Is it Time? -- to start the Potty Training?

            Last Wednesday, at approximately 11:37 in the a.m., the daughter of the Recent Paterfamilias, clever little animal that she is, discovered how to open her own diaper.  The expression which spread across her face, as her fingers decidedly pulled that Velcro strap off to the side, has not been seen on a human visage since that Greek guy sat in his bathtub, saw the water rise, and then ran through the streets screaming Eureka, Eureka.  As many of my readers might suppose, this discovery of my daughter is, decidedly, not good. 

            This is not a good development.  And it must be admitted, even by this observer (the closest of close observers of that tiny human): This child is smarter than I am.  This is an established fact.  And, thusly, she can thereby outwit me, distract me, bamboozle me, and then there we are: a diaper-less baby accompanied by a man who’s a mess in a room that’s a disaster.  This, it must be acknowledged, is hardly an enviable position in which to find oneself. 

            So what does one do?  Does one potty train early?  Does one yell, scream, chastise, and then repeat as necessary?  Does one duct tape the diaper to her tiny derrière? 

            The Recent Paterfamilias finds himself conflicted.  Duct tape is easily accessible and reassuringly economical, but is it worth it?  And how does one train an infant out of learning that which she has already taught herself?  Frankly, to this R.P., that seems like an exercise in futility, if not downright impossible. 

            Per my personal experience, it should be noted that babies, as a species, don’t seem to want to learn all that much, but that which they do learn, they don’t seem to forget all that easily.  The Recent Paterfamilias supposes that they are much like the common, ill-bred housecat in this way. 

            So what am I to do?  The R. P. appreciates expressionistic art as much as the next idiot, but Jackson Pollack-esque splatters of baby bowel movements on my living room walls are, artistically, pressing the boundaries of good taste. 

            But the Recent Paterfamilias is open-minded.  Maybe the graffiti art movement, established and influential as it is, is decidedly over, out of vogue, dated, kaput.  Maybe it’s the nouveau-infant-stool-flinging-school that has recently, and officially, and decidedly, established its foothold in the art world. 

But then again, should this be the case, what will we be left with?  And who is going to want to go see an exhibit of it at The Guggenheim?  If we ain’t careful, should we allow this unfortunate art movement to proceed, they (the art-loving public) will have no choice but to label that particular Fifth Avenue corkscrew-shaped building as the The Poopenheim.  (Although, frankly, given its downward-spiral physical movement, like that of water down a toilet bowl, I’m beginning to wonder if this wasn’t the intention by Mr. F.L. Wright in the first place.)

A new NEW color chart

I've done it again.

A new color chart.

This ones is for reals!

I printed each color on a piece of birch wood and then scanned the colors to make the chart. This is the most accurate representation of the colors I have been able to achieve. Of course it's still not 100% because every monitor is calibrated slightly differently.  But, art isn't like upholstery or curtains, if the color doesn't match 100% I think it's okay.  However, just in case you think differently, I am now offering color samples at two for 1 dollar (to cover the postage).  So, if you do want to make sure before you invest that the color is what you want click here to order a sample then order your art with confidence.

Also please let me know in a comment if you think that there is something missing? Any color that you would like to see that is not on the chart.

The Holidays Have Begun

I've been so good with blogging this year, I decided to take a few days off.

 It's thanksgiving (here in the US) so I figured it was a good excuse opportunity.

--- but in reality, that's not the reason I shirked my blog duties last week.

The real reason is that I downloaded The Hunger Games onto my Kindle and became obsessed.  I read all three books in the span of a week.  No time to blog because I was reading (and eating some turkey).   I can't stop thinking about them.  Have you read them? I highly recommend them.  Not only is it entertaining but it really gets you thinking.

Now I  need a new book -- any recommendations?

"Once Upon a Time" by Jolline available on ETSY

Precious Moments

            I often feel like I’m taking advantage.  It’s not fair, I know this, but I can’t seem to help myself.  Maybe it’s a side affect of being a Recent Paterfamilias.  Maybe it’s a result of existing in an exalted state of sleep deprivation.  Maybe it’s because I’m a terrible father.  But, for whatever reason, I occasionally, often, continuously, constantly, find myself taking advantage. 

            But please, allow me to explain. 

            My daughter has recently been introduced to real food.  Thusly, my daughter typically has food all over her face.  In addition to breast milk, as of late, she’s also been “sampling” “real” food (or “solids,” as we call them in the “biz”), which result in “residue” on her hands and on her face and in her hair and on the dog and everywhere else within sight, all except within the confines of her stomach.  This, I am told, is normal.  (Out of good taste, I won’t subject my dear reader to even a mild description of the rather noticeable impact these “solids” have had upon this Recent Paterfamilias’ offspring’s bowel movement, suffice it to say that the impact is “significant.”)  But whenever her face is plastered with destroyed peas (peas, not pee, which is different, but has also been known to occur) or destroyed bananas or destroyed pears or destroyed prunes or destroyed squash (squashs? squashes? what is the plural of squash?), but, at any rate, when my daughter has painted herself with destroyed food-like items, I find myself reaching for the camera. 

            Is this wrong?  Am I taking advantage?  Am I the world’s worst Paterfamilias? 

I sure as hell hope not.

            But, my dear reader must admit, there’s something somewhat intoxicating about a food-covered face.  (For whatever reason, this does not apply when considering the food-covered faces of adult humans.) 

            I am aware that many such situations will present themselves during the life of my daughter.  There will be no shortage of opportunities (see: embarrassing opportunities) where I will want to grab a camera and capture the moment.  But, of course, all those moments can’t be caught.  Consider the case of my infant daughter’s own mother.  She was under three years old.  She got out of bed and went to the bathroom all by herself.  She hopped on up.  And then she fell on in. 

She called for help. 

And then help came. 

The help laughed.  The help called for the rest of the family.  The rest of the family came running.  They laughed.  They pointed.  They laughed and they pointed and they didn’t help her out of the toilet and I’m sure that one of those people wishes that they’d had a camera handy to capture the moment.  (It should be noted here:  three-plus decades later, my daughter’s own mother is still upset about the aforementioned incident, and she, my daughter’s mother, still remembers who laughed and who pointed and who laughed and pointed, and she, my daughter’s mother, is still threatening that those who laughed and pointed are going to pay for what they’ve done, even if those who laughed and pointed do find her own daughter adorable.)

From Night Owl to Day owl

New Background colors - Customize to match your decor.  These featured are pink, sunglow and avocado on whitewash.  Visit skartshop.com to make pick your own combination

Four on Friday: Soft & Sweet Nurseries

Tiffany Thiessen's Nursery - from People.com

Found on: Baby Space

Featured at Olio.com (freesia crib set)

Found on: Spearmint Baby