You know when you're so behind in blogging that you just want to toss your hands up and jot down, "We celebrated Halloween and a week later Mike had a birthday" instead? I'm about there. It's paralyzing because I have the nagging compulsion to want to write chronologically. The more behind I get the I am the less likely I am to ever want to write anything because it means backing up two weeks.
I'm going to try and fight that compulsion today.
Ada has become increasingly resistant to her diaper and increasingly aware of how uncomfortable it is to sit in your own wasted. Going in her diaper is always followed by a lot of tugging, waddling, and, if she's wet, exclaiming, "STHOGGY!" If it's messy, on the other hand, she sticks her chin up like she's howling at the moon and in a low groan says, "poooooooop-py! Pooooooooop-py." It sounds much like a cow mooing, actually.
Tuesday I figured, let's go for it. Ada diaper free. Me on her like a hawk and asking her 8 million times if she has to go potty until by the end of the day she only responds with raspberries and squawks.
By noon we had our first victory (who knew she could hold it for 3 hours?!) #2 right where it belongs. We cleaned up and while I was mid-victory-text to Mikey I heard my cattle-baby lowing, "Poooooop-py" and there it was: the sneak attack poop. She went on the rug literally 20 seconds after going the first time and shooting her enthusiastic little arms into the air and shouting, "AH DONE!" Then she stepped in it 4 times before I could get my hands free and armed with wipes.
Yesterday seemed to be going better. Until she squatted over her vehicles puzzle to relieve herself. Fortunately the pieces were scattered everywhere so it had some holding capacity. And at least her urine went in the water-appropriate vehicle: the submarine.
Let the adventures continue. We're in this thing for the long haul.