty without forcing her to do it and giving her a potty complex… Sigh.  Potty training sounds hard!  Plus, I don’t like staying home all day.  I get bored.  Hannah gets bored.  We get short with eachother.  We’re pretty much nuts by the time Aaron gets home.  Yeah, we have to get out.  Every day.

But, I took advantage of the lack of car and put the “big girl underpants” on Hannah, staying home for the entire day.  She, of course, wanted to run around starkers and giggle about it, but it was far too cold for that.  So, she wore the undies and pants on top of them.

“Hannah, did you do pee pee’s?”  I asked her.  Clearly she had.  I could smell it.  I could see the wet patch all over her pants.

“No.  No pee pees.”  Cheeky little monkey….

A new pair of big girl undies went on, but, she refused to wear pants.  Whatever, I suppose if she were cold enough, she’d put them on.  Or tell me she was cold.  She does tell me things like that.  Plus I turned the heater on.  I’m soft, what can I say.

The plan was to get her to sit on the potty an hour later, and pretty much every hour, in hopes of catching some pee pee during one of the frequent potty sits.

But then I saw the face.  Everyone has the face, it’s just not the same on each person.  You know, that face full of concentration, that face people pull when they’re deep in a particular task.  Some people pull the face when they’re running.  Others, when they’re playing guitar (side note, some guitar faces are really, really horrible).  Babies and toddlers, on the other hand, pull the face when they’re pooing.  Pooing seems to require a lot of concentration and skill when you’re a bubba.

“Are you doing a poo poo?”  I asked her, as she completely stopped what she was doing, the face plastered on her little toddler head.

“No.”

She turned back to me, a look of concern added to poo face.  “Mommy, poo poo,”  she told me in a rather scared, whiney sort of way.

She didn’t know what to do.  She’d always gone poo poo in a nappy, not some thin little pair of undies with stars all over them.  She looked very worried.

Me on the other hand?  I went on auto pilot, scooping her up as fast as I possibly could, de-underwearing her and plopping her down on her awesome singing potty.

Part of me was petrified that the minute her bare little bottom hit that potty, she’d stand and bolt, leaving a trail of poo that had already started coming out behind, possibly stepping on it, spreading it all around the house like some horribly contagious disease.

But she didn’t.  She sat there like a good girl, a scared/concerned/what-the-heck-is-going-on look on her face, looking at me for answers.  She wanted me to read the potty book to her.  Her potty book just so happens to feature her exact potty.  It wasn’t even on purpose.  I didn’t even buy it for her, it was a gift from YaYa before we actually found Awesome Potty.  And then I didn’t realise that the potty in the book was the same as her potty until we read it a while later.

I read the potty book to her over and over again.  She sat there, listening, still concerned about what was going on. I suppose it’d feel pretty weird pooping sitting down, no nappy to catch her efforts, when she’d been doing it standing up, clad in a nappy for her entire life.

I kept reading.  She got up and there it was.  Sitting at the bottom of her little singing potty was her very first potty poop.  She looked at it with concern.  What was it doing in there?  Where does it go now?  It’s not like the little potty actually flushes, despite it’s little flushing handle that makes a flushing noise when you push it and sings a song about going in the potty and then flushing it all away.

I praised her and praised her.  I gave her a little piece of brownie and told her it was because she was such a good girl doing poo poo’s on the potty.  We washed her little hands in the sink.  Actually, we did that before the brownie.  She got to put a sticker on her brand new potty chart.

Then she ran to her bedroom, got out a nappy, laid down on her change mat and wanted me to put her nappy on quick-smart.

UPDATE:

Today (1 day after pooping in potty) Hannah was terrified of her Awesome Potty and wouldn’t go anywhere near it.  I’m pretty sure she thinks it now houses a poo monster who will bite her if she enters it’s territory.  Sigh, that’s no good for potty training!

Regardless of the toilet phobia, I put her in her big girl undies after her nap (we were out all morning).  I tried to bribe her to sit on her potty, but she refused and became very whingey instead.  I was sure she’d wet herself, but whatever, at least she’d feel the unpleasant wetness instead of it being instantly absorbed in a nappy.

I had to pee in the evening and Hannah went in with me.  No surprise there, she always comes to the bathroom with me.  If I shut her out, she bangs on the door alarmingly loud and screams “Mommy!” the entire time I’m in there.  I’d rather just let her in, thank you very much.

Her cheap Kmart potty that she hated was still sitting next to the toilet.  She likes to use it as a stool when the lid is down.  She opened it up and went to sit on it.  I pulled her pants down and she sat there as I peed in the big toilet.  She got up when I did.  Nothing.

I went to pull up her pants.  “Pee pee.”  She told me.

“Do you have to go pee pee?”

“Yeah.”

I sat her back on the potty and somehow relaxed her with my horrid singing voice.  She likes it when I sing to her (for some strange reason…).

And then it happened.  She started peeing.  She peed a lot.  I’m not sure how her little toddler bladder held all that pee, but alas, somehow it did.

She stood up.  I gave her a square of toilet paper and she wiped herself and added it to the potty.  She shut the lid and told me to leave it there.  Apparently the act of putting the contents of the potty into the toilet somehow picks up the poo monster and renders the potty totally horrifying.  I left it there (until she went to bed).

She got another sticker on her chart, and a tiny piece of dark chocolate.  I can’t believe she successfully used the potty 2 days in a row.  Here’s to hoping the success keeps on coming!

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Cereal for Mothers Day

“What are you going to get Mommy for Mother’s Day?”  I asked Hannah.

She looked at me, clearly deep in thought, her little bubba brain going a mile a minute.  “Cereal.”  She said matter of fact-ly.  “Mother’s Day!”

I asked her a day later.  “Hannah, what are you going to get Mommy for Mother’s Day?”

Her face was etched with thinking.  “Bar.”

“What kind of bar?”  She says bar for muesli bars, chocolate bars (not that she is allowed to have them), and fruit bars.

More thinking.  “Chocolate bar.  TWO bars!!”

I asked her pretty much every day for a week after that, and she always gave me the same answer.  “Two chocolate bars!”  Sounds good to me!

Except one day she looked at me all seriously and said “Peas.”  Ick.  Not that I don’t eat peas, I’m just not a huge fan…

Mother’s Day morning finally rolled around (yesterday.  Yeah, yesterday.  I had to think about that… baby brain!) and I awoke to Hannah jumping on me (via Daddy bringing her in to do just that) and wanting to give me presents.  Ok, that’s a lie.  I was already awake.  I just pretended to be asleep because she enjoys waking one of us up each weekend.

She handed me a Curly Wurly with a huge smile on her face.  “Mommy’s!” she told me.  She didn’t even say “have some.”  Yeah, she knew it was for me alright.

curly wurly

Aaron told me she picked it out all by herself.

Next she handed me some black forest Tim Tams.  mmmm….

And finally, she gave me a box of Lindt chocolate.  I accidentally saw the cereal when they bought it, so that was already in the cupboard.  No frozen peas (luckily).

Yeah, my daughter is awesome.

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Wordless Wednesday: Family portraits

I don’t have anything profound or hilarious to write about today, (or maybe I just can’t be bothered) so I’m going to do what a lot of people do and go with Wordless Wednesday. What? It’s not Wednesday? Meh, merely details. Plus, I may not be in the U.S. but I am from the U.S., and guess what?  It’s Wednesday there!!  What?  There are words in this post?  Whatever, I don’t think I could ever have a post with no words at all….

Anyway, we have been meaning to do some family portraits for many months now, but we were kinda lazy and didn’t do it until last Saturday.  Or Sunday.  Can’t remember.  We have a couple of sponsor kids from Indonesia, and we were supposed to send them a letter and family photo quite a while ago.  I guess we suck as sponsor parents because we haven’t yet done it, due to needing a current family photo.

I finally remembered to ask The Jess (aka The Sister-in-Law) to come over and take some lovely photos (in addition to helping paint Baby Boy’s ceiling).  So, here they are (taken at 26 weeks pregnant):

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