Waiting

Waiting. No matter what it is you're waiting for, it can really stink.

Last week we trained that potty girl, indeed we did. She was awesome.

I call it divine intervention, because I'd rather have my toes nibbled by zealous weasels than go through another potty training like some of the ones I've been through, and I think heaven knows that.

And I am grateful, because one time it took two years of waiting, and worrying, and wondering if it was ever going to be over, and more waiting. It started to define my day, and it started to define our relationship. And it hurts now to think about how upset it made me and how very little perspective I had about it all, and how I might have made my child feel because of that. And sometimes that is a pattern with me.

Thank heavens for chances to make those things right. I'm working on that.

 

I don't want any more days or moments or relationships to be defined by my inability to wait patiently.

So here's to waiting for all those things we're waiting for.

(Emme tuckered out by a long day of hard work, and waiting.)

On a lighter note: until yesterday, Emme preferred going sans-undies and wearing dresses to have quicker access to the potty. In such attire (and non-attire), and waiting til the timing was just right, she observed Caleb lifting Olivia on his feet in the air for an airplane ride, then promptly bum planted on his face when there was nothing he could do about it but scream a muffled scream. 

Oh the things we never knew we'd get to experience as parents.