When I told y'all our big announcement about adding a little boy to our family (who will henceforth be referred to on this blog as "C"--yes, that is his initial; no, I am not revealing his actual name), I briefly discussed DH's sheer joy at having a son. I didn't get a chance to delve into my very complex emotions, though.

I thought from the start of this pregnancy that I was having a boy. But, I also thought G was a boy from day one, and obviously I was very wrong, so I (and everyone around me) took my gender prediction with a grain of salt. This pregnancy was so different, though. From how I'm carrying to what I'm craving to how I'm feeling, there is nothing similar between this time and last.

If I were being completely honest with myself--and with you--I would tell you that in my heart of hearts, I thought I wanted another girl. The main reason was because I knew what to expect; I'm (obviously) a girl, and I've (more or less) successfully parented a girl for the past 2+ years. I felt confident I could do it again.

But the moment I opened that card--and saw "BOY" circled (and the undisputable sonographic proof!)--I knew that a son was the perfect addition to our family.

Sure, it means that DH can do all things "male" with his son, something that I can already see is filling him with a strong fatherly sense of pride. But this "new man" in my life is giving me a new sense of purpose as well.

Now I can raise each of my children as true individuals; I secretly feared that with two girls, I would feel compelled to make everything absolutely equal. If I gave one a tutu for her first birthday, shouldn't the other get an equally special tutu on that special occasion as well? If one played volleyball, shouldn't the other? And what if one was better than the other; what about sibling rivalry? Now that I know I'll have one daughter and one son, I don't as worried about the level of competition between my children. I know gender isn't the only (or even the main) thing that makes a person unique, but in my mind, it will irrevocably help me remember that my two children are their own, special person who doesn't need to be compared to anyone else.

Now I can look forward to doing "boy" things too... I can see G on the sidelines in her cheerleader uniform, while C is on the field (DH hopes as a kicker, since he believes that kickers have the easier path to a college scholarship and the NFL). I can imagine me dragging C to all of G's dance recitals. I can see me dancing with him at his wedding... something I know I would have missed out on as the mother of only girls.

Now I can rest assured that when my children hit their teenage years, at least one of them will still love me. I'm sure the parents of teenagers are reading this and laughing, and thinking, "Haha, they'll both hate you when they're in high school!" Maybe so, but every boy I've ever met (well, every good boy) has had a soft spot for his mother. They seem to be the ones who still remember mom loves them in the midst of their teenage angst, while the daughters are screaming in their rooms because mom wouldn't let them wear a miniskirt on a late-night booty call date. And having two children, I'm sure they'll play off me and DH, just like I used to play my parents against one another. At least this way, the law of averages is in my favor; with two children (especially children of opposite genders), I'm more likely that someone will be on my side.

And now I can know--without a doubt--that our family is complete. DH & I will never wonder two, five, ten years down the road (like many of our family members are doing now) whether we should have another child to try for the gender we don't already have. We are done, and are very happy with that.

What are your favorite aspects of having a son?
If you're the mother of only girls, what do you think you'd enjoy about having a boy?

One of the best parts about the holidays is the overwhelming sense of peace I get. Long after the presents have been frantically opened and the last peace of pumpkin pie eaten, I enjoy sitting by the fireplace (which, to be honest, hasn't worked in our house since 2008), slowly drinking a cup of hot chocolate (since coffee and most teas are currently off limits) and spending a peaceful evening with DH.

So when the folks at Kiss My Face asked me to review its new "Peace Collection," I couldn't say no! I was sent a wonderful gift set (see pictures below), which included a pomegranate acai scented candle, foaming hand soap and all-natural castile soap.

I am a huge fan of scented candles. I consider them a special treat, since I rarely purchase them for myself. The reason? Because candles seem to burn--and disappear--so quickly! But not this candle; it claims to have a burning life of 38 hours, and so far, I've used it for at least a quarter of that time... and it barely looks used. Part of that reason is because it burns clean, thanks to the soy wax and non-lead wick.

The foaming hand soap has become my favorite part of this collection. For one, it smells like "Fruity Pebbles" cereal; that's a childhood favorite I certainly miss! In general, I just adore foaming soap. I find it feels infinitely more clean on my skin compared to liquid soaps. But while some foaming soaps seem to strip my hands of moisture, the foaming hand soap from the Peace Collection actually replenished the moisture in my skin, leaving them feeling and smelling great.

I have to admit, when I first saw the castile soap, I wasn't sure what to make of it. I'd read fellow bloggers accounts of all the ways they'd managed to use castile soap (FYI, Kiss My Face's version contains no animal products or artifical colors--very environmentally friendly!); I'd never attempted any of these ideas myself. But with my pomegranate acai castile soap in hand, I quickly learned it was a practical substitute for chemical household cleaners, a great additive for laundry detergent, and so much more! Kiss My Face says their castile soap has 101 uses... and I plan to try them all.

BUY IT!

Peace Candle: $18.99
Foaming Peace Soap: $7.99
Castile Soap: $9.99 (17 oz.) and $15.99 (34 oz.)

Or, buy the set of all three (includes 17 oz. castile soap) for $33.25

MY VOTE:

I whole-heartedly endorse these three products. Whether purchased as a set (which is a great value) or individually, each item has found a place in my home. There are four different scents to choose from--pomegranate acai, lemongrass clary sage, grassy mint and lavendar mandarin--so there's something out there for everyone.

Disclaimer: I was provided a Pomegranate Acai Peace Set (retail value $33.25) from Kiss My Face for the purpose of this review. No other compensation was provided. The opinions expressed in this review are my own, and were not influenced by the sponsor company.

They have been the longest two weeks of my life... the days since our ultrasound to determine if our little addition was a boy or a girl! With the secret envelop stored securely in DH's gun safe (the only place in the house to which I don't have--and don't want--access), I didn't even attempt peaking at the ultrasound results. But when yesterday rolled around--officially Christmas (well, Christmas Eve, but who needs to be picky?)--I begged DH to let me open it. I expected him to be a rock, and make us at least wait until after church... but he was as anxious as I was!

Before I reveal OUR results, here are the final results from my blog poll:

60% voted GIRL
40% voted BOY

And the baby is...

A BOY!!!
I can't tell you how THRILLED (really, beyond thrilled) DH is at the news. I really thought G was a boy when I was pregnant with her, and I set DH up for some real disappointment back then. This time--once again--I thought I was having a boy, and DH was nervous to really believe my mom's intuition. I can already see him plotting out his son's Little League and Pop Warner career.... ahhh, boys.

As for me, I am exuberant at the thought of having one of each. I'll delve into this a little bit more in a later post (one that I'm not writing in haste on Christmas morning!), but I just think it is truly God's work at hand here. Our perfect little family... sounds trite, but today, it rings so blessedly true.

I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday spent with family and friends. Merry Christmas!

Since it's the holidays, I thought I'd honor all moms, since we work so hard this time of year. I loved this fantastic article because it included so many of the TV moms I mentioned in my "Which Type Of Mom Are You?" post. I found this on Online Schooling; also check out this site for some great free online classes.

TV sitcoms are often remembered for their larger-than-life father figures, such as Archie Bunker, Homer Simpson, and Bill Cosby. But it is the mother of the family that frequently has the most dynamic role, speaks the truest lines, and makes the most lasting impression on TV viewers. The TV mother has gradually evolved over generations to reflect the changing role of women in modern society. From Carol Brady to Marge Simpson, however, they have in common their queen-of-the-household stature and the love and respect of their family. Here are ten of the greatest moms to grace the silver screen.

Carol Brady ("The Brady Bunch"). Carol was one of the iconic moms of the '70s, the perfect partner for Mike and devoted mother to six rambunctious children. Mothers who had their hands full with screaming toddlers and surly adolescents could look to her for inspiration, and with her cool head and timeless wisdom, she rarely disappointed.

Marion Cunningham ("Happy Days"). On the face of it, there was nothing Mrs. Cunningham couldn't do. Her cooking was impeccable, she raised her children with equal parts love and discipline, and her wit was unrivalled even by the Fonz himself. It's mothers like Marion that ensure that "Happy Days are here to stay."

Clair Huxtable ("The Bill Cosby Show"). The fact that Clair's character was able to stand her own opposite one of the most beloved comedians of the 1980s is testament to her charisma and class. While the dsyfunctional family was becoming the standard of contemporary sitcoms, Clair demonstrated that an educated woman keeping an immaculate house can be equally entertaining.

Morticia Addams ("The Addams Family"). Speaking of family dysfunction, Morticia showed the world that a mother can still find her own inner peace despite living with the most bizarre group of people you could ever dream of. Her refined air and idiosyncratic sll-black wardrobe made a significant impact on American audiences.

Roseanne Connor ("Roseanne"). Not exactly the kindest mother on our list, Roseanne is nevertheless on of the most original and remarkable mothers to appear on television in its 60 years. Her sarcastic wit and candid nature were revolutionary for their time and led the way for future sassy moms such as Kitty Forman Malcolm in the Middle's Lois.

Marie Barone ("Everybody Loves Raymond"). Like Seinfeld's Estelle, Marie may not be the mother everyone wishes they had, but she was arguably the funniest part of the show. Her meddling nature may not have made her welcome in the house, but personality won her many fans in the audience.

Jill Taylor ("Home Improvement"). As a mother, Jill had her hands full most of the time taking care of her three sons, Mark, Randy and Brad, but she still found the time to banter with her husband Tim. Her down-to-earth nature stood out against Tim's nutty fascination with power tools and helped keep the house in one piece.

Helen Seinfeld ("Seinfeld"). Jerry's mother in the famous '90s sitcom may have been mostly out of the picture, but when Jerry was in trouble (which was often), it wasn't long before he made a call to his mother for advice, usually getting more than he asked for.

Kitty Forman ("That '70s Show"). Kitty was one of the first of the modern generation of independent, sassy moms who weren't afraid to mock their inept husbands and ridicule their teenage sons' failed attempts at romance. Her nasal laugh and sarcastic wit made her an audience favorite and paved the way for future sassy moms.

Marge Simpson ("The Simpsons"). Marge is probably the first name to come up when thinking of TV moms. Being part of America's favorite family for over a decade no doubt helped her gain such prominence, but her infinite patience and untiring spirit make her a classic TV mom.

I am more than halfway there... and just three days away from finding out if Baby #2 is a he or a she! I am amazed at the willpower DH & I have shown over the past 11 days. I haven't even TRIED to peek at the gender envelop; in fact, I haven't even considered peeking. Maybe it's because I know this is going to be the world's best Christmas present... or because I think I know deep down already what this baby is!

Gestation: Well... this is a slightly more complicated issue now! My last ultrasound showed I was measuring ahead, so my OB has switched me to an earlier due date of May 1st (based on my last monthly cycle); let this be said, though-- unless this child is the second coming of Our Lord And Savior Jesus Christ and was conceived through the miraculous power of the Holy Spirit, there is no way the baby's actual due date is before May 4th. So, according to the OB, I am 21 weeks 2 days; according to me, I am 20 weeks 6 days.

Weight: This question was a lot more fun when I wasn't gaining a lot of weight...

Fetal Heartbeat: Yeah, I forgot to ask again. But the heartbeat was found very low... right at my pelvic bone. The nurse-practitioner that I saw today (who, like me, is a Duke grad-- whoop whoop!) said that's probably why I am carrying to small this time around.

Health Concerns: Just about all the nausea that has plagued my pregnancy thus far has disappeared; now, I am just exhausted. The NP said at 21 weeks, with a two year old in the house, I am unlikely to ever really feel "energetic." Great. Although, it was nice to have someone tell me I'm not wacko for not feeling that "second trimester spurt."

Other Concerns: Getting the nursery ready! Once we find out the gender on Friday, I will go into full-fledged purchasing mode. I have a list of products that I'd like to buy for this baby, I'm just waiting to find out if I'll be buying pink/purples or blue/greens. I'm also working on a paint scheme for either gender, and will probably be soliciting your advice! My goal is to have everything done by 30 weeks, so I can help DH get everything ready before I am simply too big to be of any real help.

What's Different: This pregnancy has been so incredibly different than with G. With her, I had amazing, glowing skin; this time, I am all breakouts. With her, I carried high and showed early; this time, I am carrying as low as can be and still can wear some of my non-maternity pants. With her, I craved sweets; this time, I'm craving sour and tart foods. With her, I didn't notice a change in my sense of smell; this time, I can smell everything... including myself... which is really annoying.

Next Appointment: January 12th! I actually have two appointments in January; the NP did this so I wouldn't have to make a separate trip to the office for my blood glucose test. Unfortunately, I did not get to schedule that test at the same time as one of my best friends, who is due a week before me. We'd hoped to take the test at the same time, so we could gab during the hour's wait between blood samples!

Me with G at 20 weeks... I'm nowhere near this big yet!

DH just brought me home from jail. It's been a rough 24 hours in these parts; we got hit with another ice storm (seriously, I moved to the south to AVOID winter--why are we having so much snow and ice this early in the season???) and the roads were terrible. I decided to drive in it anyway, and one thing led to another, and...

Just kidding!

No, tonight was DH's annual holiday dinner at work. And yes, since he works in the county jail, the party was held in the facility's "muster" room.

It's a funny thing... if your spouse works in a school or an office building, you've probably been to his work countless times. You probably know his secretary. You know exactly where to park to get there.

Prior to tonight, I knew none of this.

DH has been at his current job for the last four years (prior to that, he spent one year working at a detention center in Georgia), so it seems strange that I would never get the chance to see where he works before. That I would never get the chance to meet his bosses (hey there, Sheriff!). That I would never have the opportunity to let inmates serve me and my daughter Christmas dinner.

So why now? Well, DH is up for a promotion, and he feels that it is important to show his superiors that he is dedicated to the job, to the department. And I've found that since I left my job, DH's career has taken on infinitely more importance in my life. It's our source of income, of medical insurance, of (if it lasts another 30 years) a pension. It's also the source of a lot of his friends, and hence, our friends. I've replaced "shop talk" that revolved around satellite shots and reporters to conversations about solitary confinement and inmate workers.

So tonight, after a holiday meal of pulled pork sandwiches, sweet tea and banana pudding (it took four years, but I've come to realize that is seasonal fare in the south), DH busted me out of jail. Here's hoping I don't go back... well, at least until next year's Christmas party.

I like learning more about those of you who read; if you're comfortable sharing...

In my new life as a stay at home mom, I feel it is my job to keep the house clean. Now, I will admit, I have fallen (embarrassingly) short of this goal for the last two months-- particularly when it comes to doing the laundry, my least-favorite household chore. I blame it on my pregnancy, which has sapped my energy and left numerous bouts of nausea in its place. But over the past few days, I've started to feel that "second trimester surge," which has given me new life... and new determination to fulfill my role as "housewife."

It is now one o'clock here on the east coast as I type this post. So far this morning, I have done three loads of laundry (G was running out of clothes, I'd realized DH & I had been using the same bathroom towels for--ick--a month, and this morning's potty-training efforts fell short while G was sitting in her high chair); I've folded and put away all three of those loads; I've managed to get myself dress, G dressed (twice, as a result of our potty-training mishap), and the dog walked; we've eaten a balanced breakfast (ok, it was just Cheerios, but those things are heart healthy) and a hearty lunch (red beans and rice!).

I'd planned on doing those tasks. I was up for it.

I was not up for completely rearranging G's closing.

I was not up for a near-fire in the dryer's lint trap.

I was not ready to empty out our entire linen closet in search of the good towels.

You see, when I--ahem--failed to live up to expectations over the past eight weeks, DH attempted to pick up the slack. Please note the word "attempted" in that last sentence. Because, yes, while I should be very happy that he at least tried to keep our house in order, he managed to knock my world completely out of whack.

Example 1:
I have a system for G's closet. We have three different colored hangers. White hangers are for the clothes she's growing out of (2T); green hangers (as in green means GO!) are for clothes that fit her perfectly right now (3T); red hangers (as in, red means STOP!) means these clothes are either out of season or are too big for her (4T). It makes sense to me... apparently, not so much to DH. Because over the past two months, he didn't even take note of the system. He didn't even try. ARGH.

Example 2:
Here's the dryer; here's the lint trap. It needs to be emptied every week or so, otherwise you are putting your home at risk of fire. Not emptying the lint trap for two months? Let's just say, I'm lucky I didn't have to call the fire department this morning.

Example 3:
We have two sets of towels. The first set includes all the towels I owned pre-marriage (as in, grody towels I used in college) and those we got at our bridal showers. They are all at least six years old; they are used to clean up messes, not to dry our clean bodies upon exiting the shower or tub. The second set includes six plush, Egyptian-cotton towels I got at a REMARKABLE day-after-Christmas sale last year. These towels pamper your skin, rather than leave chaff marks. Despite the obvious difference between the two sets, DH has been putting out the wrong set for the past two months... and where he put the good towels? Who the hell knows. I'm just praying he didn't take them to work and give them to the inmates.

Now, I know that most of this (ok, really ALL of it) is my fault. First, I should have been doing these chores myself; second, I should have noticed when things first started going awry, not after the cataclysmic impact of household armageddon had already annihilated any sense of order. I'm sorry--I was in a first trimester (and second trimester, too) stupor.

But fear not! I am back to my old self... and DH, let me warn you: my anal retentive, type-A, OCD personality is back with a vengeance... so WATCH OUT!

Sorry, can't tell you yet!


Today, we had our "big ultrasound" appointment. After hearing "But you don't even look pregnant!" endlessly over the past several weeks, I was beyond anxious to see our little guy or gal to make sure he or she was growing properly. Of course, I was also anxious to find out if we're having a boy or a girl... but DH & I decided months ago that we would ask the ultrasound tech to write down the answer and put it in a Christmas card for us to open on Christmas Day. I wanted to cave in SOOOOO badly, but I didn't. In fact, I think the tech liked our idea so much, she made me look away any time she went anywhere near those parts!

Despite that, DH & I think we know. The tech said something (which I will not share, sorry!) that made us think one gender instead of the other. 15 days, and we'll know for sure.

In the meantime, I'd love to know what you think! I'm adding a new poll to my sidebar, which will be up between now and Christmas Day. Cast your vote and let me know what YOU think we're having!

We all strive to be June Cleaver (ok, sorry, we're not in the 1950s anymore, but I can't think of an ideal mom for the 21st century), but most of us--if we're being honest, all of us--fall hopelessly short.

Of what?

Perfection. The idea that we can have it all, do it all, be everything to everyone in the course of motherhood.

I spent one very sleepless nap (yes, naps are a part of my daily regimen now that I stay at home... if I don't get my 60 minutes of mid-day shut-eye, I am crankier than G) thinking about motherhood and the types of moms out there. My very non-empirical research lead me to believe there are only six types of mothers. The question is, which type of mom are you???

Please understand, this post is meant as a farce; while I do think all moms fall into one of these categories, I also wrote this to be more than just a *bit* extreme. I'm looking at the darker side of these personalities, instead of the more positive characteristics embodied in each.

The Supermom
Examples:
Phylicia Rashad's "Claire Huxtable" from "The Cosby Show"
Joanna Kerns' "Maggie Seaver" from "Growing Pains"
Florence Henderson's "Carol Brady" from "The Brady Bunch"
She has it all, does it all, and looks the part to boot. Whether it's the most pristine house on the block, the gorgeous, smart kids who somehow aren't brats, the career on a sky-high trajectory or the husband who is the spitting image of Ken, this mom is as close to perfection as they come. What you don't know is that she is so wrought with guilt over the few things she does rather imperfectly--like cook a dry pot roast or fail to teach her child a third language--that she takes heavy doses of Xanax when nobody's looking (at least, that's what all us jealous moms say to make ourselves feel better).

The Bully
Examples:
Rosanne Barr's "Roseanne" from "Roseanne"
"The Evil Queen" from "Snow White"
Judith Light's "Angela Bower" on "Who's The Boss?"

This is your average Supermom; this is your average Supermom on an ego-trip... any questions? When a woman tries--and fails--to become Little Mrs. Perfect, she transforms into being a bully. That's how the Evil Queen in "Snow White" got to be the way she is; she started out as a Supermom, but lost control somewhere along the line and turned bossy, brash and bullish. She doesn't ask, but orders, her fellow moms around. Next week's playdate will be at THIS time at THIS place--NO EXCEPTIONS! At her best, she's extremely organized; at her worst, she's a dictator who rivals Hitler.

The Cheerleader
Examples:
Meredith Baxter's "Elyse Keaton" from "Family Ties"
Lori Laughlin's "Aunt Becky" from "Full House"
Shirley Jones' "Shirley Partridge" from "The Partridge Family"
This girl was popular in high school, and she's popular now. She's the mom everyone wants to be around (well, except the Supermom when she's tripping on Xanax) because she's just so damn perky. She's The Cheerleader. She went from doing herkies at halftime to using her excellent spelling skills to teach her kids to read before kindergarten. The Cheerleader will even cheer you on through your darkest moments (while reminding you how sunny and bright her own life is). Going through a rough spot in your marriage? " G-O T-O C-O-U-N-S-E-L-I-N-G!" she spells out in perfect rhythm; "Go to hell," you mutter under your breath.

The Tag-A-Long
Examples:
Gwyneth Paltrow's "Helen Baring" in the *first half* of "Hush"
Betty Rubble in "The Flintstones"
Any Disney Princess who ever went on to become a mother
You could also call this type of mom The Deferential Mom or The Shy Mom... but neither title really gets to the pure meekness that embodies this woman's character. She is the woman who puts up with her mother-in-law's annual tirade about always hosting Christmas without uttering a word; who allows her husband to have a "boys night" even though she hasn't had a "girls night" in ages. She's The Tag-A-Long. She doesn't initiate anything because she's too worried about ruffling anyone's feathers. These moms are sugary-sweet to the point of being obnoxious, let others make the decisions for them (and their children)... and probably are harboring a nasty passive-aggressive streak.

The Enigmom
Examples:
Debro Jo Rupp's "Kitty Foreman" from "That 70s Show"
Katey Segal's "Peg Bundy" from "Married With Children"
Britney Spears... on a daily basis
She's a mystery; she's an enigma... she's The Enig-mom. There's one in every playgroup... her head is so far up in the clouds that all the other moms wonder how she managed to get herself--and her kids--dressed and fed before noon. The Enigmom is the woman who watched Alicia Silverstone's "Clueless" one too many times as a teenager (and took notes). She's been known to feed her children dog food for lunch, use hair spray as perfume and drive to the wrong house for a playdate (much to the chagrin of The Bully), simply because she isn't paying attention. Maybe she's using all that brain energy to develop the cure for cancer... or maybe not.

The Martyr
Examples:
ME
Patricia Heaton's "Debra Barone" from "Everybody Loves Raymond"
Estelle Harris's "Estelle Costanza" from "Seinfeld"
We--yes, you heard right, I am calling myself out--are the moms who will tell you every single triumph and tragedy in our lives. We want your attention, but more than that, we want the Catholic Church's official proclamation of sainthood. We are The Martyrs. We grate on your nerves because we truly believe we deserve your pity and subsequent adoration for handling a baby who won't sleep through the night or a toddler who won't eat her vegetables... even though every mother in America is dealing with the same thing. Don't worry about telling us how irritating you find us... we have a wonderful self-deprecating streak that gives us the only touch of humbleness we have.

So, which of the six categories suits you best?

I hesitated to share this story on my blog, because it is so, well, so disgusting and it definitely does not paint my child in a good light. But I decided I would post it for two reasons-- first, because it's just so darn funny (well, as long as you weren't in our house when it happened!) and second, because I need your advice!

Monday morning, I woke up to hear G screaming, "Come get me! Come get me!" This is not all that unusual, because when G wake up, she is ready to GO. But her shouts quickly turned to screams and shrieks, so I hustled out of bed and stumbled to her room. The first thing she said to me when I opened her bedroom door was, "Mommy, my hands are dirty."

Uh-oh.

You guessed it; my child had launched a exploratory expedition into her size 4 Target-brand diaper. The result? Poop everywhere: on her hands, in her hair, on her pajamas, on her stuffed animals, in her crib, on the floor. It was enough to send this 18-week preggo mom running to the bathroom herself.

I jumped into action. I told G not to touch a thing, picked her up, and rushed her to the bathtub. I turned the water on and told her to play with it (I did not stop the drain; that stuff NEEDED to be washed away!). While she did that, I picked up her dirty bedding, wiped her crib down with a hefty dose of sanitizer, and vacuumed and Febreezed the floors. By the time I was done, she had managed to wash off most of the poop by herself. I finished the job using some good old fashioned castile soap. I thought she had certainly learned her lesson, and left it at that.

Oh, how wrong (and naive) I was...

Fast forward a mere 40 hours to Wednesday at naptime. This time, DH and I are both at home, downstairs having a very adult discussion about his future career path. G seems to be having a tough time going down for her nap, but we don't think anything of it; she's been fighting naps since turning two. But then, we hear the telltale warning, "Mommy, my hands are dirty!" You guessed it-- a repeat poopformance.

I won't go into details, but suffice it to say, this time it was MUCH worse. It took DH and I a full 30 minutes to get G and her room clean, even with the both of us hard at work.

When she finally got down for a nap, DH and I sat down to evaluate the situation. He has come to the conclusion that the reason she is reacting this way to poop in her diaper is because she's finally realized how uncomfortable it is; physically removing it with her hands is her way of handling the situation. He showed me some online research to back up his claim. It seems plausible.

I have a very laid-back approach when it comes to potty training. I know plenty of moms who forced it upon their toddlers, only to end up with children who scream at the sight of a toilet or the sound of it flushing. Even though G has gone #1 on the potty many times, and we've established a "reward" system (M&Ms) for proper potty use, I still believe in "self-guided" (gosh, I sound like a hippie mom) potty training, where G basically lets us know when she's ready to begin the transition from diapers to underwear.

My question for you is this: Do you think this week's episodes are G's way of showing us she's ready to begin potty training on a more serious level? If so, what advice do you have for a mom embarking on this journey for the first time?

Now it's your turn...

Make me feel a little better:
Tell me YOUR family's worst pooptastrophe!