Potty, Nastics, and a Green Thumb

Okay, so I've held out for a few days, and I can't stand it anymore. Blog, I have returned to you. Since I wrote the last time, we've had a couple of exciting things take place. First of all, Mimi has "poo poo pottied" not once but TWICE. This is HUGE for me because there is a possibility of not having her in diapers once Connor or Mack or whatever we name him arrives. Yes, we have another option for Baby Darby. Connor Wilson or Wilson McLain. I hate decisions. Mimi and Mack or Mimi and Connor. Sigh.
Anyway, so Clint and I sang the "Mimi poo poo pottied" song (it's kinda like what you'd sing in a congo line), Mimi did her poo poo dance, and she was rewarded with "nima nims!" Hoooo-ray!!

Mimi also had her Little Gym "Big Show," which is sort of like a recital. Totally unorganized and crazy and disco-ball bright from grandparents flashing their cameras . . . and so much fun for little Mimi and all her friends at "nastics." Who doesn't love a good dogpile?

Okay, so maybe nothing too exciting has been happening . . . but all very important, right? Along with using the potty, another favorite bathroom pasttime for Mimi is brushing her teeth. Notice how she is standing on the potty. I know it looks convenient, but it's actually pretty dangerous. I have to keep the bathroom door closed now because she runs in there yelling, "Teeth! Teeth!" and the next thing I know she is turning on the scalding hot water and dangling in the little space between the sink and toilet.

As a kid, one of my favorite parts of summer was my plastic pool. My mom would fill it up in the morning to give the water time to warm up a little, and then after lunch she would sit in the shade and "shuck" (is that the right word?) corn and peas in a lawn chair while Bobby and I splashed around.

Now Mimi has the newer version blow-up fancy little pool, and I am so happy that she loves it. She doesn't care that the water is fah-reezing and loves getting in and out and in and out.

She discovered that her swimsuit had little strawberries dangling from the front and said, "Look, Mommy, stwawbewwies. Yummy!" She also walked up to every single hydrangea bloom and gave it a smackeroo. "Hi, Flowa. Mmmm-ah!"

And now for some "yumminess" -- the gorgeous gardenias in my back yard. Are you drooling? Because you should be. We have two monstrous, shiny green bushes completely covered in stark white petals that emit a fragrance that I want to bottle up and sell. Someone named Rita lived in my house a very long time ago (I learned this from my current neighbor, also named Rita) and knew what she was doing with her green thumb. I have never seen anything like it. The bushes are at least 12 feet tall and make me so happy at the end of May. Since living at the little house on Prescott I have killed hundreds of dollars worth of bushes, but one thing I've done right are the hydrangeas. I was a little reluctant to even try them because I'm not a fan of the smurf blue ones. A couple of homes on my street have the smurf blue, and since my soil is probably similar to theirs I was a little nervous. No reason to be. I get the most beautiful pink and purple and light blue hydrangeas, and I have no idea what I've done to deserve this.
Sewing update: still have no time. I want so badly to create so much, and it just isn't working out for me. Here are a couple of fun things I've tried lately for gifts. For a new baby in our Sunday School class, a fun turtle towel:
And for my little diva of a neice, a hip tank top and comfy wide-leg capris. I totally stole the beach towel pants idea from Bumbletees (please don't tell them!), and I think they look so stinkin cute. Miss Olivia's birthday was, oh, several weeks ago, so I hope she doesn't mind our tardiness with the gift-giving. And I also hope she doesn't mind that it didn't come from Justice. Ugh. I know every girl her age loves that store, but it's just a little too grown-up for my taste. In my eyes she is still 3 years old, so you can see why I take issue with this.