Obviously because I put it on the internet, Joey is no longer potty trained, not even a little bit. After 3 solid weeks of complete success both days AND nights, he is suddenly peeing in his pants, on the carpet, all over the bathroom wall, and now, (un)happily (for me) in a diaper. Obviously I did what any reasonable first-time toddler mom would do and consulted Dr. Google, so Obama, if you’re watching (which we can now rest assured, is always the case) please throw me a bone here.
So far the reasons for regression I’ve concocted include 1. Juvenile diabetes (Oh, nobody else ever goes end of the world/worst case scenario immediately whenever their children throw them for a loop? Just me then?) 2. UTI (TMI?) 3. He hates me 4. He hates the new baby 5. No reason at all, Mom, why would you ask?
Speaking of the new baby, Joey is still 100% sold that it’s a boy, and that his name is Baby Jack or just plain old ‘Tonio. We shall see, but probably not for 6 more months. We’ve never found out the sex ahead of time, and we were considering doing it this time for the sake of, oh, I don’t know, some shred of control (or the illusion thereof), but I think I’d like to have that continuity with our other delivery room moments, so…una bimbo mysterioso it is. Or bimba.
My kids are complete frenemies right now. One second it’s fraternal bliss, the next minute somebody is hitting somebody else with a tree limb. Just before naptime today found them squeezed into the baby tub, on the balcony, hitting each other in the head with heavy metal pieces to a never-assembled IKEA baby gate. Whatever, guys. Better you learn it here than on the streets.
I have some favorite, favorite blogs that are always immediate ‘read nows’ whenever the content is fresh. Sometimes to the detriment of my primary vocation, God help me, but I just can’t quit Jonesy, Christy, Rosie, Grace, Ana, Dwija, Lindsay, Kendra, or Lisa. In no particular order, and all worthy of a click. Who are your go-to bloggers?
In my bold new attempt to embrace la dolce vita, instead of collapsing on the couch at 7:12 pm when Dave walks in the door, I think we’ll instead hop a bus across the Tiber so we can visit…Subway. As in, the sandwich restaurant. I’ve heard it’s ‘the only American restaurant worth visiting abroad’ and I’m reeeeeeally hoping that means there is some ranch dressing lurking somewhere along that assembly line. Friday nights are hot in casa della Uebbing.
Dave and I have been reading aloud from the Duggar’s latest book at bedtime this week (we’re 70 and we know it), and I think I’ve come up with an idea to adapt some of their amazing Scripture training techniques for children with a Catholic twist. And seriously, some of the stuff their family does is so, so Catholic. Like they’re thisclose…so, praying for a full conversion to the Truth because what an awesome, awesome family to have in ours. Plus, they just work so hard to feed their family with God’s word and it is so inspiring, but I’m seriously all, oh my gosh guys, you’re doing sooooo much on your own, you need to get some Sacramental grace up in there.
So the idea? We usually try to read the daily readings at some point during the day, ideally as a family, and in the morning. That happens about, oh, probably .4% of the time. So. Today it actually happened, and I thought I’d take a short verse from one of the readings and help Joey memorize it during the course of the day by repeating it over and over again, and having him say it back to me. Plus, I promised him gelato if he can recite it for Daddy tonight. I am notoriously inept at recalling Scripture from memory, even after 3 years of working for Ana’s FIL, and I’m a little ashamed. So maybe it will help me, too?
Please, please, oh please, not that anyone who reads this blog isn’t also reading Dwija‘s much better and funnier tome…storm heaven for her sweet unborn baby.
Pray also for her strength and peace, and for her doctor to repent of being such a galactic asshole as to suggest abortion to a mother of 6. My own mom still has rage blackouts over the memory of being offered the chance to ‘terminate’ my sweet little sister Tia, (number 6 in our own fam and our former foreign nanny extraordinaire) and the thought of a medical professional who is supposed to be in the business of caring for your baby’s health offering to kill it, instead, makes me want to commit heinous crimes of my own.
Whew. Off to Jen for more pictures, better writing, and less profanity.