oh good heavens!!

(I might have even posted this picture before-- sorry! -- but some days you just have to remind yourself that they look that cute sometimes!) BECAUSE...

Today's title comes from a video that we would watch as young high school athletes.. it comes from "The Agony of Defeat" from Wide World of Sports. Anyways, the YouTube clip here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVNDBluxIv8 is a little overdramatized, but the basic point is 1) it's funny if it doesn't kill you; 2) some weeks are a little bit like that.

So if you've seen the video, you may gather that today didn't necessarily turn out according to plan. My grown-up head has been spinning recently between trying not to worry about work, figuring out if I'm a 99% / 53% / 1% or some combination thereof (my favorite thought on this was one of our friends who posted...might have been on her blog-- that she was in the 0.2 awesome %) and simultaneously trying to recuperate from watching the kids for 2.5 straight days. Without whining any further, I will simply say that if you are a single parent, GOD BLESS YOU! and to all the working moms/ stay at home moms who are the primary caregivers of their kids-- I had a lot of respect for you before and to this respect I now add amazement. 2.5 days with the young gentlemen by myself was pushing it for me. When the Queen got back from vacation I told her that I hope she wouldn't be offended if in the horrible case she ever passed away before me I got remarried within three weeks of her demise, mainly so someone besides me was able to take care of our two precious little men so their teeth wouldn't rot out of their head and I wouldn't keep them up all night. Clearly, my head has been everywhere.

Amidst all this. however, has been a sense that what I have to offer most people is a listening ear and some hope, generally in the form of lighthearted stories that resonate with truth. If you count yourself among the friends of this household :), I hope I have listened to you well lately, because today's story hopefully has no deeper meaning.

This morning I was running a little late for work and Rachel was still trying to wake up. Generally, I get up with Judah at 5:30 and then Elijah joins us around 6ish and we let the Queen get her beauty rest -- every woman wants it-- until 7 or so. I had eaten breakfast, let Elijah eat his, which could generally be subtitled 'Accidents with Milk,' changed Judah, packed my lunch, chased Elijah round the house, and still felt like a was running a mile behind because I had dishes and bottles to wash... I am a horrible domestic. (If anyone ever asks why this column is entitled Life on King Arthur's Court, it's because secretly I wish I was a knight... outside of the raging diseases and cold, filthy living conditions and no TV, they had it pretty good... no dishes to watch, damsels to save, and a freaking big sword to wave around at evil people!) We have been seeing over the past few weeks if Elijah is ready at all to begin potty training, and the answer so far has been a resounding NO. We figured this out for good when we watched him pee down his leg in the tub one night. When we asked him what he was doing, he said quizzically, "Nothing." Two seconds later, he jumped back and said, shocked, "Water runnin' down leg!" Yeah, we postponed potty training for awhile.

My father has a good perspective on this: whenever I tell him anything about our minor trials with the LJ, he laughs and brings out a story about how much worse I was. When Elijah had colic for three months, he reminded me that I had it for six. When we worried about his defiant attitude at 14 months, he told me that I was silently sassing them at a year. When I told them about Elijah's early potty training failures, he reminded me of the time that he had fed me a 10-oz.bottle of prune juice as a baby instead of apple juice. I feel like the end result of that (use your imagination-- or don't) wasn't my fault. But he had no response for what I am about to tell you. Just saying.

We decided to let Elijah (who has been showing small signs of interest in the potty) to run around 'freely' in the kitchen for awhile, and asked him to tell us if he needed to use the potty. I continued watching him while I did my dishes, talked to him while I finished the bottles, and even played with him a little in between. Sidebar: there's something a little unnerving about playing with an undiapered little man. Sorta like hanging out too close to Old Faithful. Anyway, after all that buildup, nothing happened. He didn't need to go, and without incident I was even able to put Judah down for his nap while Rachel grabbed a diaper and started to rediaper him. Right before we did, though, I noticed that (of course) he had pee streaming down his leg. One of Elijah's oddest characteristics is his unwillingness to let nature change anything he is doing. He has let out the most awful 'natural gases' (stuff that we could run our dryer for months on) without changing expression or even pausing, and so it was now. W e rushed him to the potty, and Rachel went to grab the cleaning supplies while I went for the paper towels. Thankfully, he helped us clean it up and we dressed him without further incident.

(Disclaimer: "OH GOOD HEAVENS! coming up )

Elijah was safely in the living room watching his good-morning "Curious George" and I was just giving Rachel her good-bye kisses when I just heard her gasp, "Oh no!" She's not really a gasper, and it takes a decent bit to rile her up. "What's wrong, love?" I asked. She was literally mute; she merely pointed behind me near the trash can.

"What the hell!" I burst out. I had been outside briefly to throw the trash away earlier that morning, and I had clearly tracked in some mud near the sink. "I'll clean the mud up."

"No, no..." she said, clearly still in mild shock.

My eyes followed the tracks backward.

"OH GOOD HEAVENS!" That would have been me... no one knows exactly how he could have done it, but in a millisecond somewhere Elijah had ducked behind a chair and used the linoleum for a potty. I threw the shoes away-- it just wasn't worth it. We disinfected the entire kitchen (thank God, I guess, that it was on vinyl flooring), but the memory still is a little painful. I don't think that we'll be trying potty training anytime soon.

If I must be a glass half-full person, I did need some new running shoes... and there's nothing like stepping in piles of winnie-the-poo! to rationalize throwing them away. Still, I feel like this will be one of the stories I save up for any grandkids I may someday have: "Back when your father was a little kid, you'll never guess what he did..." And everyone needs an "OH GOOD HEAVENS!" every once in a while.