Oh, and as far as creating stuff I think my next project is going to be modifying our cloth diapers. It seems the infant size prefolds are not absorbing enough for Darby (who apparently pees more than the other two did? go figure) and the bigger size we have are so huge that if you manage to contain them inside a wrap they make her butt so gigantic none of her pants fit. My mom already tried her using her serger on the bigger prefolds to see if we could just shorten them a bit, but they were too thick (I think the cutting was where she had problems) and I didn't want her breaking her machine on them. So I'm going to try using the trusty zig zag stitch very basic sewing machine and see if we can't work something out. I'll try and post some pictures of the offending diapers to help make sense of my rambling decription, too.

Eeeeeeeeeeeew!

Well, it didn't take long to have a laugh or go crazy moment today. I got the older two off to preschool and came home to take a blissfully quiet shower with only 1 other person to hog the water - Darby, my 17 month old. Just as I leaned back to rinse the shampoo out of my hair I smelled it. The unmistakable odor of bodily functions. My eyes flew open just in time to see it float past her leg in the ankle deep water (I had plugged the tub to increase her splashing capability). In my calmest voice possible at that moment I yelled "Darby did you poop?" to which she replied "Yeeeeeeees" in the deepest voice I have ever heard from her. And before my eyes there was more. In an instant we were both standing soapy and dripping on the bathroom rug staring at each other. Her, wondering what all that fuss was about and me, wondering how the heck I was going to get the tub emptied and sterilized with shampoo dripping in my eyes.

The funniest part was my attempt to make it a teaching moment. "Darby you can't poop in the tub." and her answer? "Why?", of course.

Parenting re-thought

Ok, so maybe acting like a tyrannical nutcase isn't the best way to deal with my children. I'm willing to admit that. But when your instinctual reaction to stress is to scream and holler and jump up and down... Well, at least they're learning some life skills. Maybe if my own mom hadn't been so damn rational and in control of herself I'd have better coping mechanisms myself. Like my kids. They're not going to escape childhood without learning how to deal with a raving lunatic. So really I'm doing them a favor.

Yep. I can rationalize ANYTHING.

This is all fine and dandy, but it doesn't even come close to answering the question, "How do kids learn to take care of their stuff?" And if you say it's by example, then how many years of example do they need to witness? Because Kyle and I do take care of our things. You won't see us sitting on an obviously too small and fragile stool that we have been repeatedly asked not to sit on (this one wasn't actually theirs, it was at a friend's house). Come to think of it, maybe breaking stuff is the answer. Maybe breaking things is the only way to learn what fragile looks and feels like. Hmmmmmm. I wonder...