Because I can’t force Moo to go on the potty, but I can give her ample time to think it over, here is a handy list of things you can do in or near a bathroom while your kidlet pitches a snot-slinging fit as he or she refuses to go:

• Clean and organize the entire mudroom.
• Fold five loads of laundry, even if they are mostly socks and underwear.
• Work out a feasible Mideast peace deal.
• Detail clean the panels in the bathroom door. With a toothpick.
• Work out a menu plan for the next month, although the bathroom environment does make this challenging.
• Read literary criticism out loud at the top of your lungs so you can be heard over the screaming. It is never too early to expose young minds to good writing!
• Paint your toenails. Heck, do a whole pedi. Then pedi the cat.
• Straighten all the pictures in the hall.
• Write your congressman.
• Eat all the M&Ms that were meant for potty training.
• Call relatives so they can witness over the phone the raw decibels a tiny human can make.
• Arrange a still life out of cat toys and lint.

You can thank me later.

Well, it is the Pacific Northwest, after all.

It’s a weird Christmas season this year. I am finishing up a research paper, trying desperately to get two kids with a stomach bug back up to speed by tomorrow, preparing for finals, and – oh, yeah – wrapping presents, decorating, and cooking, and baking. And signs of the season, good and not so good, have marked the time.

On the not so good side, someone walked up to our house and cut our snowman inflatable. It is nowhere close to the sidewalk, so they had to actively enter our property to do it. With many other Christmas stuff put on the back burner so I can concentrate on finishing up my classes, the lights and decorations were the one thing I made time for. It boggles my mind that someone would go out of their way to be such a jerk.

On the wonderful side, yesterday I accidentally left a present for a friend in the shopping cart after I paid and loaded up the Hooligans and drove away. I was home when I figured it out, and rushed back. I pretty much figured it as a loss, that I’d have to buy another one and the money would be spent twice. When we got to the store I asked about the item, and someone had turned it in; it was waiting, still in its bag, in the office. It was paid for and that person could have taken it home, but they took it in instead. Wow.

Also on the heartwarming side, last night, as the Princess shivered and snuggled down in the covers with the sick bucket next to her bed and prayed, she thanked God that she had happened to miss running club that day, so that she didn’t expose the other kids to this bug right before Christmas. She forgot to pray that she would get better quickly.

Now the snowmen are repaired, most of the gifts are wrapped, and the research paper is in the polishing stages. The girls have ceased their barfing, and the tree is lit.

Merry Christmas to all, and may God bless your New Year.

This week,  my in-laws didn’t realize it but they gave me an early Christmas present. For the first time in years, I left town by myself – NO kids in tow – and it wasn’t for a doctor appointment or anything utilitarian. I realize how lame that sounds. I mean, who doesn’t go places without their kids? Me, that’s who. Life whizzes by, and there’s not a lot of time to eat bonbons at the spa, you know?

I drove to the big city to Christmas shop without bringing any witnesses with me. I zipped through crowds and narrow isles with no stroller to slow me down. Not once did I hear complaining or whining about being bored, tired, hot, itchy, hungry, or needing to go to the bathroom. Okay…I did. But those were other  people’s kids, and I could smile and walk away.

I ate a leisurely lunch at my favorite spot. Not once during the entire meal did I have to wipe off any part of anyone else’s body, or beg them to shut up and eat already. It was glorious.

I shopped until I was exhausted, got a coffee, and drove home just in time to pick up the kids and have my mom come over and put the kids to bed. It was ten times better than bonbons and a spa.

Things I have learned in the three years since Moo was born:

• Girly does not equal wimpy. Sometimes the person in the room who is wearing the most pink is also the one with a temper like Chernobyl.
• My midwife was right when she said the third kid breaks the mold. She is not a mini-me, a copy of Mr. MG, or a sequel to the Bigs. I wonder if people with really big families ever stop being amazed at how different each kid can be. And honestly, you can not blame her passion for shoes and flounces on being raised that way.
• It is possible to exist purely on air, with occasional sips of milk.
• Even I can get sucked in by cuteness. My hard old heart melts when she raises her pointer finger, looks up at me through her eyebrows, and tells me I have a lot of corrections to do.
• Curly hair is so much easier.

The birthday party was wonderful. She got package after package of girly, sparkly presents. She rolled around with and chased and screeched at her friends. She ate cake. Then she ate my cake. Then she cruised the room for anyone else willing to donate.

And the bed. The bed that started the whole project. She was truly surprised and blown away to walk into her room that night and have it completely rearranged and with new sleeping quarters. And it was worth all the scraping and sanding and painting and swearing to know that the Princess wasn’t going to be knocking asbestos all over from the top bunk. And we did indeed get it finished in time for the bed to go in the room. Yay!

Happy birthday Moo. You are every bit of you worth remodeling half the house.