Alex is away on vacation for a week, and I’m home with the boys, so I decided that I was going to take it upon myself to seize this opportunity to take our potty training (or lack-there-of) to the next level. I’ve been really pushing the potty since we got home from Virgin Gorda and the boys are waaaay into it too. And… Today… drumroll please… was Kyle and Owen’s first day in underpants — a huge, huge milestone day for them both! They were sooooooooooo proud to be wearing underpants. And they both got through the whole day with no accidents! We still have a long road ahead of us with all-things-potty, but we’ve turned a huge corner in the journey.

P.S. In a rare occurrence, when we went shopping for underpants first thing this morning, they each had quite different tastes and preferences: Kyle wanted boxer-style-briefs and Owen wanted to go the more traditional route. And Kyle went for the Lightening McQueen/Cars underpants while Owen went for Thomas. But the minute we got home they ripped off their shorts and diapers to get those undies on ASAP. They could not have been more proud of themselves and each other! Many times today they each exclaimed to me: “We are big boys Mama! Me and my brother both! We are wearing underpants!”

2 from O and 1 from K:

This evening after dinner Owen and Kyle were getting their shoes on so they could go outside to help Braydon put the trash at the end of the driveway. With certain shoes now (especially their crocs) the boys are able to put their own shoes on their feet but they often make the classic young-child-mistake of putting the shoes on the ‘wrong’ feet. Lately we’ve been trying to teach them the concepts of ‘right’ vs. ‘left’ re: their shoes/feet and many other things. Tonight Owen had put his shoe on the ‘wrong’ foot and I said to him: “Ooops! That’s the wrong shoe!” Then…
Owen: “That’s the left foot?”
Heather: “Yup!”– [totally surprised that he’s actually correctly using ‘left’] –“That’s the left foot!”
O: [pointing to his right foot] “And that’s the right foot?”
H: “Yes! It is!”
O: “I’m so smart.”

This afternoon, partly because of a thunder storm, and partly because of our post-Emergency-Room-Visit-Effort to keep the boys calm and the activities low-key, I did something almost unheard of around here: When I got home from work I suggested to the boys that we watch a video. We were sitting on the couch eating popcorn and watching a Curious George video that involves George riding a rocket into space. (Kyle’s recent OBSESSION with Curious George books and videos will have to be a whole other post someday). Anyway, in the beginning of the video George visits the professor who invented the rocket he will ride into space. The boys had watched this video 3-4 times previously, and Braydon had told them that “Mama is a professor too.” This afternoon when the professor scene began…
O: “My mommy is a professor too.”
H: “Yes.”
O: “Not my Papi.”
H: “No.”
O: “Just my mommy is a professor.”
H: “That’s right.”
O: “I’m so mad at Papi.”
H: “Why? Why are you so mad at Papi?”
O: “I’m so mad at Papi because he’s not a professor!”


I was outside with the boys late this afternoon when Braydon finished working and came out to join us. He walked right up to me and started kissing me a lot. Whenever we kiss for any extended time (not just a quick peck), Kyle and Owen both have the same reaction. They stop everything — whatever they are doing — and just stare at us. Today when Braydon and I were kissing…
Kyle: “Stop! Papi, Papi, stop that! Stop that now! Mommy and Papi, stop that!”
Braydon: “Kyle, I’m kissing your mama.”
K: “Stop that Papi!”
B: “No, I’m kissing your mama because I love her.”
K: “But I don’t like that. Stop that.”
[A few seconds go by…]K: “I AM JEALOUS FROM THAT.”

Kyle and Owen have pretended to talk on the phone with each other countless times. But last night was their first real phone call together one-on-one. Kyle was in the waiting room of the hospital Emergency Room with Braydon. Owen was at home with me. Braydon called home to check in. We put Owen and Kyle on the phone alone together. I put it on speaker phone so I could hear:

Kyle: Hi Owen!
Owen: Hi Kyle.
K: Hi Owen! You there Owen?
O: Kyle, I am staying at home.
K: Oh.
O: Kyle, you have a big owie?
K: Yes. I have a bracelet Owen. I have a bracelet. [He’s referring to the hospital admittance bracelet.]O: Oh.
K: Hi Owen!
O: Kyle, I am staying at home. You are at the hospital Kyle?
K: Hi Owen!
O: I miss you Kyle. I love you.
K: I love you too.
O: I love you Kyle. I’m waiting for you at home. You have a big owie?
K: It’s red. It’s red. It’s red Owen.
O: Oh. O.k. Where’s Papi?
K: A PT Cruiser! I saw a PT Cruiser with Papi. [Apparently they had seen a PT Cruiser car during the drive to the hospital.]O: Oh. O.k. Bye.
K: Bye.

For “This Post Has No Title I” click here.

This weekend we were in Sam’s Club stocking up for the summer. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Sam’s Club is a large bulk warehouse store similar to Costco, BJs, etc. We recently got a membership to Sam’s Club (it just happens to be the closest to us of those kind of stores). One thing I really like about going to this particular Sam’s Club is that it is extraordinarily racially and socio-economically diverse. Anyway– when we arrived we split up so that we could get in and out faster. I took Owen and one cart, and Braydon took Kyle and another cart. We each set off with our lists, and agreed to meet up in 30 minutes. Just as the 30 minutes ran up, and we were heading to the spot where we were to meet up with Braydon and Kyle, Owen suddenly said “Mommy, I need to go poopie on the potty!” Like any other parent fully in the throws of potty training would, I quickly parked our cart in an isle, grabbed my boy, and ran as fast as I possibly could through the huge gigantic store to find the potty. We made it in time and Owen was — of course — very, very proud. He said, “I need to tell Papi!!!” I said, “Yes!” And as we left the bathroom, he started excitedly running down the main center isle back to where we were to meet up. I was walking quickly following about 5-10 feet behind him. Like I said, this store is very diverse. Literally in that one walk down that center isle I consciously noted that every major racial/ethnic group in the U.S.A. was represented. As we approached about halfway down that main isle I noticed a group of five middle-age black women walking with one cart together. They seemed jovial and I was thinking that I’d bet my life that they were shopping for a graduation party of some sort. I watched as all five of them noticed Owen and then stopped their chatter to stare at him. I then watched as one of the women — a very dark skinned black woman in a beautiful dress — moved into Owen’s path and put her hands out to physically stop him in his tracks. Stunned, Owen stopped and looked up at the woman. I was standing right behind him now. The woman looked all around (including right at me — we even made eye contact), and then said to Owen, “Little boy, where is your mommy?” He was stunned and confused, just looking blank-faced up at her. Louder she said, “Little boy, where is your MOMMY???” The other four women stood staring down at Owen. Several people all around heard it, stopped their shopping and their conversations, and started watching. The moment seemed to be in slow motion for me. I vividly remember my boy turning his head around and looking up at me with a confused and stunned look in his eyes. I vividly remember the five black women all scanning the store in every direction. I vividly remember other shoppers silently staring. “Right here,” I said as confidently and self-assuredly as I could muster. “I am his mother and I am right here.” The woman took her hands off of Owen and I gently touched his head. All five of the women just stood there staring at me with blank looks. For Owen’s sake I repeated it again, as calmly as possible, and with a smile on my face I looked the women in the eye, and as everyone — including my son — stared at me: “I am his mother and I am right here.”

Although most everyone we encountered on Virgin Gorda was black, the only three verbal acknowledgments of anything related to race from the boys were:

• On Saturday morning we were at Savannah Bay Beach (see photos below). The only other people anywhere within sight were 3 groups of locals who appeared to be families. They were all hanging out on one area of the beach and there were a whole bunch of young kids who were swimming in the water and playing on the sand. We plopped down our stuff fairly close to these folks and starting playing in the water ourselves. At one point Owen was on the beach with Braydon and I, while Kyle was in the shallow water to the left of us. Just past Kyle, about 20 feet down the beach, a group of kids were also playing in the water (probably at least a dozen kids, mostly boys, wearing nothing but underpants or shorts). Owen was watching Kyle and also looking past him watching the kids. Matter of factly Owen said to me, “Look Mama, just like my brother.” I said, “What do you mean?” He said, “Those ones look just like my brother.” I said, “Yes Owen! That’s so smart for noticing that! Yes, their skin looks just like your brother’s skin!” He got up and ran to the water to join Kyle. On his way he yelled out to me: “They’re black!” Then a short pause. Then: “Black skin!”
• One day toward the end of our trip we were all sitting on the beach having a snack after having been snorkeling. Braydon and I were talking and the boys were just chowing down. In the midst of our conversation Braydon mentioned something about how tan he and I were both getting. I said to Braydon, “Have you noticed how dark they’re getting?” (meaning, had he noticed that Kyle and Owen’s skin was visibly a few shades darker since arriving on Virgin Gorda.) Braydon said, “Yes, they’re getting so dark.” Kyle abruptly looked up from his snack and said “WHAT?” I said, “We were just talking about how dark we’re all getting.” “ME???”, asked Kyle. “Yes, you. And all of us. Our skin. It is getting darker from the sun.” He looked at his arm and said, “Yes, my skin is dark.” Then he went on to eat more of his snack. Later that day Kyle pointed out some men to me and said, “Mama, look, they are dark like me. Not morning. They are dark.”
• Many, many people on Virgin Gorda have dreadlocks. Some men have very long dreadlocks, all the way down their backs. People would often greet Kyle and Owen by saying: “Its the Rasta Babies!” Or, “Hi Little Rasta Boy!” They loved to touch their hair and talk about their hair and (much to my pride and joy) tell me how “HEALTHY!!!” their hair is. Men specifically seemed to love Kyle and Owen and would often greet the boys by saying, “Hi little man! Hey there my little brother!” ETC. One night we were at an open-air restaurant that is a big local hangout. Everyone sits at tables on a deck overlooking the ocean. A group of men were sitting at a large table drinking beer and playing dominoes. Several of the men had long, long locs. As we entered the scene they were all thrilled to see the boys there and the boys were — of course — thrilled to be the center of attention. The men were doing the fist-slam with the boys, high fives all around, and two of the men (both of whom had long locs) were chatting it up with the boys while their arms were around them and were rubbing K & O’s backs, etc. It was all very, very, very sweet and cute and nice. I noticed Kyle look up at the man who had his arm around him, he was looking at the man’s long dreds (which were in a ponytail) and then he looked at me and somehow I just knew that Kyle wanted to touch the man’s hair but was hesitant. I said, “Kyle, look at his beautiful dreadlocks.” (loud enough for the man to hear). Kyle said, to the man: “Yes. Just like mine.” (and he put both hands to his own head and pulled up a couple locs to ‘show’ to the man.) The man touched Kyle’s hair and said, “Yes, look at your locs little man!” Kyle then touched the man’s hair and was rubbing his hands up and down the man’s long locs. Kyle looked at me and said, “I want big dreadlocs.” The men all started laughing. Owen chimed in, “I want to be a big man. Just like him.” (and he pointed to the man closest to him — who also happened to have long dreds). I said, “You will both be big men someday. But now you have nice dreadlocs. And they are still short. Because you are a boy.” Kyle looked at the man and said, “I have dreadlocs. Just like your dreadlocs. Me and my brother both. We will be big men just like you. We will have big dreadlocks.”