These Boots Are Made For Clompin'

Somebody stole her momma's boots, and she is currently clompin' around the house.

Mere minutes after snapping this picture, The Princess and I were face-to-face in the middle of a monstrous community giggle fit.  She snorted like a pig and then found that so hilarious that she flailed around like only she can do...and whacked my nose so hard I saw nothing but a flash of white for a moment.  Now it's numb.  Here's hopin' I don't end up at the office with two black eyes tomorrow.

But, ya know, even if I do, it'll totally be worth it.

I am simply amazed every single day by this little girl.  It's all of the little things, really, that are just so BIG in our house.  Even a year ago, I don't know if I would have been able to take a picture of my girl looking at the camera.  At that time, she wasn't so engaged.  If I laughed, she usually didn't.  Her idea of playing pretty much consisted of sitting alone in her room and stimming on one object past the point of obsession, screaming bloody murder when she finally realized that she simply couldn't stop what she was doing, that the activity had taken over and she didn't know how to move onto something else.  Interactions by that point largely consisted of prying the object out of her fingers while she screamed and cried and ran away.

So you see why this would be worth two black eyes, right?

Yeah.  Me, too.

Cousin E's Birthday Party

Where does the time go?

I can hardly believe it's been a year since our beautiful goddaughter, E, was born.  Okay, well, it'll be a year tomorrow, but her party was this Saturday.

This generation of girls, with The Princess being the oldest and E the youngest (so far), well...they amaze me.  I love seeing how they interact with each other and assert their independence in their own little ways.  It seems like their personalities are ingrained almost from day one, and it really is a joy to sit back and observe them.

E, the Birthday Girl, showin' off her bunny ears.

K helping E out with the cake...E really wanted to see what she was doing.

The Princess and Nana

The more of these parties we go to, the more comfortable The Princess is with the huge rowdy group of folks we're lucky to call our family.

And, though I don't like to dwell on the negative, I've kind of felt as though I've been missing out the last few years.  The last big party we had for The Princess was at her own first birthday, for what should be fairly obvious reasons by this point.  I freely admit to my crying jag last year when I realized I wouldn't be able to throw a big party for her fifth birthday.  Five is one of the big milestone years in my family, and it broke my heart that I couldn't have the party, but it was more important to me for her to be comfortable.

Now, seeing how well she is interacting with everyone and self-regulating when she needs to, I'm starting to think there may be hope yet.

That's right.  We're going to have a birthday party this year.  Lord help us.  We'll probably ask everyone to sing in whispers, and she likely won't last more than a minute or two opening gifts, but we're gonna try it.

Here's hopin' there are half as many smiles that day as we saw this weekend.

Keeping a Straight Face

Okay, you're all aware of The Princess's shiny new ability to mimic.  She's parroting actions, gestures, facial expressions, even some sounds.  It's amazing.

But.

How the hell am I supposed to keep a straight face when I'm trying to scold her and she mirrors my stance - hands on hips, stern eyebrows, the whole nine yards?

The answer: I'm not.  It's cool.  It's new.  It's fun.  And there's no way I'm keepin' a straight face.  At least not yet.

My girl, who will be turning six in three months, is finally starting to play some of the games we've been trying for since she was a baby.  I think I'll just soak it all up and enjoy every moment, thank you very much.

Age Appropriate

If you're anything like me, those two words together make you cringe, grind your teeth a little, and - perhaps - start to twitch around your right eye.  Not that I would know anything about that.

As moms, we all have those pet peeves we can't seem to get over.  While they may seem trivial to some outsiders, they are very real and very big to those of us who take issue with them.  "Age appropriate" is one of mine.  You know, those seemingly harmless little numbers on every toy on the market...the ones that guide the consumer by telling them what age group said toy should be appropriate for on a developmental scale.

I vote we do away with these damned things altogether.  Who's with me?

This Christmas, The Princess received a gift card to Toys 'R' Us and some cash from a couple of her great aunties and uncles.  A couple of months before Christmas, The Hubbs' iPad crapped out, so our girl had been without her touch-screen educational apps for a while by that point.

Thinking we were doing something good, we threw in about $30 of our own money along with the gift card and cash, and we purchased a LeapFrog LeapPad2 from our local Toys 'R' Us.  The age range on the package was 3-9 years.  The Princess is going to turn 6 in April.

Well.  You can see where this is going, can't you?

The LeapFrog LeapPad2 is lightyears ahead of my girl's abilities.  Forget the fact that you have to purchase games and apps separately...I'll just focus on the developmental challenges. 

On-off switch?  Fine. 

Login screen where the child has to choose his or her picture and name from a field of at least 5 choices, even if he or she is the only user?  Discouraging.

The fact that the Internet cannot be accessed on the machine itself?  Perfect.  Exactly what I wanted.

Level of verbal instructions given for each and every game/app the thing came with?  Far too advanced.

General process for getting into desirable locations and getting things done?  Way too complicated.

Thankfully, our local Toys 'R' Us agreed to let us return the tablet for a cash refund and $25 store credit that same day.  I was feeling about "this big" by that time.  You know how it goes.  The fact that they were willing to work with us made it a little better.

Once I got over myself, we made another trip to the same store a couple of days later.  This trip was miles better than the one before.  The Princess found two toys she absolutely loves.  The fact that they each have an age range of 9-36 months does not bother me in the slightest.  In fact, I believe I've learned a little lesson here.

I'm done with age range labels.  Who the hell are you, you pretentious, colorful cardboard box, to tell me what's appropriate for my kid.  She smiles, it's all good.  And you can shove those age ranges where the smiley-face yellow cartoon sun don't shine.

2012: Looking Back

Looking back over the last year, I can hardly believe the blessings in my life. The Princess's accomplishments alone absolutely amaze me.

Each year, I make a special photo book of all of the things that have happened with our girl, which we give to our families as Christmas gifts. The books follow her progress and growth throughout the year, and there's always a recap at the end, written from her perspective. As I sit here and look back at 2012, marveling at all we've done, nothing seems more appropriate to share with you than this year's book recap:

This was a really big year for me.  Momma and Da are very proud of the things I've accomplished. Some of these things are:

Potty training...I haven't worn a Pull-Up (except at night) in months.

Mimicking...this is the first step toward language, something doctors and other professionals have been watching and hoping for since I was really, really young.  I now mimic many actions, and one of the major things I've learned is how to wave bye-bye.

Following directions...this is a biggie.  One really good example is that I can now walk on the trails at the state park without holding Momma or Da's hand.  With a lot of practice, I've learned to follow simple verbal directions when we are out and about.

Swimming...this is the best part of this whole year, as far as I'm concerned.  This summer, I spent so much time in the water.  Momma and Da worked with me every single day, and by August I could swim from one parent to the other when they stood ten to fifteen feet apart in water that was over my head.

And now comes the sappy.  Nana, grab your tissues.  You know how you get.

If you're reading this, it's because you're very special to me.  I may not speak English on my own yet, but Momma feels confident in telling you that I love you very much.  You accept me for who I am, and I don't think I could ever ask for any more than that.

I am so unbelievably proud of my girl, and I feel so incredibly fortunate to have such a fantastic support system.  Since the going got tough around here a few years ago, so many of you have stepped up and really proven to me how wonderful human beings can be.  I've also found out how selfish and insensitive people can be, but y'all more than make up for that.  I didn't need those other folks, anyway.

One of the things that people said left and right around the time of The Princess's diagnosis was that God never gives us any more than we can handle.  I wrote this off as a canned response parroted by well-meaning people who love us and don't know what else to say.  Now, more than three years after her diagnosis, The Princess shows me every day that this is true.  I can't imagine what my life would be like today without her and her autism.  I've grown in ways I never knew were possible, and I am very proud to stand before you as the person I am today.

I feel truly blessed, and I am looking forward to this coming new year with a glimmer in my eye and hope in my heart.

A Better Christmas Gift

After a week away on business, Nana and Grampy picked me up from the airport on Saturday afternoon.  The Hubbs and The Princess were waiting for us back at their house, and I couldn't get there fast enough.

I was out of that car like a shot, careening up the stairs into the great room and singing out my girl's name.  She was stimming on some blocks in the middle of the room, right next to her ten-month-old cousin, E.

At the sound of my voice, she stopped what she was doing.

Turned to look at me.

Smiled.

Said, "Momma."

Ran across the room and into my arms.

I honestly can't think of a better Christmas gift.

Pity

"And what about The Princess?  Is she totally excited for Santa Claus to come?  What does she want this year?"

...asked everyone I've ever known.  I know it's not meant to affect me the way it does - I know this - but my reaction is not a logical one.

I get all prickly every time I am asked one of these questions, or any of the hundreds of variations on them.  Another favorite: "Does she just love to talk to you on the phone when you're out of town?  I bet she gabs your ear off..." or some other such seemingly harmless smalltalk.

We'll address these one at a time.  Here, my dear readers, are the answers to what seem - at least lately - to be the most commonly asked questions about my sweet little Princess.

No, she is not totally excited for Santa Claus to come.  The fact of the matter is that I don't even know if she has any idea who he is.  Or if she's retained any of the mythology, can she even wrap her little head around the concept?  These are things I may never know, and I am okay with this. 

I have no worldly idea what she wants for Christmas this year.  She does not ask me for things.  She does not flip through toy catalogs like other children her age.  She does not play Internet games or while away the hours with YouTube or Apple apps.  She is perfectly happy playing with the toys she has owned since she was a baby.  There are a few notable exceptions that have been allowed into the club as late entries, but the vast majority of her preferred playthings are plastered with age range labels that have long been left in our dust.  She is happy.  I am happy.  Please do not concern yourself with whatever the "next big thing" may be for little girls of a certain age.  No one in my house knows or cares about them.  Yes, I am asking for practical things for her for Christmas.  No, it is not sad.  End of story.

No, she does not just love to talk to me on the phone when I'm out of town.  She doesn't really seem to understand the concept.  More and more as she gets older, it seems as though she's recognizing the voices that come out of phones, but she has no interest in holding the phone at all.

No, she does not gab my ear off.  She doesn't speak. 

And stop it with the pitying looks when I answer you honestly.  You asked.  I'm not going to lie.  We are content - couldn't be happier, actually - with our lives.  My girl is not an unfortunate victim of some huge, horrible diagnosis.

She is my girl.

And I love her.

If you don't really want to know what's going on with me and my family, do us both a favor by refraining from asking the questions altogether. 

Don't you dare make me feel anything but blessed by what I have.

I wouldn't trade a second of this life for anything.  And if you can't understand that, I should be the one pitying you.

Butterscotch

The Princess's beloved Uncle D dropped by for a visit this weekend.  It's been a while since our girl has seen him, and she had a great time listening to him play the piano and showing him all of the new things she can do since they last hung out.

Mid-afternoon, The Princess headed over to The Grumps' house so Momma, Da and Uncle D could go to the Christmas With Friends party over at Auntie T's place.  She played and bossed her grumparents around.  I played and bossed the boys around.

Good times.

On the way home, the three of us ended up at Jewel.  In a late-night display of sheer brilliance, Uncle D purchased a gigantic - and I mean this guy is HUGE, y'all - teddy bear.  We proceeded to strap the bear into the back seat of the car for the ride home, where he was respectfully placed in his rightful spot.

Butterscotch - that's his name, by the way - patiently waited.

A few hours after Uncle D headed back home, so did The Princess.  Completely unassuming, she walked into the house and sat in her Winnie the Pooh armchair in the living room, digging into her fruit snacks with a vengeance.

As soon as she had finished, The Hubbs and I asked her to come meet someone new in her room.

The very moment she laid eyes on him, she couldn't help but grin.  If I ever doubted love at first sight, this totally seals the deal for me.

You should see her dragging him around the house.

At the Dinner Table

You don't talk about that at the dinner table.  We don't act like that at the dinner table.  No dogs at the dinner table.  You will sit at the dinner table until you've finished your meal, young lady.

How many times have you heard this in your life?  Be honest. 

Do you want to know what we've never really done at our dinner table?  Eat dinner.

It's always been easier to grab a plate and sit in the living room, chowing in front of the TV, so we never really even thought about it.

A couple of months ago, we had our fall parent-teacher conference.  The Fabulous Mrs. G. and her staff told us all about the great stuff that's been happening at school, and The Hubbs and I marveled at how much The Princess is able to do for herself there.

Home has always been a free zone, a place where she doesn't need to worry about tons of structure.  We've always felt she gets enough of that from the other adults in her life, and we've wanted to provide that sanctuary for her...a special place where she can just be her without worrying about a thing.

Lately, though, it has become apparent that a little structure can go a long way.  We've started making small changes that have had big results, and it's really exciting to witness. 

The  most recent is the fact that all three of us sit down at eat together at the dinner table every night.  The Hubbs and I have found that this simple change has helped us to slow down for a short time each evening, while providing the small amount of structure that seems to help our girl find her center.

She comes into the kitchen, sits in her chair at the end of the table, eats her favorite things first, drinks all of her milk from a big girl glass and proceeds to make a fuss over eating whatever unacceptable crap I've shoved in front of her face.

Just like I did when I was five.

Mean

I use words like y'all and soda.  My family eats dinner together, even if we are a bit unconventional about it.  We live in a house with a yard and two dogs.  The vast majority of our free time is spent outside, whether it be in the lake or hiking in a state park.  I believe you should treat others the way you would like to be treated and that a little kindness goes a long way.  I listen to country music.  A LOT of country music.

I feel as though these are things you must know about me and my family before reading on.  Now that we've got that all straightened out, I have a little story to share with y'all.

*

Driving along in our little compact car the other day, The Princess reached forward and handed The Hubbs her bowl.  Again.  She'd been eating non-stop since we left the house, and we were in real danger of running out of snacks.  We were not quite half-way through our errands.

"Sorry, honey.  All done.  You can have some more in a little while," said The Hubbs.

If you don't already know this, The Princess is autistic and non-verbal.  She loves music and possesses an unbelievable ability to pick up melodies and retain them, taking them out and playing with them when she sees fit, sometimes days, weeks, or even months after hearing them.  We've noticed lately that certain songs tend to come up in certain situations, almost like the melodies are her way of saying yes, no, I'm mad, or what have you.

You see, that paragraph in italics is kind of important.  If you don't know that about my girl, you won't understand why her reaction is so damned funny to me.

Without skipping a beat, The Princess started singing a new melody we hadn't heard from her before: the chorus of Taylor Swift's "Mean."  The lyrics go like this:  Someday, I'll be livin' in a big old city, and all you're ever gonna be is mean...yeah...someday, I'll be big enough so you can't hit me, and all you're ever gonna be is mean.  Why you gotta be so mean?

Get it?  I mean, how flippin' cool is that?  I just about had to pull off the road when we realized what she was singing.

Not clicking yet?  I'll spell it out for ya:  The Hubbs told The Princess no, and she essentially responded with, "Daddy, why you gotta be so mean?"

Thank goodness I wasn't drinkin' a soda at the time, y'all, or I'd have sprayed it all over the inside of my windshield.  And then, as my AC would say, I'd have to give it a good warshin'.

This Boy I Kind of Like

Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag.  There's this boy I kind of like.  Kind of have for a while.  Maybe about eight and a half years.  Not that I'm counting.

You guessed it: this boy I kind of like is none other than The Hubbs.

This weekend, we celebrated my love's (ahem-cough-cough)st birthday.  We spent Saturday doing all the things he wanted to do, and we had the fam over yesterday to celebrate on the actual day.

Eight and a half years, and I still feel like a schoolgirl every time I see him.

Yes, dear.  Even if you are older than dirt.

I love you, mister.  Thanks for being you.

Happy birthday!
Vroom

Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes

It's singalong time, y'all.  You all know this one...don't try to deny it.

Ready?

1...2...3...sing it with me!

Head...

..and shoulders...

...knees...

...and toes!

Pay no attention to the state of her room.  We've had more important things to worry about lately, like the fact that The Princess is now mimicking all sorts of fabulous stuff. 

At five-and-a-half years old, my girl has reached a major milestone: one of the first steps toward speech.  I am so proud I could burst.

And I'm having a blast seeing exactly what she'll copy.  There's a lot, and it's totally entertaining.  I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume we should probably start watching what we say.  There's a possibility we may have another speaker in our midst within the foreseeable future.

Halloween Miracle

Tradition in our little yellow house dictates very specific Halloween activities, including trick-or-treating at The Grumps and attending a fabulous party with their neighbors.  Unfortunately, The Grumps were out of town for Halloween this year, so we were on our own.

On the big day, we dressed The Princess in her punk rocker costume - complete with pink hair and a studded dog collar as her belt - and sent her off to school.  When she got home, The Hubbs took her to a local state park to blow off some steam while I finished up my work day.

And then we freshened up her look and headed outside.  We made a face, and she mimicked it.  Right into the camera.

Proud doesn't even begin to describe this moment.  She's looking into the camera.  She's mimicking a face we've made at her seconds before snapping the picture.  She's doing both things AT THE SAME TIME, as the result of an implied request.

I never would have thought it was possible.  Just another example of how much and how often my girl knocks my socks off.

Sick Of Hearing About Pee?

Well, have I got a treat for you!  I'm out of town at the moment for a work retreat, so I'll make this short and sweet.

I talked to The Hubbs yesterday morning.  Apparently, when he walked into The Princess's room to check on her while she was playing on Saturday evening, he found a giant poop in her pink froggy potty.

And, it seems he forgot to put her in her overnight Pull-Ups on Friday and Saturday.  And she was dry.  Both nights.

That is all.

Waving

The Hubbs: "Hi, Princess.  Hiiiiii."

The Princess:

At five and a half years old, she's finally beginning to understand the concept of waving.  She still seems a bit confused by it, but it's slowly working its way into her vocabulary of actions.

The Best Decision I Ever Made

In my life, I've made my fair share of mistakes.  Everybody has.  We all know this about ourselves and those close to us.  But I love my mistakes; I hold them close to my heart, because they paved the way for the best decision I ever made.

If I hadn't had that four-year brain fart starting in high school (who shall remain nameless), I never would have needed karaoke to show me my way home.

If I hadn't spent seventeen years with my so-called best friend (who shall remain nameless), who stabbed me in the back countless times, I never would have developed a thick skin.  A thick skin that has been my saving grace these last few years as I've dealt with these people - we all know one or two of them - who have no worldly idea how to treat another human being.  "Nameless" and these other people have also taught me how to stand my ground when I know I'm right, and for that, I thank them.

If I hadn't had such a love-hate relationship with a few certain people over the years, I'd never be able to fully appreciate true, unbiased, unconditional, full-wattage love when I saw it.

If none of these things had ever happened the way they did, I have no idea where I'd have been on March 27, 2003.  I may never have met the love of my life.

Seven years ago, I married my best friend.  Today, as I look back, I can't help but thank God for all of the little mistakes along my path, the ones that brought me to him and him to me.

He never wanted to get married before we met.  I, apparently, have such a profound effect on men (ahem) that I decisively changed his mind over the course of six months...without ever having any idea that this is what I was doing. 

You see, I had given up on the idea that I needed a man to complete me.  I had had enough of serious dating, and I was out to have a little fun and be myself.

And that's when it happened.

Somewhere between him adamantly not wanting to get married and me just wanting to have fun, we found our soul mates in each other.

Every day since we met has been another fairy tale.

Happy seventh wedding anniversary, Swatta.  I love you, and I can say with absolute certainty that you are the best decision I ever made.

Loved to Hate It

Every week since she turned three, The Princess has brought home a potty chart in her backpack.  This evil little scrap of paper loves to mock all of our efforts, and I love to hate it.

I suppose I should really say, "I loved to hate it."

Why, you may ask?  See for yourself.

That's right.  A perfect record.  It only took two and a half years at school, and - damn it - it was worth every single second of the wait.

Potty Training, Picture Day and the Death of a Dishwasher

Buckle up, folks...this post is gonna be a rambler.  ;)

Since we talked last week, a lot has happened.  We've continued our daily trips to the local state parks, and The Princess continues to love it.

Don't believe me?  Here's your proof:

Go ahead...just try to tell me that's not a happy kid.

She is still a major fan of the stroller rides, and I'm so unbelievably proud of her.  Are you sitting down?  No?  Grab a seat.  I'll wait.

Not only is our girl rockin' the big girl panties every day, but she's decided to take things up a notch.  She now stops what she is doing, gets up, runs to her potty, goes, pulls up her drawers, removes the pee bucket from the pink froggy, and attempts to empty it into the toilet herself.  Without being prompted.  I mean, like, all by herself.

I know.  I almost plotzed the first time it happened.  And the second.  And the third.  I think I'm finally starting to get used to it.

Just shy of five and a half years of wearing diapers every single day...and it was so totally worth the wait.  Sure, it took years of grueling potty training, but when this girl gets something, she gets it.  There are no words for the pride I feel.

***

Thursday was Fall Picture Day at school.  I have a hard time saying that without a snarky little whine creeping into my voice.  Autism + Picture Day = Hell On Wheels for everyone involved.  At least, that's been my experience over the last couple of years.

Unbelievably, this year seems to have been different.  I'll have to reserve my final judgment for after we hear back from her teachers, but it doesn't seem to have thrown her at all.

Five minutes before our alarm was set to go off on Thursday morning, The Princess woke up and started singing.  As we walked into our room, I noticed that her hair looked amazing.  Yes, my girl, the one whose bedhead is epic and can last for days, woke up with not one single hair out of place.

We cruised through our morning routine with no hiccups, The Princess cooperating every step of the way.  She even chose her own outfit for her school picture.

After putting her on the bus with her backpack and an in-case-of-emergency change of pants, The Hubbs and I returned to work.

No phone calls.  No emails.  No panicked correspondence of any kind.  For Picture Day, it was eerily silent.

And then her bus arrived at the end of our driveway.  She greeted us with a smile and a song, still wearing the outfit she had chosen that morning and giving no indication that anything remotely out of the ordinary had happened.

We were warned in advance that this year's pictures would be taken in the gym, and that this can often be unbearable for at least some of the kids in the autism program.  No kidding.  We live with one.  Big, cavernous space + lots of antsy kids + waiting in line and being expected to do specific things = the mother of all meltdowns just waiting to happen.

But there was nothing.  She was happy.  No notes from teachers, aides, therapists.  No worried calls from school nurses.

Nothing at all.

I can't wait to see this picture, y'all.

***

And in totally non-Princess-related news, we've been fighting with our dishwasher for some time now.  We received it as a hand-me-down about six years ago. and I couldn't have been more thankful.  There was no way we could have afforded one at the time, and, hey...it was free. 

Over the last five or so years, I've torn that machine apart more times than I can count.  My momma didn't raise me to be a needy little girly-girl, so I dive head-first into repairs in my own home the way she always has with hers.  Probably a month and a half to two months ago, the dishwasher started acting up again, and I just didn't feel like I had time to check it out.  Fast-forward to September, and The Hubbs and I were just totally O-V-E-R the idea of hand-washing everything.  All meals in our little yellow house are made from scratch, and we do a lot of crock-potting and baking. 

Something needed to be done.

I ripped apart the dishwasher yet again, pulled diagnostic codes from its onboard computer, flipped it on its back, removed and tested all of the electrical components and came to a decision.  The capacitor and pressure switch alone would cost over $100 (plus shipping), and I didn't even know if that would fix the problem or not.  My first attempt - replacing the heating element - didn't do it, so my usually sunny outlook was gaining more than a little cloud cover.  With so many things testing in the bad-to-dead range, I was afraid there was a short somewhere in the machine.

Never one to give up, I called every store in the area that carries dishwashers.  I found one for $224 - brand new - and borrowed Momma's truck.  A few hours later, our new dishwasher was running the first load of dishes, and it does a great job.  In fact, I'm listening to it now.

And, can I just say that I'm feelin' pretty good about myself here?  I'm no helpless girly-girl, for sure, but this is the first time I've done this type of project from start to finish completely on my own.  Between the mechanical, electrical and plumbing aspects of the job, this has inflated my ego just a smidge.

***

All in all, I'd say it was a good week in our little yellow house.  But I can seriously do without any additional appliance weirdness for a while.  Here's hopin' the next week is on the quiet side, and we can have lots of uninterrupted family time.

The Princess and the Pee: Part Two

Whatever you do, don't read this out loud.  She'll hear you, and the spell could be broken.  I hesitate to even type it.

Remember when I told you about how long The Princess has been using diapers of some kind?

And then when I got all excited about our recent potty training efforts and the leaps and bounds our girl has made?

For the last solid week, The Princess has been prancing around her world sans training pants.  Did you hear that?  We're only using Pull-Ups at bedtime now.

She's using the potty consistently, and there's a glint in her eye that says she gets it.  She's proud. 

She even holds it when we're out for a walk at the state park.  For two hours. 

On Saturday, she had her first pit toilet experience (You know, the ones that are like glorified outhouses?  The ones that blow cold air up your butt and look like a 41-lb skinny minny of a thing could fall right in and never make it out?  Mm-hmm.  One of those.). 

She'd been riding in her stroller over some really rough terrain for a couple of miles.  We're talking straight up and down, bumpy stuff...yeah, that's right, we took her all-terrain stroller on the most difficult part of the trails.  And it was awesome.  I can still feel it in my shoulders.

We came up to a potty house, and The Hubbs and I could tell it was going to be pit toilets by the look of it.  The Princess, however, hadn't experienced these things before.  As I ran with her to the potty, she was getting visibly more excited by the moment.  Her bottom was dry, and she was getting antsy.

I opened the door, she took one look around and tried to bolt.  Fortunately, I caught her and was able to explain the situation.  She very cautiously walked around the toilet on all sides, casting suspicious glances into its fragrant depths before looking up at me with one last plea.

"I can tell you have to go potty, Princess," I told her.  "It's either this or have an accident in your pants, because it's going to be a while yet before we get back to the big building where we started."

She thought about this for only a moment before dropping her pants and hoisting her little bottom up onto the tall pot.  The look on her face as the cold air hit her bottom was priceless.

It took a few seconds, but she went.  And went.  And went.

Grinning from ear to ear, she hopped off the pot and pulled up her panties and pants.  She then proceeded to do laps around the toilet in an effort to figure out how to flush.  I did my best to explain that this kind of toilet doesn't have a flusher, and she listened intently.

Finally, she decided that closing the lid would have to do.  Leaving the little outhouse, we skipped back to her daddy, hand in hand, to complete our hike.

If my pride isn't evident through my words, maybe hers will be in this picture.

I am so unbelievably proud of this little girl, and I am once again in awe of how much the little things impact our lives every single day.

After nearly five and a half years of diapers and three to four years of potty training, we've arrived.  I can't imagine any other victory that could be this sweet.

Photoblog: State Park

Okay, so you may have figured out by now - smarties that you are - that I'm only posting once a week to this blog.  Between work, mommahood and the launch of Sam the Dragon, I think this is probably the most realistic goal I can set for myself at the moment.  This means I'll be posting no more than once per day between all of my various blogs.

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Saturday, September 8, we awoke to the first chilly morning we've had since the beginning of the summer.  It was 53 degrees outside our little yellow house, and the sky was a crisp, clear blue: perfect weather for walking around our local state park.

The Princess is now five years old, and she still absolutely adores riding in a stroller.  Earlier this year, we scrimped and saved until we could afford a three-wheeled all-terrain jogging stroller with a higher weight limit to accommodate her.  She is in lub with this thing.  We take family walks every day, and she seems to get the same calming effect from the stroller that she used to get from the horses at hippotherapy.  Something about the movement helps her find her center, and that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.  Priceless, really.

Along our walk at the state park, we spent a good deal of time with a pair of sandhill cranes, and we even met a little froggy friend on a lily pad by the lake.

After our long walk, we drove through the rest of the park and came across a wonderful, blessedly deserted playground, where we swung, climbed, slid and hung from monkey bars.  It was a sensory and texture wonderland and the perfect topper to a spectacular morning with my loves.