Happy Birthday

To the Man who RULES our House

Without a doubt, this is our captain. And I'll have to say his birthday was a success. I felt like it was a bit of a gamble taking the kids to the zoo but things went rather well. And looking back- my 18 hours of retrospect- it's no mystery why. As most other days, this little Sir was in charge. The difference yesterday...no rebels were in tow (namely: ME.) He had his ducks in a row and we followed him around like the leader he is and there were no meltdowns, no power struggles, just good times. At two years old, I always wonder if they really catch on to the birthday. And while I still don't know that, I think he knew it was a special day for him. By yesterday he finally stopped screaming, "Noooooooooooooo" when we said, "Who's having a birthday?" or "Who's turning 2?" or "Who's the Birthday Boy?" It was a gnarly week of prep but I'm thinking it paid off because a time or two, I heard him offer up on his own, "Dodo 2." Interpreted Deeter 2. And maybe a time or two even sang Happy Birthday to Dodo instead of interjecting the name Harrison as he's been doing all week. Oh he's a cute boy and glad to have him entertaining us.
      

Now yesterday, he wasn't our only entertainer. And in the moment I wouldn't have even considered this entertainment, but it only took an hour for me to have the first random chuckle at this incident and they've continued since. We were on our way home from Santa Barbara and had thus far had an excellent day. No melt downs (the boys.) No temper tantrums (me.) But I was a tired mama. Like stop and grab a Mountain Dew for the hour and a half drive home cuz otherwise I might fall asleep tired. And we had made it. We were there. We were home. I could almost taste it. Two miles to go. Three sleeping children. One barely having woken up. When a second one starts to wake. And he always wakes up like a bear, growling. So when this process began, I wasn't alarmed but knew to let him do his thing. He got out of his seat belt and I didn't say a word. I'm thinking, "Let the boy stretch out and maybe we'll avoid 5 minutes of growling/screaming." Dallin questions this and I tell him to relax. But then Dallin says, "Mom, why is he pulling down his underwear?" I whip around as fast as my little neck would allow to see this child, pants down, standing in pee-ing position. I can't quite wrap my head around what is happening. At a red light 2 measly miles from home, my mind will not accept that Porter is about to pee all over the back seat of the van. There has got to be some other explanation....but THERE'S NOT. I go into emergency mode ready to divert the disaster. "Porter, DO YOU HAVE TO PEE?" Who knows what he says but the answer to the question is more than obvious. So I hand him an empty water bottle and say, "Ok, well just pee into this." And we've done this a number of times. Without incident. No dirty hands, no splashage, not even necessary to touch the boy parts- it's the best port-a-potty ever invented. And he knows how to do this. So he takes the bottle. I'm desperately going in intervals of looking for my green light and hurriedly returning my eyes to the unfolding drama in the back seat. And he starts to pee....all over the back seat. And the floor. And my heart DROPS. And he keeps peeing. Images of the bottle of water he's been drinking. And the whole bottle of Vitamin Water. I'm watching it all come out. And I'm just huffing and puffing and pouting, speechless. That sickening feeling takes over me. Like when you're on a road trip and find out you've been going the wrong way for an hour and a half and the only way to get back on track is to take the same road back for an hour and a half. Because I was that tired. And that's how badly I didn't want to be cleaning up a mess of these sorts. But the potty kept coming. And the smell started traversing. And he pulled his wet pants up and sat down like, "WHAT?" Not a word to be said. I drove that long two miles home- defeated. And he rode those two miles home- satisfied. 

I think my boy was still more than half-way asleep during this incident, bless his heart. We got home, I ate some brownies, put on my big girl pants, and got the mess cleaned up. Turns out his aim wasn't half-bad as he really didn't hit any material. He stuck to the removable mat and areas that a little 409 and towel took care of in no time at all. And like I said, in the short time that has passed, I've already had many a laughs. Thank you, Porter.

(you didn't think these were going to be pics of Porter doing his business, did ya?!)

Happy Birthday, Deeter!