Monday, August 31, 2009


HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO WILL (yesterday)! I am once again married to an older man.

Love you darling :-)

This one family camp....

So we're back, and the whole trip was pretty great. Emily did really well traveling, breaking the trip up into 3-4 hour chunks worked out really well. Next time though, I will probably try to book us hotels in Binghampton instead of Scranton, because Scranton? SUX. I-81 is pretty much the worst road ever built, but the stretch near Scranton is especially terrible. It is constantly under one kind of construction or another that necessitates closing it down to 1 lane, except that no one is ever actually DOING any work. See, around us, when they're not actively doing work on the road, THEY PICK UP THE TRAFFIC CONES AND LET YOU DRIVE ON IT. Not so up there. Add to that the facts that it is the dreariest place on earth (the pool at our hotel on the way back was closed in August. If it's closed in August, when is it warm and sunny enough to be open?), they like to hide their Wegmans up in the mountains way off the main road, their Red Robin got absolutely every item we ordered wrong, and the people we met were not very bright, and you've got yourself a pretty lame place. Emily did enjoy watching the Polkafest 2008 channel on TV in the hotel room though.

So yeah, I guess I just said the trip was awesome and then went directly to complaining about the part that wasn't. Better get back to the good parts.

Emily was great in the car, although she tended to start yelling "Need to go pee pee in the potty!" whenever she was bored. After stopping every 15 minutes for awhile (we don't want to undermine her progress by telling her to go ahead and pee in her pullup! But ugh, it's raining and we're actually making progress on 81 and it's SO unsafe to pull over and get out of your car on the side of an interstate!) we got into a good rhythm, and she actually stayed dry throughout every leg of our trip except while she was asleep.

Gorham itself was nice. Will was beside himself to finally be back to the place he spent all his childhood summer vacations after a 10 year hiatus. To him, this place is heaven on earth. To me it was nice, but aside from the pleasant weather it could've been one of the lakes in the mountains we have near us. But it was definitely fun, and Emily had a blast. She did lots of random running around, she tried out the rock climbing wall, rode a pony for the first time, fed the ducks, went swimming, made a clay sculpture, and played "soccerball", which consisted of putting basketballs back in their holders, or just stomping in puddles on the basketball court. She was fearless, and I was proud. Exhausted, but proud. Plus, discounting one day when she didn't use a potty ONCE, she stayed 100% daytime potty trained the whole time we were there. It helps to have a room full of people to clap and cheer every time she emerged from the bathroom after having peed in the potty. And between the baby, who has decided that my bladder is much too spacious and needs to be compressed, and Emily potty training, we did a lot of emerging from the bathroom. At least Emily claps for me and says "yay mommy!" every time I pee in the potty as well.

Everyone got along really well too. Will's mom's family all act super-happy all the time. My family on the other hand, are kind of known for their biting sarcasm and cynicism, so I wasn't sure how we'd all get along. It turns out that having a toddler around really helps, because EVERYONE kind of has to act super-happy when dealing with a toddler. I DID get a bit sick of all the inquiries (always accompanied by a light backrub) about whether or not I was getting enough rest, and admonishments to make sure I was taking care of myself. Are YOU going take over chasing after Emily and provide me a bed in which to nap? No? Well then stop telling me what I already know!

Will was a superstar though (He's healthy again! He's back! Huzzah!) and my mother-in-law did take Emily for us a couple times so we could go on a little hike or learn that we kinda suck at canoeing. But through a laborious method we came up with out of desperation to not get left behind by the group, we managed to keep up with the best of them by the end.

The food was surprisingly good. The presence of a vat of oatmeal at breakfast and a salad bar and soup offering at lunch and dinner meant that even Will didn't have to resort to eating alternate meals. The portions were sometimes a bit paltry though, so I occasionally had to pull the pregnant lady card in order to get enough to eat. Luckily we had brought tons of food, so no one was in danger of starving.

I kind of also fell in love with the cook. I went back to the kitchen one day to ask for more chicken patties for the table, and they were supplied to me by a 40-something man with blue eyes and a very compelling air about him. Oh, and an Australian accent. Sigh. He really reminded me of that military guy in season 4 of Lost who keeps trying to kill everyone on the island except that he cooks for a YMCA camp instead of being a slightly crazed mercenary.

When I went back to the table, I told Will about my new crush, but he said he had already asked him out. Apparently while Will was back there he had overheard an old lady asking the chef out, but he turned her down. At that point Will asked if he could ask the chef out, and the chef told him yes. So I guess Will and I are in competition for the same guy. Will has a head start because he's already asked him out, and because he's in good shape and, you know, NOT 5 months pregnant, but I'm banking on the chef having at least a slight preference for women. We'll just see the next time we go back to Gorham.

The trip home was less good than the trip up, what with Emily getting a slinky caught in her hair that had to be cut out, Scranton trying to make our little girl sad every chance it got (hotel pool closed, Wegmans wouldn't let her play on their indoor playground, I-81 being SHUT DOWN TO 1 LANE FOR NO REASON AGAIN forcing us to take windy backroads that made her sleeping head flop around like crazy) and on the very last 5 miles of the trip, me hitting a deer on Rt. 40. We were really SO lucky because even though I hit the thing hard enough that I saw pieces fly off (shudder), we weren't hurt and the car wasn't hurt. It was right over a blind hill, and I probably only managed to slow myself down to 45-50 mph before impact, and I KNOW you're not supposed to slam the brakes and swerve but how on earth are you supposed to overcome your instinctive reaction in a situation like that? The deer did not really die though, and I will forever have nightmares about watching the thing seize and pull itself up to an upright lying position before just giving up and laying down to die. Apparently no one cares about deer on the side of the road on a Saturday evening, because no one would come to put it out of its misery. All we had was a swiss army knife, and Will did not want to try to kill a wild animal with nothing but a pocket knife. I don't blame him one bit. And I just hope I broke the deer's spine so it couldn't feel anything below the waist (if deer have waists).

So as I said, we're back, we're thankfully undamaged, and we'll be returning to Gorham the next time August rolls around and we DON'T have a crawling baby.

I have as many pictures as the connection at the Big Moose Inn would let me upload in a reasonable amount of time up here, and if I'm feeling post-y I'll put up some more later.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

A letter to my Endocrinologist

Dear Dr. Adrianna,

Boy, we've known each other for a long time, haven't we? When you joined the practice I had been going to since birth, it was perfect timing. There I was, a 14-year old with a major thyroid problem, and a family doctor who had run out of ideas for how to treat me. I was lucky enough to start seeing you just as you began practicing. We didn't know it at the time, but you would become quite popular in the years to come.

You were not afraid to take quick and decisive action, even with a person as young as I was, and my quality of life has improved dramatically because of it. Plus I get to tell fun stories about the Christmas when I was radioactive. That geiger counter and I kept the family entertained through many a long winter's night.

As I got older, I came to appreciate all the one-on-one time you spent with me. When you walk into that room, you sit down like you're looking forward to a conversation with a friend, and we talk about all sorts of things, not just my medical issues. I now know how rare that is.

So your nurse is a numbskull who I can't stand (as a person, OR as a nurse). That's not really your fault, right? And I only have to put up with her for a bit before and after the appointment. It's you I'm really there to see.

And so it takes over 6 months to get an appointment with you. As long as things are going ok I only need to see you once a year, right?

And so you only work 2.5 days a week. I can rearrange my schedule once a year, can't I?

And so I moved over the mountain and your office is now quite out-of-the-way.

Except that it's all becoming not OK.

Whenever I call to get an appointment or a prescription refill or a lab slip, I am on hold FOREVER, and then I'm always treated like an idiot by the secretaries, who are all definitely God's gift to the medical community.

And sure, last time I called for a lab slip nothing happened for a week, and when I called back again your numbskull nurse sent it to my old address (which shouldn't even be on file there anymore), but I finally got the slip just barely before my baby was out of the developmental time period when it's SO important to closely monitor thyroid levels. That counts, right?

But when numbskull nurse called me last week after hours so I couldn't call her back, then called me again bright and early Monday morning, then called me AGAIN today to say she still hadn't gotten my lab results, I started to get annoyed. When I apologized and said that my OB was supposed to have sent the results to them and that I would talk to them about it in person at my appointment tomorrow, and numbskull got SNIPPY with me and said "Well make sure you do, because Adrianna has been waiting since June for these results", I kind of snapped.

You mean you guys are getting irritated about waiting for lab results? Like I get irritated having to wait 6 months to get an appointment with you? Like I get irritated waiting weeks for my lab slip to show up so that I can get the blood tests that you are now hassling me about? Like I get irritated waiting an hour past my appointment time to finally get called in to see you? Like I get irritated waiting on hold, waiting at the lab because you guys won't draw my blood anymore, dealing with your nurse, basically doing everything it takes to see you just so that I can get that half hour with you each year?

I'm afraid if you guys are getting irritated with me because my OB messed up and after I have promised to correct it at my earliest convenience, I am going to have to forget about our good rapport and tell you to stick it WAY up there.

I am going to find a new endocrinologist.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

My Who down in Whoville

Well, we had our ultrasound today, and Zippy cooperated! The technician (who was full of exclamations about the baby like "Hey there gorgeous" and "what a cutie-pie" that were delivered with complete professional boredom) was able to get a "hamburger shot" (which I will not post) but that means we have a little girl in there! Here are the other pictures:

Her foot (a VERY long, thin Deyle-looking foot. I sincerely hope she doesn't end up with size 13 feet like her grandmother and aunts on Will's side):

Her face:

So the first thing I thought when I saw this side-profile picture is that she looks kind of like a Who, what with the teeny upturned nose and her mouth down at the bottom of her face. What do you think?

I'm sure it's just an unflattering angle. And considering Emily looked like a terrifying skeleton and then came out looking adorable, I'm not too worried.

So yeah, we'll have 2 girls! Will and I are very excited to see our two little blonde girls running around in dresses looking adorable. I'm also excited to be able to re-use all of Emily's old clothes and other pink paraphernalia, and to be able to see how they are similar and different without wondering if the differences are because of their genders. I guess my morning sickness this time WASN'T because I'm having a boy!

I am also excited because I will be getting 2-3 MORE ultrasounds during this pregnancy to monitor our little girl's growth (she measured 1 day ahead today, so she's doing great so far). So yay for that too!

And while I'm posting pictures of one of my girls, I've got to post this picture of my other girl. Does she have a kickin' tan or what? I'm jealous, neither her mommy or her daddy tan like that, we just burn:

Also, just because it's adorable, here is Emily modeling her life vest for our trip next week, and her new hiking boots:

She looks totally prepared to be a big sister :-)

Monday, August 17, 2009


A week ago I realized that we are leaving for upstate NY at the end of THIS week (yes, that trip I discussed that I said we weren't going to do), and I sort of panicked. I booked everything last week, and thank goodness that all worked out despite my procrastination. And so far, that procrastination-panic has served me well. So well in fact, that I MAY actually be ready for this trip when it arrives. I am maybe (probably) fooling myself, but because I had NOTHING done 2 weeks ahead of time, I jumped into action and now I have most everything except the packing done a week ahead of time.

Preparing for a trip has 2 phases for me: Phase 1 is buying things/washing things/gathering things into my house (I have no idea why, but EVERY trip seems to require that I go out and purchase a bunch of new clothes/gear etc., mostly for Emily) and Phase 2 is packing it all into suitcases and such. I guess there's a Phase 3 as well, which would be getting everything into the car, but that's Will's job so I don't really pay much attention to that :-)

The packing phase will take awhile this time around I fear, for several reasons. Emily is potty training right now (and still doing great!), so that means that instead of just bringing a pack of diapers with us and buying more if we need them, we'll be bringing our entire stash of big-girl undies, a bunch of pull-ups, and some overnight diapers as well, not to mention a ridiculous number of clothing changes in case of accidents AND a portable potty for those roadside emergencies. There is also the fact that while temperatures are in the mid to high 70's during the day up there (so we'll need shorts, sunscreen, bathing suits, bug spray), they drop into the high 40's at night (so we'll also need pants, jackets, blankets, mittens). They are also forecasting some rain, so we'll be stuffing raincoats and ponchos and rubber boots into our already-groaning suitcases. And what else could we possibly need to bring? How about a bunch of shelf-stable, low fat, high protein, 100% whole grain food for my husband*? Why not! I'm sure our car will be absolutely cavernous with extra space so lets shove the contents of the pantry in there for good measure.

Also we will be bringing bikes.

So yeah, maybe I'm not so close to being done. But at least I have everything we need SOMEWHERE in the house.

And most of you are probably scratching your heads and wondering why we're even GOING on this trip since I complained about it before, then said we weren't going, and am now complaining about it again, and the reason is because I'm crazy.

Actually, the REAL reason is because we made a few adjustments to the plan, and now that we've taken control of our own destiny I think the trip is do-able. We will be taking 2 days to drive up and 2 days to drive back so that we can try to stay within Emily's car-barfing time limit. It will also give us a chance to relax, swim, and shop at a Wegmans along the way and basically just make the traveling part more relaxing and fun. In NY we booked ourselves a room at an inn 2 miles from the actual camp, so we will be sleeping in our own private room, IN THE SAME BED, and NOT in bunk beds with Will's parents. We will have a bathroom attached to our room, so I can shower myself and my toddler without desperately trying to conceal my ever-growing bulk from the eyes of random strangers in a communal shower. And if we should find that we have had enough beading and poetry and geocaching and horseback riding (oh wait, can't do that) and water-skiing (oh wait, can't do that either), we can simply retire back to our OWN lakeside Inn and enjoy an alcoholic beverage at the bar. Well *I* can't, but it's the PRINCIPLE!

All this prepping and planning and fretting has distracted me pretty effectively from the fact that I am having my gender determination ultrasound tomorrow. With Emily I camped out in front of the imaging center for a week beforehand, just to be sure I was there the minute they opened that Friday (not really) and practiced filling my bladder to the perfect "Hey! I can totally see the baby!" level in the days leading up to it (yes really). This time I know that no matter how much or how little water I drink, they will inevitably call me back half an hour late when my bladder is practically bursting, then complain that they can't see anything because my bladder is in the way, so I'm not stressing about that. And to be fair, we have already seen Zippy once before at this point so really, he/she is already old news.

But in all seriousness, I'm dying of curiosity. I am not one of those serene "We just want a healthy baby" mothers. Of course I DO want a healthy baby, and of course I TELL people who ask that I just want a healthy baby, but with Emily I definitely wanted a boy. I wanted to help Will carry on the Randall name. I felt like we HAD to have a son at some point, and it would be best to have a son first and take the pressure off. Luckily Will wasn't living in the 1400's like me (although his family and business DO kind of function like a monarchy, so maybe I wasn't SO off the mark). When we found out she was a girl, I was honestly a bit disappointed. But it made me realize that I DID want a girl, I had just wanted a boy first. I would've been disappointed to never have a girl to be, well, GIRLY with. My mom is an unapologetic tomboy. She has 1 pot of eyeshadow that she wears only on special occasions, she never wears jewelry, and she got the first and only manicure of her life on her wedding day. I can still remember being in middle school and discovering the makeup aisle at CVS (probably still People's Drug). It was amazing to me that there were different cleansers and moisturizers for different parts of your body, you could own SEVERAL different lipstick or eyeshadows at once, and the things you could put into and do with your hair were limited only by your imagination (and skill, unfortunately). Along with all the other not-so-shallow things I look forward to experiencing with Emily, I have LOVED being able to put bows in her hair and dress her up and I look forward to introducing her to the joys of nail polish.

Besides. We were going to have 2 kids, and if the second was a girl, we'd try for a 3rd.

But now, 2.5 years later, I am almost positive that this will be my last baby. And am I desperate for a boy? Not really. But I don't feel all serene about it. I feel like I can see the drawbacks of both, so I haven't gotten my heart set on either possibility.

If Zippy is a boy, he can carry on Will's name, we'll have realized the American dream of having 1 girl and 1 boy, and no mom can look down her nose at me and say "You wouldn't understand, YOU don't have any BOYS". But we also have that "What would we do with a boy?" thing, which is fairly ridiculous but still a very real feeling that I think many parents have.

But you know what? I kind of want Emily to have a sister too. I love having two women (I can't believe I'm calling them women, weren't they just 6 and 8?) I can chat with, complain with, and go to the spa with. And aren't little brothers annoying and icky? Plus I KNOW how to raise a girl, at least until the age of 2. And part of me feels that our chances are weighted towards girl. I was 1 of 3 girls, Will had 2 sisters, our families kind of like to make girls.

But this baby really, truly, could be either. And the fact that it's (probably) my last baby makes this more monumental. The thought that I am less than 1 day away from finding out who is going to officially complete my family is a bit overwhelming. Today is the last day of my life that I won't know if I am a mom of 2 girls or one of each.

Plus I can't wait to start calling this little "it" bumping around in my belly by its name.

Your sister loves to run around naked Zippy, I hope that at least for tomorrow you're not shy either!

*Will has actually been quite gracious and has said that he is willing to eat the food they serve at the camp, EVEN if it's white pasta, as long as we pack protein powder and beef jerky and nuts and tuna packets and 2 loaves of bread and peanut butter and dried fruit and...

Monday, August 10, 2009

Preemptive Nostalgia

I believe I have mentioned before that Emily seems to develop in sudden leaps vs. gradually. Perhaps I think this because it is easier to observe the developmental leaps than the gradual changes that are, inevitably also taking place. But as many times as I make this observation, I am still always surprised when another one comes along, mostly because it seems the leaps themselves get bigger each time.

For example, in the past 2 weeks alone, Emily has started sleeping in a big girl bed. Naps are still iffy, but she's a champ at going to sleep and sleeping through the night. In the last WEEK, Emily has blasted through potty training 101 and is now practically an expert. For several days in a row now, she has not had a single accident, even if we're out of the house and she has to use the potty at a store or at church, except for her afternoon poop which is always an accident, and usually a comical one. But other than that one time each day, she will TELL me she has to pee, and run to the potty, without bribes or sticker charts or anything more than a high five and praise when she's done. I have no doubt we'll experience a regression or two, and we're a long way from getting through the night without diapers, but for now I'm pinching myself and hoping karma will not deliver me a 4-year old Zippy who still wears diapers to make up for my luck with Emily.

Add to this already impressive list of recent accomplishments the fact that she just learned to drink from a cup, and will now SWIM (like legs kicking, arms reaching, body moving towards the wall and everything) in the baby pool with her water wings on, not to mention all the tiny little improvements in her speech that you would only really notice or care about if you spent every day with her, and my head is spinning trying to keep up. Or maybe it's just the heat, which makes this pregnant lady feel like passing out the second I step outdoors. I know I am super-lucky because it has been a mild summer, and I am not SUPER pregnant, and I have air conditioning and don't live in Florida, but still I feel awful and I hate feeling so delicate.

But back to my original point, WOW Emily!

The thing is, I am nothing but excited and proud. And for some reason that confuses me. Shouldn't her accomplishments be bittersweet for me? I hear so many moms celebrating but also lamenting their toddlers' milestones, coupling statements like "Junior learned to open doors by himself today" with "Whatever happened to my little baby?" I remember when Emily was tiny, when she was just a small but solid weight in my arms and I spent my time cooing at her and marveling at how pink and fat and round human feet look before they've been used, but I also remember that taking care of a baby is grueling, painful, self-sacrificing and thankless work. I often felt that I was just putting milk into and cleaning used milk off of her until she turned into a real person, because teeny babies are basically eating, pooping, crying machines with very little personality. We love them because we are hard-wired to love them. Because they are OURS, and they need us, and because of the promise of a personality to come. If we care for them, they will eventually turn into real boys and girls, no Blue Fairy needed.

So now Emily is turning into a real person. Instead of feeling nostalgic, I am kind of feeling like my hard work is paying off. She's becoming someone who can talk to me, someone who is very much like every other two-year old out there, but of course also infinitely better. THIS is Emily now, how can I wish to go back in time to when parts of who she IS weren't there? I think back to the first time she ate rice cereal, the first time she crawled, her first steps, and I really don't feel much nostalgia. I look back at her pictures and I marvel at how much she's changed, but I don't really MISS the baby she used to be.

I wonder why? Is it because I have another baby coming soon and I know I will get another chance to carry around and care for a wide-eyed little person again? Is my blind urge to reproduce almost spent and now I can see things more from Will's "Babies are cute, but I prefer a kid who I can actually interact with any day" point of view?

I'm sure that when Emily is a tempestuous, door-slamming teenager I will feel like I would gladly clean up a few stray poops and spend 20 minutes walking 10 ft to my car while we step in every hole and point at every blade of grass if it means snuggles on demand and a heart-melting "wuv mommy" every now and then, like I enjoy now. Is the age vs. funness level of a kid a bell curve? Will she be at her most fun and sweet and personable when she's 9 and then descend back into "I'm just feeding this self-centered thing until it goes away to college" territory?

The sad part is, I think that probably is what happens. Kids naturally get more annoying so that we don't miss them as much when they inevitably fly the coop. And thinking of being away from Emily for a whole week just about kills me now, so I guess things HAVE to change or else I'll never be able to leave her at school or travel to any of the places I have yet to see.

So instead of real nostalgia, I am experiencing preemptive nostalgia. So many people have told me to enjoy these years because they go by so fast, so I figure I'd better listen. I think to myself every day "Soak it up now, because one day you'll miss it". So maybe I HAVE been soaking it up enough that I don't miss it looking back. I hope that's the case.

Or maybe it's just that she's still only 2, just barely not a baby anymore, and I still get to spend all day every day with her. The thought of sending her off to preschool next year with a backpack and a lunch box brings tears to my eyes, but then again so did the thought of ever letting my stationary lump of a 6 month old walk out of my arms and across the hard floor into a world full of sharp coffee table edges and electrical wires. Maybe if I concentrate hard on enjoying every minute I will be able to hang onto my feeling of "Yeah, it was nice back then but there were downsides too and now it is so much better."

Or maybe this lack of nostalgia itself is something I should concentrate on and enjoy while it lasts because in a couple days I'll be sitting at her high school graduation sobbing with the best of them over whatever happened to my sweet little 2 year old.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Foreign Object

I have this clock sitting on my dresser. Recently, the handle on top broke off. Emily has appropriated it, as she enjoys playing with it while she's in our room. It's not especially pointy or dangerous, so I haven't glued it back on yet, and as long as I am there with her I don't mind her playing with it. She calls it a "dinglehopper" (as she has also recently gotten into The Little Mermaid)

Today she was holding it during our physical struggle to get her into her naptime diaper. Afterward, she asked where her dinglehopper was, and although I searched the sheets, blankets, pillows, nightstand, and floor, I couldn't find it. I even wondered if it had ended up in her diaper, but she wouldn't let me look, and a quick squeeze didn't reveal any dinglehopper-shaped objects.

I put her down for her nap, but she woke up a mere 35 minutes later, much to my disappointment. She refused a diaper change, she just wanted to watch Cats on youtube, so we watched Cats and danced for awhile. I just finally changed her diaper, and sure enough, there it was, coated in poop of course.

No wonder she only slept for 35 minutes.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Lets be blunt

I feel naked today because I dropped off my engagement and wedding ring at the jewelery shop to be tightened, cleaned, polished etc. and I always feel especially self-conscious not wearing my ring when I'm walking around with a belly sticking out. So what did I do? I went to a nail salon, a place where a lack of wedding ring is SURE to be noticed. But you know what? The technician didn't say anything about it, nor did she comment about my legs while doing my pedicure, which I realized with horror were sporting a good 3 days worth of stubble (it's hard to shave when Emily has decided showering with Mommy is super-fun). The technician DID ask how much we paid for our house though, so it wasn't that she was a super-discreet person. But come to think of it, the guy at the jewelery store asked me if Will and I had gone on a baby-making trip this time around like my mother-in-law told him we did the last time I got pregnant, so maybe bluntness was just going around today.

I have especially enjoyed making this particular errand day into a "Sara day" (Groceries? Bah! We don't need groceries! But look at my pretty nails!) because I have spent the last few days embroiled in potty training, and it has been harrowing. Emily has actually been amazing, yesterday she only wore a diaper while sleeping and the only accident we had was while she was at the gym daycare, and that was because she was terrified of the auto-flushing toilet in the daycare bathroom and chose to pee in her pants instead of sit on the big loud scary toilet. The daycare girls informed me that I could've draped a piece of toilet paper over the motion sensor on the toilet to keep it from flushing. Unfortunately they shared this information AFTER Emily had been reduced to a sobbing trembling heap, so yeah, I'll probably be sending her to daycare in pull-ups until she's 4. At least I'll be able to get in more than 10 minutes of workout before having to run back to daycare to check if Emily needs to use the potty (pssst...the answer is always "NO".)

But as well as she's doing, it's still a LOT of work for me. I have to take her to the bathroom every half hour or so, summon buckets of enthusiasm every time she pees in the potty, then clean and dry the potty so it's ready for its next go-round 25 minutes later. It is also just naturally more stressful to try to do ANYTHING, especially driving anywhere, because at any moment I could hear "Emmy PEED!" and then I will be back on here complaining again that I STILL don't remember how to take apart and clean Emily's carseat. It's actually way more work than just changing her diaper occasionally, especially when she wants to help pour her pee pee into the big potty and ends up dousing the floor with a Bjorn potty full of urine. I apparently have yet to learn that most child-related transitions (feeding Emily solid food, changing to a big-girl bed, potty training) SEEM like they'll save you tons of time and result in a more self-reliant child, but time and again I have to painfully realize that it is actually WAY more work before you get to the point where the child can feed themselves, put themselves to bed, use the potty unassisted etc.

But EVENTUALLY it will be less work, and that's what keeps me going.