Potty Time!

So one of the signs of a kid being ready to potty train - or so I've heard - is that they start taking their diaper off at random times because they don't like the feel of a stinky a diaper on their bum.

We have reached this time. Again. I think.

See, the thing is a while back, Evie started doing this in her crib. We thought, "hooray, time to poop like normal and save money on diapers and wipes and other things that do with your kid pooping not in a toilet!"

Unfortunately, as quickly as things seemed like they were headed for awesome-no-more-poopy-butt-town (No, not a real place, don't Mapquest that), the diapers started staying on and my daughter started crying when we tried to sit her on the toilet.

Now, I've well documented our attempts at potty training in the past - or at least I have tried and probably didn't accomplish it as well as I would like - but basically just imagine your kid not doing what you want them to. Specifically speaking, pooping where you don't want them to poop. Or pee. Whatever. You know what I'm getting at.

Well, here we are again. The diapers are coming off and this time around she's sitting comfortably on the potty. This crossroads... smells... familiar...

Here's to hope!

Chinese French Fries

So today we took our lunch together a day early, Evie and me. I decided I was really hungry for Chinese food - something we had been eating during our last few Friday lunches together (except last weekend, when we were out of town).

Here's my conundrum:

My daughter likes Chinese food. She actually does. She'll eat peppery chicken til her head explodes, but only if I feed it to her with chopsticks.

She thinks its hilarious that I use twigs to shovel my food into my face hole. Of course, she must also participate in this or it is a tainted experience. So I feed her a few bites, then eat my meal. Mostly, she doesn't care and goes right back to eating French Fries.

Wait... I'm getting ahead of myself. Story is jumbled or something... let me elaborate here.

I fix her a plate of her own. For the two of us, its only a little over eight dollars to eat at our particular restaurant of choice. This nice little place on W. 10th Street. I sit my daughter down in a high chair, fix her a plate, fix my own plate, sit both down so she can begin eating, then get our drinks. After that, I'm able to sit down.

But not eat.

I feed her a few bites of things and she eats them off my chopsticks. Then she'll cram french fries in her mouth until she decides she wants a drink out of her cup. I usually tend to forget to bring her own sippy cup, so I pour her a glass. Well, you've ate Chinese food, right? Do you see lids on those cups at the buffet? Probably not. They aren't McDonald's, after all. So I stop what I'm doing and let her drink non-stop from her cup (usually Hi C, Sprite, or Orange Fanta). I have to hold the cup, or she can have a pretty big spill all over the table, something that has happened more times than I care to admit.

When she's finally done slurping her drink, she goes back to her fries. Now, keep in mind, she has other things she can eat, too. This particular restaurant puts out a pretty good spread, some of it American foods, too. That is, if chicken nuggets and onion rings are American foods. They are, right?

So she eats plays with the other food while I'm eating some peppered chicken, crab stuffed mushrooms, General Tso's chicken, some of that meat they put on a stick that I only assume is chicken, and a variety of other things. Sometimes Evie wants to try some more, sometimes not, but mostly after she's had her first order off my plate, she's done.

But she only eats the french fries. Oh, and a slice of garlic bread. And the donut things. She likes those.

Today I let her try a fortune cookie. I took the paper out in case she got the idea that it, too, was edible.

She seemed to enjoy that.

Slowly, she's starting to eat a little more, but mostly she just wants those Chinese French Fries.

Shaking my head in disappointment.

Ten Things I Learn Over the Weekend

Sometimes I don't know what to blog about. When I get like that, you get a blog like this.

This past weekend Evie and I went on a trip together without Jen. Here's a list of ten things I learned:

1. I do not envy single parents. Just having to haul a suitcase around while pushing a stroller is annoyingly difficult. Especially when your stroller has a rogue wheel.

2. My kid is more awesome than I ever could have realized. She's also more durable. After falling and bumping her head a couple of times, she only cried a little and kept going.

3. A two year old has batteries that never die out. Even around bed time, she was still trying to keep me up. We shared a room together and the next few points have more to do with this.

4. My kid likes to jump on a bed and say "Bouncy." While I'm still sleeping. Which is not funny until later when you're more awake.

5. Kids mimic what you do. When I would brush my teeth, there was a small shadow brushing hers. When I put deodorant on, she insisted I put some on her, too. So I kept the lid on and rubbed it in her armpits, something she seemed to enjoy.

6. "Adventure Time" will put my child into a trance where she just watches the show and behaves. Its like an automatic BEHAVE button. Love that show.

7. I miss having my wife around when she's not there.

8. Having breakfast with a kid is fine. Just don't bother getting her ready to start her day until after she's had her food. Otherwise, you'll be getting her ready twice.

9. I just need one more to make this list a top ten?

10. When your kid starts grunting like she is about to poop, she is about to poop. Prepare for all possible outcomes. Fast.

And that's the end of today's blog.

Clarification

Jen read yesterday's blog and said she hopes people didn't think I literally meant "EVERYTHING."

No, my wife is not a husk of a person still walking around. Those are called zombies or alien infestations and we really hope to avoid those.

What I meant was the baby and all that was attached to it. It was just very difficult to write that out - apparently it still is kind of hard to put into words without feeling a little emotional.

But to clarify, no, my wife is not an empty shell or husk. As far as I can tell, she's still human.

So please, do not hit her in the head with a shovel in hopes to avoid a zombie apocalypse. Believe me, that makes her unhappy...

Update & Thanks

Jen had surgery today to have... everything removed.

Everything went fine and she should be back and up on her feet by Monday of next week. We're doing good, too, and I just wanted to give a quick update.

I also wanted to say thanks to everyone who has been supportive and has sent us messages, texts, made a quick call, helped out with Evie and everything else that great friends do in times such as this.

Also, I wanted to say thank you to those of you who have said nothing but have kept us in prayer. When you don't know what to say, you don't have to say something. Some people don't know this, and they tend to make things awkward and even more hurtful. These types of people have been few and far between, but even they have good intentions. Its just hard to remember that they're saying these hurtful things with good intentions.

I don't plan on calling these people out by name, or anything. Like I said, I know they mean well, but let's not make this about them. This is about saying thanks to those of you who have been good friends through the thick of this storm.

So, from both Jennifer and myself, thank you. Thank you all for all of your prayers and words of encouragement.

Thank you.

All I Need

All I Need
by Rhett Walker Band

Tell me will I ever catch a break
'Cause the storms roll on and where I am,
It does not feel safe.
I don't know what I should even pray,
But here my hands are raised.

The rain keeps falling down
As the waters flood this town
On my knees I'll be found
All I need, all I need is You

Show me once again that You are real
Oh this wounded heart let it start to feel.
You told me love would always be enough
And here I am, my hands are lifted up.

Wash my eyes to see You
Wash the stains away
Give me faith to trust You
'Cause You're the rising day.

This isn't easy.

This is not easy. Blogging, writing continually, that's not easy as it is, but then you add in how you spill out your personal life for the world to read, it gets even more difficult. Even though the intention of this blog was always more for me, more for my family and my kids, I know some people who may not fall into that category still enjoy reading it. So I want to start off by saying thank you. Thank you for bearing with me through times when I may write things that any other writer wouldn't waste effort on. Thank you for reading my attempts at being funny and sometimes - even though I only see it in my mind - laughing out loud at my mishaps and mumbled mistakes. Some of you have read this and laughed at the funny stuff, and cried along with us in the moments that we've also cried.

This isn't easy.

Some people may think I'm pretty good at writing out my thoughts, like I'm some kind of "word-smith" and I can hammer out a great, witty, original story that all can enjoy. Those people think too highly of me, but I love them for it.

Others may know better. That I often just say what I'm thinking and let the cards fall where they may. That's the fact about me. You may like me or hate me, but I am who I am and 99% of the time you don't have to worry about what I'm thinking because I've already said it. The 1% of the time I'm probably asleep.

That's just me.

So here we go. I don't even know if I'm going to publish this. Jen has asked me not to do it today. I may just save it for a while and publish it later. I don't know.

Today we found out that we are no longer pregnant. We lost Evie's little brother or sister.

Its been difficult. I don't know how I'm supposed to react. At first I felt numb, then I felt so sad, then rage. Then, I cried when I talked to my dad, when I talked to my grandma, and when I talked to my mother-in-law. I had a hard time not crying when I told my boss I'm taking Saturday off.

I rarely cry about anything. Seriously, even during Old Yeller. I mean, that dog needed to be put down, he had rabies!

But today I cried.

That's not me trying to macho or over dramatic. That's just the truth. When my grandma Williams called and told me she'd gone through something similar - something I didn't know, by the way - the only thing I could think was "How did my grandpa react?" So I asked.

"It bothered him, Jeffrey," my grandma said. That's about as much as you could expect her to say, or for him to have expressed. Grandpa wasn't really someone to show his emotions so easily. And, in a way, it helped me feel better. You know, for the same reasons when you see Superman crying, there's almost a sense of peace that comes with it.

If our heroes are capable of feeling pain, maybe we can feel it, too.

I know God has reasons for things like this. I know it. We can make it through it, because Christ will give us strength. I don't just believe this, I live this. It isn't easy, nothing ever is.

That doesn't mean its impossible.

Cinnamon Toast

One time, when I was little, my mom decided to make me some cinnamon toast. Not the cereal, but just simple cinnamon toast. Here's the easy recipe:

One piece of bread, toasted
Spread butter on the piece of toast
Sprinkle cinnamon evenly over the toast
Eat

Simple.

Except this one time, my mom accidentally grabbed the chili powder, which looks a lot like cinnamon but tastes a lot like something I don't want to eat on buttery toast. I'd rather have it in my chili where it belongs.

It did not taste good at all. Since that day, I don't think I've had cinnamon toast. It just never really occurred to me to ask for it again. I'd eaten the cereal a hundred times, but never really had the real deal.

Today I made my daughter some cinnamon toast, and double checked to make sure it wasn't chili powder. She loves it. So, I'm pretty sure it'll be something she'll have on a regular basis.

So that's my story of cinnamon toast.

The end.

Check Out The Shirt!

Oh boy! (or girl!)

So here's today's big news: we are pregnant with baby number two!

We're very excited, obviously. We had told close family about a month ago when we found out via pee sticks, but wanted to wait until the doctor confirmed it today.

So be happy for us! And if you aren't happy, fake it!

But seriously, I've been sitting on this news for a while now and you have no idea how hard it has been to not blog about it.

I'm gonna be a dad again!

I did tell my Grandma Withrow and the first thing she asked was whether it not we were far along enough to know if Evie will be a big sister or a big brother.

I knew what she meant. We laughed about it. And no, we aren't that far along just yet.

So yeah. Prego. Pregnant. With child. Bun in the oven. Etc.

Bigfoot

There are actually pictures of Bigfoot that are clearer than some photos I grab of my daughter. Two year olds...

Oh She Knows What To Do!

Potty training is not fun. We take 3 steps forward, 2 steps back. I know we have to be patient but come on! Sit and go.

Why is it such a big deal? I've done it in the woods while hunting before. My old football coach in High School bragged about going number 2 at the geometrical center of the United States because he could, and I quote, "Go anywhere."

One of my sisters had a hard time getting it under control. I remember when she was my daughter's age and Chuck E. Cheese was still Showbiz Pizza, and how my dream at the age of seven was to get so many tickets I could win an awesome prize. But no, my sister pooped herself and ruined my dreams of Wack-a-mole domination. I had to settle for a cheap plastic keychain.

Not that I still hold a grudge or anything.

Don't even still have that keychain. What a stupid prize.

Anyway, my mom always said I was potty trained early. Like, unnaturally early. One day, I apparently just wanted to stop wearing diapers and boom, no more boom boom in my pants. I'm not sure what age I was exactly but I know I was younger than my daughter is now.

But hey, no pressure. It's not like using the bathroom is some achievement that dictates how far you'll go in life. I mean, I've met a ton of people who are complete losers and they know how to use the bathroom. Wait, that's not very nice to say. Ok, I know a lot of below average people who are not messing their pants on a daily basis. Is that better? By "below average people" I mean people who wear camouflage jackets every day to school and grease up their hair in preparation of pizza Wednesdays in the school cafeteria. People who wear a cape because they think looking like a magician makes them look clever. Guys who wore bright red overalls to school in the 4th grade because they looked awesome. You know who I mean, don't make this about being politically correct!

There's just no way to say that without being mean. Obviously I am joking and if you're offended by the cape comment or you greased up your hair because you were excited about pizza day, you are either one of the fictional people I made up for that joke or I didn't know that about you and did not mean to offend. But seriously, you wore a cape? What were you thinking?

Back on target. My daughter knows how to use the potty. We know this because she has demonstrated it. She has made her dolls use the bathroom properly. Yet here we are, still changing diapers.

It's just kind of frustrating.

Also, again, I apologize if the cape thing offended you. For what it's worth, the red overalls were mine. And they did look awesome. Until everyone laughed at me and I threw up on them. 4th grade was awful.

I leave you with this: A few nights ago, my daughter came up to my wife and said "Potty!" to which my wife asked, "Do you need to go?" and my daughter giggled and pointed at her toilet, where this was happening...