Don't Pee on My Carpet and Tell Me It's Juice!

Have you ever heard of this book title? It instantly came to my mind today, with a slightly different twist.


As I may or may not have mentioned, the twins are now completely potty trained (hurray!)  Except,  Joel likes to use his freedom as a weapon, specifically when he is upset.  If you happen to be holding him when he starts crying, watch out, you're gonna get wet (as one of his aunts recently discovered... sorry, Renee.)

Today he was without bottoms, as we take them off for quiet time (for easy bathroom access if either of them needs to go.)  Quiet time ended (or rather, the boys refused to stay quietly in their rooms any longer), so they were out, but still bottomless.

While upstairs cleaning, I heard Joel throwing a tantrum, so I went down to check on him.  Immediately I saw a stream of wetness on the carpet and knew what had happened.  The conversation that follows, well, let's just say I'm not worried about any cognitive delays:

Mommy: "Joel, did you PEE on the carpet? We do not PEE on the carpet!"
Joel: "No, Juice!"
Mommy: "Don't tell me that's juice! I can tell that it's pee.  It's even on the kitchen floor!"
Joel: "NO! JUICE!"
Evan: "No, Monny! Juice!" (Yes, he lovingly refers to me as Monny instead of Mommy.)
Mommy: "You're telling me that it's juice on the floor, not pee?"
Joel: "Yes!"

Mommy, frustrated, walks into the kitchen. And hears:

Evan (to Joel): "Juice?"
Joel (to Evan): "No, pee."

WHAT? He's informing Evan that it is indeed pee?!

Mommy: "JOEL! I just heard you tell Evan that this is pee on the carpet!"
Joel (in his sweet little angelic voice): "No, Mommy, juice!"

Stinker.  One absolutely adorable stinker. 

(Don't worry, though.  I got him back.  We had a long talk about how Jesus wants us to tell the truth, which pushed him to tears.  Which, of course, was followed by lots of cuddling, singing lullabies, and "Mommy loves you forevers."  Oh yeah... I totally got him back... uh, right?)

Independence Day

Three years ago today, I was checking into a hospital room, told that I was developing preeclampsia, and that I was going to need to stay hospitalized until my body would force our twins to be born (very) early.  I was 24 weeks pregnant; the doctors were hoping that I'd make it to week 27.


I laid in bed, catching glimpses of fireworks rising above the trees outside my window.  It was a very lonely 4th of July.

Praise God that the doctors were wrong! I did NOT develop preeclampsia, they were NOT delivered too early  (they were born at 35 weeks, which was only one month premature.)

Since that day, 4th of July has really meant something special to me.  I recognize and celebrate our country's freedom, but more importantly, I celebrate God as the ultimate doctor and healer!


 We had a great weekend with family.  Both my brother (plus girlfriend) and sister (plus fiance) were around, so we trekked out to my parents for a fun weekend together.  We spent most of the time in the pool, which Joel loved, Evan liked, and Luke almost tolerated.

First time swimming with water wings. They became pros in no time!

Sunday, the 4th, was spent at our house with Grammy, Grampy, and Uncle Scott visiting.  I had gotten them basic matching outfits, which they promptly soaked in the pool.  Just by chance, when I changed their clothes, they still ended up in red and blue!

 We are hoping to make it to the parade today, followed by fireworks this evening.  I'm thinking the boys will love it, if we can just get them to stay up that late.