If you thought you were going to hear about anything else ... fugetaboutit.

As I sit here at 7:20am on a summer morning, I am reminded why it is that I haven’t been very prolific lately.  Those boys are the loudest, most energetic pair you’ve ever met post sunrise.  They are just bursting forth with the joy of living [cue choirs of angels singing] … and I’m supplementing my meager existence this morning with a strong cup of the Good Stuff.  Yesterday, I tried to read … I barely made it through 3 pages.  I just gave up after Jonny interrupted me for the 256th time.  But how can I complain?  (Well, I’ll tell you how … I simply open my mouth up and it all comes pouring out.)  My little boy is talking, and he’s getting better and better every day.  Even Mia notices when he can say a word more clearly than he used to.

 

OK.  I’m warning you now.  I will be rambling a bit here.  If I have to think about what I’m going to say and organize it so that it comes out beautifully I won’t write at all.

 

So potty training is moving along very well.  Basically it goes like this:  if they have “Daddy Underwear” on, they potty in the potty bowl 95% of the time.  If they have diapers or pullups on, they potty in the potty bowl about 10% of the time.  That adds up to more than a 100% right?  I’m fine with those statistics, because they are improving all the time, and our schedule simply doesn’t make cold turkey possible.  Owen is farther along than Jonny, because he has so much more opportunity to go due to his small bladder.  But Jonny is really working hard!  Now if we could just make the jump to No. 2 on the potty before I completely lose it over No. 2 in the Daddy Underwear.  Worst.  Part. Of.  Motherhood.  Ever.  But we’ll keep plugging along.  We stay home most of today, so hopefully we’ll make some progress there.

 

As for other updates … the house situation is going at a snail’s pace.  We ordered carpet, and Matt wants to wait to have that done before we put it on the market.  Until that happens, I should just stop looking at houses because it’s torture.  Either I’m doing contortions trying to make a bad house on good property work, or there’s a BEAUTIFUL foreclosure – super good deal – on land that’s too far away and possibly not great for horses.  Whatever.  It feels like if I stop looking for a while then it will be all new again when I come back to it.  Trouble is … I’m addicted.  J