I had no intention of being so lackadaisical. Many things have happened, followed by Mark saying, "that's the kind of thing you should be blogging!" and I would say "I will blog!" and then I wouldn't. Because at the end of the day, I'm really tired and into laying on the couch. Read a little or watch a little teevee and then go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat. In between fits of beating myself up for this, I suggest to myself that maybe this is just one of those times (like August - November last year) when Gaz just completely wears me out to the point that I shouldn't try for too many or too involved extra-curricular activities. But mostly I'm just hard on myself.
Like, I should have blogged about serf (surf?). Gaz has a little pink Disney Princess tea set (which I did actually buy for her myself, because we were desperate for a tea set and there were no others in my price range), and just as soon as we got all the pieces out of their nuclear fallout resistant packaging, she started saying that the cream pitcher was "surf" or "serf," it's hard to get a kid who can't read to spell out the words she makes up. So this goes on for months. "Mommy, would you like some tea and serf (surf)?" is the question I'm always being asked, to which it is my duty to reply, "Yes, that sounds lovely." And then finally, a couple of weeks ago, she comes running up to me with the little pink pitcher, holds it aloft, and yells "SERVING WENCH!" At which point I realize that surf (serf?) was as close as she could get to saying serving wench, and this is a major accomplishment for a complex term like that coming out of her mouth. And also that she picked this up from a What's New, Scooby Doo? cartoon we have on DVD (it's set at a Renaissance Faire, and some guy hands Daphne a pitcher and says, "Serving wench! Take this hence.") and I am both amused that she picked up the most hilarious term from that and embarassed that it's patently obvious to the world how much television she must watch from her ability to quote Scooby Doo. It's still funny, though.
And then yesterday (someone should sound the scatological post alarm now) Nana Cel, Papa Charley, Gaz, and I were in Borders, picking out some new books for Gaz. She was lurking in one corner of the kids' section and we all kinda figured she was probably filling her diaper. So I went to look at a kids' book about Barack Obama, and Agatha suddenly came running up to me shouting "Mommy! I dropped some poop on the floor!" over and over. I calmed her down, sent her off to the bathroom with Nana, and all I can say is thank God I had wipes in my purse. And also thank Gaz that it wasn't as messy as it could have been. Somehow the poop completely missed her clothes, her legs, her shoes . . . everything but the carpet, of course. But it didn't make a mess really, except for it's undeniable presence. Anyway, thank God for wipes. I can't say that enough.
But the best part is that she did all this right next to the potty training books. And it should go without saying that we've had a good laugh or eight since then.
Since the subject has already come up, potty use has dramatically increased. She's generally not peeing in her diapers anymore at all, and is pretty responsive to questions about whether or not she has to pee. Today we got her some training pants with flowers and such all over them to help encourage her to keep up with the potty habits. I have to say, except for the late evening/early morning potty requests, this is all rather effortless. I'm glad I haven't pushed her to get out of diapers. Encourage her progress, yes. Push, no. She's so willful, I suspect it wouldn't have worked anyway.
As we near the third anniversary of Gaz's birth, I can report that she is as tall, blond, silly, and nursey as ever. I've long said I would happily give her three years to breastfeed and after that we'd negotiate. I'm still not feeling the need to negotiate, though. How much she nurses varies so much depending on the weather, travel, owies, etc., it always makes sense when it comes up. So sorry if that weirds you out or you think it's crazy. It's worked fine thus far, and so long as it works for me and Gaz, it'll be part of our lives and I'll probably blog about it from time to time.
Now bathtime nears and we must scrub bug repellant off Gaz. Gotta love that west nile virus.