This weekend, SNG and I are spending a weekend on our own, with Granny and Grampy taking care of the kids. We almost never get to do this – in fact, we’ve only had one other night away from the kids ever, so it’s a real treat. Since having kids, there’s always some kind of stress: whining, crying, poop on the floor, people to be fed, a mess to be cleaned, teeth to be brushed, laundry to wash, and on and on. We spend a lot of time putting out fires and by the time kids are in bed, we have very little energy left to just shoot the breeze. Conversation centers around the practical: did you remember to brush her hair? Did he potty one last time? What time do you need to get up tomorrow? Are you picking them up from school? I’ll switch the laundry if you’ll go fill the dishwasher.
Spending a day together, with no responsibilities, makes it
easy to remember how much we just really like being together. Which is a lot.
We left this morning (Saturday) and drove to Morrow Mountain
State Park, which is in the Uwharrie National Forest (alongside it? Anyway, on
the map it looks like one green blob). On the way, we had lunch at a Thai place
in Albemarle that was quite good (Thai Spice on Main St, in case you go – sushi’s
good there, too). At the park, we hiked about 6 miles of beautiful wooded trail
up to the top of Morrow Mtn and back. They have cabins to rent for a good
price, all year round. The kids would love it.
After that we drove into Charlotte to go to Ikea. That was
part 1. Tomorrow, the plan is to hike at Latta Planation Nature Preserve in the
morning and then hit Ikea, part 2 around lunchtime. We’re getting Jambuca a new
Speaking of Jambuca, I have a story that is disgusting and
heart-warming and too funny not to share.
He has been potty training since August, with limited
success. At first we had him sleep in a Pull-Up, but at some point, he got it
into his head that Pull-Ups are for babies, and he’d take them off and now refuses
to wear one. So, he sleeps in underwear. To make it easier for him, I put a kid
potty in his room, with a towel underneath in case of “spills.” He rarely uses
it, and he wets the bed at least a couple times a week. Usually, I hear him get
up and run upstairs to usher him to the toilet before an accident occurs.
Today, I went upstairs to check on him and he was already
up. As I opened the door I could smell that something was amiss. And there was
Jambuca, in a t-shirt and no pants, standing in front of the little potty seat.
“I put some poop in da potty, mommy!”
"Good boy! Mommy is so proud of you"
(I noticed, then, that he had smears of poop on his shirt,
arm, leg, foot, and hands. There was poop smeared on the side of the potty
chair and I spotted a big, poopy handprint on the towel that is under the potty
where it looked like he had carefully tried to wipe off his hands.)
“I pooped in my unnawear. I put it in da potty. I wipe my
(Sure enough, lots of poop and Kleenex in the potty)
“Where did you get paper, honey?”
“I ‘tood on the chair to get the keenex from my dresser! I
“yes, you are big. Good job. Thank you for putting the poop
in the potty. Let’s go clean up.”
(and there, on the towel, carefully folded up, is the
offending pair of underpants. He put the poop in the potty. Not the pants.)
“Mommy, I wipe my hands riiiight HERE!” (indicating the poopy
handprint mentioned above)
Repulsive as it was, I admit I was impressed that he had
managed to solve such a problem on his own, using what he had at his