Yesterday Liam turned 6 years old! We had quite the birthday bash for him! Lots and lots of toys and we even had pony rides for the kids! There was a moment of tension, however, during the unwrapping of gifts. His aunt Shirley gave him a cute dinosaur paint set. When he opened it he said "Oh! This is something I always never wanted."

Hello, it's me! While Dee is getting herself sunburned at the beach I thought I'd make a little list of songs that both you and the kiddos would enjoy singing and dancing around to. The list contains oldies (at least to some of us!) by The Beatles, Paul McCartney and Wings, Bob Marley and the Wailers, and Queen.

Here is a widget with the listings and previews for each song:

How do parents of potty training twins spend any part of their day NOT in the bathroom?  I can’t even begin to fathom the chilling idea of potty training triplets or multiple multiples.  I find myself chanting Pee Pee Poo Poo Potty Pee Pee Poo Poo Potty even in those moments I manage a brief escape from soiled underwear and rerolling of entire toilet paper rolls.

I have two older children both of whom were successfully potty trained.  So, this should be a cakewalk, no?  Regrettably no.  I am no potty training master.

My oldest son was potty trained in daycare.  It was magically wonderful.  No work on my part at all.  I never even had to go the pull-up route with him.  One day he’s wearing diapers.  Aaaand, the next day not.

I have no shame in admitting that my oldest daughter was potty trained by Elmo™.  Oh yes, I let that red furry babbling creature do all the work while I sat back and reaped the dry underwear rewards.  Whereas I was both working and going to school full-time with my oldest son sealed with the ‘Potty Trained by Daycare’ golden stamp of approval, I am now a stay-at-home-mom (if I really must be labeled).  As much as I wish the children would be visited by potty training fairies in the night and wake with nary a thought of wearing a diaper ever again, alas doo-doo-duties such as this rest on my shoulders.

Potty training my oldest daughter was no small feat initially.  I tried and subsequently failed with the sticker reward route.  She trumped my flimsy sheet of frog themed potty reward stickers with her own stockpile of ‘every kind of sticker known to mankind’ sticker books.  We praised her and jumped around like manic court jesters upon any successful Go in the potty.  Ah, but she’s a modest one not moved by exaggerated accolades.  Even bribery was a bust…Any toy you want from the WORLD’S BIGGEST TOY STORE!!  Nah, I think I’ll continue doing my business on my own being, thanks.

After some brainstorming about what it is that my daughter truly enjoys, I braindrizzled on her love of Sesame Street™, specifically Elmo™.  Admittedly, Elmo™ makes my head hurt.  But, I turn a deaf ear to the Elmo™ shenanigans my daughter so adores.  I purchased an Elmo™ potty training dvd, an Elmo™ book about going potty complete with the sound of a flushing toilet, and a 6-pack of Elmo™ panties.  The triple threat of potty training.  Welcome to Elmo™’s World where we don’t wear diapers anymore!  It was Elmo™ magic.

Flash forward to present day of potty training twin frustration.  I erroneously assumed having an older sister who “goes potty” would inspire the twins to abandon the diaper ship and hop on the underwear train.  Nope.  That diaper ship is an all-inclusive cruise liner.  The extent of big sister’s advice has been telling her younger sister that she’s supposed to pee and poo in the potty, 

“But you can fart in your panties.”

Great. 

Upward and onward with the mystifying quest of how to potty train twins. 

Pee Pee Poo Poo Potty.

My niece, Rose, came over yesterday and we talked about her future. "I want to be a vet. I love animals!" Interesting! I asked her what else she wanted to do when she grows up. "I want to be rich so I can buy a yak." A yak??? Hmmm.... 

"Why do you want a yak?"

"All rich people have yaks!"

"They do?"

"I want to live on a yak. I love boats and love to go swimming!"

"Oh! A KA-yak? You want a KA-yak?"

"No, kayaks are too small! I want a big yak like millionaires have!"

"Ohhhh.....you want a yacht."

My sister-in-law, Shirley, and I decided to take the boys for a walk this morning. Shirley was holding Liam's hand and about to step onto a crosswalk when a car sped by right in front of them. Shirley yelled "A$$HOLE!". I quickly gave her the evil eye for swearing in front of the kids, but then Liam shouted "Yeah! CRASH CAR!".

My eight year old niece, Rose, walked in while I was getting dressed for dinner. Her mouth dropped open and she said "You wear a bra????  COOL!!!"

My parents are visiting this week. Early this morning I heard my three year old son giggling from the guest room. My father asked him "What's so funny?". He replied "Your butt burped!"

While we were driving to the mall, Liam was reading out loud the signs along the way (mostly 3 letter words). He saw a sign for "Wigs". My three year old, Steve, asked "what are 'wigs'?". Liam exclaimed "Dummy! It's hair with nobody inside!"

As a parent of 4 kiddos, I often find myself drowning in toys.  And by drowning I mean tripping over plastic fire trucks, losing a toenail on a battery-hoarding robot, and exhibiting the world’s worst ice skating moves across the living room floor with a miniature metal car as my haphazard ice skate.  You know how it goes, the bodily harm we sustain as a result of kids and their strewing of the 10-second attention grabbers aka toys.

It is always with great pleasure that we do our yearly thinning out of the Mom-Dad maiming weapons aka toys.  Naturally, the toys that received extra loving from the kids live to see another year.  I have already stored a few select baby trinkets in the hopes that each child will one day pass it along to their own child.  Yet, a third category that always makes the cut – wooden toys.

Wooden alphabet blocks, a wooden train set, chunky wooden puzzles, an eco-friendly wooden dollhouse filled with wooden dolls and wooden furniture.  Whether or not these timber toys garnered extra playtime with the kids, they assume their reserved spot as a permanent member of our household.  And, along with the stored baby trinkets, I anticipate they will also be handed down to the next generation.

Perhaps it is my nostalgia for simpler days as a child without all the flashing, beeping and electronic parts needed to spark one’s imagination.  Or maybe it is the constant factory recalls of toxic PVC-laden plastic gizmos.  Or possibly it is the pounding our environment takes from landfill stocking junk.  Or it could be a more simplistic fantasy of the short path from tree to toy.

Simply put, wood is good.

My five year son, Liam, was climbing on the dresser when he fell and broke his arm. We took him to the emergency room, waited an hour, and then the doctor put a nice cast on his arm. We got home and Liam ran into the bathroom and promptly dunked his cast into the toilet! We went back to the emergency room and waited another hour for a new cast....

My mother walked into the bathroom and caught my three-year-old son drinking from the toilet with a straw!