She's three!

We had Britt's birthday party over at Grandma Sarah's yesterday.

Britt knew it was the day, and she couldn't wait for things to get started. She kept running around the housing yelling, "Party time! Party time!"

Mad props to Mikey for doing ALL the food shopping; he put together a mighty fine sandwich buffet with all the trimmings. Well, us girls had to get everything fixed up and laid out on the table but, still, he did good!



Do remind me, though, not to consult with him about cake size next year. I should've just ordered the half-sheet like I always do, but I screwed up and discussed it with him first. We counted up how many people would be there and he said the quarter-sheet would be enough, since we had so much left over last year.

Now I personally don't see any problem with having leftover cake because I happen to love cake and ice cream (it's not a birthday cake without ice cream; it's just cake and that's not the same thing at all), but I followed instructions and ordered the quarter-sheet.

And after I sent him over to pick it up, he called me from the bakery and yelled at me:

Why did you order the quarter-sheet?

So I yelled at him:

Because you told me to!

So he picked up an extra cake just in case. A really ugly one. And so Britt had two birthday cakes this year.



And then there were presents!



Lots of presents!



Lots and lots of presents!



The only other glitch besides the cake dispute was that the mosquitos were thick at Grandma Sarah's. The kids spent a lot of time outside and we spent a lot of time outside watching them, so we all got eaten alive. Britt spent part of her time outside "digging for tweasure," very near the spot where we buried our beloved Kitty. Luckily, she didn't find him.



The boys dug a fire pit (supervised by my brother-in-law) and had a fire going until a neighbor threatened to call the fire department. Candy opened the storage building and got out a bunch of glow-light necklaces for the kids (just one of the advantages of marrying into a family of wholesalers; all kinds of delightful things stashed away for just such an occasion).

And then it started getting late, so we cleared up the party debris and loaded Britt's presents and the leftover food and an extra kid or two into the car and headed home.

While we unloaded the car, the girls used their glow-light necklaces to make themselves a disco in the kitchen.



And then they settled in at the kitchen table with Britt's new paint set, until it was time to call it a night.



It was a long day, but a good one.

First day of ballet school

So today was Britt's first dance class. As soon as we got home from school I fixed her hair and then got her dressed.



I may have yanked her tights up a little too high. Ya think?



She's not supposed to wear her slippers outside the studio, but I just had to see the whole outfit together. Those are Aunt Bridgie's gnarly feets in the background.



And she has to wear some sort of covering over her leotard outside the studio, so we put that on and grabbed her adorable little gear bag, and then we were on our way.



I didn't get any pictures of her during class because the viewing window would've bounced the flash back at me. Plus, no one else was taking any pictures and I didn't want to be the only one.

I was afraid Britt might wander around doing her own thing instead of participating with the rest of the class, like she tends to do, but she did great! She followed instructions as best she could and she didn't always get the steps right, but she did it all with enthusiasm and a huge smile.

And? Oh. Migod. I damn near needed a shot of insulin by the time we got out of there. The sweetness was that intense.

Also, I had to blow my nose because I was all misty-eyed pretty much the whole time.

It was just the cutest damn thing ever.

Bridgie has a job!

She starts Monday. At another mortgage company.

Another mortgage company?
Yep.
So what are the odds that this one will go under, too?
Pretty good.

Oh, well. It's a job, anyway. Which is better than no job.

Holy crap!

My mom just won a won a new car at the casino.

A black 2007 Corvette, no less.

I can't quit laughing, picturing Mom tooling around town in a 'Vette.

She's 75 years old.

Hold on, I'm still on the phone with her...

*****

She was still at the casino when she called, waiting for them to bring her the title and stuff. She can't take it home until she gets insurance, which will be on Tuesday since this is a holiday weekend.

I asked if she was gonna drive it home and she said, "Oh, no, I can't drive that thing!" I told her she ought to at least take it for a spin before she lets it go. We definitely need a picture of her sitting in it.

She said three people had already offered to buy it from her; she got their names and numbers but it sounds like my sister Margie and her husband want to buy it. She's gonna use the money to get herself a more sensible new car.

And her picture's gonna be on the casino's billboard out on the highway; we'll have to get a photo of that, too.

My sister Debbie and I haven't been too thrilled about Mom's casino habit, but I guess this will shut us up for awhile.

My Other Girl

So Bridgie started working in the mortgage industry six years ago. She spent five years at one place and then moved over to First Magnus last year, where she did great. She liked them and they liked her and she quickly progressed up the ranks, with ever-increasing responsibility and more money than I ever made.

And now, she doesn't have a job anymore.

Two weeks ago, First Magnus shut down and filed for bankruptcy. I'd never heard of them so I assumed they were an independent outfit like the first mortgage place she worked for, but it turns out that Bridgie is just one of over 5,000 people who lost their jobs across the country.

She's also one of more than 5,000 people who never got their last paychecks. They were paid bi-monthly and the pay period ended the day before the place shut down, so Bridgie's out half a month's pay.

And now, the bankruptcy judge has ruled that the former employees are unsecured creditors and have to get in line to get their money just like any other vendor.

Anyway, it looks like Bridgie's gonna have to give up the house she was renting and move back home for awhile. She's filed for unemployment and she's been job hunting -- even been on a few interviews -- but this thing has already knocked her into a hole that it'll take a while to climb out of. And she's not likely to find another job that pays as much as she was getting, especially since she'll probably have to find a new line of work because the mortgage industry is in a shambles right now.

In other news, today was Britt's first day back at school after a bad cold, and Sherri's been scrubbing herself with dog shit.

Third Day

Actually, there was no third day of school. We had to call in sick today.

We've been up and down all night with Britt, who had a fever and some rough coughing spells. Which is not like a huge shock or anything, since she's been around a bunch of new kids and their new germs all week.

I just wish it would've waited until tomorrow, if it had to happen at all, because she loves going to school.

Poor little Pooh.

Second Day

First Day

This morning we headed out, armed with a nap pad and princess blanky, two boxes of Kleenex and a bottle of Germ-X. Britt took charge of her Elmo bag, packed with Pull-Ups and wipes and an extra change of clothes:



In just a few minutes, we were at the school:



Just inside the doors we waited while Mikey wrote a big check, and then we took Britt to her classroom, where she quickly settled in:



She got a little bit weepy when we left, but she wasn't squalling like some of the other kids.

And she did fine. When I picked her up after school, her teacher reported that she participated well in group activities, sang songs, and colored a picture of her hand for a project about family and community that they're working on. But she did not nap, which was no surprise.

She did much better than Mikey did. He was all heavy sighs and shuddering groans after we dropped her off, but I think he'll probably be all right. Eventually.

Anyway, Big Sugar is officially a pre-schooler now.

We are freshly orientated

We went to Britt's school tonight and met her teachers, Miss Millie and Miss Margie, and inspected her classroom while she played with some of her new classmates.

Several other parent-type couples came up and introduced themselves to us. I was a bit shocked, even though I understand this is a perfectly normal thing to do. It just isn't normal for me.

Mikey hadn't seen the place yet, and he was impressed. Maybe he'll quit worrying so much about it now. Or maybe not. You know how he is.

Britt brought home a goody bag donated by a pediatric dentist which, not surprisingly, contained a toothbrush, some dental floss and a tube of "poo-taste." She was thrilled to bits and spent twenty minutes brushing her teeth. Allegedly. I got bored and wandered off, so I couldn't testify to what exactly she was doing in there.

Anyway, first day of school tomorrow! Woo-hoo!

Pre-Preschool Days

Sorry I haven't posted anything lately, but I've been busy savoring this last week of having Britt all to myself. And trying everything I can think of to get her to poop in the potty so I can send her to school in panties instead of Pull-Ups, but we're still getting nowhere with that.

On Monday night we go to the school to meet Britt's teacher and have an orientation kind of thing, and then on Tuesday morning I'll be handing her over to strangers for the first time ever. I'm excited for her because I think she's gonna love it, but Mikey's trying to back out already. He's afraid somebody might be mean to her or something, so he says we should just keep her here at home with us. Like forever.

Honestly, I'm more worried about Britt being the one beating up other kids. She gets a little slap-happy when she's excited, and she wallops me pretty good now and then. And it hurts! For a kid who started out so tiny, she sure has grown into a powerful little package.

Okay, it's done

I remembered to wear deodorant but forgot to bring a comb.

We went to Britt's zoo class first, so by the time we got to the ballet school I was wilted from the heat and my hair was hanging in clumps; Britt was pissed that we didn't stay at the zoo as long as we normally do, so she was playing Little Miss Cranky-Butt.

But!

They let us in anyway. Britt's enrolled in their youngest pre-ballet class, which starts on September 7. All we have left to do is buy her pink leotard, pink tights and pink slippers. And I have to learn how to put her hair in a bun, since it has to be off her face and neck (no long ponytails allowed!).

And now, since I didn't sleep a wink all night, I'm gonna fix Britt some lunch and then I'll be tits up on the couch until further notice.

I just painted my nails

for the first time in . . . ? Um, I might have painted them for Sherri's wedding in 2005. I know I had a manicure just before Britt was born, because Sarah wanted me to go to the nail place with her and I was Making an Effort to bond with her.

Also, I just put on my old diamond necklace because I've already broken the chain on my new diamond necklace. I dug out some gold hoop earrings, too.

It's too late to do anything about my damn hair. It'll just have to hang straight off my head like it always does.

My cutest outfit is clean and ready to go.

Too bad I can't get some lipo done between now and 9 AM.

(Please, God, don't let me forget to wear deodorant.)

Dang, I'm nervous.

Enrollment day at the ballet school for Britt. It's a very nice one. Intimidatingly so. They teach classical ballet technique. Using only proper French terminology. And their students have gone on to join dance companies all over the country. All around the world, in fact.

(Well, that's what their website says. They could be lying.)

Anyway, I don't want them to look at dowdy old me and decide that maybe we aren't right for them, somehow. That maybe the class will be suddenly be "full."

It's silly, I know. I just don't feel very confident right now. I've been living such an insular life for the past seven years and now that Britt will be going to two different kinds of school, I'll have to start interacting with people. Not just once or twice a month, but on a regular basis. Like, almost daily. Which is just not my thing at all.

I don't want stand out from the crowd as some kind of socially backward outsider, even though that's pretty much what I am. I want to blend in. I want to fit.

(***sigh***)

It feels like the first day of junior high all over again.

She's in!

The preschool just called: They got another teacher hired, so they have room for Britt after all.

Okay, now I can breathe again.

School Daze Update

I called the ballet school one more time before trying e-mail. This time I got a recording that said enrollment day was Saturday, August 4. I may have screamed, a little.

But!

Then it said there's another enrollment day on Saturday, August 11.

Now I'm wracked with anxiety. I'm afraid that the preschool won't get a teacher hired and there'll be no room for Britt after all, and that we'll be at the tail-end of the sign-up line for dance class and she'll be put on yet another waiting list.

And then we'll try other preschools and dance schools and Britt will wind up on waiting lists all over town and, in the meantime, she'll be stuck here at home with nowhere to go.

I would hate that for her. She is so ready to go.

School Daze

I found a preschool for Britt; it's at a Methodist church less than three miles from our house and it's three days a week from 9 to 2.

It costs $160 a month plus $2.50 a day for lunch and I was kind of worried about that, since it's a substantial chunk of change and I'm not bringing home a paycheck anymore. We don't get child support or any kind of financial assistance for Britt, so whatever we do for her we do on our own dime. But Mikey didn't even blink at that; he wanted to know what the facilities were like, the teachers' qualifications, security, and all that kind of stuff.

I took Britt over there on Friday for a tour, and she loved it. The woman who showed us around opened doors so we could peek into different classrooms and Britt ran right in, delighted to see all the kids. Same thing on the playground; there was a four-year-old class at recess and Britt ran right out and started playing with them. She was very unhappy when we had to leave.

So, it looks great and it sounds great, Britt loves it and I think it would be good for her. I brought home the enrollment form and ordered a copy of her immunization record so I can get everything turned in next week, because the new school year starts on August 21.

But!

The class for her age group is full. There's a waiting list.

But!

There are enough kids on the waiting list that they decided to create an additional class for her age group.

But!

They haven't been able to get a teacher hired yet.

(***sigh***)

Also, we're enrolling Britt in ballet school. The one we picked is $45 a month, which is not bad at all.

But!

I guess they're closed for the summer, because I get an answering machine when I call and nobody has ever called me back.

Maybe I should try e-mailing them? I think I will.

A Rare Treat

After our trip to Mom's last weekend, Monday was spent on frantic house straightening and carpet cleaning.

My sister Debbie came for a visit on Tuesday with my grandnieces Madison and Emily in tow. They're 10 and 7 and Britt was beyond thrilled to have kids right here at home for her to play with.

Deb and I upheld family tradition by cracking open a jigsaw puzzle on the kitchen table and gossiping about our kids, our siblings, their kids, and Mom. So, if your ears were burning this week, now you know why.

We went out to eat Tuesday night and then went over to inspect Chris and Sherri's new house. They have a lot of work to do, but it'll be really nice when they get it all done. And it's only a few miles from here, instead of in a whole 'nother town, so maybe I'll get to see Sherri more often.

On Wednesday, we went over to my in-laws' and spent a lazy afternoon lounging by the pool while the girls swam and played, then we came home and grilled some burgers, finished our puzzle, and gossiped some more.

Alas, our time passed too quickly and suddenly it was Thursday and Deb and the girls had to head home. And right now I sorely miss living close enough to my brother and sisters to be able to spend quality time with them more than once or twice a year.

(***sniff***)

Weekend in Tulsa

Mikey, Little Miss Whirlwind and me spent Saturday night in Mom's bed; she says it's a queen size, but I kind of doubt it. I woke up in a world of hurt Sunday morning, but Mom's biscuits and gravy made me feel a little better.

We had planned to get to the Tulsa Zoo earlier in the morning so it wouldn't be so hot, but we didn't get there until after 1:00 and oh, my Lord, it was hot.

The worst thing about getting out and about with Britt is that she's a runner. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she's off. No matter where we go, I'm constantly yelling, "Britt! Come back here! Brittany! Brittany Anne! STOP!" while running after her. And so, I was doing a lot of that yesterday.

About halfway through the zoo, we ran across a family we had last encountered near the admission gate, and the woman turned around and said, "Oh, look. It's Brittany!" I had a Stilwell Angel flashback and cringed with embarrassment.

There were moments when she wasn't running,



but they were rare.

The "chimpmonks" grabbed her attention because one of them had a baby, so she actually stood still for a few minutes:



And she sat still during the train ride,



but only because she was strapped in.

Mikey wound up carrying her a lot, to keep her from running off.



And then we went to the Oklahoma Aquarium at Jenks. Lather, rinse, repeat.

The long hallway down the middle of the place was just too much of a temptation, and Britt had to be carried so she wouldn't keep running down it. Then, she saw the turtles! She loves turtles! But not frogs; they're too scary.

She got to feed the turtles,



and that's all she wanted to do, until we steered her toward the manta ray tank.



And that's all she wanted to do, until we discovered the touch tank, where we saw a Patrick!



And then, the shark tunnel!



(Stupid frickin' shutter delay. This was the best shot I could get.)

Then it was time to leave, and Britt had to be carried away kicking and screaming, because she wanted to go through the shark tunnel again and again and again.

We've been trying to get away to take this little trip all year, and it's with a big sigh of relief that I say we finally did it and we won't have to do it again for at least a couple of years, when Britt will hopefully be a slightly more reasonable human being.

Lucky for her that she's so dang cute.

Dang, y'all

I'm fixin' to go see my mama this weekend, so I'm sitting here burning CDs of classic country music that I've collected for her.

Meanwhile, I had a browser page open in the background and my eye fell upon these words:

Mama, don't EVER stop writing this blog, I would die if I couldn't read this everyday!! This is the best blog in the history of the universe! Keep up the good work!

And, you know, just for a second there, my distracted mind imagined that I was looking at my own blog page, and that one of my beloved children had written those sweet words to me.

However, I was mistaken.

Those words were written to Mama at The Real Estalker (which is absolutely hilarious, BTW; you should go check it out).

I felt so happy, just for a second, that when I realized my mistake, my heart broke just a little.

(***sniff***)

Oh, Bob, that reminds me: Your sister found your name on the state's unclaimed property listings. You've got a $90 tax refund check waiting for you.

Friday Shuffle: Anniversary Edition

Last night Mikey called to ask if I wanted to celebrate with wine or with champagne; two minutes later he called back and said he had hearts floating around his head and couldn't remember which one I wanted.

Hearts floating around his head! I melted.

Then he came home with a beautiful diamond cross necklace and a bottle of Dom Pérignon, and we went out to dinner, where Britt was a hellion and a half.

After we got home and put her to bed, we had a little couch party. And you don't need to know anything more about that.

Anyway, in honor of our 10th wedding anniversary and the 14th anniversary of our first date, I fast-forwarded through my iTunes shuffle to find something appropriate:

1. You're All I Need to Get By, Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell
2. Let's Stay Together, Al Green
3. Hard to Handle, Black Crowes (this was in the cassette player during our first date)
4. You Make Loving Fun, Fleetwood Mac
5. Maybe I'm Amazed, Paul McCartney
6. Pride and Joy, Stevie Ray Vaughan
7. Old Brown Shoe, The Beatles
8. God Only Knows, The Beach Boys
9. An Old-Fashioned Love Song, Three Dog Night
10. I've Been Loving You Too Long, Otis Redding

Aw, why stop at ten? Here's four more for the years we lived in sin:

11. Happy Together, The Turtles
12. Jungle Love, Morris Day & the Time
13. Melt With You, Modern English
14. What Is Life, George Harrison

July 26, 1997

I wasn't interested having in a wedding; I would've been fine getting married at the courthouse, but Mikey insisted that we marry in the church and now I'm glad we did.

But still, putting together a wedding is a pain in the ass, no matter how scaled-down you go. Ours was miniscule, and I still managed to half-ass it.

I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone, so Bridgie and I headed off to Glamour Shots that afternoon to get our hair and makeup done, and to get some nice portraits to commemorate the event:



When he saw the pictures later, Mikey was a little upset that I took the maid of honor with me instead of the groom.

We had no photographer on hand, so our actual wedding photos are just snapshots. And somebody (you know who you are) snuck me off and got me stoned for the first time in years just before it was time to go to the church. I looked like it, too, and I was terrified that Mikey would figure it out and be furious with me (I did finally tell him a few years later, when we could laugh about it).

Anyway, the point is that our wedding photos look like crap. These were the best of the lot:



The wedding cake I ordered was too small, so my mother-in-law had to run to a grocery store bakery after the wedding to make sure there was enough cake to feed everybody.



The reception was hosted by my in-laws, and no one told them that some of my friends from work would be there. They get kind of hinky about things like that, so that was another uh-oh for the evening.

It was a relief, after all the screw-ups, missteps and tension, when it was finally, blessedly, over.

Marrying Mikey is pretty much the only thing I did right that day.

Ten years ago today.

Gah. Just, gah.

Insomnia's been kicking my ass this week, so I was catching a few winks on the couch when Bridgie came over for lunch.

When I got up to answer the door, my foot landed in something brown and mushy on the carpet.

Oh. My. God.

So I half-hopped to the door, let Bridgie in and told her what just happened. Then I went and grabbed some toilet paper to clean up the mess.

Once I was down on my knees fixin' to pick it up, it occurred me that I wasn't smelling anything foul, so I bent down and looked closer.

And started laughing.

It was one of these. From Mikey's snack stash. That Britt had apparently raided while I was snoozing.

Bridgie said, "I bet you were never so happy to see cake smashed into the carpet."

She got that right.

Boy, I tell you what -- this potty-training business has got me all drove up. I need to catch a break, and soon.

Well, I never

All the Pull-Ups and panties are hidden where Britt can't get to them. She's running around with a bare butt all day. She has no choice but to either poop on the potty or on the floor and, believe me, I've been watching where I step.

Yesterday, I put dinner on to cook and then began clearing the debris field that results from Britt's day of play. It's not unusual to find used Wet Wipes lying around because she'll get herself one to wipe her hands when they get sticky. So I thought nothing of it when I picked up a used wipe off the floor.

Guess what rolled out of it?

Yeah.

It's the shits, man

I'm sorry to keep going on and on about this but, since my whole life revolves around it right now, I don't have much else to talk about.

Britt still won't poop in the potty.

I let her run around with a bare butt one day and she sneaked off and put on a Pull-Up and pooped in it.

The next time I tried it I hid the Pull-Ups from her, so she sneaked off to her room, got some panties out of her drawer, put them on and pooped in them.

Then I hid all her panties with the Pull-Ups and tried again. She got into a bag of outgrown clothes that were sitting in her room and found a pair of size 2T panties (she wears a 4T), put them on and pooped in them.

Tonight I got her dressed for bed and put a Pull-Up on her, then went out to the garage for a smoke. A little bit later Mikey came out and said that he knew how to get her to poop on the potty.

Oh, yeah? (says I)
As soon as you left, she hid behind the couch and started grunting.
So did you put her on the potty?
Well, no. She pooped in the Pull-Up.
And this is your big epiphany?

He explained that I should try putting her on the potty after I put a Pull-Up on her, thinking that it somehow triggered her poop reflex. I explained to him the error of his thinking.

I've spent a lot of time in the bathroom lately waiting for brown gold, and it just ain't happening. The thing is, Britt has excellent poop control. She never, ever poops when we're away from home. She outwaits me when I make her sit on the potty and try to talk her into letting it go. Sometimes, like today, she holds it all day long until an opportune moment presents itself.

She just doesn't want to do it in the potty, and she isn't going to until she wants to. I guess the trick is to figure out how to make her want to.

She's a stubborn one, Britt is. I haven't fought such a battle of wills since Bridgie was a teenager.

Family News

Sherri and Chris finally bought a house! I don't have any details yet; stay tuned to Sherri's blog for more info.

Jenny had her baby on the 10th. His name is Jadon Asher, or maybe Jaydon. Mom wasn't sure how it's spelled.

Bridgie called this evening and asked how to spell "conscious" and "necessary."

Britt has pooped in her panties for the past two days.

And that's all I know.

Britt's House o' Beauty is now open

We went shopping today and Britt came home with an all-plastic, non-messy faux makeup kit, complete with a little battery-operated blow dryer.

She likes to sit on the counter and watch when I do my face, although the eyelash curler makes her anxious (Are you all right? Is it okay?), and sometimes we paint our nails together, so she knew what to do with most of it.

The blow dryer and the perfume atomizer, however, completely stumped her. I haven't used either one since before she was born, so she had no idea what they were for. Once I showed her, though, she was totally on board.

So I got my face and hair done several times today, although that pointy plastic eye shadow applicator so close to my eyeballs made me a little anxious. Mikey got a makeover this evening, too, and even got his nails done.

*****
The other day, I gave Britt an empty cardboard box to play with, and she played with it so thoroughly that it split down one corner. The next morning she inspected the damage and said, mournfully, "My spaceship. It's broken."

Today, she dumped the contents of one of her toy boxes and made herself a "nest" in it:



She's an awful cute little chick, ain't she?

Potty Update

Britt's doing great on the peeing part. We have no problems at all there.

But it's been almost three weeks and she still won't poop in the potty. And now she pulls off her panties and puts on a Poo-Wup all by herself when she's ready to take a dump.

I guess it's time to move on to Plan E, or Plan F, maybe. I've lost track.

I've hidden the Poo-Wups in the office closet so she can't get to them, and tomorrow will be our first totally Poo-Wup-free day. And I'm dreading it. Oh, how I'm dreading it. Cleaning up poopy panties is so, so much worse than poop in a Poo-Wup. Especially if it's mushy, because it's almost impossible to get them down over her legs without smearing stuff everywhere.

(***shudder***)

She won't be happy about it, either, because she loves her new Poo-Wups. Mikey screwed up and got the boy's version, which are decorated with a Cars motif. She's absolutely delighted with them, and constantly points out her "pwetty twucks" so they can be properly admired.

Urine trouble now

Heh, get it? Urine trouble now?

Okay, never mind.

We took Britt back to the doctor yesterday for a follow-up on her UTI, and it was no fun at all.

She tripped over an uneven sidewalk seam outside the building and skinned her knee and elbow, so she was already upset before she even figured out where we were going. And it went downhill from there.

Mikey always goes with us us to the doctor's office because Britt gets totally freaked out and it's hard to handle her when she's thrashing and flailing and screaming. This time, though, he got held up at work so I had to get through the first half of the visit by myself -- including the first attempt at getting another urine sample.

We got to the bathroom just as a woman was exiting and she had very obviously just taken a dump, so you can imagine how fun it was to sit on the floor with my arm in the toilet holding a cup for Britt to pee in. We gave up when somebody else came banging on the door about 15 minutes later.

After Mikey finally got there, we tried again and eventually got the sample, which was a huge relief because the alternative was catheterizing her and I did not want to put her through that. And the sample tested clear, so the infection is gone.

More good news: No more diapers! Britt is totally toilet-trained as far as peeing goes (we're still working on the pooping part). She hasn't had any accidents in several days, even when we've been away from home. She wears panties during the day and a pull-up at night because, even though she usually wakes up dry, I don't want to risk a big stinky wet spot in the middle of my bed. When her habits are more firmly established we'll get rid of the pull-ups, too.

Also, she doesn't pee every 20 minutes any more, now that her UTI is gone.

In hindsight, I should have figured something was wrong with the peeing every 20 minutes but, gah, you know, it's been 25 years since I've been intimately acquainted with the peeing habits of small children and I don't remember anything about it. Except that their bladders are very small.

At the zoo

Britt learned about farm animals in her zoo class this morning.

They turned us loose after visiting the few farm animals on the premises, and we decided to go see the lorikeets again. But we came across this mist-dispensing thingy first, and I didn't think I was ever gonna get Britt away from it.



It did feel pretty good on such a hot day.

When we finally made it over to the lorikeet enclosure we paid two bucks for a little cup of nectar, and Britt had no trouble making new friends.



In fact, they just loved her.



Or her ponytail holders, at least.



Before we left the enclosure, Britt learned a little bit about the birds and the bees when a particularly uninhibited couple made the beast with four wings right in front of her.



In the gutter, no less.

And the zoo used to be such a nice place to take the kids.

Feeling Better

Yesterday, on the way to the doctor's office, Britt looked like this:



Today, she looked like this:



And neither of her two doses of medicine came back up today, so I'm feeling better too.

Britt's sick

Poor baby had a fever and was lethargic so we took her to the doctor today.

The doctor wanted a urine sample, so I spent 20 minutes sitting on the bathroom floor in the doctor's office with my arm in the toilet, holding a cup for Britt to pee in. She finally did, though most of it went all over my hand.

We got her home and gave her the first dose of medicine for her urinary tract infection, and she slept all afternoon. She woke up feeling much better, and was her normal live-wire self all evening.

Then it was time for her bedtime dose. She hates taking medicine, so it's a two-person operation and we practically have to sit on her to get it in her mouth; it's traumatic for all of us. This time it was worse than usual, because she cried so hard that she threw up. And then I had to decide if enough stayed down or if I needed to give her another dose and risk her puking again.

And we get to do this twice a day for ten days.

She just woke up needing to pee, and we discovered that her fever is back so we tried to give her some Tylenol. She didn't want any, so she started crying and threw that up, too.

Gah, this child's gag reflex! It defeats me every time.

I promise to give it a rest after this

because I'm sure you're just thrilled to bits to read every little detail of Britt's potty training.

Like I was thrilled to bits at 5:45 this morning when she woke us up demanding a dry Poo-Wup (that's what she calls Pull-Ups). And then again at 7:30 when she woke us up because she needed to go pee.

But, just in case you're wondering, there was still no pooping in the potty over the weekend; except for that, she's doing very well.

Just a little while ago, she peed on the toilet and when she was done I went back to eating my lunch. About two minutes later she needed to go again, so I sat her up there and tapped my foot while she did her thing. And then I went back to my lunch. And then she needed to go again!

(***sigh***)

This time I left her sitting there while I finished my lunch, and when I went back to check on her she said, "I did it!"

"Did what, Sweetie? Oh... Oh, you pooped! Oh, good girl!"

We have poop, people! In the potty! Voluntary poop in the potty!

I'll say no more, lest I jinx it.

Friday Shuffle

Day Three of potty training followed the trend of Days One and Two: peeing every 20 minutes, two accidents, absolute refusal to poop in the toilet.

Britt can pull her own pants down now, and sometimes she can pull them back up (and sometimes they get all twisted in back and she can't get them over her plump little booty), so I need to find some kind of platform that won't tip over so she get herself up on the toilet, because this every-20-minutes crap is wearing me out.

Anyway, today's shuffle:

1. The Letter, The Box Tops
2. One Toke Over the Line, Brewer & Shipley
3. Long As I Can See the Light, Creedence Clearwater Revival
4. Mighty Tight Woman, Bonnie Raitt
5. Give It Time, Eric Lindell
6. I've Been Loving You Too Long, Marc Broussard
7. Respect Yourself, The Staple Singers
8. Come On in My Kitchen, Keb' Mo'
9. Zombie Me, No More Kings
10. A Whiter Shade of Pale, Procol Harum

I've mentioned that Britt likes to sing, right? Well, she knows the tunes to "Old MacDonald" and "Frère Jacques" but she doesn't know the words, so she makes up her own. It amazes me how well she can carry a tune (because I couldn't carry a tune if it had handles on it), plus it's just cute as can be. I need to get it on video.

She does know the words to "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," or most of them anyway. Her version goes like this:

Twinka twinka litta star
How I love you what you are...

Potty Training Attempt #17

I decided to get serious about potty training. Again.

So, yesterday morning, we got started.

Britt's potty chair had been banished to the garage because the only interest she had in it was using it as a step stool to reach things I'd put up out of her reach. I brought it in and polished it up and plunked it down in the middle of the living room, and told Britt that I wanted her to start peeing and pooping in it.

She said no. And then she crossed her arms and went "Hmph!"

I took her wet overnight diaper off and decided to leave her bare-assed. I told her that if she needed to pee or poop, she just needed to sit on the potty and do it.

She wasn't going for the potty chair or for the butt-naked thing; she laid on the couch bleating like a dying calf. And occasionally hollering, "Diaper! Diaper!"

Already my plan was going off the rails, not even 15 minutes into it. We compromised on a pair of big-girl panties if she would tell me when she needed to potty. And...

It worked! Well, she still won't have anything to do with her potty chair, but I put the potty seat on the toilet and she tells me she needs to go and I pull her panties down and set her up there and she goes. About every 20 minutes.

But she flat-out refused to poop in the toilet. No, no way, not happening. I was afraid of losing the little bit of progress we'd made (because we've been this far before), so I put a diaper on her and let her poop, then put her back in panties. And she only peed in her pants twice yesterday.

Whew! So far, so good.

Today it was more of the every-20-minutes peeing, and this morning she pooped in the toilet! She had a couple of accidents today and she did her afternoon poop in her panties (which is way worse than cleaning up poop in a diaper), but we're heading in the right direction.

I knew her poop schedule already, but I had no idea she was peeing so often. I'm thinking maybe I should cut down on her fluid intake, because she's obviously a well-hydrated child. And she can't pull down her own pants or hoist herself up on the toilet yet, so less peeing would be great for me.

Also, the wiping thing. Her arms are too short to reach her poony from the back and her legs are too fat for her to reach between them from the front, so we'll have to work on that.

But Britt's into it, so that's half the battle right there. This afternoon the cat came in to use his litter box while we were sitting in the bathroom. We listened to him pee, then Britt started clapping and went "Yay! Good!" just like I do with her.

Out and About

I didn't get Britt signed up in time for art classes in June, July and August, and they're all full, so we're minus one out-of-the-house activity for the summer.

This sucks, because there aren't that many activities around town for two-year-olds. Once she turns three, there'll be about half a jillion things we can go do, but we're fighting cabin fever here at the ranch right now.

So I took her to Omniplex yesterday. Most of the exhibits were way over her head, and I knew they would be, but I was desperate. And Britt had a great time anyway.

You see this here wooden tower thingy?



(Britt's not actually in the picture. Stupid frickin' shutter delay.)

It supposedly houses the tallest spiral slide in the country, and Britt climbed up and went down the slide several times. She didn't find much to interest her in the tree house, but she did like climbing the rope net.



She loved the seesaw



but hated the Hall of Mirrors. She has a tendency to run ahead of me, and she kept crashing into the walls.



Which was pretty funny, actually. I wish I'd had my video camera with me.

She had fun at the water table



and with the "antique" phones.



Also, there was a face-painting station



where she gave herself a little blue Hitler mustache.



Then we had lunch and visited the gardens, where Britt chased a rabbit and found some "kine cones."



And then we went to the planetarium show, which was boooooring.

And then we came home to find that it had rained like a mofo while we were gone, and the kitchen and half the garage had flooded, so -- yay.

My First (and Probably Last) Meme

I'm not crazy about memes because they can be so deadly dull, but the "Six (or Seven or Eight) Odd/Strange/Unusual Things About Me" meme is usually more entertaining than most.

Nobody tagged me or nuthin', but I made a list anyway. You'll notice I was a bit of a wild child in my youth, but I swear I've been a fine, upstanding citizen for the past twenty years or so. For the most part.

**********
1. I was once bitten in a bar fight. And it wasn't even my fight!

When I was 22, a date took me to a small-town knife-and-gun bar, where he promptly got into a fight with an old nemesis; the fight was broken up and then a cat (Don't ask; I never figured it out myself.) walked across the floor and my date picked it up and threw it at the other guy and the fight was on again. I was standing against the bar when the two rolled across the floor and crashed into me; the next thing I knew the other guy had his teeth buried in the tender flesh of my inner left wrist and I frantically pounded on his head until he let go. Then the cops came and sent everyone home.

Needless to say, it was my last date with that guy.

I never went to the doctor; I had no insurance and couldn't afford to. Luckily, the wound didn't get infected, but a long ridge of skin had been pinched up and never flattened out; it eventually turned black and fell off.

Wanna see the scar?



When my kids asked about it, I told them a dog had bitten me. Which was true enough, I suppose.

**********
2. I was later involved several bar fights that were mine.

**********
3. The statute of limitations has run out on this one, so I guess it's safe to tell:

About 20 years ago, I owned a 1970 3/4-ton Chevy truck that had a three-speed on the column and no power steering. It was a big, clunky fucker to drive and I was built like Nicole Ritchie back then, but my 1980 Buick Regal had died a painful death and I was able to buy this truck dirt cheap.

Anyway, I drove my friend Donna to town in it (probably to buy some weed, I don't remember) and, when we got there, I pulled over on the wrong side of the street to park against the curb. And my brakes went out. And I crashed into the front end of a car parked on the correct side of the street.

Those of you who knew Donna probably remember that loud braying jackass laugh, right? Well, she kept doing that. While repeatedly demonstrating how funny my "skinny ol' spaghetti leg" looked when my foot was flailing away at the useless brake pedal.

I had a hard time finding humor in the situation right then, myself.

So we got out of the truck to look at the damage and to face whoever come running, because surely someone had heard the crash. We couldn't see any actual houses because there were tall hedges in front of them, and we didn't know which one the car belonged to anyway, so we spent about five minutes milling around on the sidewalk, wondering what to do and making false starts toward one house or another (we may have smoked a little weed already, I don't remember). And Donna was still laughing her ass off.

But nobody ever showed up, so we finally climbed back into the truck and split.

**********
4. I'm not a social person at all. I tried to be when I was younger, because I thought being social was normal and I desperately wanted to be normal.

Eventually, I got over that.

I haven't managed to stay in touch with anyone from my childhood, from school, from work, from anywhere. The only people I have regular contact with are related to me either by blood or by marriage. And I'm cool with that, because I enjoy solitude and I'm very selfish with my time.

**********
5. I went to nursing school when the kids were babies, but a miscarriage and a divorce led to my dropping out just before finishing the first year. But not before I got to witness an autopsy!

A man being treated for congestive heart failure died at the VA hospital in Muskogee. Two hours later, he was on the autopsy table in the hospital basement, where I watched his chest and abdominal cavity being dissected.

The sight of it didn't bother me as much as I thought it would, since they kept his face and genitals covered and it kind of de-personalized him. But the smell! Like fresh meat. Ugh.

Anyway, it turned out the guy didn't have congestive heart failure after all. His heart was fine, but his kidneys were covered in huge abcesses.

During another clinical rotation, I took care of a man in the last stages of cirrhosis who'd had a penectomy some years earlier. Which I didn't find out until I went to give him a sponge bath, so it was a bit of a shock.

**********
6. The first concert I ever went to was in 1983, featuring David Allan Coe at the Sand Springs rodeo grounds. The event was advertised as having family-style seating, bring your lawn chairs and ice chests, etc, so I decided it would be all right to take the kids, who were both pre-schoolers at the time.

I got there and spread out a quilt for the kids to play on and then, while I kicked back and waited for the concert to start, I started looking around the rest of the audience. And grew increasingly nervous. Because every other person in the rodeo arena was a biker. Or a biker chick. It was a virtual sea of black leather.

This was not my usual crowd. Not at all. And there I was with my two little babies. I may have even been wearing a polo shirt. In the middle of Big Bad Bikerdom. Yikes! Would we make it out alive?

Well, as it turned out, the bikers couldn't have been more friendly. My cute little kids were a real ice-breaker and we all wound up having a great time.

**********
7. I used to have a big ugly brown mole in the middle of my chest and I totally hated it, but I couldn't afford to go to a doctor and have it removed.

So, when I was 21 and stupid, I took care of it myself -- using ice cubes, a sharp knife, a pair of scissors, lots of cotton balls and a fifth of Canadian Mist.

The procedure was a complete success, but I'll leave the details to your imagination.

**********
Well, that's all I can think of. That I'm willing to admit to, anyway.

(***wink***)

I'm not tagging anybody since nobody tagged me but, Sherri, if you ever do this you have to tell the "hole in the flannel shirt" story. And if my brother had a blog, I'd make him tell about accidentally shooting that chick with a blow-dart. That was about the funniest shit I ever heard.

Trouble in Paradise

Mikey slept on the couch last night.

No, no, it's not what you're thinking. It's the cat.

Last Monday night, he pissed on our bed. It didn't occur to me that he'd do it again, but he did it again on Tuesday. On Wednesday, I didn't remember to shut the door in time and he did it again.

Well, you don't have to tell me more than three times, so after that the bedroom door stayed shut.

Until Sunday night, when we came home from a cookout/pool party at the in-laws'. I changed clothes in the bedroom, but was so bleary-eyed, stumbling-around tired that I forgot to close the door behind me when I went to crash on the couch in the living room.

And guess what the little bastard did?

Yep, this time he even got the pillows.

Even after sheet-changing and mattress-scrubbing and pillow-switching, Mikey claimed that the stench woke him up several times during the night. So, last night he slept on the couch.

We can't live like this. The cat has got to go.

This is your last chance, y'all. Does anybody want a cat? Because I'm gonna start looking into shelters today.

Overbooked

Britt loves books.

No, it's more than that. She's in love with books. She caresses them, coos to them, hugs them lovingly to her chest, and carries them with her wherever she goes. They are her most treasured possessions.

She's no longer content to sit quietly and let us read to her. Nay, she must read them herself. Not that she can read, but she either knows the stories well enough or can piece them together from the pictures that she gives a pretty convincing narrative as she pages through them.

Still, we're not completely off the hook. She'll shove a book at me or Mikey, demanding "Read!' and so we'll start reading to her, but she'll also begin reading another book out loud, and Lord help us if we quit reading because she's not paying attention, because she is. "Read! Read!" she shouts, as if we are letting her down terribly by not valiantly waging our end of some bizarre book-reading duel.

And she has a lot of books, so this can go on for hours.

Yeah, it's very cute and all, for a few months. Finally, in an attempt to hold on to sanity, I stashed her books in our third bedroom (the one room that's still off-limits to her because it houses my computer and Mikey's musical equipment, plus that's where I hide the toys I can no longer bear to deal with, like Play-Dough, until Mikey lets her play in there while he surfs on the computer, and she finds them) and allowed her to have only three books at a time. She wasn't happy about it, but it worked for a while. There were much shorter book-reading sessions and much longer toy-playing sessions.

And all was right with Grammy's world again.

Then Mikey, who can deny Britt nothing, lifted her over the safety gate one day and let her play in the office while he surfed on the computer. She took the opportunity to free her beloved books from captivity by dumping them over the safety gate into the hallway. I was not amused:

There's a reason why that gate is there.
Uh, yeah, that's what you keep telling me.
But you aren't the one here with The Books all day.

So he went and bought an 18-gallon plastic bin with a snap-on lid to hold The Books. This was a moderate success at first, due to the out-of-sight out-of-mind factor, but eventually Britt would stand at the bin wailing piteously because she couldn't get the lid off.

So, eventually, the lid came off and stayed off. And The Books came out and, lo, they were everywhere -- on the furniture, under the furniture, all over the floor, piled in front of the door, stacked in our tiny utility room, etc, etc. In the time it took for me to throw a load of clothes in the washer, Britt would have the sofa and love seat completely covered in books from end to end. I'd go around picking them up and putting them back in the bin five, six, seven times a day.

Once again, Grammy's sanity wavered.

And so, one night while she slept, I put the bin of books in her bedroom (the one room of the house where she never wants to go) and shut the door. And, unless you've had an obsessive toddler on your hands, you can never understand how much I hated lying to her but it was oh so very necessary.

Where are The Books? Well, gosh, Punkins, I just don't know!

That lasted less than a week. Tonight, for the first time ever, Britt learned how to open a bedroom door. And she found The Books and, lo, they are everywhere.

(***whimper***)

Bugged

As I've mentioned before, Britt isn't into bugs at all.

Well, this is unfortunate, since it seems to be a banner year for bugdom around here. We've had numerous roly-polies, spiders, ants, flies, and an assortment of beetles (not roaches, thank God) in the house lately, as well as a flock swarm whole lot of fruit flies, which is odd since we haven't had any fresh produce in the house in two weeks (bad Grammy!), except for a couple of onions on the counter. Do fruit flies do onions? Or maybe they're just gnats, I dunno.

Our recent episode with mosquitoes in the house seems to have magnified Britt's anti-bugness to the point that she runs screaming to the couch where she huddles, snuffling and hyperventilating, until Grammy removes the offending creature.

It's even worse when it's a fly/fruit fly/gnat because, by the time Britt shrieks and runs for cover, she's pointing at an invisible menace as the thing has flown to less turbulent areas of the house. So I have to sit and hold her, giving what comfort I can, while she gravely informs me, "Skeedos. Eat us."

(***sigh***)

I think it's gonna be a long summer.

In other news, Ginger Baker accidentally got shut up in our bedroom this evening and he pissed on the bed. On Mikey's side of the bed. Mikey, who loves this cat even less than I do.

I scrubbed the spot with upholstery cleaner but it still stinks and there's not much I can do about the pee that seeped down into the padding, is there? Maybe it's finally time to invest in my first-ever bottle of Febreze.

(***sigh***)

Out & About

We went to the Crossroads Kids Club on Tuesday. Britt was totally fascinated by the emcee. Can't you tell?



Her number didn't get called this time, so she didn't win a prize, but she did get up the nerve to go give Sammy D Salamander a hug. I didn't think she would so I didn't get the camera out in time to get a picture, though.

Then she played her little heart out on the playground



and she rode the big carousel and the mini-carousel



and then we had lunch and then we went and got in our oven-hot car and went home.

I hate strapping her into the car when it's so hot. I'm so afraid her tender skin will touch hot metal and sizzle up like a pork rind, but there's no place in the middle of a mall parking lot to put her while I run the air conditioner to get the car cooled down so, hell, what can you do?

Our other big outing for the week was to her zoo class. This month was all about ladybugs and...

Well, Grammy plumbed screwed up. Either because

1. I'm an idiot, or
2. the Alzheimer's is coming to get me.

Take your pick. Somehow I thought the class started at 11:00 (even though we've been going at 10:00 all year) and we got there an hour late, so she missed everything but the ladybug release at the butterfly garden:



Britt doesn't do bugs, so she stood back and watched the whole thing in disgust. I finally went and got a handful to show her that they wouldn't hurt, but she ran away shrieking. Then I tried letting just one crawl over my hand, but she just looked at me like, "Have your lost your flippin' mind, woman?"

The trip wasn't a total loss, though, since the cost of the class includes free admission to the zoo. We watched the geese on the pond for awhile



and then we went to Aquaticus and watched the Fin & Feathers show.



Well, Britt watched it; I watched her, since she wouldn't sit still and was all over the place.



Then we went downstairs to see the fish exhibits



and then it was time for a play-break



and a carousel ride or two.



She's always so cute on the carousel; while it's going around she waves to the crowd like a beauty queen on a parade float.

We have Boomerang!

Hot dawg!

I'm so delighted that I'm hopping around and grinning like an idiot.

See how little it takes to make me happy? I guess maybe that says something about how small my world is, but whatever.

We have Boomerang!

(***doing happy dance***)

Screw delighted. I'm thrilled! Thrilled, I tell you!

All right, before you TV haters get your shorts in a wad, let me tell you that filling a child's days with fun yet creative activities is a lovely idea in theory. In truth, there's a lot of hours in the day to fill -- day after day after day after day -- plus chores to do and meals to cook, so unless you've been a stay-at-home parent who has managed to fill a child's days with fun yet creative activities all day every day, just shut the hell up.

Anyway, Britt doesn't sit in front of the TV all day. She plays, or we play, and occasionally she sits down to watch a favorite show, or I'll pop in a video if I need her to settle down for a nap or so I can get something done.

We have Boomerang! Finally!

The reason this makes me so happy is that Britt is an Old School kid. Her favorite TV shows are Tom & Jerry and Mickey Mouse cartoons, and she loves Scooby-Doo. But she's never seen a Porky Pig cartoon or the Flintstones or Huckleberry Hound or Josie & the Pussycats, because no other channels we get show them, and I'm pretty sure they're going to be right up her alley.

Anyway, I'd better run because I can't sit in front of the computer while she's awake and it sounds like she's wreaking havoc out there.

Plus, Yogi Bear's on! Woo-hoo!

She's Gone

Bob came down yesterday, loaded up Britt and took her back to Kansas with him.



Oh, my sweet doll -- this is the first time she's been away from us in two years and I miss her so much. I keep listening for her and turning to look at her or talk to her, but she's not there and then I go, Oh, yeah...

But she'll be back on Monday, so there's just two more days to get through without her.

In the meantime, I'm keeping myself busy by fiddling around with iTunes, adding and deleting songs and setting up folders for different kinds of music. It's finally shaping up so's I can set it on shuffle and listen without wanting to hit the skip button on every other song.

Currently playing:

1. Golden Slumbers, The Beatles
2. The Rodeo Song, Garry Lee & the Showdown (lyrics here; I know you've heard it before)
3. Crippled Heart Blues, Lana Martino-Smith
4. Just Like a Woman, Bob Dylan
5. Too Much Time on My Hands, Styx (exactly!)
6. Just an Old-Fashioned Love Song, Three Dog Night
7. Limelight, Rush
8. A Hard Day's Night, The Beatles
9. I Saw Her Again, The Mamas & the Papas
10. Shine On You Crazy Diamond, Pink Floyd

It's better than it was, anyway.

So, since we're having a kidless weekend, Mikey took me out to dinner -- like on a real date -- and then we went to Dillard's to spend my Christmas gift certificate (my in-laws never know what to get me). I tried on 14 shirts and found only two that fit, and got a couple of pairs of jeans.

And now I'm about to say something I never thought I'd say in this lifetime:

My boobs are too big.

That's mostly why all those shirts didn't fit.

I had to buy a bigger bra last year and didn't think I was getting the push-up version, but it sure acts like one; now I've got cleavage up to my chin. Just two years ago, before I gained all this weight, my boobies were rattling around in too-big B cups, and now I feel like Chestica Simpson (though not quite as stupid, or as blonde. Or as young. Or as skinny). I think it's time to go up another size.

Also, I'm thinking about chopping my hair off.