Addie goes to Hollywood

Girlfriend is so HOT right now. Don't you just adore the way her flower hair clip accents her necklaces? BLING, baby.

And life goes on

Two nights ago, Bella bit a hole in her last binkie. Vincent told her that he'd need to throw it away because it was broken, and then came slinking into our room to ask what to do.

I fought the urge to say, "make a parenting decision by yourself and then just let me know about it, just this once." Instead, together we decided that it was the end of Bella's binkie days.

And then it was over. She went to sleep, without the binkie. Last night, she asked for it again, and Vincent reminded her that we had thrown it away.

And then she went to sleep. Without the binkie.

So I guess it's over - my baby is no longer a baby. Now she just needs to use the potty consistently and I can send her right off to college.

In other news, Adelyn has a new game, which consists of crawling as quickly as she can to the toilet and splashing furiously until I stop her. And don't talk to me about toilet locks - there are (almost) four other toilet users in this house, people who do not confuse the toilet with a swimming pool - and not everyone can unlock in time. So do I want swimming pools of urine on the floor outside of the toilet? No. I'll shoot for trying to keep the bathroom door closed, thank you very much.

Besides, Riley's in this stealth mode thing where he likes to poop and then wipe himself and pretend that it didn't happen. Except that he doesn't always flush. At least this allows me to sometimes realize what he's done - and wipe the remaining tablespoon of feces off of his tiny ass before he sits on my couch.

Trust me, you are no more disgusted than I am.

And, no, Adelyn has not discovered unflushed poop floating in her country club pool. Yet. But you and I fear the same thing, my friend. The stars are lining up too neatly for me to pretend that it won't happen, even once.

Pray for us.

Move along, nothing to see here

I have absolutely nothing to say.

I lost a whopping .25 pounds at Weight Watchers this week, so, well um, yeah.

Tonight I am heading out to a major drunkfest - a benefit for juvenile detectives and social workers. And then tomorrow morning we head to VA for a family party at the ungodly hour of 9:00 am, which wouldn't be so bad if I didn't plan on getting home at 3 this evening. Pray for me, even though I'm an idiot.

It's raining, and we've watched no less than 6 hours of TV today. Even so, somehow I missed most of Oprah.

So enjoy your weekends everyone. That is, those of you who chose to read after the first line.

I did warn you, didn't I?

When she's in therapy this is one thing she won't be able to blame on me

Those white shoes SO TOTALLY don't match her pajamas.

Skip to my Lou. Who the hell is Lou?

We spent twenty point playgroup in a local park today - YES - I had to pack my own lunch AND THERE WERE NO APPETIZERS. Anyway, I loved playing in streams as a child, and it was over 80 degrees, so I threw caution (and common sense) to the wind. The kids had a blast. That's Riley and Bella leading the river train - their friend is behind in the yellow boots, and while I wouldn't normally publish a photo of someone else's child, you can't actually see his face. Uh, I mean HER face. Yeah, uh, it's a she. Did I say he? Move along...there's nothing to see here!!

They put a TON of rum in those mojitos

Vincent and I enjoyed an evening alone pretending to be in the Caribbean. Really we were at Bahama Breeze and the local Hilton, but it felt good just the same. Just look at those goofy grins.

You must have been a beautiful baby...

I just love this picture. This is the face I see when I'm hovering just above Adelyn's face, ready to kiss her little nose.

The middle one's goofy too

Bella is practicing the whole potty thing, and gets upset when she pees in her diaper and then there's nothing left for her to pee into the toilet. This happened just now, as it does three or four times a day (I am always just a bit late for everything too, so she must get it from me).

Bella is sitting on the toilet, clearly frustrated.

"Now I need batteries for my butt," she says, "to make more pee."

Friday morning weigh-in

I'm down 14.6 pounds as of my weigh-in last night. Just another 20 or so before I fit into those pre-pregnancy size 6 khakis again.

You know, so I can get pregnant with the fourth.

Yeeeaaah.

That oldest one is goofy

Tonight Riley sprayed water on Bella with the garden hose, which was unacceptable because it's like, 50 degrees. Anyway, I put him in time out outside and he cried because he thought we were going to leave him out there.

"You can't leave me out here! Because there's bats and other stuff out here!"

"Well, the bats gets hungry too", I quipped.

"You can't leave me out here! I'm a part of your family! And if the bats eat me, then my sisters won't even have a big brother anymore, and you won't even have me anymore. And I make funny jokes and stuff!"

Hmmm.

Yeah, I let him in. It is my anniversary and all - nine years.

Bella, well, I might have let her get eaten by bats. Recently, she's applied my nail polish to her lips (and her hands and feet, and the bedroom floor) and vanished at a live showing of Dora the Explorer (she decided to sit down next to the people three rows behind us - I actually had the security staff scouring the place before I found her).

We are waiting to see if Adelyn has actually acquired the Chicken Pox virus that was running rampant at a birthday party we went to last week, so if she's diseased, the bats might not eat her. But she is plump, and probably quite tasty.

If she does actually get chicken pox, it might prevent us from staying in our local Hilton this weekend for a much needed respite from the kids.

So, she probably has it.

Ah, but there is the anniversary carrot cake beckoning me from the dining room.

Weigh-in, shmay-in, I always say.

I'm still here!

We have been sick here. Actually, I have been sick here, so nothing has been getting done around the house. Plus, my MBA husband has been preparing the taxes so I have been banished from the computer. My apologies.

Tonight was my first night working as a "behavior specialist." Don't laugh. I'm a specialist, really. In behavior. Like, of kids. Just not my kids, OK?

See, I have this MSW and now that I'm a SAHM, I'm making extra money working as a behavior specialist for kids with mental health problems. I'll let you know how it goes.

I really hope nobody gets here by googling "behavior specialist," but if I keep saying it, I'm just making it worse, aren't I? I'll stop now.

I was thinking, the other day while watching the pope being carried by some guys in tuxedos (how does one qualify as a pallbearer for the Pope, I ask you??), that I'm surprisingly glad that priests cannot marry. Who knew? But it was the first memorial service (yes, I know, the burial isn't until Friday but close enough) that the focus was not on a grieving widow or a toddler giving a salute on his birthday. Instead, the focus was on the holy figure of Pope John Paul II. Boy, I was definitely brought up Catholic because I was grooving the whole Gregorian Chant and Pomp and Circumstance thing. I think that the solemnity and holiness would be tarnished by a grieving family. Instead, the Catholic community is the grieving family, and I think that's how it should be.

Now, my husband thinks that priests should marry and that there just wouldn't be a married pope for a long time, and that's OK. He scoffed at the notion that priests would go into the service of God aspiring to be pope someday, but I think that why on earth would you want to be a priest if you didn't think that you could be pope someday? Or a bishop? Or cardinal? That's just silly. If you can be a priest, and be a holy servant to the Lord, than you should be able to be pope. Plus, I don't think marriage of priests has anything to do with sexual abuse in the church. Some pedophiles are married, after all. So let them actually be celibate, I'm cool with that.

But that's just me.

There has been no celibacy here, despite my being sick, and I've been enjoying that too. TMI, I'm sure, but what the fuck, it's my blog.

Hey, am I giddy because I just earned some actual money? Or because someone thinks I'm a specialist?

Caught me. I said I'd stop doing that.

I saw this really cool link thing regarding Adagio Teas, but that will give me a topic for another day. Suffice it to say that I love tea even more than Starbucks Caramel Macchiatos.

But for now, I must wallow in the fact that I am out of one point fudge bars (Twenty Point Playgroup was today, people!) and regroup for tomorrow's follow-up with Riley's pediatric urologist. I've had to tell Riley that we're going back so that the doctor can look at his penis and see what a good job he did, but that there will be no more cutting. He keeps repeating this to me as if to make sure that I'm not lying to him.

No more cutting baby, I promise. Doctors just like to gloat in their handiwork.