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My Chatterbox

Sammy’s 21 months old now, and within the last month or so he has started talking so much, and it’s so much fun. I love his little voice – it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. His voice has so much inflection – when he sees me walk into a room, he’ll say “Hellllllo, MaMA!” I can’t really do it justice in written form, but it is cute – take my word for it!

He loves everything sports, and gets SO excited when he sees a game on tv. He can identify baseball, basketball, football (he’s always saying “Touchdown BUCKEYES!”), the St. Louis Cardinals and Albert Pujols (those of you who know my husband will not be surprised by that, I’m sure) and he’s always telling us he wants to watch a “ballgame with Dada.” Last Friday, Sammy knew we were going to the high school basketball game that night and he wanted to be prepared – he picked out his Cardinals outfit and Reds hat and insisted on wearing them all day.

He also loves his sister. For the longest time, he couldn’t say Kate, so he called her Sissy (which made me cringe, I must admit), but now he refers to her as “Tate.” He’s always asking us “Where Tate go?” when he can’t see her. Although it’s more like “Where Tate doh?” because for whatever reason his “g” sounds like “d.” Which reminds me of my favorite of his expressions – “Let’s DOH!”

Last night, he was saying goodnight to Daddy before I put him to bed. Andy told Sam he loved him, and Sammy replied “Love you Dada.” It was the first time he’d said that and it just about made me cry! He is such a sweet little boy.

I love being able to have conversations with him, and it’s so nice for him to be able to tell us what he wants or needs.

I love that little voice, and I love that little boy.
sammy reds hat

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Insult to Injury

I don’t know how much of this will even make sense, ’cause y’all, I am so tired. Which is pretty much my standard complaint, ’cause after all, I can’t sleep, despite the sleep aid I am hopelessly addicted to. But this morning I am doubly tired, because for two days in a row, in the early morning, I’ve had nightmares.

Or Morningmares. Whatever you want to call them! Bad dreams. Dreams like you kids come to your bed in the middle of the night crying their eyes out over. Yesterday morning I woke myself up thrashing around twice -in my dream I was trying to run away and couldn’t run. (I had the same dream twice, woke myself up thrashing both times.) Then, just a couple of hours ago, after Bobby and Joshua had already left for work and school, I had another real winner, and was screaming in the dream, and I woke up covered in sweat, thinking I had heard my mother yelling my name. I even jumped up and threw open my bedroom door, thinking she was just outside (she wasn’t – but she does have a house key! It could’ve happened!)

So anyways. I’m tired! And apparently my subconscious is feeling a little tortured these mornings.

Who’s got a cure for what ails me?

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Scratch That

Potty training is hell!

We tried to do Potty Boot Camp with Sophie this weekend, and it was miserable. It exhausted her as well as Bobby and me. At the end of the day, when I was holding her on the potty while running her bath which she needed because she had peed all over herself like 897 times and she was screaming both for a diaper and asking to be put “straight to bed” instead of having to sit on the potty, I finally thought, “Gee, maybe Sophie’s not ready.”

Here’s what I learned from Potty Boot Camp:

1) Sophie would prefer to use our office chair as a toilet, rather than an actual toilet.
2) Sophie will hold her pee until you leave the room to make her lunch or get her a clean shirt or ironically, check to see that her brother wiped himself correctly after taking a poop.
3) Sophie does not care whether she wears training pants, big girl undies, or a diaper, so long as she can pee in them and not on the toilet.
4) Sophie will not answer questions that contain the word “potty”, “pee-pee”, “poop”, “wet”, or “dry”.
5) Sophie will take a four-hour nap if it means she can get a break from potty training.
6) I would rather give a raccoon a pedicure than potty train my kid.

It was that fun!

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