Potty Talk

(I have officially counted - and I have used the word "potty" in my post titles more than any other parent blogger out there. Maybe it's time to find a new word for potty.)

It's hard to be the only girl in a house of boys. I believe I've said this only a MILLION times in the last year (it really only became hard once we started the potty-training), but that's only because it's so true. My husband has even argued with me that because I am truly overruled in all aspects, you know, being the only girl, why should they even bother putting the seat down anymore? (My argument that this is what civilized people do doesn't hold much sway.)

So I hold my tongue mostly when the talk turns to farting and burping and pooping and peeing. Mostly. I know that if I make a big deal out it, I only draw attention to the talk as a way to get me riled up. And those are the only kinds of things that DO DRAW THEIR ATTENTION like an arrow, adding to their mental list of ways to drive mommy crazy.

As we drove to a friend's house the other night (another mommy with twin boys and a husband, god help her - we obviously have many things on which to commiserate), the boys noticed a bug on the window.

I told them, like an IDIOT, that it was not a bug, it was bird poop.

And the potty talk commenced.

They had never seen anything as amazing and delightful as that bird poop. It's white! And green! And brown! Wow! No, wait, it's not bird poop! It's boy poop! No, it's dog poop! No, it's man poop! (????) Laughing like hyenas and cheering each other on to think of ever more disgusting ways to describe the poop, they went on like this for awhile. Finally, I had had enough: "No more talking about poop!"

I was not surprised when this did nothing to stop them. I tried again: "I mean it, no more talking about poop. Please."

The "please" did it. They both got silent for a moment. N spoke up, "Okay, mommy, we won't talk about poop anymore."

"Thank you."

"How about we talk about butts instead?"

God Help Me

Preschool orientation is tomorrow.

Two dilemmas I'm facing right now:
1. My babies are old enough to go to preschool! I'm freaking out! My babies are growing up! My babies are learning things! My babies know that C-A-N-D-Y spells CANDY and that P-A-R-K spells PARK and how will my husband and I ever communicate again once they understand W-O-R-D-Ses?!

2. Preschool orientation is at 10 o'clock in the morning. On a week day. You know, at a really convenient time for people who are, uh, working.

I'm going to be there no matter what, so it's really not a problem. It's more the principle of the matter. I already anticipate many other week day conflicts that will make me feel ever more guilty over working a day job.

I have been trying to cajole the boys into going school shopping. Each time I suggest we go to the store to shop for their backpacks (and their LONG list of school supplies), I am met with heavy resistance. As in screams of protest. The geeky girl living inside me is so very confused by this noise. (Who doesn't want to get new pencils?! New Trapper Keeper folders?! Are they crazy?) But then I have to remind that geeky girl to keep her Trapper Keeper shut - my boys are only babies after all.

And boys are not as impressed by shiny pink Lisa Frank pencils.

Summer Lovin'

We have had a great August. I took the first two weeks off work - the longest stretch of time I've taken off from work since maternity leave. (There's something wrong with that, people. Let me tell you how great life was when I wasn't working - it was freaking incredible. I want it all the time. I can't believe how dead my mind is dealing with the corporate world. I'm not bored, just numb with disbelief. Is this why I went to school? To sit in meetings all day? I think I'm going to make sure my children are independently wealthy so they don't have to suffer like this.)

So August. Yes. It has been great. We took a trip to Los Angeles to visit Grandma Neen and had a blasty-blast. Beach, LegoLand, beach, beach, aquarium, more beach. Did I mention we were at the beach? I was finally in southern California during a time when it was hot enough to be at the beach. Darling husband doesn't like crowds, so every other time we've gone out there, it's been cold. His reasoning is that the weather will make all the people go away. I've never noticed a difference in the amount of people out there when we've visited, but I have noticed a difference in the amount of enjoyment one gets from a family vacation when it isn't raining continually or cold.