Obi Wan Kenobi, Plumbing Fun, and Hornbills

A few of you may remember a post I wrote a few months ago, expressing my frustration at the lack of potty training progress. Well, hats off to Jack Richards and his mom, because it finally came together in the last month. The clincher? Star Wars action figures did the trick. It hurt the budget a tad, but each time Jack did a #2 on the toilet, we went to Target and bought him a "guy," until his collection included about 10 characters. Sweet.

Well, sweet until this week, when Obi-Wan went tumbling into the toilet as Jack flushed. For a few days, the toilet was a little sluggish, but all was well, and I thought we had wiped our hands of the problem. Not so. Tuesday night, it hit the fan. Every water-producing edifice in our home, when engaged, caused the toilet to explode with a watery vomit of sewage and food waste. Not just a little... this was major, major, major. Of course, Nate was still at work and I had all the YW in my house, making dinner for one of our leaders who just had a baby. Grant was my little helper, dashing up and down for "more towels! No, LOTS more towels!"

The next day, after RotoRooter finished his dirty little 9 hours of work and cruelly left us $900 poorer, Nate asked, "Now, why is it that we potty trained Jack? Just think of how many diapers we could have bought for $900!" The irony.

On a lighter note; while we're still on the subject of fecal waste, Grant said pleasantly this evening: "Mom, aren't you glad you're not a hornbill?" "Well, why yes, I'm glad I'm not a hornbill, Grant. Why do you ask, though?" "Because hornbills poop on their babies. ONLY on their babies." Grant's fascination with animal facts sure comes in handy sometimes. At least I'm not a hornbill.

placenta brain

What a productive week! This week, I did the following:

-Booked two babysitters for the same time. I was already teaching when the second one arrived. That was an interesting scenario.

-Lost my debit card. Found my debit card. Lost my debit card. Cancelled my debit card and ordered a new one.

-Took Grant's first school library book in the jogger while I walked (oops, waddled) with Jack. Left it in the jogger. It was ruined the next day in the rain. Somehow, I thought a little tape job would fix it. Not surprisingly, I got a somewhat perturbed note from the librarian, asking that the $10 replacement fee be paid immediately. Way to start off a relationship with Grant's school personnel on the right foot.

-Left my Mary Poppins (meaning= EVERYTHING IN IT) purse in the kindergarten classroom at Back to School Night. Got a call late that evening from the principal, thankfully. Again, I'm gaining quite a reputation at the school.

Wish me luck, folks. Can anyone help me remember my phone #?

1st Days

Grant studying up before he headed out the door on the first day

giving me the "thumbs up" as he boarded the bus

totally pumped and ready to go in

Jack and his best, best bud Jack Dudley: the inseparable two Jacks

With Grant in a five-day pre-K last year, I didn't anticipate that kindergarten would be too big of a deal. But two things got me: the bus, and the paperwork. Watching Grant climb aboard that big bus, I honestly got a lump in my throat. It wasn't the "I wish he was still at home with me" lump, but more of the "Please world, be good to him. He's too sweet to have anything scary or unpredictable or overwhelming happen to him." Me and all the other parents on the block stood and hungrily watched the bus pull away, not unlike the paparazzi must do to celebrities, waving and snapping pictures. My little celebrity, Grant. Watch out, Chestnutwold Elementary... Grant Richards has arrived! And if anyone isn't nice to him, I'll hunt them down...

As for the second factor of some consternation, I don't think I'm a mature enough adult to be able to handle all of the logistical details that I am responsible for. Book orders, permission slips, phone trees, volunteer schedules, PTO opportunities, bake sales, insurance forms for WHILE they're in school.... for the love! I thought turning 30 and having a third child would help me grow up, but apparently not. I'm going to have to suck it up now.

And then there's Mr. Jack. When Grant started preschool, it was a sweet and careful beginning, which fed my mom-ego quite nicely: "He needs me!" He let me stay with him for the first 15 minutes, held my hand, kissed me goodbye, and quietly reassured me that he'd be OK. Which in turn, quietly reassured me that I'd be ok, too. Not Jack. He marched in like nobody's business: "Hello! I'm Jack Richards! Are you my teacher?" When I asked if he was ready for me to go, he looked at me like I was crazy: "Mom, go home! I'm at SCHOOL!" Thankfully, he was equally boisterous when I picked him up, the last mom to arrive (dangit!!)! I'm truly so proud of him.

There is an indescribably powerful love that a mother possesses for her children, and I felt it overwhelmingly this week. And it was complete and utter joy today as I watched Grant race into Jack's embrace after deboarding the bus, exclaiming, "Jack, buddy-- how did your first day go?" Oh, I love my dudes.