Nobody tells you what a pain in the arse potty training is going to be. Yes, I have two toddlers doing it at the same time, and like with every other milestone, that simple fact indicates my own work is increased at least by one million percent. If you have a singleton and sarcastically are thinking to yourself “really? ONE MILLION PERCENT?” Yes, that’s right. If you doubt me, have some twins and try it out for yourself. But consider yourself warned.
With that said, the girls and I are still plugging away. Hardly suffering. Both ladies refuse to use public restrooms, and this is where the pull-out insert to their potties comes in handy. The nasty little plastic thing, size of half a cantaloupe, fits into my backpack and I whip it out when we go to bathrooms other than our own and they squat and that’s that. Works remarkably well. I have half-complained to other mothers about them not wanting to use public restrooms and have received no sympathy — NOBODY wants to use public restrooms. At least Mimi and Beenie know who has been using their personal porta-potty. HA!
Things really changed this summer, the summer of 2009. The babies became little/big girls. No more cribs, no more naps, no more diapers. All within the span of two or three months. Mind boggling, truly. I think I am more fazed by it than them. They take it all in stride. I’ll be lucky if I can make it through next week, with one parent orientation for preschool followed by the actual preschool beginning Friday. I wonder if they pass out anti-anxiety medication at this orientation. If not, I think I have some random pills left over from the girls birth I have yet to ingest. Or maybe I’ll go into this sober, open eyed and awake, like Mimi and Beenie will have to. I will be driving them to and fro, after all. I’m so nervous and excited. Who will they become and who will I find is left of myself? Oh the mysteries abound.
It is 1:10 in the a.m. The house is sleeping. I am somehow staying up watching travel shows, crocheting my first item* (see image above) in over fifteen years. Considering starting the dishwasher, then flossing and brushing my tooths. Considering mindfulness and not wanting any part of it.
20 Fingers, 20 Toes 
I still watch mine, now three and a half, as he runs nude down the hall. A person, not a baby. Everything about the way his body moves, his words work, are person, not baby.
Really? One million percent? I would have though more. But I’m not good with percentages. Are you saying five on a logorithmic scale? Wow. That’s a lot. And I totally believe you.
Mindfulness is overrated. What has it gotten us…a buddha, some solipsism, and Velcro? Bah. Overrated, I say.
in the winter, i will picture you wearing this cap sitting under the crocheted blanket-beast and feel warm all over.