Oh so quiet

Gil is down the street at an aforementioned lovely friend's house, with the four children, more than likely helping himself to any crunchy, salty, sweet, aluminum bag packed snack, most definitely leaving crumbs behind. Gil's friend from that household came down with the most exciting invitation: A sleep over! Apparently it began at 1:00 pm as Gil shot out of the house and ran down the street so fast he forgot to favor his left big toe that he has been limping on since a piece of glass generously lodged itself at the base.

Allie finally invited a very favorite girlfriend over. They sat in her room chit chatting about this and that, walked the dog for a good 30 minutes, returned, and have been creating clay sculptures in her room, continuing the 9-year-old chitter chatter that makes me smile just listening to. Until one of them passed gas, sending the two of them chortling into hysterics. Ok, so maybe it runs in the family. That and Top 40 is now playing on the radio.

We are sashaying our way into the Pre Teens, my friends. So far so good. I'll let you know how I'm doing. Because remember folks, let's not get off task. Raising children IS ALL ABOUT THE MOTHER.

Developmental milestones? Pshhh. How's Mother handling it?

Speaking of which, I was petrified looking forward to my summer going unmedicated with my three kids being home all the time. Meaning, Grandpa's Old Cough Medicine could only last so long and my liver would begin to object. Plus yellowing eyes can be so unsightly. Not to mention hangovers with three kids being no fun at all. Not even a little bit. I had myself halfway convinced I'd need to rely on Mother's Little Helper during the past three months but instead somehow got swept up in the whirlwind we call Summer and have actually done quite well. Sure my aunt, who will remain nameless, introduced me to a chilled little concoction that goes down nicely once the kids are in bed. But we don't need to get into that.

Egan, my sweet little three-year-old, is soundly sleeping in his Thomas undies atop his sheet covered, rubber sleeved, mattress. After Egan heard his best buddy cousin is now going PEE! On the POTTY! He is hell bent on accomplishing the same. The only hiccup is his terror-stricken fear of releasing his bowels on the toilet. I've offered gum, lollypops, ice cream; even McDonald's for crissake. He's not budging. Or pooping.

As I've said before, I don't want to create an anal retentive poop hoarder. But I also want my kid to trust me that he can relax and let his body do what it needs to. I don't think the kid is cognitively capable of grasping an ounce of what a relief this will all be once he experiences one of the many instances when he figures out I WAS RIGHT.