We’ve been fairly lucky so far with Babisodes. *knocks on wood*

As far as potty training goes, Dadisodes and I have nothing to complain about.  Sure there were weeks when I thought for sure she would be a college Freshman wearing Depends, and I may have bribed her with enough treats to fill a piñata.  But she poop-trained at 18-months and pee-trained well before 3 years.   In the grand scheme of things, we feel rather fortunate it’s all over.

WAIT! Before you run screaming, this post is not all about excrement.   Promise.

Anyhow, Babisodes has always been able to hold her own at night. Literally. In her 3-years of life, she never wet her bed.  Well, minus a few leaks here and there as a baby, when mommy was too incoherent from exhaustion to change a diaper.  So let me rephrase that.  Since she became a toddler, she has been able to hold her bladder through the night…

…until last week.

I mean, it happens, right?  No big deal. It was an accident. However, for her, it was HUGE. I mean catastrophic.  I’m talking loud, blood curdling cries that shook the foundation of our house.

She was already asleep for an hour when it happened.  So I’m guessing the sensation of lying in warm, urine-soaked pants was quite the rude awakening.  But I believe the most upsetting aspect of the scenario for her was getting her precious “blankie” soiled.  Yes, the coveted McNasty blankie she’s been toting around everywhere for 3 years.

Have you met McNasty?  Here, allow me to introduce you…

It was soft and pink.  Now it’s frayed and matted, like a fresh batch of cotton candy that fell into a pile of dirt.  But trust me, it’s been washed.  Over and over and over and over again.

I had a feeling this day would come.  As a mother I recognized early on the importance of having a back-up plan in case the cherished pink, dirt sponge was ever misplaced.  So I bought another one, an identical one that she flatly refused a year ago because it had not colonized enough bacteria yet.

But through her frantic tears, I tried offering it again, a desperate plea for her to go back to sleep rather than waiting through a wash/dry cycle.

Me: Here honey, look!

Babisodes: *sniff, sniff, sniff*  Whaz THIS, mommy? *holds pink blanket in the air with a furrowed brow*

Me: Uh, it’s a blankie, just like your other one.  But this one is softer, see? *holds to her cheek*

Babisodes: Ooooh…*rubs face full of tears and snot into blanket* Okay mommy. Nite nite.

Tomorrow…. can I haf the other blanket, too? I want bofth.

*Damn*

*Update!
McNasty and her counterpart have seemingly multiplied. Thanks to several gift packages received in the mail, Babisodes no longer has a bed.  Rather more like a “blanket-top bed.”

Yea, that would be five blankets.  F_I_V_E.  It’s like a bottle of Pepto Bismol exploded in her bed.  Actually, they never look that neat and folded. Here is what they’re really utilized for…

Yea, five blankets and NONE of them are actually allowed to lie on top of her.  She hates having anything cover her.

Note to any family possibly lurking on this blog (because I have a feeling you are). PLEASE stop sending blankets!  Any package received on our doorstep that may possibly contain a blanket, or blanket-like item will be immediately forwarded to the nearest charity location.

Thank you.

As far as potty training goes, Dadisodes and I have nothing to complain about.  Sure there were a few weeks when I thought for sure she would be a college Freshman wearing Depends, and I may have bribed her with enough treats to fill a piñata.  But she poop-trained at 18-months and pee-trained well before 3 years.   In the grand scheme of things, we feel rather fortunate it’s all over.

WAIT! Before you run screaming, this post is not all about excrement.   Promise.

Anyhow, Babisodes has always been able to hold her own at night. Literally. In her 3-years of life, she never wet her bed.  Well, minus a few leaks here and there as a baby, when mommy was too incoherent from exhaustion to change a diaper.  So let me rephrase that.  Since she became a toddler, she has been able to hold her bladder through the night…

…until last week.

I mean, it happens, right?  No big deal. It was an accident. However, for her, it was HUGE. I mean catastrophic.  I’m talking loud, blood curdling cries that shook the foundation of our house.

She was already asleep for an hour when it happened.  So I’m guessing the sensation of lying in warm, urine-soaked pants was quite a rude awakening.  But I believe the most upsetting aspect of the scenario for her was getting her precious “blankie” soiled.  Yes, the coveted McNasty blankie she’s been toting around everywhere for 3 years.

Have you met McNasty?  Here, allow me to introduce you…

It was soft and pink.  Now it’s frayed and matted, like a fresh batch of cotton candy that fell into a pile of dirt.  But trust me, it’s been washed.  Over and over and over and over again. It looks so disgusting it’s not  even allowed out of the house anymore.

I had a feeling this day would come.  As a mother I recognized early on the importance of having a back-up plan in case the cherished pink, dirt sponge was ever misplaced.  So I bought another one, an identical one that she flatly refused a year ago because it had not colonized enough bacteria yet.

But through her frantic tears last week, I tried offering it again, a desperate plea for her to go back to sleep rather than waiting through a wash/dry cycle.

Me: Here honey, look!

Babisodes: *sniff, sniff, sniff*  Whaz THIS, mommy? *holds pink blanket in the air with a furrowed brow*

Me: Uh, it’s a blankie, just like your other one.  But this one is softer, see? *holds to her cheek*

Babisodes:  Ooooh…*rubs face full of tears and snot into blanket* Okay mommy. Nite nite.

Tomorrow…. can I haf the other blanket, too? I want bofth.

*Damn*

Me: *irrationally gripping armrest for dear life*  Geez!  Slow down!  You’re driving like a maniac!

Babisodes: *screaming from backseat*  Yeah daddy! You drive like maniac!

*sigh*

And of course, now all of her preschool teachers and friends are well informed on his maniacal driving.

However, it is not so much the parroting that annoys impresses me.  It is the signs of deductive reasoning.  Evidence that a toddler is learning to digest the absorbed information, and then inferring their own conclusions.

Several hours after a meal.

Babisodes: Mommy, am I going to be as big as you?

Me: Yup, you’ll probably will be as big as me one day.

Babisodes:  Soon?

Me: Well…not exactly soon. When you’re older, in a few years.

Babisodes:  But I want to be big now!

Me: Why?

Babisodes:  So I can have big dessert like you.

They’re gone.

After a month long stay, my mother and grandmother are finally on a return flight home.

No one can send me into fits of anger, or chip away at my patience quite like my family.  But at the same rate, only they can cushion my mind and provide me with a sense of “home.”  It’s just hard.  Hard to see the women who have shaped and molded the facets of my physical and emotional self so infrequently, that each time they see Babisodes she will be so different, knowing that they’re missing out on all of the time in-between.  With each visit their mind and body slowly alters shape.  A few more gray hairs.  Forgetting to turn off the stove.  Another pill added to the regimen.  It all adds up, each detail piecing together the reality of time.  How it slips away when you’re not looking, and sometimes even if you are.

As I leaned down at the terminal curbside and hugged my 95- year old grandmother, I struggled to let go.  The woman who raised me in the absence of my working parents seemed so tiny, so frail.  Almost lost beneath her many layers of sweaters.  With each time I see her, I never know if it will be the last. It is a crippling reality.  And as I waved goodbye, I wondered if she still remembers.  All of the years we had to share a bedroom.  When I begged to have just 1 more of her homemade buns.  Or when I shamefully walked ten steps ahead, as she accompanied me home from school in front of my sixth grade friends.  I hope she remembers.  I hope some if it is still there. Either way, I hope that she takes off today knowing that I proudly walk along with her everyday, whether I am there with her or not.

I wish I had better words to articulate how I feel this morning.  But my mind is clouded from the lack of sleep, and my heart aches from bittersweet goodbyes.  Perhaps I’ll write more when the fog lifts away from clearer thoughts. Or when I have a moment to reflect on this morning.  Where time slips away once more, as I sit and watch the sunrise from my kitchen window alone.

Last night before bedtime…

Babisodes: Grandma.  Are you leaving?

Grandma: Yes, Babisodes.  I’m leaving tomorrow to go home to Miami.

Babisodes:  My-ami? ….Can I come with you to “Your-ami?”

Babisodes and Grandma

Babisodes and Great Grandma

Sorry.  Just thinking about it makes me to nod off.

Anyhow, something else he manages to always find are animal shows.  Not the kind where pure bred animal’s parade around on carpet, and owners brush hair and prop up butts.  I’m talking about where Bambi gently lowers himself before a babbling brook, takes a sip of water, and BAM! Simba and his pals have lunch.

To be honest, I can’t deal.  I cried watching The Lion King, and I’ve never seen the first half of Finding Nemo (Yes, they have doctors for this.  I know).   What can I say?  I’m a bit sappy.  Dadisodes, however? Not so much.

Remember this thing?  The other night, Babisodes decided to bring out this gem I introduced here weeks ago (Dadisodes gave this to her while away on business).  What the heck is that, you ask?  Don’t worry I asked the same question when I first saw it.  It’s a Road Runner, I think.

“Daddy, what do road runners eat?
“Umm…let me think….”
“Uh…I think they eat…lizards.”

“LIZARDS?”

“Yup, lizards.”

*Pause. Insert blank stare*

Fast-forward to the next morning…

…as Babisodes rams the road runner’s face into a plastic reptile.

*Note- Karen of Sillymonkeez nominated Momisodes for a Dottie Award at MomDot!!! She’s an amazing blogger also up for an award.  She thinks I’m “Most Likely to Succeed.”  Me?  Succeed!  Ha! Perhaps at eating record amounts of chocolate in my weight category.

If you have a moment, PLEASE VOTE for me here.

I’ve even nabbed a shot of me in my nerdy glasses…with acne…in front of a bunch of books I’ve never read.

Anyone want to come over for band practice?

I kid. I kid.