That’s what I hear echoing down the hall every couple hours.

That’s right. We’re back into potty training. I thought I’d give it one last go before the weather got nice, and I couldn’t bear to be locked in the house for weeks on end. We started three weeks ago. I thought if I could get her trained in two weeks, before I left for Texas, we would be ready to go for summer.

The first two and a half days were pretty bad. Olivia didn’t seem to get exactly what she was supposed to do. Somewhere on the third day, she finally went “pee-pee in the potty.” (My potty language is pretty rudimentary these days) After that it was probably another week where she would go potty if I asked her to, but if she needed to go, and I didn’t happen to ask, she wouldn’t volunteer the information. We were about 50/50 in our success/failure.

Finally, a day or two before I left, she started going to the potty on her own. She still wouldn’t tell me, but she would disappear into the bathroom, and minutes later I would hear the chant victorious: “I DID IT MOMMY! I GET A TREAT!” — (I’ve been scrambling for treats. It seems what ever potty treat I buy for the girl, her daddy eats. He thinks he should get a treat for all the years he’s been going potty!)

Then yesterday, the biggest break through of all. In all this time, Olivia has never gone “pooh-pooh” in the potty. She only poops once a day usually, so if I didn’t catch her at just the right moment, and she had an accident, we’d have to wait until the next day. Without going into too much detail on the scheduling of my daughters bowel movements, let’s just say we have been pathetic in getting her poop and the potty together.

Then yesterday she had once again disappeared. I hear movement in the bathroom, but it’s been longer than previous visits. I go in, suspicious, and find that she’s pulled the toilet brush out from the cabinet. In the midst of my scolding, I look over to see a long brown poop sitting in beautiful contrast to her lime green toilet.

“HURRAY!” I shout, “You Did It!” I grab the phone. We call daddy. “Heaven must be smiling on us” he says, with a hint of relieved exhaustion in his voice. We look to find the best treat ever. There are none to be had. Daddy has eaten them all. We shout “Hurray!” some more and break out the fruit snacks.

I know we still have a ways to go. But it seems we’ve reached the summit.

Last Friday Calvin and I kissed Olivia and Wyatt good-bye, and boarded a plane for Dallas, Texas. I was going to visit my friend, Andi, whom I have been promising to visit for a couple years, and have never made it. I finally made it.

The trip started a little rocky. The woman at the check in counter lost my drivers liscence. It was on her desk behind something or other — I never got the clear story. But we couldn’t find it after ten minutes of searching. Finally, in fear of missing my flight, the counter lady gave me a “pass” to get through security. When they finally did find it, they mailed it to Wyatt, who in turn overnighted it to me, so I could get on the plane coming home!

Once we were actually in Dallas things went much smoother. Andi and I didn’t do a whole lot. One day we went bridesmaid dress shopping, but didn’t find anything. The other days we just went on walks and cooked, and did art projects. We tried a new art form called “Batik”– it was cool. Andi’s turned out much better than mine, her fabric didn’t have such a tight weave. I also worked on my wood carving and photography.

On the flight home the airline lost my bag. It finally came in, and Delta delivered it to my home — at 3:00 am! They pounded on the door waking everyone including baby Cal. Ugh. But at least the bag came!

It was a fun little jaunt to Texas. It was fun to hang out with Andi and not HAVE TO do anything at all. Those are the most relaxing days to me.

Calvin in his “Johnny Jump Up” that Andi gave him

Lemonade and art projects on the back patio

Andi doing “Batik”

. . . is gone forever, I’m afraid.

I first noticed it on Wednesday evening. Olivia, who hadn’t had a nap all day, was saying one thing, and then repeating it over and over and over and over AND OVER again, until Wyatt or I acknowledged what she said . . . not just that she said something, but WHAT she said–a problem since I still only understand about 25% of what she says. “She must be tired,” I told Wyatt. I knew that wasn’t the reason. But insanity gave me hope.

Now, several days later, reality has conquered hope. It wasn’t a lack of sleep, or an overdose of sugar, or any other plethora of excuses I tried making to myself in the ensuing days. It’s a developmental stage. I’ve seen other kids go through it, wondering how other parents handle the constant chatter, the constant nagging for a response to any and every thought that pops into a two year old mind. And now, here I am. I still don’t know! Olivia eschews every thought and happenstance with great insistence and force.

I am afraid gone are the days of quiet moments and thoughtful introspect. Now it is – “no, Olivia, we can’t ride the horsies,” and “yes Olivia, the chicken is white,” and “I’m glad you think marshmallows make good treats for turkeys.” Even when she’s in bed, and I sit alone at the computer to write, her heartfelt babble echoes in my head. It makes for good company.