Dori pooped in her little potty tonight. I thought I better write it down somewhere before she is 18 years old and realizes we forgot to write down any details of her life past 12 months.
At only 5 years old, firstborn Addy already has four big scrapbooks chronicling her life. There's probably less biographical detail in some presidential libraries. I wrote down the exact date each of her teeth emerged. We have photo spreads not only of the big events, but even of everyday visits to the park. And her own blog.
My sister took pictures of Dori in front of Air Force One as it landed carrying the late President Gerald R. Ford, but even those haven't made it into a scrapbook. Oh, I have a big stack of good intentions and even materials to make Dori's first-year scrapbook. It's still empty.
I suppose it's nothing new. My mother wrote nice notes in my oldest brother Duane's baby book. Dale, child No. 4, has some of his filled in. Mine (I'm child 8 of 8) has only a few entries, and those were written in by to of my sisters, one of whom was only 7 years old. I guess the idea of recording a baby's every move gets less and less important with subsequent children.
Though I'll probably forget the date, Dori's first poop in her potty is a milestone. One of these days I'll have to accept the fact that she's not a baby anymore, but rather a toddler. By the time I get used to that she'll be a preschooler.
She's only 19 months old and in the wisdom gained in my 5 whole years of mothering, I have come to realize there's no need to rush the whole potty thing. She seemed a little interested in the big potty, so I put a little one out several weeks ago. Addy has been anxious to help her baby sister learn how to poop in the potty, so the mother lode Dori finally deposited tonight was pretty exciting to her. Addy has been coaching Dori whenever she chooses to sit on the potty. She squats down and says, "Like this, Dori!" as she grunts and strains and pretents to make a bowel movement. Her face even gets red.
And once again, it turns into a story about Addy.
I'm sorry, Dori. I really am.