You know there's nowhere for your day to go but up when it starts by getting pissed on. This week at 4:30 am I started my day with a warm stream of pee from Mr. Miles. (Yes, our seven month old shares some of his sleep-time with us, but Carter did the same thing and now sleeps on his own.) Anyways, after I finished changing Miles, and getting him to go back to sleep, while laying out on the coach, my running-alarm went off. I never heard it and Bradley turned it off. Somewhere in there Carter decided to tag-team us and Bradley (who by the way had put his back out and was hopped up on Vicodin), one-leg Charlied it up the stairs, and somehow packed our 40 pound two-year old back down. Although none of us, besides the gimped up father, were in our respective sleeping arrangements we were all dozing quite wonderfully in dreamland, until I was awakened by a knocking at the door. Yes, it was a school-day, and yes, I normally leave at 7:25, but no, this was my mother waking us all up at 7:30 am. I don't know what I looked like that day, I probably scared all of my 4th graders, but I still managed to make it to school by 8 am and wasn't so frazzled that I maimed any ten year olds.
In other news, Carter is seemingly completely potty-trained. I'd like to say that this new-found skill has left us with huge amounts of wiggle-room in our budget, but sadly our dog getting run over by a car last month has triggered a rather larger contribution to our local vet's office. (Which coincidentally is our neighbor). Yes, Carter even wakes up in the middle of the night to tell us he has to pee. He has pooped on the potty for over a year because of some constipation issues (TMI?), but due to the diligent efforts of our wonderful "Eileeny", he has mastered the art of the potty. In fact, he is quite the self-motivator on the potty. Lately he has been really into Bob the Builder and last weekend I could hear him singing to himself, "Can we pee-pee? YES. WE. CAN!". Those of you who know the usual lyrics of Bob and his crew, can appreciate this comment.
Onto other words of wisdom, last weekend I held a baby shower for my good friend and Bradley took Carter on a solo-trip to Medford. Bradley and his friend Steve have been brewing up a batch of "Apple Pie", in Bradley's man-cave and they needed some sort of auto-siphonor from the elusive land of "Black Bird". I truly wanted to experience Carter's first trip to this eclectic store, home to the rightfully titled "Black Bird", but alas didn't make it. Bradley shared that upon entering the store, Carter proclaimed with sheer delight, "Oh, holy Dollars!". I think this comment either points to my fascination with our ever-shrinking budget, or my lack of commitment to the church. Either way, he's a boy after his daddy's heart, a lover of a manly man's store.
As you approach this holiday season, may you live it through the eyes of a two-year old, or an infant. Sheer happiness and anticipation, maybe a few "holy dollars" too. But in the wise words of my own father, I guess maybe it is better to be "pissed off", than "pissed on".
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