Super fat old bag Tuesday

A title totally unrelated to anything I'll write beneath it, but I was having a bit of fun at my own expense last night.

There have been a dozen times at least in the last few days that I've meant to sit down and blog something about this busy kid-full life of mine, but alas! I'm just too damn busy. I think I can manage a few odds and ends, though, before all hell breaks loose between Sister and Bean playing upstairs and the baby about to wake up and begin yelling for milk in her bouncy seat next to me.

Okay. Deep breath.

Bean is potty-trained! She even skips a diaper at night because Husband kept forgetting to put them on her after her bath and she was making it through just fine. Score a point for us!

Sister is still utterly absorbed in her library book about puberty. She's making all sorts of funny connections, though, because she is after all still only 9. For example, today in the car she asked me if a "con-dome" was just for boys. I confirmed that it was indeed something that only male members of the anatomy club could wear. (Get it? Get it? I used the official p-word when I said it to her, though.) She then smirked and said smugly, "So they have a tampon kind of thing, too!" I tried not to laugh. Oh, and Husband found the book open in front of the toilet last night when he went up to run their bath and looked to see what page she was on. I won't write it hear for fear of pervs, but it rhymes with master station. Husband's a bit freaked out, I think, but I assured him she probably already knew all about it if my experience as a young'un was common. (What the hell else is there to do when you're 5 and confined to your bunk with chicken pox, I ask you?)

Our Sweet P is a darling, easy baby, super smiley and thrilled to squeals to see a friendly face (or an interesting blanket, or the cat, for that matter). I can't remember life without her and I'm still sad she's the last one for me. Husband suggested that "Some people start looking forward to grandkids" when I told him I was sad to have put an end to my procreative life. No rush for that, though! Maybe I'll go be a volunteer baby holder at the hospital when my little ones are all big and I get a jones for something tiny to hold.

I'm feeling old all of a sudden, but this life is a very, very good one.

Poopy

Alright, this just happened. I caught a whiff of poop-stink wafting my way from Bean's direction. I asked her, "Bean, are you poopy?" She replied gleefully, "Yes, Mama, I have a giant poop!" I plopped her down on the changing table and her feet are propped up on the wall, she's so big. She held her nose the entire time I changed her, asked me, "Is the poop all gone now?" before daring to unpinch her nostrils, and then complained when she still smelled poop in the air around her.

What do you think? Time to potty-train this 2 years and 8 months old girl? I mean, if she's using adjectives to describe it and all?