The down side of being potty trained

So, yes, it's wonderful to have Emma potty trained. We started the first of September. She had about three "accidents" that first day, one the next day, and then she was perfect for a week. Then for about three weeks she would have about two accidents every week. Since then, she's been great. We used pull-ups at night until the package was gone, and then we were done with those too. She hasn't had any problems. I couldn't believe it. I was ecstatic. TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE, I thought. Well, I was right. I just didn't know exactly what I was right about.

You see, no diapers/pull-ups=saving some money. But I'm here to tell you that's the only thing that's good about it, at least at our house. And sometimes I wonder if saving the money is worth it. Lemme 'splain.

When Emma was in diapers, nighttime and naptime were periods of bliss for me. She's always been low-maintenance in this area. She never even TRIED to get out of her room. If she wasn't tired for some reason, she would "read" her books on her bed until she was tired, and then she would cover up and go to sleep. When she'd wake up, she was always happy, and she'd eagerly play with her books again until I went to get her. Sometimes she'd wake up at 7:00 in the morning, and I wouldn't get her until 8:30 (child abuse? maybe). She never minded in the least. Naptime could last 3 hours or more, considering the time she would spend "reading." It was fabulous.

Well, that happiness has been ripped away, stomped on, dismembered, and delivered back on my doorstep with a note that says "HA!" in bright, colorful letters. Nighttime and naptime are now big fat jokes, and it's ruining my liiif-uh! (Read in teenager-ese, vis-a-vis the Lindsay Lohan version of Freaky Friday.)

For nearly two months now, Emma has been getting up at night an average of six times, asking for water or tissue or a hug or for me to tickle her back or chapstick. CHAPSTICK! She doesn't even get up to go to the bathroom. So I did what any good parent would do and threatened to lock her in her room if she didn't stop coming out. And then I actually DID "lock" her in her room with the childproof handle. That caused her to freak her freak and panic and get all hysterical. And here's the thing about a newly potty-trained 2-year-old: sometimes letting them "cry it out" hysterically isn't such a good idea. Think loss of bladder control. And then who's being punished? Me or her? EXACTLY. So I stopped using the childproof handle, because just the very idea of it would send her into hysterics. Now I take things away. "If you get out of bed again, I'm taking away your three musketeers book all day tomorrow." "If you get out of bed again, you can't watch the Mickey Christmas movie at all tomorrow." (Once/Twice Upon a Christmas, if you're curious. I can't help myself.) This seemed to be working for a few days. Also, I put a cup of water in her bedroom. And I told her the chapstick was gone and I had thrown it in the garbage. (I was DESPERATE.)

But alas, the problem is not even close to being solved. Naptimes are rough too. She only sleeps for an hour, and she wakes up screaming and crying because she's not sure if it's "okay" for her to get out of bed. I would cut naps out altogether, but then she's an absolute wreck by 5:00. She'll refuse to eat dinner and zonk out on the couch around 6:00. And THAT makes bedtime even more fun.

So why am I sharing all of this? Because I need help for crying out loud. I am a BEAR when my sleep is interrupted like this. And evidently I'm something even worse when I'm almost 8 months pregnant. I'm like an abominable snowman or a yeti (wait, are those the same thing?) or a bear with rabies. Something along those lines. And I don't have to tell you that when this new baby arrives and I have to deal with her nighttime issues AND Emma's--I will be hanging onto the end of a very frayed rope. By then it will probably be more like a frayed strand of dental floss. Or thread. INVISIBLE thread. And I'll be hanging by my pinky toe.

So please. Any suggestions? Have any of your kids had issues like this? How do you get them to stay in bed?

Have I really not blogged since August? Not sure how that happened.

Oh, wait. I'm not very good at sticking with things. I often start things, get excited about them, go to extremes while neglecting all other responsibilities, and then the enthusiasm fizzles out like the wick of the 1/8-inch pumpkin candle I keep trying to resurrect. But there's just no spark left in that candle.

THAT'S right.

Blogging has become a bit of a dilemma for me, which is actually quite ridiculous, but if you know me well, you're probably not surprised. When I get behind, I stop wanting to do it at all. But I can't stop ENTIRELY because I feel an obligation to document my life in words AND pictures, and since I don't scrapbook and I'm terrible at keeping photo albums, I feel like I HAVE to blog. And rarely do I like doing things that I feel like I HAVE to do.

And why am I talking about this?

I actually do have some noteworthy things to mention, as far as life-documentation goes, and eventually I'll get to them. Like Paulo's birthday at the beginning of this month. And how Emma went through potty-training boot camp at the beginning of September (she was a CHAMP, by the way). And the awesome Halloween party I begged my family to have. And the massive amounts of canning I've been doing with my grandma. And the fact that I've made it to 32 1/2 weeks of pregnancy (I'M HUGE) and just might make it the rest of the way. And some life lessons that I've been learning.

And since my 2-gig memory card is completely full and I have no intention of waiting for all those pictures/videos to upload before posting this, you'll have to settle for this picture of me.

Except that it's not actually a picture of me.

But I feel like it totally could be.

You just gagged a little bit, didn't you? Be honest.

One of those days

MONDAY, AUGUST 31

2:00 a.m.

Finally finish Paulo's laundry so he'll have slacks and a white shirt for work today. Realize as I'm climbing into bed that today's a "casual day" and he gets to wear shorts.

10:00 a.m.-noon

On phone with government agency. Actual talk time: 20 minutes. Hold time: 100 minutes. Take notice of the courtesy of said agency, in that their hold music is appropriately divided between country, rap, and top 40. Replay Care Bear DVD for Emma 6 times.

Noon

Decide to delay lunchtime and naptime to do important errands. Figure Emma will be okay since she didn't eat breakfast till 10:30 anyway. Estimated time for errands: 30 minutes.

12:15 p.m.

Arrive at government agency. Well-meaning man opens door for me. Apparently smitten with my pregnant beauty, he doesn't notice the two-year-old at my side. He smacks her in the head with the door.

12:20 p.m.

Emma has meltdown in line at government agency. Could be related to aforementioned head injury. She throws her care bear and sprawls out on the floor to cry.

12:30 p.m.

People giving me weird looks. Emma still screaming.

12:35 p.m.

Nice lady tells me where I need to go. Emma won't budge from floor. Arms totally full, I nudge her with my foot and say in the most quietly mean voice I can muster: "Get up NOW."

12:36 p.m.

Previously unnoticed, rough-looking security guard sitting four feet away glances from my screaming child to my foot to my face. He actually starts to GET UP and walk toward me. I flash him my best "I promise I don't abuse my child" smile and drag Emma away without looking back.

1:30 p.m.

Finally leave government agency. Head to Walmart for some much-needed groceries. Emma still screaming.

1:45 p.m.

Arrive at Walmart. Bad news: Emma is asleep. Good news: I found a great parking spot close to the entrance. Bad news: I can't pull all the way in because the lady in the next spot has her full cart parked in "my" spot so she can load groceries into the passenger side of her car. Good news: She returns my smile when she sees me and I figure she'll move her cart closer to her car so I can pull the rest of the way in. Bad news: No such luck. Good news: I don't lose my cool. She doesn't flip me off. Bad news: I have to wait while she slowly takes each item out of her cart, which is apparently glued to the ground and cannot be moved. She's still smiling. Good news: I finally get the spot.

2:15 p.m.

Checking out at Walmart. Emma is in a surprisingly good mood. Think my luck is changing. Hope it will hold until I can get home and feed my starving daughter. Cashier tells me amount due.

2:16 p.m.

Realize I left my wallet at home.

2:17 p.m.

Cashier promises to hold my groceries until I get back.

2:18 p.m.

Fume my way to my car. Try to think of non-swear words that can appropriately describe my emotions. Efforts unsuccessful.

2:30 p.m.

Retrieve wallet. Get Emma a bag of fruit loops. You know, for lunch.

2:40 p.m.

Return to Walmart. There are no good parking spots. Consider parking in a handicapped spot. Decide against it, remembering The Office episode where Michael parks in the handicapped spot after burning his foot on his George Foreman Grill, and then the guy who IS handicapped doesn't have a place to park.

2:45 p.m.

Thank the heavens they kept my groceries. Curse the devil they put the milk back in the milk thing, but realize it might have been for the best.

2:46 p.m.

Pray the elderly lady cashier will protect my child while I run across the aisle to get milk.

2:46 and 15 seconds p.m.

Return to the cart just in time to hear Emma screaming at the nice cashier: "I DON'T WANNA TALK TO YOU!"

2:47 p.m.

Apologize to cashier. Sheepishly mumble something about no lunch, no nap. Swipe my card. Run to car.

3:30 p.m.

Apparently Emma's not tired anymore. Put her down for a nap anyway.

3:30 p.m.-4:30 p.m.

Copy/fax forms to government agency. Takes an hour because I check everything 6.3 billion times, knowing that if anything can be misinterpreted/lost/messed up, it surely will be.

4:45 p.m.

Breathe a sigh of relief.

4:46 p.m.

Realize I should figure out dinner. Remember that the kitchen is littered with dirty dishes and a huge pile of laundry needs to be folded. And I haven't watered the plants or fed the fish. And Paulo won't be home till at least 10:00 p.m.

4:47 p.m.

Head for the couch to lie down and read a book.

How was your day?

Camping

Last month we went camping with my side of the family in the Uintas. Aside from the fact that I wore flip-flops on the way up and forgot to pack my shoes (how does one make a mistake like that?), and the fact that I forgot my camera (which was the REAL tragedy), and the resulting fact that I didn't come away with the perfect Kodak moment capturing my little family squatting in front of our tent to commemorate Emma's first camping trip, the weekend was heavenly. Totally relaxed, totally away from everything, totally perfect.

We found a great site that was big enough for all three of our tents, and Paulo and Emma and I slept cozily on our queen-size air mattress, which took up our entire tent.

We did some walking around Mirror Lake and took a scenic drive, but mostly we just hung out, ate yummy food, played games, sat around the campfire, and enjoyed each other. It was wonderful.

Turns out that camping with a two-year-old is hard. Especially when there's a fire involved. And cliffs. And lakes. And rocks and hot objects and bugs and roots jutting out of the ground. And a paranoid mother.

Emma earned the title "Miss Crabby Pants." Maybe it was the crazy sleeping schedule. Maybe she's just crabby.

Here she is yelling at someone while she squats in the woods to "do her business."

I guess I would've wanted my privacy too.

Here she is DIRTY. I only changed her clothes once during the three days.

I shouldn't even have done it once.

Here she is trying to push Megan off the mushroom.

Here she is happy that she (mostly) succeeded.

Here's one of the reasons she was so blasted dirty all the time. What's with kids and rocks?

Here's the classic "Emma face" from the weekend. Isn't she just so cute and lovable?

Kinda like this face.

Paulo was really ready to go home by the end of the trip.

For Joshy

I never realized before now that all of my siblings' birthdays occur within a four-month time period. Today's shout-out goes to my brother Joshua, who turns TWENTY today. I can't believe three out of five of us are in our twenties. Mom, Dad, do you guys feel old or what? Because if I do, YOU CERTAINLY MUST. :)

(For the record, my parents are both in their forties and are not old by any standard. Just had to clear that up.)

But seriously, where is the time going?

I love Josh. He works hard, plays hard, is cheerful, never complains about life, and loves his family. Happy birthday bro!

Baptized

My baby sister Megan turned eight on July 24 and was baptized on Saturday, August 1st, by my dad. She was beautiful in her white dress, and it was a wonderful experience to be there and witness that important ordinance. I'm so proud of her.

Meg was born in a time of transition. I moved out of my parents' house to go to school the same week she was born. My dad had his hands full between oldest daughter and youngest daughter that week--I called him when he was bringing Megan home from the hospital to tell him he needed to drive to Lehi and take me to get stitches (another story for another day). He faithfully attended to all his fatherly duties that day.

I was worried that Megan would think of me as more of an aunt than a sister, since I was so much older than she was and we never even lived in the same house. So I came home from school as often as possible and just held that baby for hours and hours. No baby has ever been held as much as my baby sister was. Between my 19-year-old self, my 17-year-old sister, and my parents (who hadn't had a baby in the house for eight years), she was passed around like a hot potato and hardly knew what the inside of her crib looked like. Those were special days.

Now she's eight. She's observant, compassionate, smart, feisty, helpful, beautiful, and a fabulous aunt to Emma.

Sure love you, Megs.

Oh...My...Word

Paulo and I just saw a commercial for these. Contrary to my assumption/hope/plea, it's not a joke. These are actual Obama chia pets. Available in two styles. "Hail to the ch-ch-ch-chief." No, really, that's their tag line.