Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday: First day of preschool!

As the leaves begin to change color

"Can you set the DVR to record the Ohio State games?" my husband asks of me.

"What are you talking about? They don't start for a while yet." I reply.

"Um, they start on Saturday..."

This was a conversation that took place between my husband and I just a few weeks ago. Now here I sit, three weeks into college football season, knee deep in the semester, as the weather cools down and I try to figure where summer...or the whole year for that matter, has flown off to. It seems like only yesterday that I was packing to head up to Michigan for field research. It has been so busy, I have barely had time to take a shower, let alone blog about everything I want to. So here's a quick recap so I can shirk the guilt and move on.

I finished my first dissertation research data set. It's as beautiful as data can be, and holds a mountain of possibilities. Now comes the analysis and writing. I'm presenting it at the SICB conference in January...in San Francisco! I'm so excited. :) I am starting trials for my second project, just hammering out kinks in protocol. My formal courses are completed, so this year is filled with reading and studying for my prelims, seminar hours, and writing my proposal. I taught the second summer session of Gen Bio lab, and all of a sudden, 6 weeks had raced by. It was a lot of fun, and I loved the material more than the other courses I have taught. However; I'm not teaching this semester. I landed the prep TA spot and I'm holding onto it as long as possible.

Isaac started preschool! He is adjusting really well, although he claims it is too hard. Oh buddy, it will only get harder. Ben started a new job, working as a service adviser for a local VW dealer. He loves it. He's home more, and the money is better. The new house is finally unpacked. Just looking for a few things to make it home. This proves quite a challenge as we have no extra cash. This summer drained us.

Isaac met Thomas, met Dora, and went to the zoo countless times. He visited museums, went to fairs and festivals, and rode an elephant. I can't even count how many times he went swimming and fishing.  We've hosted cookouts and parties.

Even though the summer went so fast, I'm super excited to what this fall holds for us. Apple butter, pumpkin picking, football games, trick or treating, more holidays and birthdays with our family.

And before you know it, I will be sitting in this same chair, looking out my window at snow, wondering where the fall went.

Letting Go

This past weekend, we took a big step and bought Isaac a twin bed. I say we, but it was really just a big step for me. Although I could see that he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his toddler bed, since he's a TALL little boy, I was dragging my feet in purchasing him a big boy bed. Why? Because it was the last element that made him a baby.

He's potty trained, so no diapers.

He drinks out of a regular cup and eats with regular silverware, so no more sippy cups or plastic dinnerware.

His umbrella stroller is too small, the same stroller that he couldn't use for the first 6 months because he was too small. For that matter, we are almost completely passed the stroller phase and he really needs a wagon.

He wears a 4T. 4. And he dresses himself.

He is starting preschool next week. And he brought home a permission slip for field trips and a list of school supplies he needs. I'm not sending blankets and diapers to daycare in a diaper bag anymore. I am sending crayons and pencils in a backpack.

Isaac is the light of my world. And like most mothers will say about their children, this little boy will always be my baby. But he's not my baby anymore and that becomes glaringly more obvious every passing day. I am so very proud of him, but my heart aches as it swells. Maybe it is because so many of my friends are pregnant or have just had a baby. Maybe because I have no idea when I will have another baby, if I ever do. If another child is not in the cards for us, Isaac will have given us enough love and joy as he has grown up.

I'm just having a hard time letting go of him being a baby. It is so very bittersweet.

With that said, anyone want to buy a toddler bed? Or trade for a wagon?

Snakes and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

So you know that poem that tells you that little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice? And then it goes on to say that boys are made of snakes (snips, whatever) and snails and puppy dog tails, which I was always kind irked by, especially when I found out I was carrying a boy. Who wants to write that on a shower invitation?! Well, then I realized that it's true. BOYS ARE GROSS.

Isaac is three and a half and all boy. I love him to death, but he's gross. There is no way around it. He's a gross little boy that likes to be gross.

He picks his nose and wipes it on me. He also chases me with boogers and eye boogers, laughing hysterically.

He farts and laughs about it. ALL THE TIME.

He peed on Luna. Yep, you read that right. He pulled down his pants and peed on our dog. I am blaming  this one on my husband who taught Isaac to go pee outside when there are no bathrooms available. Typical boy thing.

He explained to me that there are two types of poop. There is firework poop and there is snake poop. Nuff said.

He tells me that he wants to tell me a secret, pulls my ear toward him and then blows a raspberry on my cheek. Or licks it.

He spits on the table or some surface and then drives his toy cars through it.

I know that these things are typical of most little boys. And probably most kids for that matter (except the peeing on the dog. GROSS). I just don't know many little girls that are Isaac's age that do such. He does have wonderful manners (most times) and is super polite. When he is not around me, that is. Mommy gets the gross. I'm pretty sure that is in the job description.

Wordless Wednesday

He's fearless...and gives me heart attacks on a daily basis. :)

Resilient

Yesterday, while eating dinner on my patio for the first time in so long, I was thinking about the past year and all that has changed. I wasn't thinking about how it has changed for me or for my husband. I was looking at my beautiful little boy, and thinking about how life has changed for him. Ben and I are both happy. But is Isaac?

Isaac was pushing 2 and 1/2 this time last year, when I pack up our lives and uprooted him to Ohio. I took him away from his daycare and his friends. I took him from his Aunties. I took him from his familiar surroundings, the only home he had ever known, even if it was such a short time. I put him in a car and drove away from our lives in California, where we had been happy.

When we got to Ohio, we were in a new house, that was unfamiliar. His crib was the only thing to break in the cross-country move. The $30 Walmart bookcase made it, but the $400 crib didn't. He was put into an unfamiliar bed in a new room. He started a new daycare with new people. He got a new puppy.

His surroundings were not the only thing to change. His daily routine was severely impacted. He went from having mommy time from the moment I picked him up after work, to having playtime by himself. My life was so different in terms of work and schedule, and he took the brunt of it. I thrive on being busy and pressure, but Isaac thrived on me. Isaac saw a new persona in me. Additionally, he had daddy around more. In California, it was me and Isaac. Ben worked so much, that Isaac believed his daddy lived in the computer for 5 days since he only saw him on Skype. He was suddenly surrounded by people he had only seen a few times before in his life.

Then we started potty trained. He lost the comfort of diapers. His friends started moving up to the next daycare class and he would tell me that he missed them. For the first time, I took him somewhere with me where he wasn't with me, but watched by someone else. And then we moved again, to a new house. At the end of this month, he will move in preschool, where his daily routine will be changed again, and he will have new expectations.

Life has changed so radically in the past year for him. Good changes, in my opinion. But he is so young, and I have to wonder how it has impacted him and what he thinks of it. Are any of these changes responsible for the way he acts? You always hear that children and resilient and that they bounce back quickly from things. But how resilient is he? Is there a tipping point? I also hear that children need stability and routine. They need consistency. Has he had enough of that?

We made these changes to give Isaac a better life in the long run. Our lives individually are so much better, that it makes us a happier family. I just wonder if Isaac is happy. Is his life better than what it was in California? Did we move him too soon? Too late? Change too much, too fast? How is he coping? Does he know what has changed? Does he expect more change? Does he even remember what his life was like?

I love my little boy more than anything else in this world. I would give up everything and anything to ensure his happiness and stability. I want his life to be wonderful and full. I don't want him to feel insecure or unstable. For the past year, I have fought with emotions that make me want to change his life back to a time when I knew he was happy. I am not saying I don't know if he's happy. He is happy.

We moved because we knew we would be happier. Ben and I are. But is Isaac happier?

And So It Begins...

I'm talking about the fundraising era.

When I picked Boo up from daycare on Friday, there was a big white envelope in his cubby. This white envelope contained none other than a Otis Spunkmeyer cookie pamphlet and an order sheet for the $16 cookie dough tubs. Also included was a letter about prizes and such

Sigh.

My competitive nature says GAME FACE ON. And I'm totally for the fundraising thing. In fact, I'm quite good at it.

Here's the thing.

Is this technically my fundraiser? Or Isaac's? Because let's face it, he's three and unable to ask people to buy the overpriced cookie dough (sorry Spunkmeyer, but you know it's true). It's basically me asking people to buy them. Which, meh. I'm just not seeing the point.

I pay his tuition. I provide food for parties. I buy school pictures. Why do we need a fundraiser for daycare, anyway?

15 more years of this...that's alot of cookie dough and wrapping paper.

Committment

I try really hard to leave school at school so that when I am at home, I can be AT HOME. It doesn't work. Somehow, I end up bringing something home. Especially now, this close to the end of the semester. I understand it, and so does Ben. The person that doesn't is Isaac Boo.

About this time last semester, Isaac wanted to watch Cars. I put in on for him, and then he told me that he wanted to watch  "Mater and the Ghostlight" which is a 7 minute Pixar short that is included on the disc. I was tired and had a bunch of work to do. I told him no because I didn't want to have to wait for it to finish so I could start the actual movie. He cried and asked again. I told him no again.

And then Ben came in and asked what the problem was. I told him and he said he would lay with him while he watched it and start the movie after. I went downstairs to start the dishes.

And to start crying.

I had just flipped out and told my son that I didn't have time to watch a 7 minute movie with him. 7 minutes. What kind of mother doesn't have 7 minutes for her son?

When we lived in California, it was Isaac and me a lot of the time. I took him to the park to feed the ducks all the time. I took him to swing. I took him to see the big trucks. We played ball-in-tree. I miss those times. We got used to it, both of us.

We made big sacrifices moving back here, that we were fully aware of. We knew what we would be giving up and what we stood to gain. The person that was not aware of those sacrifices was Isaac Boo. We were prepared but he wasn't.

There comes a time that enough becomes enough, that sacrifices become to great. What was more important to me, a clean sink or 7 minutes with my son? A letter grade or a walk to the park? I had to start drawing lines and rebalancing. Something wasn't working.

This degree, my studies, my research are all so very very important to me. But not more so than my beautiful baby boo.

I decided that no matter what my schedule, no matter was due, no matter what the day or how late we got home, Isaac was going to get one hour of solid, undistracted, mommy time.

It works for both of us.

We do puzzles. We read books. We color. We take Luna to the park. We make blanket forts and watch Bambi.

It's perfect. And although I might have to give up some sleep or some cleanliness. I don't care if my house is clean. I don't care if I have dark circles under my eyes. I don't care if I get a B instead of an A (ok, I kinda do because I am total type A, but I can deal, or at least I am learning to). My baby is only my baby once. He's only 3 once. And while I won't remember what I got on the GIS test in a decade or so, I will however, remember this time with Isaac when he sings the Bumblebee song to me.

This commitment to him is the easiest one I have ever had to make. It's a commitment that is hard to keep sometimes, but is the easiest to try for.

A Three Year-Old Is the Best Birth Control EVER

At least mine is.

Before I say anything else, I LOVE MY SON MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD AND I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM.

However, he's driving me insane. His second year, the "terrible two's" were relatively uneventful. We skated through that year. There were occasional fits and tantrums. And then he turned three. Still not a big fuss.

Last month someone flipped a switch and replaced my little boy with a POSSESSED CHILD.

It's hard. And trying. There's alot of crying by him and me.. He's pushing buttons and limits. He's throwing fits. It's like walking on eggshells. Sometimes when I do give him exactly what he wants, I don't give it to him HOW he wants it. Like milk with one ice cube in the orange cup with no lid. God help me if I don't get a portion of the request correct. Sometimes it's just easier to give him what he wants. Others I fight him on. I mean, that what parenting is, right? Making your kids hate you and feeling guilty about it?

The other night I asked Isaac what he wanted for dinner. He said he wanted a hot dog. "Two ones" to be exact. I said that he could eat one and then have another if he finished it all. He came back a few seconds later to ask for the second one. I asked where the hot dog went. "I gave it to Luna." Sigh.

This proceeded to happen with the subsequent grilled cheese. And green beans.

Finally, he seemed really excited to eat taquitos. I let him put them on the tray and put them in the oven. He watched them heat up through the oven door.

And then he bit into one, decided it was too hot, inedible and gave it to Luna. (Note: at this point Luna has had a lovely dinner of hot dogs, grilled cheese, green beans, and a taquito. Isaac has eaten NOTHING.) I told him if he didn't eat the taquitos he would get a time out. He fed Luna another one. To the time out chair we went. He started crying. And saying he wanted his taquitos. So I brought him one, which he proceeded to throw at me. Score another one for Luna. I knelt down to give him a stern lecture, and HE KICKED ME IN THE FACE. He got spanked. Put in the bathtub, into pjs, and sent to bed with no dinner.

By the time he got sent to bed, he was no longer upset. He called out to me about 20 minutes after I had tucked him in. "Mama! I'm hungry!"

This is where my heart started to break. I was torn between my motherly instinct to feed my hungry, crying baby and sticking to my guns to prove a point. A point that I wasn't even sure he was old enough to understand. He came downstairs, crying and I held strong. He went back up to his room and I could hear him crying and saying he was hungry. By the time Ben got home, he was quiet and I was the one crying.

What was I supposed to do? Ben talked to him. Told him what he did was bad and he couldn't behave that way. We eventually caved and gave him goldfish pretzels and cheese.

This scenario, along with others and the overall attitude of my child these days, has made me understand why people either space their children out by more than 3 years or have more before the first hits 3. It's mentally, emotionally, and physically EXHAUSTING. I am so drained, I have absolutely no desire to even think about having another child until Isaac is well past this age.

Fort Knox for Hippos

Isaac has been having nightmares lately. He wakes up crying and calling for me. Most times he doesn't talk about them. I have no idea what's scaring him until it comes up in everyday life. Like an owl. Apparently there is a scary owl in his room.

The other night he woke up more upset than usual. He came to his door dragging his blue bunny buddy behind him crying as hard as he could. I scooped up my snot dripping baby and started to carry him back to his bed so we could cuddle and calm down. He started thrashing and screaming that he couldn't sleep in his bed because of the hippos.

HIPPOS. He loves hippos.

He wouldn't stay in his room, he wouldn't go into our room. So we sat in the landing and rocked back and forth. Apparently there were scary hippos trying to get him (NOTE: no more animal planet for Isaac before bedtime). I rocked and rocked and rocked him back and forth in the landing, quieting his sobs and drying his tears. He was on the brink of sleep when I put him back in his bed and turned on his movie to lull him the rest of the way.

Luck have it, his eyes fluttering right at the part with the DANCING HIPPOS. Let the screams commence.

Oh but wait! We were in luck! The tent Ben bought Isaac for Christmas is impenetrable to hippos! We were safe!

Oh yes, that meant that Isaac wanted to sleep in his tent. You know, so the hippos couldn't get us.

This also meant that I had to pile 20 million blankets and pillows INTO A CHILD SIZE TENT, along with a box of trains, Buzz Lightyear and Woody (who were to guard the entrance) and zip up the tent. ZIP UP THE TENT.

Let's talk about claustrophobia!

Isaac curled up next to me and fell asleep to me talking about all the reasons that the hippos couldn't get us. I became increasingly uncomfortable on the hard floor (despite the 20 bajillion blankets) and the rising temperature BECAUSE IT'S A ZIPPED UP CHILD SIZE TENT.

After he was well asleep I unzipped the door and nodded off eventually. Only to discover that my husband had turned off the alarm and I was late for LIFE (it was ok, my hair looks decent when I let it air dry).

Today we are off to the zoo to cure the hippo fear.

Fingers crossed. I can't spend another night in the tent.

Rachel in the Red Shirt

Every night during bathtime, Isaac and I have a little rundown convo about his day. We talk about school, what he learned, what he did, all the fun stuff. Sometimes he will sing songs to me or demonstrate new counting or spelling skills. He often talks about his friends, Conner Man, Nate Dog, Ronnie, and Diva (yes, I know. These names deserve an entire post of their own). Last night was a bit different. 

Isaac told me Rachel was playing with his trains. I commented how nice it was that he was sharing toys at school. He replied that Rachel was playing with his trains upstairs. Rachel in the red shirt. 

I had no reply. He told me all about Rachel who LIVES IN HIS PLAYROOM and plays trains with him. 

After he was done with the bath, I asked him to show me where Rachel was. He started up the stairs and then pointed to the top. "Rachel is right there!" 

I told him there was no one there, and then he responded that it was because she was in his room now. We continued into his room, where he immediately ran to the playroom door and asked me to turn on the light so he could see Rachel. He looked around the room and then walked in. 

"Rachel is in my tent!" 

I again explained to him there was no one there. 

"Where did she go, Mama?"

He proceeded to look for Rachel until I distracted him with fruit snacks and Curious George. 

And promptly text my husband that we needed to move. 

The Baby Store

The following are actual conversations that took place in the Lahman household. As the mother of an impetuous, free-willed three year-old, you know I can't make this kind of stuff up.

Me: Ok, Isaac, Mama is going to brush her teeth and put on her shoes so we can go to the Dr.

Isaac: Right, go to dr. Then we have to go to the store to get the babies.

Me: The babies? We have to do what?

Isaac: The babies. At the baby store.

Me: ....the.....BABY store?

Isaac: Yep. We have to get our babies from the baby store.

Me. BabIES? Like, more than one? How many babies?

Isaac: Two. We have to get two babies from the baby store.

Me: We have TWO babies at the baby store?!

Isaac: (looking at me like I am crazy). Yes, Mama.

Me: Ok, well....let's have this conversation with your dad when he gets home....

So silly me, I am thinking that Isaac is going to completely forget this bizarre exchange. However, when Ben got home....

Isaac: Daddy! We have to get our babies from the baby store!

Ben: (Looks up at me) WHAT?

Isaac: Yep, two ones. Two babies. At the baby store.

Ben: what?!

Me: Yeah that is what I said.

Although I am sure Isaac was just being imaginative or talking about some toy or the babies at his school, a teeny part of me believes Isaac somehow knows that we will have 2 more children. How he would know this, I do not begin to fathom.

Kids say the darnedest things, don't they?

The Best Three Years EVER

Three years ago, my husband and I were blessed beyond belief with our beautiful little boy. Our lives changed forever. We became parents. We have watch him grow from a newborn into an infant into a toddler into this little boy. Isaac hit his third birthday last Thursday. It came out of no where. All of a sudden I had this little man in my house who spoke in complete sentences, sometimes better than my husband, and could walk up the stairs like a big boy. He could open the fridge and get his own juice, put on his own coat and shoes, and work the TV. At bathtime he would wash his own hair.

For three years we have been blessed to be able to watch this little person grow up, to be his parents. We may not always do it right, but we are all so very very very happy.

Yet Another Valid Reason to Not Drink Bath Water

Isaac's new favorite pastime is to fill his mouth with a liquid (juice, milk, water...whatever) and spit it out like a fountain. Or just spit it out. Not the most wonderful thing for my son to be doing, but very boy like and one of the lesser abrasives. Still, I squashed it pretty quickly.

Or so I thought.

Monitoring his drinking worked well. Taking his drink away when he spit it out worked well. What I did not count on was his performance in the bathtub.

He started filling his rinsing cup with bath water and drinking it. I took the cup away. We are teaching him to wash his own hair, so as he is rinsing his hair, he opens his mouth. What am I supposed to take away there? The best is when he lays in the water and opens his mouth, taking a huge drink.

He was spitting the water out. Now he is not. He's swallowing the dirty, soapy bath water. Again, what do I take away? Bath time? He hates the shower, so sometimes if I am feeling really impatient and cranky, I will threaten to turn on the shower. But in retrospect I don't want to scar him of the shower and make him think that taking one is punishment.

I'm pretty sure Isaac solved the problem for me.

On Monday, my friends came over to watch the BCS national title game (Yep, I'm a football fan.). Isaac had his bath, drinking a fair amount of bubble bath-y dirty water. Sometime in the first quarter he began to complain of a headache. I asked if he wanted medicine and he said no, he just wanted to cuddle. FIRST WARNING SIGN. My son is turning three this month, and he NEVER wants to cuddle for more than 1 minute unless something is up.

And came the vomitting. While cuddled on my lap, Isaac said he was choking. And then proceeded to throw up on my lap. All over me, all over himself, all over the couch. Yuck. I put him on the floor, and wiped up the vomit from my leg so I could stand. As I was standing up, he threw up again. Took a step back, and did it again. 3 MORE TIMES.

I took him in the bathroom, changed him and brought him into the kitchen. While sitting on the bench waiting for his tylenol, since he was still complaining of a headache, he threw up 3 more times. This is the first time he had been sick like this, spitting up as a nursing infant does not count.

Once his tummy was surely empty and he had settled down, I wrapped him in a blanket wearing only his diaper and got to rock him to sleep. That never happens. In a groggy state, I got him into new pjs and into his bed. He slept soundly and woke up feeling fine the next day.

And now he doesn't drink the bath water anymore.

Wordless Wednesday: Dance With Me!

Mom Fail

Wednesday is my favorite morning of the week. I don't have to be on campus until I teach at 10:30, so I let Isaac sleep in and enjoy his morning. Plus I get to sleep in until 7:30. That's saying something right there.

Anyway, this morning started off wonderfully. I checked my email to discover that my parking citation had been repealed, saving me $25. Isaac woke up happy and ate his breakfast, which he chose: a strawberry poptart. He got willingly into the car, which is saying something. He was on his second poptart when I strapped him into his seat.

We get to his school, and I notice a sign that had not been there when I picked him up on Monday. It was a reminder that Christmas pictures were being taken for the school. IT WAS PHOTO DAY. I looked at Isaac, in his play clothes which were clean and nice, but not my first choice for a photo. He hadn't had a haircut in months, and was looking a bit shaggy AND he had poptart all over his face. I took in the Christmas sleigh and wintery background. SIGH.

The sign said that the photographer had been there since 8 am. It was almost 10, meaning they were getting ready to pack up. I had no time to run home and get new clothes. Isaac looked pretty confused as I frantically wiped poptart from his face and tried to smooth his hair into place.  He doesn't go to daycare on Tuesdays, which is when I am guessing they gave notice of the photographer.

I'm not sure if he actually got a photo taken or not. He hates getting his photo taken, and family photos are a nightmare.

I felt guilty. I felt that nagging Mom-guilt. I know it was stupid, and not really my fault, but it was still there. I don't like letting my son down. This semester has been hard on him, and has been full of big adjustments. He's my world and I hate that feeling. :(

Musings from the Week or the Weak...However you prefer to see it.

As Saturday evening descends on my house, the weekend is really just beginning. Today was the first day of potty training boot camp that I mentioned yesterday. It has been...interesting to say the least. We are 5 pairs of Thomas the Tank Engine undies in, one load of pee soaked laundry down, 2 prize candy bars given....and I can't tell if progress has been made or not. 

I have been prepping Isaac for this. We have been talking about his "big boy" underpants and going in the potty all week. He was excited to show Nonnie his undies. However, this morning he woke up with grumpy pants on. I tried to change them. He had peed through his pjs AGAIN, and he hates that. He hates pee in his bed. But...he would not put on his underwear. He screamed for a diaper. SCREAMED. I finally gave in and put a pull up on him. He watched a movie, and after awhile, he seemed in better spirits. 

I got the undies on him. We started a puzzle. And then....

"I'M ALL WET!" 

Yep, that was the first pair. However, it was more of a Mom, my pants are wet I need you to change me type  exclamation. He wasn't really bothered by it. No idea why. 

It's been that way all day. I put another pull up on him for naptime. He's been asleep for 2 hours now. He's exhausted. I'm exhausted. All we have been doing all day is changing clothes. 

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is too soon. Maybe he isn't as ready as I thought. 

Or maybe I am being weak. Maybe I am just trying to hold onto my baby for a bit longer. As much as I hate buying diapers, if it means he's still my little baby for just a few more days...well, you know. That doesn't make sense unless you are a mother who is far away from having another baby. 

This week itself has been exhausting. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. 

So many things that I want, that Ben and I want, are so close to our grasp, yet so far away. It seems like there are always challenges. And I am not one to shy from a challenge. I like challenge. But at the same time, I have enough of it. I just want one thing to come easily because I, we, have worked so hard to get through other challenges. 

You know, like the prize candy bar you get for finally peeing in the potty.

Boot Camp

This weekend is Boot Camp at my house. Not the physical kind, cause Lord knows I don't run (unless someone with a machete is chasing me). I am talking about Isaac's Potty Training Boot Camp.

I have heard from multiple mommies that this is the way to go. Isaac is so close, that I am hoping this weekend will cinch it for him.

The undies with Thomas the Tank Engine and Mickey Mouse have been bought. The waterproof crib liners are ready to be put on the furniture. There is a bucket of small prizes sitting by the potty.

Starting tomorrow morning, Isaac will wear underwear all day. Apparently the wet feeling of peeing yourself does the trick and will send him to the bathroom. I am really really REALLY hoping this does it. I am tired of buying diapers. He goes potty at school and at both his grandma's houses. Just not for me. I already have to clean up Luna's bathroom mishaps. I am kind of over changing the diapers too, when I know Isaac knows how to use the potty.

Fingers crossed that by Sunday night I will have a story of victory and not just a house that smells like urine.