What being a father is all about...

Well, our father's day truly showed the full gamut of being a father. The day started off in our usual weekend style as we stayed in our jammies until 11am since it took us that long to make breakfast, get Jack on the potty, feed the baby, clean dishes, get Jack back on the potty, check email, clean Jack up from not making it to the potty, and finally decide to just incorporate cleaning up with going in the pool. Reminds me of summer camp when I was little when they would send u all to the lake with our shampoo and soap and tell us it was a soap party, just to ensure we actually all scrubbed at least once a week.

As Jack and I got in the pool, John decided to take a go at finishing weed wacking in the back by the pool equipment. This job was started by me on Thursday and aborted quickly when something stung me on the hand. John insisted it was a spider since it stayed swollen for three days. Let me go on record that I thought it was a wasp. So John bravely wades into the weeds and begins his fatherly duty of finishing tasks that mommy finds undesirable... And within 2 minutes, is being stung by yellowjackets! Oh, maybe that's what stung me! He ran out of that grass pile so fast...and still managed to get stung 4 times. So a benadryl, some cortisone, and four icepacks later, Daddy was sent off to nap with the Jackelope, a task for which the benadryl highly qualified him.

Upon awakening from his drug0induced nap, John took on the task of giving Alex her bottle and putting her down for a nap while I got a father's day dinner prepared. Alex had just finished her rice cereal and was fussy about the prospect of both a bottle and of taking a nap. Upon hearing shouts of "Help!" coming from the nursery, I opened the door to find both Daddy and the baby covered in baby puke. We directed all involved into the bathtub to cleanse.

I think it was a day that pretty accurately encapsulates what being a dad is all about.

A little here, a little there...

We are in the throes of potty training. And the good news is, we have the pee in the potty pretty much down. Jack can do it sitting, standing, at home, in a restaurant...Do I sound like Green Eggs and Ham? "Will you eat it in a house, will you eat it with a mouse?"...Anyway, the point being that we are now comfortable with the potty. Jack knows it is a regular part of his routine and is used to our every-20-minutes prompting "Do you need to go potty?". "No" he says in this exasperated voice, like duh, I'll go when I need to go. He's even gotten to the point where he doesn't want to go pee in the pool- and I know a lot of adults who've never reached that stage.

But now we reach the bigger hurtle. Poop in the potty. I've learned from my beloved sister-in-law to just throw the underwear away when that accident happens. No reason to kill yourself over a $1 pair of Thomas underwear. That's why God invented Target. And Jack insists that he knows he goes poop in the potty. But actions don't match words. So we'll keep pestering, maybe move it up to every 15 minutes.