Why the kitchen is my favorite room today.

Today, while I was preparing dinner, I looked around at my rather...well, to be kind, let's just say lived-in kitchen. And as I looked around, I realized that even in her absence, you'd have no trouble figuring out that a little girl inhabits this place.

I'm not talking about the obvious tip-offs, like the pictures on the wall, or the play kitchen in the corner. No, my favorite signs are a bit more subtle. Like the traces of pink nail polish on the baseboards. The Disney princess boots sitting in the window. The stray sock under the blinds. The dried cereal and ramen noodles under one chair at the table. And if you happen to open the refrigerator, you'll see a plastic doll's bottle of milk carefully lined up next to a sippy cup of the same. The cuteness of which will hopefully distract you from the stick of butter that's been attacked by a butter knife or the string cheese that's been bitten in five places through the wrapping. And if you're really lucky, if you open the cupboard next to the fridge, you might find the little mischief maker herself, in all her sticky, smiley, guilty glory.

They told me to treasure moments like this, because they're gone all too soon. So I write about it and document it in hopes that it will make me smile instead of scowl. And what do you know, it really works. Until Madeline interrupts to show me the stack of papers she's pulled off the counter and scattered all over the kitchen floor. But even then, I'm grinning just a little bit.

You've been Jimmered!

So I was giving a ride to my ten year old brother, taking him to the church where my dad is reffing some Young Men's basketball games, when we had this delightful little conversation. Background information: my dad and I had just a lengthy conversation about Jimmer Fredette and the whole letter to the editor "idol" controversy. My dad expressed his frustration at people who shout "Go Jimmer!" whenever anyone ever makes a basket at church games. Also, my brother is a huge BYU fan and plans to attend there someday. Also keep in mind that he is ten, so he is completely earnest throughout this conversation. No trace of sarcasm.

Me: So, do you like Jimmer? Or do you think people talk about him too much!

Brother: Who's Jimmer?

Me: He's BYU's star basketball player.

Brother: WOO! I LOVE JIMMER! YEAH! (pause) I thought he retired.

Me: No. He plays for BYU. He's really good. Hey, you know what? Dad would really think it was awesome if every time someone scored at the game tonight, you yelled "GO JIMMER!"

Brother: He would?

Me: Yeah. He'd think it was totally funny.

Brother: (after some deliberation)...No, I don't think I'm going to do that. I'll probably get in trouble.

Me: No, Dad would love it! You should do it!

Brother: No. I think I probably won't. Because everyone else there is Utes fans.

Me: That's why you should do it! Don't you want to make your team proud?

Brother: I don't want to make a fool of myself.

Me: No, see, what you should do is stand up in the middle of all the Ute fans and yell, "Jimmer is my idol!"

Brother: (thinks about it for a minute, and then says in a confused voice:) But I don't worship idols.

Me: (Laughing really hard): Ah, [Brother]. You are wise beyond your years.

Brother: I'm wise behind my ears?

Me: (laughing harder.)

Brother: Oh, I get it. Because my brain is behind my ears. So that's where I'm wise.

Because I don't think it's possible to avoid this subject for the next ten years

So I vowed not to ever blog in detail about potty training. Because no one wants to hear about that. But unfortunately I am about to do just that. You've been warned. In my defense, when that's all you're trying to get your kid to think about all day, it starts to be all you're thinking about too.

Madeline has been rather fickle about potty training, We've been trying off and on for the past year to gauge her interest and jump on any enthusiasm for the project. She usually gets excited about it for a day or two, sits on the toilet a lot for a few days, has one or two successes, and then loses interest. I try to force her to keep going for a few days, and then lose patience and decide to give her a few weeks breather and try again later. Repeat every month.

Jessie has been rather excited about the project. No doubt if he was the one home all day with her, she'd have been fully potty trained three months ago through sheer force of will. Unfortunately he has this job he has to go to, so he comes up with these briliiant plans and leaves me to instigate them. So far we have tried sticker charts, presents when she succeeds, picking out and wearing princess panties, and denying her access to the iPad unless she uses the bathroom. She lost interest in the stickers and cries if we don't pick the right one or if we don't put it on her shirt. She got two presents and then lost interest in that. She liked wearing panties and gathered enough of the idea to go to the same spot in the kitchen to do her business. Then she asked for new panties, until we ran out. We thought the iPad would do it but she's been on strike and decided sitting on the toilet wasn't worth the privilege.

We've kind of been at an impasse. The today, after listening to the entire Rapunzal CD for the hundreth time this week (Thanks Grandma! I'm getting your son a bb gun for Valentine's day!), I decided to get rid of it permanently, using my daughter's own stubborness against her. I told her that we could only listen to Tangled if she was sitting on the potty. Then I prepared to put the cd on top of the fridge with the iPod and her pile of presents.

Surprise. She's been sitting on the potty for over half an hour singing "i've Got a Dream" and yelling "What's going to happen to the princess?!". And somehow even though this is supposed to be a victory for me, I feel like I've been duped.

Someday, ther will be no more potty training. And I'm going to buy myself some presents and give myself a whole booklet of stickers to celebrate.