The Sparkly Pillow

I've blogged previously about Mam's spotty record with potty training. Her pediatrician's bright idea was to put her on a potty schedule. Obviously, the good doctor has never tried to put Mam on a schedule. After, oh, half a day of trying that one, I opted for the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy of potty training. I stopped asking. I stopped telling. The struggle wasn't worth it.

Instead, about two months ago, I took Mam to Diddams and told her she could pick out anything she wanted. She would get it when she could keep her pants dry for one week straight. She picked out a big, glittery heart-shaped pillow, which she immediately dubbed "the sparkly pillow". I don't love the sparkly pillow, but that really wasn't the point. Mam adores it.
Obviously, Mam had to work long and hard to earn her pillow. It lived in the garage until Sunday night, when Mam discovered it on her bed. She'd finally kept her pants dry for 7 (really 8) days straight and she was so proud of herself. I know, because she said so. Repeatedly. "Are you proud of me?" she kept asking through the glowing smile.Who wouldn't be proud? And today is day nine of dry pants. I hesitate to say we've succeeded, but we're making progress! And our Mam couldn't be happier with her new bedtime companion.

Just because...

I liked these and it's nice to remind myself that my obnoxious little 3.5-year-old is sometimes gloriously happy...and has dry pants. These were taken last week, before the onset of this lousy cold, in the playground after school. This cold has totally taken the wind out of her potty training sails!

Home Improvement

The truth is, there's very little in the way of home improvement going on around here...unless you count the bi-weekly sorting of clutter that happens before the house cleaners come every other week. So, Smunch decided to take matters into his own hands.

After visiting many parks in his oh-so-varied life, he realized that there was something missing from our home. He duly procured some pens and paper and created his own remedy to our poor skills as homeowners.

He started with the bathroom next to the kitchen/family room.


















His mission accomplished, he moved on to the hallway bathroom where he noted the need for "separate, but equal" facilities.













The master bathroom presented a special problem. After all, Mommy and Daddy share the bedroom, so it'd be sort of cruel to make either of them go find a different toilet in the middle of the night. But Smunch had it all figured out.

The meaning of "Potty Trained"

Mam is a very opinionated little girl (hence the name). She's fiercely independent about certain things, but since the world actually revolves around her, she also decides that she's patently not capable of certain things. Lately, I've been fairly sure that included potty training. At 3-1/4 she's...sorta potty trained. But she hit the nail on the head the other night when she tottered up to me grabbing herself in that telltale way that says her undies are wet. Know what she said?

"Mommy. You forgot to take me potty!"

Yup. All my fault. Clearly I'm not quite potty trained.