Author: Robin Chartier

I was standing on the front steps this morning, saying goodbye to the boys as they got on the bus, thinking, “I don’t have anything to blog about today.” Stupid me. That’s just asking for it, isn’t it? I’ve been working on potty training Camille, which is a pain in the behind because she has pretty good bladder control, but doesn’t want to use the potty or the toilet, and would rather pee on the floor when I’m not looking than go near the evil blue child potty. She tells me with a smile, “Mama. I peed,” and kindly points out the puddles on the floor so I can wipe them up.

I already gave up once because potty battles are not something that I’m willing to engage in. I thought if I let her go without a diaper she would figure it out, like the boys did, but I didn’t count on her screaming for a diaper. Okay then. We’ll address using the toilet when you get over your irrational fear of being naked.

A few weeks later I ran into a mom whose newly turned two year old boy was already potty trained and I thought, “That’s it. People have always said girls are easier to potty train and gosh-darn-it, I’m due for an easy one!” It coincided with us actually running out of diapers so I was able to tell Camille, “Sorry, we’re out. You’ll have to try going on the potty.”

If it sounds like I’m in a rush for her to get out of diapers, I am. Not because I’m tired of changing diapers because I’d much rather change diapers for several more years than run to find the nearest public toilet every 15 minutes. It would be much easier to wait until she’s three, then switch over easily, never having an accident, and we’d be on our merry way. But I have a dog who thinks wet diapers are the greatest thing ever. He snitches them out of the garbage can and tears them up, shredding the paper and pee filled gel beads all over my house. They are impossible to clean up. Sometimes I don’t have to clean them up because he eats them and I find the partially digested remains of them in my front yard . . . I am sick of cleaning up his diaper messes every. single. day.

I figure if I can get her down to one diaper at nap and one at night, he’ll have much less material to work with and hopefully I’ll no longer find myself on my hands and knees with a dustpan and brush trying to sweep the stupid little beads up before the get stepped on and squished into the floor.

Yesterday was day one — the morning was a bust. She found a rogue diaper and brought it to Josie and asked her to put it on her. Score one for the kid. But after nap, I got out the tic tacs and she figured out every time she went in the potty, she could have a minty treat. She watched endless episodes of Diego and went through an entire box of tic tacs by bedtime. Win for me.

This morning, not wanting to interrupt the roll we were on, I took her with me to knitting lessons at Starbucks. But because I’m not insane, I put a pull-up on over her underwear so if she had an accident, it wouldn’t get her clothes wet, but she would feel it. We had been there only about 10 minutes when she headed under the table and I realized I hadn’t anticipated #2. Oh well. At least I had brought a spare pull-up. What I also hadn’t anticipated was the volcano of poop that was pushed up the back of her underwear, over the waistband of her pants, up her back and onto the floor. I hurried her to the bathroom (getting it on my hands and shirt in the process) and had to strip her completely to assess the damage. She had poop all over her body. The underwear went straight into the trash and I was tempted to toss her clothes as well. Thank God for bidet hoses (the shower sprayers that are attached to all the toilets here) because I plopped her on the toilet seat and showered her from the neck down. Then I had to hose down the toilet seat and her backside, then use a ton of wet paper towels on the floor . . . oh and on the leather sofa. I thought I had gotten it all when I saw that she still had some on her shoulder . . . how does that happen?!

Anyway, I had a spare pair of pants with me (but no shirt), so the morning wasn’t a complete bust and I could continue with the knitting lesson. Although I did have to endure lots of dirty looks for taking my baby out 1/2 dressed while everyone else was wearing sweatshirts and hats — especially on the walk to the car.

Now I need a bath (and a nap).

After a miserable baseball game on Wednesday night (yes, I let Calvin play because they were short team members and I’m a sucker for not disappointing people), Saturday’s game was a chance to shine. On Wednesday, Calvin not only gave up 5 runs (as pitcher), costing them a huge lead, but he went 0 for 5 at bat. Poor kid was totally dejected when I picked him up.

Saturday got off to a great start with Caleb’s first soccer game of the season. (He was originally on the baseball team, but the coach was concerned that the age disparity was too much so he wanted him to move down to the younger team. We switched him to soccer instead. Win. Win. Win.) Our favorite little athlete scored 6 goals (or more, we stopped counting) and spent the hour driving down the field toward the goal. It was lovely and warm and exactly where I wanted to be. Then we headed home and the baseball drama began: a missing baseball cap turned into brothers arguing over whose cap was lost and who got to wear the complete uniform and who had to wear a random baseball cap. I settled it Solomon style and declared that both of them would wear non-uniform caps if the missing one couldn’t be found. Dramatic declarations made that one couldn’t play at all if he didn’t have the complete uniform were met with my declarations that I was this close to calling an end to baseball season altogether.

We finally made it to the field in time for pre-game warmups, dropped our (incompletely dressed) players off and went for emergency coffee. When we returned, the game was about to start, my kids were no longer mad at me, and the sun was still shining. It was almost a perfect day for a ball game. I drank a cappuccino, ate dark chocolate truffles, and knit the leg of a pair of pants while chatting with the other parents as we bonded over baseball burnout. Oh, the game? Yes, that was redemption as well. Calvin hit a home run and a double to break the tie and win the game for his team. He also snagged 2 great catches in the field, both for outs.

In the second game, he pitched all four innings and while they lost (you could tell they missed having him in the field), he did a good job pitching mostly strikes and even closed the 4th inning in only 9 pitches. My butt was starting to get numb, it was time to pull on my second jacket, and I admit when I saw him head out to the plate I thought, “He’s still pitching? His poor arm.” And then I blinked, and he had struck them out.

The sign of a good game is I was too busy watching (and knitting and chatting) to take pictures. I’ll have to tell him to be sure to hit another home run so I can get visual proof next time.

One of the problems with container gardening is there isn’t a good way to amend the soil and make it more fertile. The potting soil comes with nutrients, but as the plants grow they use it all up. If I were planting in the ground I’d make compost or pit compost (bury veggie scraps around the plants and they decompose and add nutrients on the spot), but I’ve currently got a rooftop full of pots that need “food” and no way to compost.

We went to the nursery today and picked up some manure (cow version) and it smells like it just came out of the cow. The “manure” we buy in the states has gone through several stages of decomposition and sanitizing to get it to the point where it smells like dirt. This stuff is so natural I even found corn kernels in it. The dog thought it was delightfully yummy smelling and kept trying to eat it which caused Camille to keep screaming, “No Micah! Don’t eat mommy’s cow poop!”

I was up to my elbows in it, mixing the manure in with the old soil and now I can’t get the farm smell off of me. I showered and scrubbed my fingernails with a toothbrush and I still smell like eau de cow. On top of that, my rooftop is currently the resort to every fly within a 2 mile radius. I’m sure (hoping) it will be worth it once the vegetables come in.

carrot harvest round 1

 

A fraction of our cherry tomatoes that are ripening faster than we can pick them.

Chard and beet greens. My favorite (and Carter’s since I told him if he’d eat the greens he wouldn’t have to eat the beets).

At the nursery — not what I’d think of as poinsettia season, but they had a million of them.

 

I couldn’t resist buying some purple variegated basil

I thought this bansi tree style plant looked like thyme, but it’s actually a variety of basil with the tiniest leaves I’ve ever seen.

When my seeds arrive from the states I’ll be planting some kale, new varieties of chard, squash, fennel, and middle eastern “spinach.”