Hell hath no fury like a woman...

TRAPPED IN A PUBLIC BATHROOM STALL WITH HER STUBBORN, POTTY-TRAINING TODDLER WHO REFUSES TO GET THE JOB DONE!

I'm not sure how I forgot just how awful certain parts of potty training can be. Maybe it's because the first few blissful days of sticker charts, candy rewards and all other forms of positive reinforcement work so beautifully--the honeymoon phase, if you will--that you think your kid has got if figured out. I mean, look at all those stickers. He's peed like fifty times in his bathroom, so he's good to go, right? Wrong!

I know it's different for every kid. It's certainly been different training my second child than it was my first, but no one could have prepared me for the kind of face-offs I've been having with Eli in public bathrooms lately. We're talking borderline insanity here... for both of us. He because he has some real issues with going #2 in public bathrooms. Me because I can't handle watching him need to go so bad and flat out refusing to do so. Mind you, this is not just a kid standing there telling me no. This is a kid who desperately needs to take care of business but would rather cry, scream, tense just about every muscle in his body to resist, and act like he's being abused than just get it out. So infuriating.

We were at the church the other night for an activity, and I must have taken him to the bathroom five times--the poor kid looked so uncomfortable holding it in--over the course of an hour with absolutely nothing to show for it. Well, unless you count the emotional scarring of yelling at each other every time. Eli's stubborn willfulness astounds me sometimes. I try every trick in the book to get him to do things, things that always worked with Benito, and Eli could honestly care less. I resort to angry threats, but that just gets him more worked up and more defiant and then we're really at loggerheads. The outcome? My fury melts into exasperation which in turn melts into defeat. Eli has won the bathroom battle yet again and waits until we're home to finally relax his Superman-esque sphincter of steel.

Growing Girl

Millie is changing much too quickly for our liking, and we can't help but wonder where the past six months have gone. We want her to stay small and cute and kissable and immobile forever. Alas, she has other plans. She has big brothers to catch up to and one brother in particular to defend herself against, so it's no wonder she's in a hurry.

This is a pretty cool trick that our other binkie addicts never attempted--teething on the side of the bink while still sucking on the nipple (why do I feel so naughty writing that word?). Pretty resourceful gal.

The swaddle that she loves to kick out of every night.

p.s. She is VERY excited for Thanksgiving since she will be making her solid foods debut at the dinner table. Don't worry, we won't start her on turkey. Although she'd probably be thrilled the way she lunges for my plate every time I eat.

Gospel according to Eli

My scriptures were sitting on our bed the other day as Eli climbed up, and I was about to move them out of his way when he told me,"No, Mom, I want to read scriptures." I was getting all ready to help him read when he gave me the stiff arm. Apparently I was not needed. He leaned back against a pillow, opened my quad and "read" the following scriptures to us (with a very serious expression on his face):

"Jesus gave Jesus Christ a big hug."

"Then Moroni gave him a big pat on the back."

"And the 'Way-manites' were bad."

Snap! He closed the scriptures and walked away.

There you have it, folks. The gospel in a nutshell. Give hugs, pat people on the back, and don't be bad like the Lamanites. It's funny to think that this is what my middle child has been getting out of family scriptures for the almost three years of his life.

As challenging and stubborn as Eli can be, his free-spirited personality does provide some very good entertainment. I honestly don't know where he comes up with some of this stuff.

Who needs Mr. Potato Head when you have your own head to decorate with all those little Potato Head pieces? Why wear socks on your feet when you could wear them on your hands? Sadly this is not an isolated incident, either. He quite regularly has sock hands, sometimes grabbing them from the drawer but more often grabbing Bennett's dirty ones from off the floor.

We don't know where he gets it. . .

55!

As my wife can attest to, I have suffered through many tough years as a Bay Area sports fan. 13 years of the Warriors pathetic non-playoff teams. The Raiders leaving Oakland to go to LA and then come back and year after year are slowly choked to death by Al Davis. The Earthquakes leaving San Jose to move to Houston and watching my favorite team and players win and win and win for another city.

But on Saturday I didn't have to suffer. Stanford's football team took it to the Evil Empire (USC) again and again and again. They scored 27 unanswered points in the 4th quarter and I swear I was going to wake up all 3 of my kids from their naps from all my cheering. The resulting 55-21 win for Stanford was the most points USC has given up--EVER according to the announcers. I can't tell you how awesome that is!

Check out this link for the recap:

http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/recap?gameId=293180030

Stephen

Halloween Birthday Party

THE GAMES:

Doughnut on a string

Pin the face on the jack o' lantern

Musical Chairs

Ball Toss

Scavenger Hunt

THE TREATS:

GIGANTIC Costco cupcakes

THE ATTENDEES:

In costume

Ironman, Cowboy #1, Witch, Ryan, Spiderman #1, Indiana Jones, Dragon,
Spiderman #2, Cowboy #2, Little Mermaid, Supergirl, Captain America, Sam

Just call me Rosie

I was talking to another parent at school yesterday when he unknowingly made my day. Benito and his friends were busy playing, while Eli and Millie sleepily observed from the double stroller since most days I have to wake them up from their naps to go get B. I was explaining this to the curious dad who wondered why they were wrapped in blankets and looking rather drowsy, when he commented on how amazed he is that we even have three kids. He kind of shook his head in what I thought was a "you must be crazy" kind of way, and then asked, "Do you have help?" When I responded no, he looked genuinely shocked as he told me he couldn't imagine having three kids without help at home. "How do you do it? was his final question, and in that little moment I felt as strong and capable as ole Rosie the Riveter with her war-time muscles and confidence.

I spend so much time worrying about how much more I should be doing as a mother that there's not a lot of emotional space for validation. And yet here was someone I hardly know telling me something I should deeply know: Being a mom of three kids is hard work, I should be proud of myself for doing it, and in the fearless words of Rosie, "I/WE (to all you other moms out there) CAN DO IT!"

Halloween Hermits

We have been holed up in our house for a few days now, recovering from our first sick spell of the season. Poor Bennett had to miss the Halloween parade, party and goodies that he'd been looking forward to at school. Poor Eli had to miss the ward trunk-or-treat party. Poor Millie had to miss her "baby's first costume" debut for friends and family beyond our own backyard. Poor Stephen had to miss a day of his busiest work week of the year (which will make for an even busier next week). Poor me had to miss one of my favorite holidays and put up with three sickies.

That said, the boys were stir crazy enough last night that we let them at least put on their costumes and trick-or-treat for all of five minutes. (Thanks, Liz and Amy!) Then we came back inside for a pretty scary and rather white trash dinner consisting of Fritos, bean dip, jalapeno cheese dip, orange soda (the Washingtonian in me still wants to call it "pop") and root beer, with a small side of veggies and lime chicken. At least we had Kathleen Boyd's amazingly delicious sugar cookies for dessert.

Here are a few shots from the kids' five minutes of Halloween: