I’ve had eight hours of sleep in the last two days. But it’s OK.
Jewel was up all last night with a stuffy nose and possible fever. But it’s OK.
I had to take a sick day to watch Jewel and take 3B to school while Mama went into work for meetings with existential ramifications. But it’s OK.
Jewel developed white sores inside her mouth and a diaper rash today. But it’s OK.
I nearly fell asleep in the rocking chair on the balcony, watching 3B play in his sand and water table. But it’s OK.
Jewel threw her pacifier off the balcony at 6 a.m. this morning, when the sky was still black, with rainclouds scuttling across it. But it’s OK.
After suffering on Friday and Monday morning, I encountered a rare moment of near-silence during my ride and heard that my back brakes had been rubbing. But it’s OK. (And not just because once I fixed that, it felt like I had two extra gears.)
On Monday, 3B spent more time in time out than the 49ers will spend in the cellar this season. But it’s OK.
On my last commute my bike pump fell off. Twice. But it’s OK.
It’s all OK because on Monday, 3B started peeing in the potty, and he hasn’t stopped since. OK, technically he pees in an old shampoo bottle half of the time…but he’s on the potty when he does.
The bottle came about when…well, there was the…oh, never mind. Too long and boring a story in writing.
Back to the potty…this came about because we’d decided–and by “we,” I know you know that I mean “the brains of the outfit,” a.k.a. “Mama”–to get rid of diapers on Friday to force the issue. To start the week, Mama was having 3B sit on the potty every half hour and forcing him to wear underwear. He was fine with all that, but still wouldn’t pee in the potty.
Until some point in the afternoon when he wanted to pee in the bath, which he was sharing with his sister. Mama told him he couldn’t, that he’d have to get out and use the potty. His compromise was using the empty shampoo bottle–oh, look, I told you the story anyway–in the shower, which he did.
Then he was frustrated when he couldn’t pee again right away. Mama explained to him how liquids become pee and he spent the rest of the day guzzling whatever he could get his hands on and peed a half-dozen times in the potty before I got home.
We’ve been able to prove that peeing directly in the potty is faster and easier than using the bottle half the time–especially when you have to bring the bottle to school in his backpack and tell his teacher about it, and so he’s using direct deposit more regularly now.
And now Mama and I are walking around here with an extra spring in our steps, almost giddy. It’s as if the wind shifted from head to tail; as if the grade is just as steep, but now downhill instead of up; or as if our brakes had been rubbing for four long years and now we know what it feels like to be free of that drag.
I’m working to make cancer history. Will you help me?