Right now Eliza is in the middle of potty-training. It is not fun. I'm second-guessing everything I'm doing with it, and she and I both frequently end up frustrated, but she also seems to be willingly progressing so I feel like I need to keep it up. However, every time I ask "Do you need to go potty?" I am met with screaming and running away, and when I pick her up she attempts to escape by climbing up my belly. Ouch. I have heard that when the time is right, kids get the hang of using the potty right away. I'm not entirely sure that the time was right, but I don't think there's any turning back now. Sigh.
But bathroom tantrums aside, my oh my do I love this age! Eliza is talking like a madwoman, and I love to hear the stuff that comes out of her mouth. I'm not even sure how many words she strings together in an average sentence anymore... it's more like paragraphs. She's starting to get into more "let's pretend"-type play, so it's a lot of fun to hear her playing in the next room, making her toys talk -- in a high voice, of course. (Ben and I make all our inanimate objects talk in a high voice, and Eliza has taken note.) And even on my hardest days with her, there is still something adorable that she says or does that makes all of the frustration worth it. The other night she grabbed my head with both hands and pulled me close for a kiss, then said "I love you." Clean up of mom puddle in aisle four.
Today I attempted a pumpkin cheesecake -- my first cheesecake ever -- to take to Thanksgiving dinner next week. Now that it is done baking, it has to sit in a closed oven for two hours. Then it has to sit in the fridge for eight. I see why I don't make cheesecake. But now that the oven is turned off and Eliza is asleep, I may head upstairs for a bit of a rest myself.
