We left the house to get Drano and medicine and came home with four Disney princesses.

I do not know this happened.

I only know that I am eating big juicy spoonfuls full of my former declarations.

“She won’t wear gobs of pink.”

Gulp.

“We won’t do all that girly stuff like painting toe nails.”

Gulp.

“She’s not going to be all into princesses. Yuck.”

Belch.

 

Here in the deep south we don’t really consider September fall in as much as we’re still wearing bathing suits and swimming. But those of us who love pumpkin candles DO consider it fall in as much as we’re going to burn those suckers even if it is 400 degrees outside. Plus, they were selling small pumpkins at the farmer’s market on Saturday. That was all the green light I needed.

So. Potty training. It’s our world now. It’s a new world for Jane, and a new world for us, especially considering we took her potty to a cookout with friends yesterday, and she took the initiative to go pee without prompting, was super proud of herself, and didn’t bother to put her pants back on before streaking into the middle of the party and yelling, “MOMMY I PEE PEE.” So there’s that.

I still need to hem the new curtains in the dining room, but they’re a lovely jersey fabric that hangs beautifully and doesn’t fray, so I don’t have the normal sense of urgency to hem them. This is bad. This means they could go unhemmed for some time. Because without a sense of urgency I just shrug, turn on Sharktopus on the SyFi channel and ignore my to do list.

I really do love September. The weather really does start to shift. And somehow it’s all so much more fun with Jane. She notices everything. She notices “yewow leaves” and I can only imagine how stoked she’ll be for Halloween. Life has changed folks. There are tutu skirts in the living room and a potty chair in the kitchen. There’s a tiny wet bathing suit drying in the laundry room, and she insists on having her little toenails painted weekly when the polish starts to rub off. Saturday night I was reading her books before bed, and she reached out, patted my cheek and said, “I love you, mommy.”

I cannot imagine what we ever did without her.

I cannot imagine what I did with all that time (although I can promise you I wasn’t making good use of it).

I cannot imagine lighting a pumpkin candle without her following me around, sniffing the air, and saying, “Smell good mommy, smell good.”

I cannot imagine a world without Jane in it.

Some of you dear readers keep asking for a house tour. Here it is. But not really.

I went back and pulled together past pictures from various posts and just stuck them all in one place. So it’s not a real house tour. It’s more like those fake Barbie dolls with too-big eyes. Or those knock off jeans at Target with labels that are clearly not expensive, even though they’re trying really hard.

I’m just going to do what everyone else in our country is doing right now. I’m blaming it all on Miley Cyrus.

And while we’re on the subject of Miley Cyrus, can we all just agree that the Thicke fellow in all his Footlocker garbed splendor should be thrown under the same judgement bus?

All that to say, Jane, if you become a pop star and behave like that, I’ll hobble up on stage and chase you around with my cane. And then I’ll fall. And you’ll come over to help me. And I’ll totally knock your knees out from under you with said cane and we’ll both be sprawled out together, beneath the house lights.

You’ll look at me and say, “I hope you’re happy mother, you’ve ruined my career.”

And I’ll say, “I am. Here, put on this sweater.”

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

 

She’s home. My heart is whole again. We have some retraining to do.

There are bright orange, gigantic flowers popping up in the backyard. There are also two crepe myrtle trees that I hadn’t realized were there until they bloomed magenta and lavender. I love this yard.

You might remember that I got new drapes in the dining room, and I made a matching valence in the kitchen. Nothing frilly. Frilly valences give me hives. But I like the continuity. I also like doing dishes with the window open, candles lit, and patio lights on. Seriously. Household chores should not be so meditative.

I framed some new artwork in the dining room, and I’m slowly rearranging things. Decorating takes forever around here.

Jane got promoted into a new daycare class. It has been somewhat of a disaster. She doesn’t like the change. She wants her old teachers. She wants her old class mates (they mix them up every year). So in order to cope (and bear in mind I’m guessing since it’s been a while since I was two) she’s developed a fairly sizable fixation on Play Doh. It’s like her version of medication.

The second she gets home, weepy and tired, she asks, “Do Play Doh?”

The second she wakes up she says, “No school. Do Play Doh?”

I completely understand this. I fixate on things to alleviate my stress (although generally it’s ice cream, or Harry Potter, or Pinterest). I know this will shake out after a while, but it hurts to watch her be stressed. So, when my parents and sister came into town and offered to take her back to their house for two fun filled days of complete attention and Play Doh focusing, I couldn’t say no.

She’s having a fabulous time, her own little toddler vacation. I, however, am a little lost. I passed by her empty bedroom last night and let out an audible sob. It’s almost as if someone cut off my leg, put it in a car, and took it two hours away. It’s not right. The world isn’t spinning correctly.

But, she needed this. It’s been a long summer, a hard week, and the kid just needed a change in routine and a little less stress, if only for a few days. I get it. I do. Sometimes you just really need some freedom from the grind. Sometimes you just need to spend time with your Play Doh.