We went to a barbecue yesterday and reunited with a former small group. Most of this group included the friends who prayed with me during my miscarriages, encouraged me through my pregnancy, and brought meals to us when our son was born.
I was standing outside with one gal, watching my son scramble around the bushes. She asked how the potty training was going, and I remarked how I generally thought he was doing well. I started to stammer over why I thought he was doing well, and she gracefully interrupted me saying "If you think he's doing well, he's doing well". Comparison doesn't help anyone, least of all the child.
Every child is different. Yup, boys take longer and don't care much about wallowing in their stuff. But at least they can pee standing up in the backyard. I'm now so used to cleaning feces off of surfaces and skin that another accident doesn't bug me all that much. That's why God invented germ-killing cleaning cloths.
In the meantime, I'm a little miffed at the fact that the boy doesn't think any of our chosen rewards are good enough. It took me three days to figure out that his idea of a reward was something specific and had nothing to do with toys. I've since run to Target to find more interesting candy.
May 12, 2015
guess who took his first potty poo?
It happened last night, just before bathtime. There was much celebration, toy giving, high fiving, and chocolate eating. I'll take it for what it is, and not assume this will happen from now on.
I am one excited mama. And I need a more interesting hobby.
I am one excited mama. And I need a more interesting hobby.
May 11, 2015
1 week after potty training
Last weekend we took the boy out of diapers and announced, with much fanfare, that he's a big boy and doesn't need them anymore. Nine days later, I'd say that's about 65% true. I've since discovered how best to balance lessons and expectations.
Nobody ever told me that potty training really has three distinct steps, which might have helped (at least mentally):
After doing some research, I think the best thing I can do is gently give him the option of pooping in the potty when he's ready and just don't mention rewards or anything. Some suggest offering to give him a diaper to poop in. Not sure how I feel about that, but what have I got to lose?
Aside from #2, the only other remaining issue is overnight training. This I'm more than willing to take our time on, because this kid is a deep sleeper (and I'd rather not deal with the morning revele just yet). Always has been. As in, 12 hours a night since he was 4 months old. I imagine it'll be another year before we see him dry in the morning long enough to jump that hurdle. Until then, we can all relax together in the early morning while he hangs out in his squishy diaper for just a few more minutes.
Nobody ever told me that potty training really has three distinct steps, which might have helped (at least mentally):
- Learn to pee in the potty
- Learn to poop in the potty
- Stay dry overnight
After doing some research, I think the best thing I can do is gently give him the option of pooping in the potty when he's ready and just don't mention rewards or anything. Some suggest offering to give him a diaper to poop in. Not sure how I feel about that, but what have I got to lose?
Aside from #2, the only other remaining issue is overnight training. This I'm more than willing to take our time on, because this kid is a deep sleeper (and I'd rather not deal with the morning revele just yet). Always has been. As in, 12 hours a night since he was 4 months old. I imagine it'll be another year before we see him dry in the morning long enough to jump that hurdle. Until then, we can all relax together in the early morning while he hangs out in his squishy diaper for just a few more minutes.
May 4, 2015
our big fat potty training weekend
Saturday morning, after breakfast, we took off our son's diaper and announced he'd be going diaper-free from now on. We cheered and smiled and patted him on the back. The rest of the first day left me more exhausted than I've been since he was born.
I never found the courage or self-discipline to use charts or follow books. It was time to just cut the cord and go cold turkey (where in the world does that saying come from anyway?). We did prepare by doing these things:
That first day, he was so worn out from going potty at least 10 times that he passed out in my arms at the dinner table before 6:00 p.m. My husband and I sat in a daze on the back patio, cocktails in hand, and were grateful that the first day was over, and over so quickly!
Then the second day came, and we prepared by drinking a boatload of strong coffee so we could smile even more broadly. He pooped in his underwear again, but tried on the potty anyway. By afternoon, he finally turned a corner. We were outside, and I was sweeping when I noticed silence which scared me. I found him, pants down, getting ready to pee on his own in the grass. "Look Mommy!" he said, as he went all on his own. I was so excited I wanted to cheer. I did. We gave him a toy. It went uphill after that. He went to bed half an hour earlier than usual (with the overnight diaper, of course).
Today is the third day, and I can see he's internalized the weekend's lesson. He started to have an accident, but told me he needed to go so I dropped everything and he finished in the potty. GOOD BOY!
Two days and he's on his way to being completely rid of diapers. This tells me that, really, we could have done this months ago. But oh well, I won't punish myself. Raising a kid is hard enough without self-imposed guilt.
Here's to the start of a great week.
I never found the courage or self-discipline to use charts or follow books. It was time to just cut the cord and go cold turkey (where in the world does that saying come from anyway?). We did prepare by doing these things:
- Cleared the schedule and did not go anywhere except to buy him new underwear.
- Stocked up on whatever motivating treats and cheap toys he might like.
- Pushed the fluids so he had plenty of opportunities to go.
- Got ready to clean. A lot. All day long.
- Set aside a bucket to put soiled clothes in (after rinsing)
- Made a big deal out of shopping for underwear. He now has about 16 pairs.
That first day, he was so worn out from going potty at least 10 times that he passed out in my arms at the dinner table before 6:00 p.m. My husband and I sat in a daze on the back patio, cocktails in hand, and were grateful that the first day was over, and over so quickly!
Then the second day came, and we prepared by drinking a boatload of strong coffee so we could smile even more broadly. He pooped in his underwear again, but tried on the potty anyway. By afternoon, he finally turned a corner. We were outside, and I was sweeping when I noticed silence which scared me. I found him, pants down, getting ready to pee on his own in the grass. "Look Mommy!" he said, as he went all on his own. I was so excited I wanted to cheer. I did. We gave him a toy. It went uphill after that. He went to bed half an hour earlier than usual (with the overnight diaper, of course).
Today is the third day, and I can see he's internalized the weekend's lesson. He started to have an accident, but told me he needed to go so I dropped everything and he finished in the potty. GOOD BOY!
Two days and he's on his way to being completely rid of diapers. This tells me that, really, we could have done this months ago. But oh well, I won't punish myself. Raising a kid is hard enough without self-imposed guilt.
Here's to the start of a great week.
April 28, 2015
quadrophenia, magnolias, and the puzzle box
I flew out to Orange County, CA to stay with my dad for three days while my stepmom has been in the hospital for a couple of weeks. I wanted a chance to keep him company and make sure he's okay. Mission accomplished. I fly home tomorrow.
This is the first time I've been away from my husband and son overnight. I thought it would feel like a vacation, but instead it's been a quiet journey, inside and out.
My flight got in Sunday morning, and we spent that day doing nothing but talking and hanging out together. I went to the grocery store. I cooked dinner. We enjoyed the first one-on-one company we've kept in about 15 years. We went to visit my stepmom today and hung out with her for a couple hours before the impending doom of traffic sent us back to home base.
Early this morning, I went for a walk before my dad got up. Not knowing the area, I just headed north (uphill) and kept going until the street ended. I found The Who's Quadrophenia on my phone and decided it was the perfect soundtrack for my journey through the wilderness of my youth. You see, I grew up around here and moved when I was 18. From the magic of childhood through the torrents of the teen years, I lived for Disneyland and the beach and parties. But I was ready when I decided to migrate to Colorado with my mom - away from the crowds, the peer pressure, and the culture of pleasure and plastic. I've never looked back.
On my walk, I swooned at the constant wafting scent of magnolias and jasmine. I stared at the succulent trees and bushes (!) of poinsettia. It was like walking on a different planet.
Meanwhile, the lyrics from the album sank into my head: "The heat is rising... the past is calling. Is it me, or a moment?" Memories of the things I enjoyed most about this place came back and filled the corners of my psyche.
Nothing like the grounding of your past to lend perspective to who you are.
My stepmom told me about a box she'd packed for me of some of my deceased grandmother's collector plates. I found the box and, in addition to the plates, found the most interesting assortment of things. Pictures of me. My dad's birth card with date and time hand written, plus his resume from about 1964 (a different time in the Los Angeles area, that's for sure). A plastic hinged box with one gold ring -- presumably my (divorced) grandmother's wedding ring. Together, they are pieces to a puzzle I know little about.
Tomorrow I'll fly home to kith and kin, working and family, punch and grind. But I have decided that I do not want to stay away for years at a time anymore. Not when my dad's body is 20 years older than it should be, and not while I can give my son a chance to know him as well as where my side of the family comes from.
This is the first time I've been away from my husband and son overnight. I thought it would feel like a vacation, but instead it's been a quiet journey, inside and out.
My flight got in Sunday morning, and we spent that day doing nothing but talking and hanging out together. I went to the grocery store. I cooked dinner. We enjoyed the first one-on-one company we've kept in about 15 years. We went to visit my stepmom today and hung out with her for a couple hours before the impending doom of traffic sent us back to home base.
Early this morning, I went for a walk before my dad got up. Not knowing the area, I just headed north (uphill) and kept going until the street ended. I found The Who's Quadrophenia on my phone and decided it was the perfect soundtrack for my journey through the wilderness of my youth. You see, I grew up around here and moved when I was 18. From the magic of childhood through the torrents of the teen years, I lived for Disneyland and the beach and parties. But I was ready when I decided to migrate to Colorado with my mom - away from the crowds, the peer pressure, and the culture of pleasure and plastic. I've never looked back.
On my walk, I swooned at the constant wafting scent of magnolias and jasmine. I stared at the succulent trees and bushes (!) of poinsettia. It was like walking on a different planet.
Meanwhile, the lyrics from the album sank into my head: "The heat is rising... the past is calling. Is it me, or a moment?" Memories of the things I enjoyed most about this place came back and filled the corners of my psyche.
Nothing like the grounding of your past to lend perspective to who you are.
My stepmom told me about a box she'd packed for me of some of my deceased grandmother's collector plates. I found the box and, in addition to the plates, found the most interesting assortment of things. Pictures of me. My dad's birth card with date and time hand written, plus his resume from about 1964 (a different time in the Los Angeles area, that's for sure). A plastic hinged box with one gold ring -- presumably my (divorced) grandmother's wedding ring. Together, they are pieces to a puzzle I know little about.
Tomorrow I'll fly home to kith and kin, working and family, punch and grind. But I have decided that I do not want to stay away for years at a time anymore. Not when my dad's body is 20 years older than it should be, and not while I can give my son a chance to know him as well as where my side of the family comes from.
April 22, 2015
random thoughts on perfect parenting
Even perfect parents can't raise perfect children. So don't bother trying to be perfect.
April 15, 2015
my son's first lie
Yesterday morning was a battleground. At stake: an unearned potty treat (fig newton). Somehow the boy rationalized that, since he peed in his diaper, he gets a treat. Um, no son, that's not how it works.
We went back and forth several times, but I held my ground even as he wailed endlessly through breakfast and toothbrushing. I went on about my business, getting ready for work.
As I was about to head for the front door, he asked again for the treat. I asked him point-blank if he peed in the potty. He said he did and, knowing this was probably not true, I gave him the treat. A few minutes later my husband asked whether he'd used the potty and he said no. We took this opportunity to explain the difference between telling the truth and telling a lie, and emphasized that this is wrong. I did not take the treat away from him, believing that to do so would set him off and he'd just forget what we were trying to say.
We caught him in a lie.
So now, when he insists on a potty treat I really have my hands full helping him to answer wisely and truthfully. That, and I don't think this reward system is having its intended effect. Ah, parenthood.
We went back and forth several times, but I held my ground even as he wailed endlessly through breakfast and toothbrushing. I went on about my business, getting ready for work.
As I was about to head for the front door, he asked again for the treat. I asked him point-blank if he peed in the potty. He said he did and, knowing this was probably not true, I gave him the treat. A few minutes later my husband asked whether he'd used the potty and he said no. We took this opportunity to explain the difference between telling the truth and telling a lie, and emphasized that this is wrong. I did not take the treat away from him, believing that to do so would set him off and he'd just forget what we were trying to say.
We caught him in a lie.
So now, when he insists on a potty treat I really have my hands full helping him to answer wisely and truthfully. That, and I don't think this reward system is having its intended effect. Ah, parenthood.
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