We’ve had a lot of changes in toddlerland lately.  It’s full-tilt potty training madness.  She’s doing pretty well.  If we’re consistent, she’s consistent with Number One.  Number Two, eh.  It’s taken a back seat.

In other news, the same child who has taken a pacifier all her life outside the womb and affectionately calls it her “num-num” has been paci-less for about four days.  I couldn’t find it the other night.  We went out to the car to look for it.  We searched the playroom and her room.  No luck.  I looked at my sleepy tot  in her pajamas, sighed and said, “Charlotte, your num-num went bye-bye.”  She pondered this a moment and replied, “My num-num went bye-bye.”  That was it.  She spotted a rogue binky under the furniture today, but forgot about it when suddenly Thomas the Tank Engine did something on television that was worthy of her attention.  Thank you preschool programming!

I think this is the last paci pic I snapped.

As if these weren’t enough big girl achievements, she’s out of baby jail!  That’s right!  Our girl is sleeping in a toddler bed now.  When we finally decided on this furniture we got her crib as a conversion bed.  We wrongly assumed this included safety rails.  Whoops.  We figured she only has about eight inches to fall and has not fallen out of bed yet.  Parents of the year.

Baby monitor shot.

The funny thing about all these changes is I constantly oscillate between feelings of overwhelming pride and weepy nostalgia.  

There are many moments in the day when  I’m so proud of my big girl!  I love seeing all her 2-year-old accomplishments.  This may be the mama bear talking, but Charlotte is a smart one.  She’s getting so independent.  She is brave and fun.  Everyday she says a new sentence, sings a new song, or tries something on her own.  It’s amazing!

There are other moments when I want to run after her screaming, “No!  Wait!  You’re still a baby!  Stop growing  up so fast!”  After praising her for successfully using the potty, I suddenly want to change her diaper and give her a pacifier.  Instead of tucking her in her big kid bed I want to swaddle her up and rock her to sleep.

The only thing I can do is think of all the exciting things to come in her childhood and take in every moment of this transition.  If there is anything I’ve learned since becoming a parent, it’s that it’s all fleeting.

Since I’ve been getting all Auld Lang Syney around here, I’ll update you on another little goal for 2013.

We’re ditching the diapers this year.  Yep, Santa Claus brought Charlotte some big girl panties.  I figured finding them in her stocking would bring some enthusiasm.  She’s been doing okay, but we’ haven’t been hard-core potty training yet.  She freakin’ loves her Pull-Ups.  I’m now convinced Pull-Ups are just more expensive, glorified diapers.   I think they had to be invented by the same marketing a-hole that started putting kid cereals on the lower shelves of the supermarket, right at preschoolers’ eye level to torture parents into buying high-fructose corn syrup nuggets disguised as breakfast.

Anyway, we started with panties after I washed them at Christmas.  The panties enthusiasm was so strong it backfired on me.  She wanted to change to a different design EVERY time, even if she kept them clean and dry.  It became a holiday panties fashion show.  In her mind, why keep them clean if you have to wear the same ones?  Why not wear Elmo panties now, pee in them, then wear princess panties later?

Panties for EVERYONE!  See…

These are clean. No, the dog is not wearing any.

Today marked the day we would start potty training for real at school.  Her teachers have potty trained hundreds of kids and know what they’re doing.  They put the kid in underwear and take them to the potty every 15-30 minutes on the dot.  Pull-Ups go back on for nap time.  I brought her in a Pull-Up to the class.  Charlotte proudly took her panties into the classroom and showed them to her friends.  This is a big deal in the Twos Class, lemme tell ya.  The kids oohed and aahed over her stack of 2T drawers.  Charlotte beamed as she rushed straight to the potty with her teacher, tugging her pants to replace the Pull-Up with her beloved panties.  I figure this is the only time it’s appropriate to show off her underwear for the whole class.

Only 2 accidents.  Not too shabby for the first day.  I’m really starting to appreciate my own underwear, and potty-training teachers.

This week I sort of geeked out over 12-12-12. All the other matching dates in this past decade were cool. I mean, who could forget lucky 07-07-07? This year was different because it’s likely the last triple date we’ll have in our lifetime. It will be 01-01-01 again on January 1, 2101, but that is 89 years away. With advances in modern science I could envision living to the extremely ripe old age of 120, but it’s unlikely. Another 12-12-12 is out of the question for me.

But, not for my daughter. She could live to see it.

Upon this realization I stopped and prayed. I prayed to God my baby would live 100 more years to see the next 12-12-12 on December 12, 2112. I prayed she would celebrate her 102nd birthday the month before, surrounded by her Great-Great Grandchildren. I imagined myself as a stunningly beautiful 131-year-old angel looking down from heaven. I’d watch her wheel up to her birthday cake in a super space age wheelchair she controls with her brain. I envisioned a 22nd century Willard Scott-like person wishing her a “Happy Birthday” on whatever medium has replaced television. She will regale her posterity with stories of her silly mother who typed out tales of her child’s life on an ancient computer. I will smile and laugh at my baby turning 102.

Even as a centenarian she will still be my baby.

I bought an Elf on the Shelf, but I decided to hold off this year. After an extensive discussion on with other moms on Twitter, I decided she was a little too young to fully understand and appreciate the Elf. Plus, I knew she would try to touch it. That’s okay. We have a little elf in our house this year.

I can’t stop looking at this elfish little face. This picture of Charlotte perfectly captures the mischievous nature of my little girl. Oh, how I hope this stays alive in her! Even if it drives me crazy in later years.

Let’s hear it for little elves!

By-the-way…when did you start Elf on the Shelf? Did I do the right thing by waiting? I mean, she just turned 2.

I look at these pictures and I. can’t. even…

This beautiful child is ours.  It blows my mind how much she has grown.  I look at the 2010 picture and it seems like a million years ago and only a moment go.  She was our newborn at only 5 1/2 weeks old.  Last year she was my sweet one-year-old, 13 months to be exact.  She was this funny little baby/toddler hybrid.

This year Charlotte couldn’t WAIT for her turn to sit on Santa’s lap.  She pulled her little two-year-old self up on Santa and smiled for the cameras.  She quietly told Santa what she wanted for Christmas. (A baby doll.  She’s been practicing her request.)  Then she gave Santa a hug and waved bye-bye.

It was ridiculous how proud we were of her.  We’re feeling all Christmasy around here.  Happy December!