Under the Sea

My heart may explode. I am so so very proud. 

Sometimes, in the quiet of the night in between the kids' bed time and mine, I just sit and soak it all in. It is the only time in my day with silence. It is the only time I am without a child in my arms or hanging on my leg or climbing into my lap; yet, I use this time to go through photos and write blog posts about them all while checking the video monitor repeatedly. 

They are my world. 

Last night, part of my world went onto a big stage in front of hundreds of people in a concert hall and performed a dance perfectly. I can barely contain myself. 

My silly, smart, mischievous, inquisitive, funny three year old rocked her first ever dance recital. And I couldn't be prouder.

Her class performed a tap dance to "Under the Sea" from The Little Mermaid. They were dressed as crabs. It was ridiculously cute.

She even sneezed mid-dance and then picked right back up.

When I went backstage to pick her up after her performance, she was sitting with all of her friends, eating Smarties. I told her what a great job she did and that we were so proud of her and I handed her a bouquet of pink roses. She looked up at me and said, "Mommy, where did you get those? You're such a good friend." Then she said, proudly, "I danced on a stage! I sneezed a little, but it was okay."

Be still, my heart.

We sat down with our friends and family to watch the rest of the show. She loved every minute of it. And, honestly, so did her little brother. They made it through the whole show and dinner out after. We celebrated with pizza. Catherine celebrated by falling asleep in her daddy's arms.

This morning, when she woke up, she brought me a single rose in bed and said, "I danced on a big stage. This flower is for you."

I'm not sure I could love her any more. Until tomorrow.

Two Hour Potty Break

The post office does not have a public restroom.

I know this because this afternoon, after my three year old claimed she had to go potty "now," I pulled into the post office parking lot, unloaded both kids and hauled them inside, only to realize that there is, in fact, no potty.

Daniel Tiger (on PBS) dedicated an entire episode to going potty in other places, so Catherine was genuinely concerned. 

The post office doesn't have a potty?

   No, apparently, they do not.

Where is the potty?

   I don't know, sweetie. Can you hold it?

No.

So, we load back into the car, I change her into a Pull-Up just in case, and we turn into Chick-fil-A. The plan was to potty. That's all.

We unload (again), maneuver our way through the restaurant to the bathroom, disinfect the seat, sit her down, and...

I don't have to go.

   Oh, you're going.

   (Five minutes later) Okay, get up.

By now, my window between bottles has expired and Wilson is crying, so I ask C what she wants for a snack while I feed him. She wants a kids meal. 

We sit down to eat. C picks a seat by the window to the play area. I tell her she can play while I finish feeding Wilson, but then we have to go.

I am wrong.

An hour and a half later, she emerges is dragged out sweaty and tired. But, before we can go home...

she has to potty.

Proud of herself this time, she requests a "treat." I tell her she can trade in her toy for ice cream. She does, then immediately starts crying because they took her toy. This is only the 324th time we've been here, so I can see where she would be confused.

The nice lady at the counter gives her back the toy anyway. We haul the twenty pound baby (plus carrier), the ice cream, the toy, and the three year old to the car and finally head home.

U.S. Post Office, seriously, you need a public potty.