Buzz Lightyear & God, No Wait, make that God & Buzz Lightyear

So this week, I decided it was high time I start teaching the little boy to pray and remind the big girl how to as well.

I readily admit, the timing of my teachable moment epiphany has everything to do with signing the little boy up for Catholic Preschool. That whole Catholic fear slash guilt thing of having ours be the only child not in the Sign of The Cross know was horrifying to the internal mortal sin level. Those of you who are absent Catholics know what I'm talking about. Not being up for 50,000 Hail Marys and 2,104 Rosaries, I got the prayer ball rolling.

I've never considered myself anything but Catholic. I find the church and its rituals comforting. I did my time, I mean 10 years of Catechism, and all my sacraments up to marriage. I conscientiously objected that one on account of my desire not lie to the church and His Holiness about my co-habitation habit, not to be confused with a Nun's garment. Just the opposite actually. Somehow lying to the church seemed wrong. More so, than the church considering my living with Ben before marriage sinful to the point of not allowing us to marry in the church. I made the choice to live with Ben on my own, fully knowing it was a trial basis thing for marriage. Coming from divorced parents, we decided it prudent to see if we could live together.deal with bills and money before we committed to a lifetime and family. Seems/ed backwards to many, but to us it made sense to us and worked well, but I digress.

So, for you non-Catholics, saying/making the Sign of The Cross goes like this: In the name of the Father (touch forehead), the Son (touch chest), the Holy (touch left shoulder) Spirit (touch right shoulder), Amen. This ritual comes before and after saying a prayer.

The little boy loved the ritual. A funny conversation followed. (Note: I started writing this the day it happened, it's now two weeks later and I don't remember verbatim, but this is super-close.)

Eli: Mommy, who's, the Father?
Me: The Father is God, sweetie.
Eli: Who's God?
Me: Someone magical who lives way up high in the sky, past the clouds in a place called Heaven. He helps us everyday to be good. His son's name was Jesus.
Eli: Oh, cool. That nice. Can I go fly up high in the sky with Buzz Lightyear and go see him?
Me: Yes.

This awwww moment brought so many warm fuzzies, my goal now is to start going to church again. I'm realistically shooting for 1-2 times a month.

I should totally volunteer to be on one of those, "Catholics Come Home" commercials.

The Sippy Cup Chronicles: Potty Training Part 1?

I'm trying to potty train my three year old. I have no idea what the eff I'm doing. Yes, I said eff.

I get lots of advice. I ask for lots of advice. I've skimmed the books. I say skim because after the first five pages, I stop. They all make it seem so easy. Just follow these five clever steps and voila...no more diapers. I've skimmed the articles, the blogs, polled the people on Facebook. I've heard if I use my seven year daughter's Baby Alive and have my son teach it to potty train its plastic self, he too will learn how, drum roll please, in a day or less.

Anyone over a certain age thinks I'm a year too late to the party. Some say it out loud. Others don't, instead they tell me about how their grand kids were trained and how their own babies were trained, all before age two. I will say, in their defense, if I had to scrub cloth diapers by hand I'd probably be more motivated. But I don't and I'm pretty sure that it's my son who's in control of his pee-nis, not me.

I can admit too, it totally intimidates me. I don't want to deal with it. This child in question is beautiful, smart and spirited in all the ways wonderful and behaviorally woeful.

Today we tried underwear. I asked every few minutes if he needed to pee. He tried several times. He went once and got his prized chocolate chips. Big high fives and knuckles! Then in the next 90 minutes he sprayed Thomas the Tank Engine, drowned Mickey Mouse and drenched The Hulk...in underwear and finally asked to wear his Buzz Lightyear pull-ups. I called it a day and we went to Wendy's for a Frosty and followed that tasty treat with a really good snuggle slash nap.

What's that Scarlett O'Hara said? Tomorrow is another day. Or was it, lather, rinse, repeat? No, that was the shampoo bottle I forgot to use today. It all starts to blur together after a while.