ALERT: Bathroom Language Abounds In This Post, Do Not Read If You Don't Want To Hear About Poop

****Late Breaking News!*****

I interrupt this regularly scheduled work day to announce that...

Lucy pooped on the potty!

I know you are all just as thrilled as we are, WHY WOULDN'T YOU BE? Clearly my child's bathroom habits are of great importance, if not to the world, at least to this blog's readership, right?

So, yes, the pooping. On the potty. It happened yesterday morning at daycare (so I guess in this instance, "late breaking" means more "late" than "up to the minute reporting"). Meaning not on my watch, of course. At home she just tells me when she is mid-poop, usually as she is crouching in some kind of corner or behind the kitchen trash can with an odd twinkle in her eye (Why the trash can? Why the sly twinkle? Toddlers are strange creatures). By then it's far too late to hustle her to the toilet. I'm pretty sure the clean-up would be horrendous (Lucy, the toilet, and me!). But this time, I guess her teacher set her on the potty to pee, and once that happened, asked Lucy if she was all done. Lucy said no, and then nonchalantly proceeded to poop (since I wasn't there, I am extrapolating the "nonchalant" part of the event based on Lucy's personality). Her first potty poop, one for the (non-existent) baby book!

Given that Lucy is now peeing regularly on the potty (if by regularly one means a few times a day, for the last 3 weeks or so), and insisting on wearing pull-ups, AND has now started down the road of pooping on the potty, I suppose I need to take this potty training initiative she is showing seriously?

Yes, I ask that as a question, as I am hesitant. Can a not-even-27-month-old actually be potty trained? She can't even really pull up or down her own pants yet. She still sleeps in a crib. She is my BAY-BEEE! (sob) (no, I am not really crying over this) (after all, it is by no means a nightmare if she wants to up and potty train herself earlier than I expected)

Bottom line is that M. and I will push a little harder if there is some chance of success, but I don't want to push if she really is too young and is just showing a passing interest. So tell me your experience if I don't already know it. Have any of you managed to potty train a young two-year-old successfully? Did any of you try and fail miserably?

S.A.S.L.

My afternoon was long and painful and traffic-filled, and my pants are tight. And also maybe currently pulled up over my belly button to alleviate the yucky tight feeling. MAYBE.

Despite all that, and my eyes that are crying for sleep (perhaps because I stayed up until midnight last night, or perhaps because I am currently "watching" the home run derby), I am compelled depart from photo posts and parenting rants to rant about something else entirely. I bring you...

Stupid Ass Song Lyrics

(also known as "Time To Hire A New Song Writer" or "Have We Really Already Written All The Good Songs?")

First up: Maroon 5's Never Gonna Leave This Bed.

Oh, all right, I'll link to a video of the song.



There.

Now, let me just clarify that the tune itself is actually kind of catchy. I don't have a problem with the MUSIC, per se. I have a problem with the lyrics. In particular, with one part of the chorus. Because, as I may have mentioned, it is stupid. To break it down for you, the offending text is thus:

"Wake you up in the middle of the night to say,
I will never walk away again
I'm never gonna leave this bed"

First, boyfriend CLEARLY doesn't know how precious sleep is. Has he ever raised a toddler? Waking me up in the middle of the night to talk to me? Oh, I don't think so. Save it for the morning.

Second, he will "never walk away again". So... he's walked out before? That's so... cool? And catchy? Um, no. Thanks for the reassurances that it won't happen again, but I'd be taking my chances out on my own, not giving this guy who WON'T LET ME SLEEP another chance.

And finally, the ultimate message. He's never going to get out the damn bed. Do I even need to point out all the WRONGNESS of that? He's going to be in bed, expecting God knows what, but it sure as hell isn't sleeping. ALL THE TIME.

If you want to wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me that you just started a load of darks in the washer, then we can talk. But if you're going to wake me up to tell me that you're never leaving our bed? You'll be leaving it pretty damn quick.

Next Questionable Song: California King Bed by Rihanna



Let's again examine the chorus:

"In this California king bed"
- Is she really singing about... a bed?

"We're ten thousand miles apart"
- A really big bed?

"I've been California wishing on these stars"
- What exactly is "California wishing"? When did we decided California was an adjective? And is this somehow related to California dreamin'? Maybe California wishing should focus a bit more on balancing the state budget than Rihanna's heart. Just a suggestion.

"For your heart for me"
- Um, unless we're talking sentence structure, nothing snarky to say here.

"My California king"
- Did she write this to Arnold Schwarzenegger? Or maybe the King is more literal than figurative, like Larry King? He must have a house in California. Maybe she's singing to him.

Just two songs that have been driving me crazy lately. What about you - are you a person that strives to learn the actual words of songs that you hear on the radio? Any song lyrics that drive you nuts?

Everyone But the Lobster Had Fun

As has become an every-other-year tradition, we spent the past 4th of July weekend with M's parents, who made the long drive out from Wisconsin to spend some time with us. Though we didn't make it to any fireworks (9:15 p.m. on a school/work night is just never going to happen), we had fun, relaxed, and did our best to celebrate the nation's birthday. A rundown in photos follows.

Granny and Grandpa arrived the Thursday afternoon before the 4th. They battled traffic around Indianapolis and pounded the highway for two days straight, and still managed to arrive with smiles. Probably because they drive a Prius. Effin' gas mileage. We celebrated with Italian take-out, wine, and dessert. They brought presents for the kids, which we held over their heads to get them to eat said dinner. Dinner was eaten, gifts were gifted, and everyone went to bed happy. No non-blurry photos exist of this time period, so you will have to use your imagination to picture the reunion and the (faster than I expected) warming of the kids to their grandparents. It had been a year and a half since Finn and Lucy last saw their grandparents (Lucy was only 9 months old!), so I was expecting the shyness to last for some time, but it went by the wayside by bedtime or so.

Friday morning we bundled the kids off to daycare. Yes, some might think that cruel. But M. and I both had the day off (with some work to attend to all the same, those damn Blackberries never go away), and we knew that the next 3 days of constant kid-contact was going to be both draining AND ample time to enjoy their company. So, to daycare they went. We enjoyed a leisurely morning breakfast on the deck, did some grocery and bush shopping (Not at the same store. And don't get me started on the bushes, which were a replacement for hydrangea bushes we bought 4 years ago that NEVER BLOOMED. And always managed to get eaten by the effin' deer. Trying to keep this PG here. But I do NOT like those deer. When is hunting season? This vegetarian may be on board with some rifle action this year...).

Anywho, once the various shopping errands were taken care of, we took off for a lovely lunch in the Maryland country/mountainside. It looked like this.



Then we drove to a nearby winery to sample the wares.

Here is M. in his "I am a serious wine drinker, excuse my hat" pose.

A group photo. Notice that no one is trying to keep an eye on wayward children out of the corner of their eyes. This was a good choice.

After the tasting we each ordered a glass of wine to suit our own preferences (mine was the Pinot Grigio, Granny and Grandpa each had a different sweet/dessert wine, and M. had a hearty red, to give you insight into our wine preferences. This place, thankfully, had something for everyone), and we sat out on the lovely patio. Sans kids, if I haven't mentioned that already.

I decided to have an East Coast meal for my in laws, who are pretty land-locked out in Wisconsin. Because I am New England raised and not all that comfortable with whole crabs (and dieting, thus not all that comfortable with crab cakes), I decided to try my hand at lobster salad. I have never, ever cooked my own lobster before. I have eaten plenty, and not just lazy man's lobster at a restaurant. I've cracked 'em open and eaten them whole (after rinsing out the gross stuff, of course). But until last week, I'd never actually cooked one myself. Here he is once he was cooked. Yes, it was a he. No roe. I'm going to pretend he didn't suffer much. But I did. We don't have proper lobster removal utensils, so I had to use a hammer and kitchen shears. I managed to scrape a flap of skin off of one of my fingers in the process. But I do believe I got all of the edible stuff out, and the recipe I followed made a very nice lobster salad. I even managed to find top-split/New England style hot dog buns to do it up right!

We also ate corn on the cob. And this was the first time the kids were enslaved to husk the corn. But it won't be the last...

The next morning (Saturday), I waddled off to my weightwatcher's weigh in and then came back to wake up a sleepy head Lucy. Girlfriend was still sleeping at 8:50 am when I returned. I was only a little afraid she was dead.

There was some kind of Folk Life festival happening on the D.C. mall that weekend, so we opted not to go in to D.C. for our touristy activities with the in-laws (next time, next time). Instead, we went to the next best thing - the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum annex located just next to Dulles airport.

Parking may not be free, but the place is worth the trip.

For example, they have a SPACESHIP. A whole freakin' space ship. How often do you see one of those? Here is the big SPACESHIP'S HINY, making Grandpa look quite tiny in comparison.

Here is a patriotic Finn and Granny in front of some other kind of fighter plane-type aircraft. Shut up, I spent most of my time chasing Lucy. I didn't get to read any plaques.

I'll spare you more of the same, but we have lots of "little people, big planes" pictures. They also have an IMAX theater, where we saw a film called Fighter Pilots. Finn loved it, and Lucy spent her time walking from person to person in our party, removing her shoes and trying to lose them in the row in front of us. Needless to say, she was less enthralled than the rest of us, but for a 2-year-old, she did pretty OK.

Here we have Lucy being led out to the car by Granny and Grandpa, proof that she really, actually liked them by then.

In fact, she still (over a week later) asks for them every day, multiple times a day. It is both cute and annoying.

We grabbed a late lunch in nearby Reston, Virginia and let the kids explore the outdoor fountain. Making for good photo ops.

And fear of drowing.

The next morning we went to the local airpark for breakfast. I think I've blogged about going there before, but I'm too lazy to find the pictures. Anyway, picture a restaurant inside a building right next to a local airstrip, with hundreds of little airplanes parked within a several hundred yard radius.

Here we are after ordering our food. I don't know why I look weird. About to speak? Lucy looks like she's smelling something unpleasant, so maybe it's related.

Here is an action shot - you can get an idea of how close we are to the planes taking off and landing.


Cutie Lucy.

After breakfast the men went golfing and Granny and I took the kids to the pool. Um, no photos, for some reason.

The last day of the visit, the 4th of July. Here, 3 generations of M. men carry on the aircraft theme of the weekend by looking up videos of Blue Angels on YouTube.

M. made Bloody Mary's. They were yummy.

The kids "hid" behind their play kitchen.

We strolled around an outdoor lake/restaurant/shopping area. Hmm, though I don't see a UW shirt in sight, it's clear that Badger habits die hard in this family, given the amount of red, eh?

King Finn

Before grilling out in true 4th of July fashion (the only part of tradition, outside of televised fireworks, we were able to keep up), we finished off the afternoon with a neighborhood walk/scoot. Both kids had scooters and helmets. Only Finn actually scooted.

Lucy alternated between getting dragged along on her scooter in true Queen Bee fashion,

And getting carried...

One way or another.

Finn was ahead of the gang the whole time, having clearly mastered his new scooter (two-wheeled, the three-wheeled one was given to Lucy, with thus far weak results...)

And nature was manhandled.

Finally, Lucy would like you to know that she would now like to wear Pull Ups. Or, as she calls them, Cool Ups.

She doesn't always want to use the potty, of course.

(Though she is using it a few times a day.)

But, diapers? They're for babies, man. No more diapers for this chica.

(Or so she'd prefer, if Mom and Dad didn't balk at the cost of pull-ups and refuse to let her wear them at night).

It seems we may be doing this potty training thing again. Goodness.

About Friends

OK, so by now it may be evident that I create a bit of mental anxiety (guilt?) for myself as far as my kids go. I'm not exactly an easy going mom. I worry about their diets, their daycare, their sleep habits, their bathroom habits, whether they see their parents enough, whether they watch too much TV, whether I'm a crappy mom for yelling at them (in my mind) constantly. Whether I am circling anywhere within a 12-mile radius of what might be called "good parenting" and "raising upstanding citizens."

Yes, I do worry about all of those things. Though definitely NOT all at once. I am able to live with myself and function at a somewhat high level, after all.

My guilt/anxiety/worry/whatever you want to call it all really boils down to how well my efforts now will prepare my kids for the morass that is high school (and let's be honest, in this day and age, probably middle school, too), and all the peer pressures and temptations and different ways that LIFE could go horribly, horribly wrong for them (have I ever mentioned how the A&E show "Intervention" is my worst parenting nightmare come to life?? For real. And there's so, so much more than drug addiction to worry about out there!).

But to be honest, my job as a parent is only part of the influence. I think M. and I do a descent job making the kids feel loved, giving them some consequences, helping them be clothed and fed and generally secure (but not too secure). That really is the bulk of a parent's job, right? All the other tactics (Tiger Mom? Lots of praise? Only earned praise? Giving choices? Restricting choices? Homeschooling? Private schooling? Public schooling? Exclusive breastfeeding? Cloth diapering? etc) that one might read about and do or not do or not do and criticize others for doing is all just... extra stuff. Maybe it's important, maybe it's not. But it's extra, in my book, as long as we're doing those parts about love and consequences and food/clothing and security.

I have (for the most part) control over my interactions with my kids. They aren't always what I think of as "ideal," but I do have control there. What I won't have control over is my kids' interactions with their friends. And that is another whole sphere of influence that will help shape who my kids become.

The right friend(s) can mean the difference between good grades and bad. Between learning to say no (to sex, to drugs, to whatever you aren't quite ready for) and getting in over your head. Between happiness and self esteem, and depression. Maybe not for all, but for many. I have always been one to succumb to peer pressure (good god, I only started this blog because my sister had one! Although perhaps that could also be the competitive gene kicking in...), and I credit the straight-laced group of friends that I had all throughout public school (and my sisters!!) for my lack of bad behavior.

So, how do I help my kids choose the right friends?

Since my children may not count my advice for much when they are older and it is most pertinent, I'll put down a few suggestions for posterity's sake here.

A good friend is always supportive, even when they are jealous.

A good friend will not talk shit about other friends. If your friend talks shit about mutual friends, run, don't walk, away. Because they're probably doing the same thing about you behind your back.

A good friend has ambition. That ambition should include scholastic or vocational achievement of some sort. It should not be solely focused on dating or partying or achieving clear skin (though such things do have a place, to a degree).

A good friend should like to read, at least a little.

A good friend is one with a curfew.

A good friend wants success for you.

A good friend will hold your hair while you puke, and take you out for coffee in the morning. Please note that I'd prefer this only be exercised in college, however.

A good friend will always like whoever you are dating, even when they really don't. You can find out the crappy stuff on your own, and then a good friend will provide a very nice shoulder to cry on.

A good friend is one you are comfortable with, even after years apart and far too sporadic e-mails and phone calls. And by "comfortable", I mean able to discuss sex, poop, relationships, hopes, fears, mucuous plugs... you know, ANYTHING.

I have good friends. Some I have known forever, some are a bit newer. For all of them, I don't see them enough. But I love them, and I know they have my back.


The luck of dorm assignment in college brought me to this lovely lady. We share a name, a sense of humor, and much more.


And this one. Jennifer. Oh! The laughs we have shared. And frankly, a lot of tears. The good ones and the bad ones. The William and Mary housing system must have had some sort of Match.com beta system when they picked roommates my year. I was so, so fortunate.


Margo and I were each charmed by fellows from Ladysmith, Wisconsin, and managed to find each other out here on the East Coast as a result. She is nice and lovely and funny and the best wine drinking buddy EVER. And she is leaving me to move to Minnesota. I am sad.


Stacey, Kristin, Natalie, Helen, Me. Two I have known since birth, and the other two for almost just as long. We are ALL like sisters.


I must share more photos from our girls' weekend of revelry. And all of those caveats about picking up where we left off? Completely true.


Though I don't think there was any hair-holding, and we were all able to eat breakfast (at least the second morning).


And I definitely consider my sisters to be my friends. Best friends, really.

I have more good friends, but not many more. Good friends are hard to come by, and I cherish mine.

I hope Finn and Lucy find the same.

And I hope they consider each other as good friends, if not always, then eventually.

What signs of a good friend would you add to this list?