Starling bought a new printer. In that box? Little pieces of Styrofoam. Brooklyn just brought me a two inch by one inch piece of Styrofoam and told me to come "ride" with her. I then noticed that she had a similar sized piece of Styrofoam stuffed between her legs. She got upset when I informed her that my bum was WAAAAY too big to ride her tiny- umm... horse. I put it between my toes and told her my toes could ride. DIDN'T FLY. She said, "NOOO MOMMAY! You HAF ta put it under your BUM like THI-IS!" So I took a joy ride on styrofoam. (Yes. It is JUST as exciting as you'd imagine). Lets just say I'm REALLY glad that I have blinds.

Now we are "boinking" balloons on our noses. Today is one of those days where I REALLY appreciate spending four excruciating years in college.

Brooklyn has needed an exorbitant amount of attention lately. I've been making the great attempt to accommodate her clinginess in my daily activities. We've discovered NEW and EXCITING ways to bond. Brooklyn now pumps her mosquito bites for milk with my old milk pump along side me while I pump bottles for Brighton. This went over GREAT when we went to Eric and Stephs house and Brooklyn had to take her dress off. "Why are you taking off your dress, Brooklyn?" Brooklyn responded, exasperated, "I HAFta PUMP." Duh. Everyone should know that my two year old has to pump.

But enough about milk. I know everyone is SICK and tired of hearing about that. And quite frankly, I have MORE important things to gripe about. URINE. I've taken on the challenge of Potty Training. Brooklyn has been going in the potty for a LOOOONG time, but has YET to be completely potty trained. I decided last Monday that I was sick and tired of changing TWO sets of butt cheeks. One set is exhausting enough. BUUUT- in all actuality- changing diapers is WAY easier than taking a kid to potty every two hours. NO MORE being LAZY, I told myself. I'm not four hundred and sixty three pounds anymore... no more excuses for NOT potty training my kid. SO- I rolled up my sleeves and got busy doing laundry. I had to wash about 8 pair of panties the first day... six the second day... and today... no accidents. (Unless you count her peeing in the pool- which I don't because it WASN'T an accident. She said, "Don't pee pee in your swimsuit Brooklyn." I asked, "Oh! You need to go potty?" She didn't answer for a second, "I hafta sit down to pee pee." I was trying to get off my float and hurry over to her. She was on the latter. "Lets go in the GRASS!" I exclaimed. "Umm... I don't need to go pee pee, anymore." She told me. "Did you just pee in the pool???" I asked. "Ye-es. I pee peed in the pool. I'm all DONE!" She said proudly). GREAT. The only problem I see is that "I" have to take her to the potty. She never says, "Yo, mom... I gotta take a whiz." Its always, "Brooklyn do you need to go tinkle?" And she answers, "Nope. I don't WANNA go tinkle." I then I say, "OKAY... LETS go POTTY!" And then I sit her on the toilet and she pees while we sing, at the top of our lungs, "Go pee pee in the POT-TEE! YAY!!!" And then I smother her in kisses and praise and tell her WHAT a good girl she is for peeing in the pot. And then she goes back to playing.

And if I leave her with Starling... she just pees in her panties. ALTHOUGH Sunday I put her in a diaper to send her to nursery and she TOLD the nursery leaders that she had to go pee pee. She didn't wet her diaper. I looked like a proud peacock when they told me that. Then Yesterday she POOPED in her panties. That un-prouded me... or humbled me. Whatever. I am just waiting for the CLICK when SUDDENLY Brooklyn just GOES in the potty and I'm not grabbing her butt every ten minutes to see if she's wet.

AND then my little Brighton... such a doll. A very FAT doll. He likes to eat. Sunday an elderly woman in my congregation held Brighton so that I could lead the music. Starling was occupied with Brooklyn. When I sat down again I got a masterful scolding on overfeeding my child. Every time he grunted or moved she glared at me, "This baby is CONSTIPATED! Don't you FEED this baby ANYMORE! He is TOO big!" Starling and I were trying to keep straight faces. She wasn't saying it quietly and everyone around us was getting tickled. She's the same lady that found out we named our little man Brighton and informed us that Brighton Beach is a beach IN Brooklyn, NY. We are such weirdos. We had no idea. Starling asked her, "REALLY! What's another beach in Brooklyn?" She said... "Well there is Coney Island." And Starling said, "WELL that's what we're naming our NEXT kid!" She looked horrified!

But I DO think there is some truth to my little man eating too much. I'm pretty sure he should be eating two oz every two to three hours... He eats about four or five oz at a time... but he doesn't eat THAT often... well sometimes he does... But I've been pumping so I can see and I'll feed him the two oz and burp him.... clean up the two oz of SPIT UP off of my NECK... then proceed to stick a pacifier in his mouth. He shoots that thing across the room then starts rooting for more milk. And once he's full, he smacks his little lips and is as content as a Starling getting his back scratched. And I can't very well STARVE him... or put him on a diet at one month old. SO- I'm just going to ask the doc if I can give him water or if its fine for him to be gaining so much weight. I PERSONaLLY think fat babies are ADORABLE, but since every single person that holds him makes a comment about him eating too much... I have to consider that they might be right.

AND then there is MY health. I weighed in at 119 this morning. My stomach looks fairly normal... as far as SIZE goes.. but the PILE of globby, stretched out, BOUNCY mush looks ANYTHING but normal. I put on my swim suit today. I observed ALL the SAGGY spots. So I did push ups in the pool. SOOO easy, right? (I did them on the ladder). I was DYING. I can't even push up my own weight in the POOL! But I did do two sets of ten. Weak. Weak. And then I did Brooklyn lifts up over my head. I did FOUR. My butt needs the most work. Well, besides my stomach. But there's no helping my gut without some plastic surgery. It feels SOOO good to exercise. I've gotta hit those weights. Which means I need to hit a gym. WHICH means I won't and I'll just keep hitting those chocolate shakes. (As I drink an icee AFTER I just finished a chocolate shake...NO SHAME).