1) In the latest issue of “Adventures in Potty Training,” James escaped his white porcelain nemesis with stealth creativity yet again. As I stood for what seemed like hours feeding Rita a never ending bowl of smashed green goo, he knew my attention was focused on things other than his Buzz Light Year underpants. Out of the kitchen window I spotted him. He stood steady and confident, bare-bummed, with a golden stream shooting across the porch, his face grinning and eyes gleaming with pride and success.

2) In honor of the spring snow day, I made pancakes for breakfast. Josie ate seven. When I told her eight was six too many, she cried. Her belly was protruding and syrup drenched every part of her and my kitchen (what else is new). I take full responsibility. I ate blueberry pancakes three times a day everyday for the last 6 weeks of her gestation. It matters.

3) There has been an almost full size basketball hoop in my kitchen for 6 days.

4) Last week I turned 27. The kids, unable to tell the difference between their birthday and someone else’s, were crushed when they suspected that I did not bake a birthday cake for myself. Explaining that not baking is the best present of all, especially on a day on which drinking Guinness is the only appropriate activity, fell on refusal to listen ears. I took a cookie that Josie had already bit and decided she hated, covered it in Nutella and stuck in a candle. It was the happiest of all birthday cakes.

5) I mentioned to my sister that James has learned “Damn it,” with appropriate usage and timing. As a mother of 6, she’s learned a thing or two. “Did you lie to him?” she asked. “Yes, millions of times, but I’m not sure what you are saying.” “Regina, it’s SLAM IT!” Works like a charm-swearing eraser.

6) Last week I went out to dinner with friends. Jim was in charge of bed-time. He thinks its funny to dress our baby girls in James’ old clothes. I don’t know why its funny to him, but this is the same guy who has been saving his baby teeth for 19 years to prove to his parents that the Tooth Fairy doesn’t exist. When Rita was still wearing the blue-football pajamas at 3pm when the delivery men arrived to set up a piece of furniture, things got real confusing, real fast. I said one thing, James said another, they were noticeably uncomfortable.