Practice Runs

I have a penchant for meta-writing, I've noticed. I've rewritten the start of this entry three or four times in my head already, scrapping most of them because they were commentaries on my writing. And this one is too. Meta-writing-avoidance fail.

So....

This weekend was great. Thanks for asking.

No really, though, I spent the night at Qait's, although I probably should point out that no sleeping actually occurred during nighttime hours. We have this bizarre ability to play off each other's energy to stay awake, and since neither of us seem capable of crashing at the same time, things just kept going until we went to bed out of sheer disgust at how horrendously late it was. Poor Michael. It's a miracle he doesn't hate me for keeping his wife up so late every time I come over. Granted, he's usually up with us, doing homework (this time it meant sharing various sordid and creepy details from the lives of the Russian aristocracy off and on throughout the night -- let's just say I'm glad Rasputin is dead and that he's staying that way).

Honestly, I don't regret a minute of it though, and I sincerely hope Qait doesn't either. She's always exactly the kind of antidote I need to get me through my not-so-happy days.

PIZZA ROLLS! My dinner's done! (sorry, stream-of-consciousness writing again... and meta-writing again, too. *sigh*) I'm choosing to ignore the possible discussion on the suitability of pizza rolls as a dinner. Despite my aspirations to be more refined, I often fail in favor of decreasing the wait for food getting in me.

The barely-three-hours-of-sleep-even-though-I-needed-more was worth it too, especially when I woke up to Ender bouncing around the kitchen offering all kinds of commentary on Mommy's activities and then squealing "He wake! He wake!" when he saw me sit up on the couch. Just for clarification's sake, Ender hasn't quite mastered that oh so elusive distinction between masculine and feminine pronouns yet. He knows perfectly well that I'm a girl. He just can't get the hes and shes straight. It's rather charming, really.

Ender also obligingly gave me a taste of one of the adventures of motherhood: potty training. Qait and Michael have been working with him for a week or so now, so he's got the basic idea down. The execution's a little more elusive (+10 awesomeness points if you can name the movie I just referenced). Qait ran Michael to work, so I stayed home with Ender and we turned on a movie. Within minutes, he was dancing and prancing like nobody's business, and despite the adorableness of his impromptu dance performance, years of older-sister-ness kicked in to warn me that I was witnessing the classic potty-dance. So I coaxed him into the bathroom to sit on his little chair, and surprisingly, he obeyed. Fancy that. I'm an authority figure with little kids now. Or maybe he just likes me because I'm a lot like Mom. He still managed to make a mess, but a smaller one than it would have been otherwise, and I had him all cleaned up and the bathroom all tidied by the time Qait got back.

Practice run in potty training: check.

On the flip side of all the warm fuzzies of potty training (haha. sarcasm), I also experienced that heart-stopping swoop of terror when we turned around in the music store and he wasn't immediately in sight. I'm sure it's much worse when you're a mother, but it was enough.

Practice run in mother-radar: check.

You know, I really wish I had a recent picture of him to show off. Seeing as he currently has no competition for my affections, I feel inclined to want people to ooh and aah over him. Heck, I do. He melted my heart when he told me he loved me at the end of the day on Saturday. And that was after insisting on holding my hand, wrapping his arms around my legs while we waited for Qait to pull the car around at the store, and snuggling up with me while we watched a movie.

Practice run in all the sweet, tender moments of motherhood: check.

I love my adoptive nephew. Clearly. :) There are few things as healing to the body and mind as the love of a child. Even with the bad/hard/frustrating stuff thrown in, I honestly can't imagine anything being more rewarding than raising children. And that's coming from my limited experience with my best friend's son.