My kingdom for a few quiet moments before dark

I tried to write a few minutes ago, and was interrupted so many times that I remembered why I've opted for staying up late as opposed to trying to drown everyone out.

It takes a ton of effort to drown them out and still make a complete sentence...and not leave out important things like vowels and punctuation, so bear with me.  I'm certainly not as young or as much of a multi-tasker as I used to be.

Great, now I've lost my train of thought...

Oh, yeah.  I was going on about chaos and wishing for quiet.  Or a dull roar.

And I lost my train of thought.  Again.  Audrey just ran screaming over to me and grabbed my arm, so I have a good excuse.  Don't worry, there's no blood involved, just a brother chasing her.

I'm throwing in the towel, until later on tonight.

But not before I add that whoever said potty training a girl would be easier than potty training a boy "because they don't miss their mark" doesn't know my daughter.

She wants to watch the action, so to speak.  And when she does, her anatomy tilts to the point that she misses her mark.  I've found it's better to stand off to the side as I provide the assist instead of right in front of her.  You get the picture.

"Listen for it, don't look,"  I plead, as I plop her down.  And she looks.  And I sigh as I reach for the tp to clean up. 

I think she's just making up for lost time, for all the times on the changing table that I didn't have to worry about but had to dodge with her brothers.

On the bright side, it's been almost a week.  No real accidents.  I'll have a smaller dent in my budget without diapers or pullups on my list.  It's the cutest thing ever to hear her say "panties."  (So far, we've gotten "Hello Kitty" and "My Pretty Pony" prints.)

On the not-so-bright side, "I do it" is still the hardest thing to allow her to do.  It's agonizing to watch her get dressed, because she misses the leg openings 100 times, it seems, before getting a foot in, and then, lol, they are on backwards...

Isn't it funny how "I do it" is music to your ears when your husband says it, but makes you cringe inwardly everytime it comes out of the mouth of your three year old?

She's so proud of herself that I let her start over.  As many times as she needs.

Because I'm pretty proud of her, too.