Stop. Potty time.

I always knew I wanted children. Truly. There was never a doubt in my mind I wanted children. More specifically, I always knew I wanted two children. I should also say, I have friends who feel equally certain they do not want children. For my women friends who feel this way and comfortable enough to say it aloud, I'm always proud. Our society seems to think if you're a woman, you must yearn to be a super crafty human maker. I believe you can lead a full life without children. It's just not the life I ever wanted for myself.

When the mister and I finally decided to pull the goalie a funny orbit around doctors and my hormonally-challenged body began. After months, well, years of issues really, I was diagnosed with PCOS, Poly-cystic Ovarian Syndrome. Big fancy words for: you don't make eggs right (I'm not a skillet), oh and you gain weight for no reason but can't lose it (I grow without water) and you might have patchy pigmented skin (you're on your way to actually looking my Latina heritage), hello acne (Didn't I break up with Clearasil a decade ago) and excess hair (didn't have that symptom, praise Jesus.)

So with medical cocktails and an obscenely amazing OB, we managed two children. Dream come true. I basically cooked two eggs. Over easy, since they arrived eight and six weeks early. We're eternally grateful for the little monsters and get to experience life in the company of a little girl and a little boy. I know with all my heart I received exactly what I prayed for: a family.

That, yay I had kids, aside, I could NOT be happier to say, I changed my last diaper, people. I repeat, I changed my last diaper. At least for my children. For 41 months I wiped, powdered, diaper creamed and diapered one boy's cute little bum. Before Eli, is was Charlotte's cute little bum. I never went anywhere without a diaper bag stocked with wipes, clothes, diaper cream, etc. I don't mean to sound like we deserve medals; diapering is something all parents do. It's just when little Eli finally decided to hit the water, I realized I was in a word: done. Done, done, done, done, done!

Since I realize my good fortune and therefore know I'm done having kids, when the proverbial pee light bulb goes on for the youngest, it means d-o-n-e with the diaper bag. It's so stinking life-changing and liberating, I can barely contain myself. If my dear friend hadn't spent a small fortune on my fancy pants Petunia Pickle Bottom diaper bag, I'd channel the 60's and burn it like a bra. Burn baby burn, I say. Not to be confused with drill, baby drill. I'm no hockey mom and my lipstick is optional. I do however, channel MC Hammer and sing in my head: Stop, potty, time...every time the boy goes.

My favorite Eli sayings with regards to his mad potty skills:
1. "My pee/poop is feeling kind of shy Mom. I try later."
2. "Don't worry Mom, I'll be careful to not hurt my penis." (When closing the toilet lid.)
3. "I have to go potty now. You stay here. I need my privacy." (pronounced pwyvacy)
4. "Bye, bye, Eli's poop. See you next time. Have a great day...okay?!"