Yo Ho, Yo Ho….

Ana sang a brand new song to Wes yesterday, and it was a great one. It was to the tune of that song the Pirates of the Caribbean sing and even included some of the same words… with a few, fun, new ones thrown in. Here’s how part of it went:

“Yo, ho, yo, ho, don’t poo poo in your pants!”

Wes to me, “Did you teach her that?”

Me to him, “NO!”

Ana to Wes, “I like that song!”

And that? Is a fitting intro to this blog, seeing as how that’s been the main focus of my life here lately. At this point last year, Ana was potty trained, so it’s TIME. Yes, friends, it’s time to get serious about Emma’s potty training. I, of course, have been serious this whole time, but Emma? Eh, not so much. I asked her the other night if she needed to go, she told me she didn’t, and I insisted that she try. Within a few seconds on the potty, she did both kinds of business, prompting the following conversation.

Me, “I thought you didn’t need to go! Why did you tell me you didn’t need to go when you so clearly needed to go?”

Emmy, “Because I no wanna go.”

Me, “Well, tough toenails, girl! When you gotta go, you just gotta go! It’s need! Not want!”

Do you think any of this made sense to her? I tried again when I was a little calmer and not ready to pull out my hair and run from the room screaming. Here’s what followed…

Me, “Emmy, if you’ve got to go, you just need to tell me, then you can go, and then you can be done with the potty! But if you wait and go in your pants, you’ll NEVER get to wear Princess panties!”

Emmy, “Gram say CONCENTRATE.”

Me, “What?”

Emmy, “Gram say, when da poo poo not comin, CONCENTRATE.”

Oh, I give up. I just absolutely give up. How difficult could it really be to spend the rest of my life following her around asking her if she needs to go every hour on the hour, then convincing her to try when I think it’s time? After a while, I’ll be in sync with her bowel movements and it won’t be so difficult, right? Right. (For those who are wondering, she’s accident-free so long as she’s got me nagging her. Enough so that my mother calls her potty trained, but I think it’s more accurate to call that “Mommy Trained.” Bah.)


Much to our astonishment, Charlie gained five pounds last week, obviously distraught over BC’s passing and finding comfort in his puppy chow. (Or not. It’s kind of hard to tell with Charlie since he lives life with a perpetual tongue-lagging smile on his face.) I find myself missing BC at the strangest times, when I catch myself calling for her or looking for her on the back of the couch. I went out to the playroom after tucking the girls in one night and just cried in her favorite rocker, thinking about all the days she spent watching the girls and sunning herself in that super warm spot. She’s so missed.

We had a great Mother’s Day, starting with Ana and Emma running to greet every great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother at the church with a hug and a hello. Because Emma is now sitting in the service like a big girl (or a very squirmy little girl, but we’ll get there!), she was able to help pass out roses, which was just about the biggest treat for me, seeing both girls love on the ladies in our church. The sweetness almost made me overlook the way Emma spent the second half of the sermon pointing her finger straight up in the air (where people can see it, you know, since we sit in the front) and saying quite loudly, “I wanna go see Mrs. Maggie.” At one point (to outshine her sister, I’m sure), Ana whispered to me, “Papi is talkin’ about HEAVEN.” He actually wasn’t, but he had said the word heaven so I congratulated her, prompting her to look smugly at Emma, as if to say, “Beat that, sister.” (Which incidentally, I’ve heard her say once or twice, along with other gems like, “Emma, I know how to obey, but YOU don’t.” Which always prompts tears, meltdowns, and screaming so loud that they’re feeding off one another’s hysteria until no one can remember what sparked the whole thing. Can you feel the love? I know I sure can.)

If you missed Sunday’s blog, I’m trying something new. I’ve been reading a lot, and Wes told me to post a review of one of the books I recently read. Mainly because he’s heard a lot of bad press on it, didn’t want to waste his time on it if it was as bad as he’d heard, and so appreciated that I was going to do it instead. (No problem!) I’m aiming to do one book review every Sunday, which means I’ve been reading even more than normal. It’s been great fun, you know, in those moments that I’m not running Charlie ragged, playing with the girls, and (of course!) asking Emma if she needs to go potty.

Which reminds me — I should probably go and ask her again.

But enough about me. How was your Mother’s Day weekend?

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