So I'm super excited for reasons that all parents, and even non-parents, can completely understand! Drumroll please.....
BUTTERCUP CAN NOW OFFICIALLY WIPE HER OWN BOTTOM!
What can I say? I just got tired of doing it. I looked at her yesterday and thought, "You know what? The kid's almost 4 years old. Let her clean up her own dirty work."
At first the little princess was chagrined. She's used to sitting on her throne and doing her duty without reaping the consequences. Well I let her know that from now on, she can take care of her own kingdom! She whined a little more and sat on her throne a bit longer, but finally realized her "kingdom" needed to be wiped before she could continue with her princessing.
All is well. All is well.
Now all I have to do is convince Lou Lou that sitting on the potty is way better than squatting in a corner...
EDIT: Just to make it clear, Buttercup has been potty trained since she was 2 1/2 years old. She just hasn't liked to wipe her bum when necessary...
So yes, I am one of those bloggers who always says they want to blog more and then they don't blog for weeks at a time and then come back and say "Tada! This is your lucky day--I'm BLOGGING AGAIN!"
The last few weeks have been somewhat stressful for me and when I get stressed I tend to drop something. Usually it is the laundry and there are piles of clothes all over the house that need to be folded up and put away, but strangely enough ALL of my laundry is done. Washed. Folded. Put away in drawers. I've also vacuumed this week (I know, who invaded megs' body?) and have zealously swept the kitchen floor everyday. I've cooked delicious dinners and read stories to my children. You'd think I was nesting or something--but let me be the first to assure you that I am not pregnant (to my monthly chagrin).
But. BUT. I have dropped the whole spending-time-on-the-computer-in-order-to-fill-my-hormotional-days-with-false-joy-and-meaning thing.
It's kind of strange--I thought I was addicted to the computer and keeping in touch with friends. But it's been nice to have a bit of a break from my online self and be present with my family. As I am therapeutically spewing all this out onto the computer screen, I see that all of this is really quite a positive thing, not really the "I've-dropped-the-ball" issue I thought it was. And yet I will say it again: I love to blog and I wish I did it more. Perhaps I will. Now you can all stop rolling your eyes and cheer me on. I can hear all of your millions (haha) of enthusiastic whisper-screams echoing in the distance: "Go Megs! You're amazing! You can blog! We can't survive without your endless wit and randomness and somewhat-complaining every once in a while! WE LOVE YOU!!!"
A girl can dream can't she?
Okay. I have another blog coming up soon, but I thought the masses could use a break from my verbal prowess for a few hours.
So this morning the whole gang got to eat breakfast together since Charming is out of school for the week. I cheerily whipped up some scrambled eggs and called in the troops for feeding.
Lou Lou dutifully came to be buckled into her high chair, and Buttercup ran in screaming (with a slight smile on her face). Charming followed close behind crawling on all fours pretending to be a bear. I very sweetly told him to knock it off and come sit up to the table.
Rather than quiet down for the blessing on the food, Buttercup continued the game, but instead of screaming and running she became the predator, roaring fearfully with a death look in her eyes. Charming, with his head bowed, arms folded, and eyes closed, began a menacing growl deep in his chest that filled the room with the threat of an imminent attack. He peered at Buttercup like she was something to eat, and her lip trembled. She pled, "No Daddy! Be a frightened small child!"
I think she's learned her lesson? And I've learned that my sweet little girls are learning no mercy, not even for small children like themselves.
Why do you hate me? It is a question I have been longing to ask throughout the years, ever since I noticed the continuity of really ugly, loud, repetitive frog-like hiccups and torturous periods.
Did you not see what a sweet toddler I was? Instead you cursed me with nightly leg-aches that plague me to this day (and then decided to pass them on to dear, sweet Buttercup I might add). You filled my teenage years with acne and klutzyness. Why do you still insist on daily stubbing my toe and kunging my elbow on a passing wall/dresser/lamp? It would be nice if once in awhile you would kindly do your job and send my brain a signal that my limbs are so long and there are big objects obstructing my path and thus my arm/leg/head/hip perhaps ought to move over a bit to make room.
I have tried so hard to be kind to you--reaching out to you with the hand of friendship by doing endless step-aerobics, washing my face nightly, and eating vegetables. But those gestures of love you have thrown back in my face like a slap. What was with those terrible pregnancies and the so-not-necessary extra weight gain? Why?
I will never give up, because that would mean the war is over and you have won. But I do have a small request for you. It shouldn't be too difficult to handle. When you decide to smite me with a physical abnormality/disease/bothersome random symptoms, could you please make it clear what the actual underlying problem is? I'm really sick of these guessing games, so really it would help us both out if you could just be open and honest. And then give the doctors proof that I'm not a hypochondriac the next time they decide to do an expensive test/procedure.
Body, I know we've had some rough times, but we could start over and begin a new relationship right now if you're willing to cooperate. I want to love you. Please trust me. Please stop the madness.
First of all, thank you to those of you brave enough to vote on my blog background. I actually have a site meter, and so I can see how many hits my blog gets a day and where they come from--not exactly who you are, so it's not super stockery. Anywho, the point is that I know more people visit this blog than the amount that actually comment or participate in polls. That's fine if you wish to remain anonymous, but seriously, I highly doubt I would be creeped out by your blog-stocking, rather I would be flattered by your interest. So, if you're up to it, make yourself known!
So (obviously) I did pick a new background that I feel very comfortable with. It's casual, cute, and not over-the-top--kind of like me. I always like to be presentable but in a cute and casual way. Still, you'll be hard-pressed to find me with glitzy jewelery; simple earrings and maybe a bracelet to church are about as far as I go. Those things are attention-attracters, and I'd rather my jewelery or my hair or whatever not become the focus of people's thoughts. I suppose my ultimate goal in dressing up etc. would be for people to subconsciously approve of me and then move on. For example--if someone tells you how beautiful your makeup is, that might actually be a clue that you have on too much makeup. Just the fact that your makeup has made it's way into the forefront of another person's thoughts should tell you that it's a bit overdone. Makeup should beautify and enhance one's features, not create what is not there originally.
Wow, that was a diatribe. I feel that now I have blogged once again I have several things that may or may not be of interest to all of you who compose the elusive internet. I think my main issues are 1) I have personal issues going on that distract me from fun day-to-day things. This obviously needs to change in order for me to enjoy the little things in life, which tend to make up the bulk of life's enjoyments. And 2) I believe I have a slight fear, or perhaps shyness is the correct word, of boring my friends, family, and random strangers to death. My new goal is to not over-analyze before I blog. Rather, I am going to enjoy the process (hopefully). We'll see how it goes.
Much love to all--friends and stalkers alike!
EDIT: I just remembered a wonderful compliment a friend of mine sent me on facebook this week. She told me how nice I looked at church and she liked my hair. I wanted to clarify (especially to her if she is reading this) that her words gave me warm fuzzies and made my day. I was in no way referring to her compliment when I was talking about people noticing your hair or makeup. Love ya! That is all.
