We're continuing to work on potty training with Pudge, but we have more obstacles in our way than Pudge's power over her own bladder.
One very REAL obstacle.
One very Bigg obstacle.
When placing Biggs in the care or company of others, I will immediately inform them that Biggs is very, very strong.
Usually, they think I mean "strong for a child with Down syndrome".
I do not.
I mean "strong for a typical two-year-old human being."
Often I say, "Biggs is very, very strong" and they hear "He doesn't need help walking or need to be coddled."
What I mean for them to hear is, "Protect yourself and the items and people you love. Biggs can destroy them all in under a minute".
Case in point.
The following carnage occurred during Pudge's latest two minute trip to the restroom.
That would be the lower rack of my dishwasher you're viewing.
Yes, Biggie pulled the rack out of the dishwasher.
Yes, it was full of dishes at the time.
No, I was not personally strong enough to return the rack to the dishwasher without removing dishes first.
Impressed that the dishes were kept in their original locations?
Biggie had plans for one of my Corelle dinner plates.
You know...the unbreakable ones.
Corelle, meet the Biggs. That destruction didn't leave any shard wider than a #2 pencil.
And I'd love to say that, when caught in the crime, he's riddled with guilt and regret.
But apparently the "seek and destroy" part of his brain has overtaken the "experience remorse in front of your mother, even if you have to fake it because it might just save your life" part of his brain.
As I was cleaning up ceramic shrapnel, Pudge wet her underpants.
So she took them off.
And put on a dry pair of pull ups.
And went about her day.
I think she senses I may be approachable for negotiating what "potty trained" looks like in this house.
I don't plan on too many uterus-focused blog posts.
But our email inbox seems to suggest that curiosity abounds regarding the upcoming addition, so we'll satiate you with a few more details.
This is the squish.
We're in the second trimester and have an October 27th due date.
That puts the "at full term" date five days after Biggie's birthday and five days before Pudge's. Nice even split, if we do say so ourselves.
How am I feeling?
Pretty darn tired. And Justin would say moody if he was out of reach of my fists. I'm also feeling carsick about 23 1/2 hours of the day, but I have a couple prescriptions helping out with that.
Our biggest hope is for a healthy, perfectly-put-together baby. We feel like gluttons praying for it, since we already have two that fit that description right now, but we're shooting the moon and hoping for a third. As for genitals, I haven't a preference but with the track record on Justin's side, we're banking on blue and feel pretty confident Pudge will maintain her post as resident Princess.
Ummm. None of your business. Same answer for those photographs-from-the-side expecting moms take of themselves. You know who does that? People who look cute when they're pregnant. I am NOT one of those. I wasn't showing you close ups of my stomach beforehand, I am certainly not going to begin now. Just picture an unusually haggard-looking woman slowly descending into obesity who is wearing ill-fitting pants and decidedly NOT glowing. That will be accurate image enough.
Sleep is my #1 craving right now. I haven't actually experienced "hunger" in about 9 weeks but I am going through pears, sauerkraut, watermelon, and tangerine grapefruit juice at an alarming rate. Oh, and I will confess to eating more Whatchamacallit candy bars in the last week than I have in the last year.
My sister and I have goofy blood that doesn't carry folic acid and likes to clot way more than it should.
It means pregnancies come with supplements and anticoagulants and lots of blood monitoring. I did abdominal injections with my last pregnancy but my perinatologist okayed starting this one out with an aspirin regimen and working up to injected anticoagulants as I need to, based on blood work. It will be a trick to make it full term without complications, but I feel like we're informed on what the situation is and have lots of big-brained people advising us along the way.
Poor Pudge and Biggs.
Pudge is the most excited sibling regarding the upcoming baby. (To be honest, this is because there's been some miscommunication and she's under the impression we will be kidnapping her buddy Eli's new baby brother at some point in the future). I do hope the enthusiasm continues, since Pudge is going to feel her little buns pushed toward Big Girldom a bit faster than they otherwise may have been. The thought of three cribs and three in diapers gives our home an "overcrowded foreign orphanage" feel I'd rather not embrace, so she's got a productive summer ahead. Her communication skills are blossoming lately and she's gaining confidence in taking the initiative to communicate her needs (via signing) so I know she'll rise to the challenge.
There is, without question, a dark day looming for "baby" Biggs, but ultimately we're doing the kid a huge favor. People don't anticipate Biggie's highly dramatic, tantrum-throwing behavior thanks to Down syndrome stereotyping and his sister's perpetual sunshine. So, we're making him a middle kid in the hopes that birth order can be blamed for what has eluded explanation up until now.
Thanks so much for the many congratulations and the enthusiasm you've shown for our newest recruit. I am learning there's a natural order to things and there may be a reason a sane person doesn't experience their first pregnancy with two toddlers in the house while attending grad school, but so far we're surviving. We'll keep you posted on our progress and look forward to celebrating with you in the fall!
When I need a picture for the blog, I tell Pudge and she gives me this.
When I need a picture for the blog, I tell Biggs and he gives me this.
So, rest assured.
And if the blog included a "squib sounds" audio feature, rest assured the crashing, falling, breaking, shattering and thumping that is the constant soundtrack in this house would be 98% Biggs-produced.