Do you know what happens when you forget to charge your wireless aircard? You get to blog, in Word, from your laptop. I’m sitting on the commuter rail train right now waiting to depart South Station. I powered on my aircard only to be advised to plug in. Well we’re not riding the Amtrak home, folks. We’re on the no-thrills purple line. I think there’s dried spit across the back of the seat facing me. Some lowlife was just harassing us inside the station for $9 (he already had a whole dollar) to take the train to Worcester so he could get a jacket. He has a clothing voucher for the Salvation Army and needs to pick clothes up there. He lifted his fleece to show the lack of a shirt and the rope holding up his pants. And apparently there are no Salvation Army stores in the Boston area. OK buddy.
But back to parenting because that’s what Jill’s blog is all about. The blog’s been a picture repository lately because I normally charge the aircard and work on the way in and on the way home, and take Twitter/Facebook/Pinterest breaks in between.
Jill’s been so much fun lately. She’s also in the midst of trading up her terrible two-ness for a worse than terrible three-ness. She’s testing us. Last night after my soccer game, Jill hung out on the bed reading a book with Tony. What she really wanted to do was play. As she started to sneak off the side of the bed, Tony told her no. She told him yes. Tony said, “If you get off the bed, you’re going straight to your bed and Mommy won’t be able to read you any books.” The testing continued and Jill ended up in her bed. Dad: 1. Jill: 0.
Potty training continues. Every other day or so Jill insists on wearing big girl undies. She does a great job peeing on the potty but would rather poop in her diaper, ask to see it, then dump it in the toilet, flush and ask for a candy corn (her reward for actually using the potty). Yesterday, while playing at my Mom’s, Jill had an accident. No big deal. She was wearing a Tinkerbell-themed hand-me-down dress from my friend Sarah’s older sister, Karen, and so my Mom let her “air out.” A few minutes later there was poop. On the grass. Like a dog. “Ummmm she pooped on the grass?” I texted back to my Mom. I was laughing at my desk, sitting there in disbelief. I had to tell my cube neighbor and friend, Shelley. She laughed too. I didn’t get the reaction I expected out of Tony. He must’ve pooped in weird places as a toddler like my brother. I digress …
Since my Mom’s 60th birthday party (the remaining decorations and balloons don’t help, I’m sure), Jill’s been talking about her upcoming 3rd birthday party. A princess-themed party? Perhaps. But then she brings up the idea of a pasta-themed party. How original. She’ll probably change her mind 1,000 times before early December but I like the idea of a princess- and pasta-themed birthday party. The other morning I asked Jill what she was looking forward to the most about her party. She jumped with both feet, threw her arm in the air with three fingers extended and yelled, “THREE CANDLES! YEAH!” It was really cute.
Although Jill’s been rough housing (that term dates me) with Tony lately, she’s also been showing a sensitive and caring side. On Sunday at Scott and Jess’s house, Jill showed me a purple inflatable octopus and told me to follow her. “Where are we going,” I asked. “We’re going to the ocean to put the octopus back so he can swim. The octopus needs the water.”
A short time later a bee stung the inside of my pinky finger on my left hand. I yelled in pain and ran inside with Jill to grab Windex and ice. Jill looked even more upset than I did – like she was going to cry because her Mom had a boo-boo. “Mumma, are you ok? Let me see your boo-boo so I can kiss it better.” The combination of Windex, ice, some baking soda slime Jess recommended and Jill’s thoughtful words definitely eased the pain. She’s a sweet kid and we’re really proud of her. And she’s not even 3 yet.
Saturday morning smiles from Julian - That's what Auntie Kathleen & Andrea call Jill in her Thomas the Train jammies, rather mind the Patriots blanket.
Sunday afternoon yardwork at Scott & Jess's
leave the tree cutting to the professionals
We watched in awe,
seriously.
"Mumma, I make pile of acorns for the squirrels' beckfest."
a sweet soul
