Now really, how hard is this? We have training pants. I bought a dozen extra this weekend for emergencies. No problem. I mean, a little hard to come by, but once I found a source, no problem. Got 'em. Got enough. We're in good shape.
But the little vinyl pants you put OVER them? IM-FREAKIN'-POSSIBLE to find. I've tried online, I've tried stores, I've tried specialty stores, I've been to Toys-R-Us and similar, I've been EVERYWEHRE I could think of.
And then this morning, something said to me "Come! Come to Walmart! One more time! C'mon! Look one more time!"
And lo! There they were. Three packages, three each, a size probably just at the small end of what he can wear -- but HIP HIP HOORAY! Got 'em!
Now I can give back the one his DCP sent him home in last week that I've been harboring jealousy over while it was in our laundry. Whew!
And, I can't believe I'm saying this - Yay Walmart!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Potty Training Boot Camp: HOUSTON WE HAVE LIFTOFF!
Allow me to scream it from the rooftops:
HALELLUJIAH! By George, I think he's got it!
Yesterday morning, we began the routine of going to the potty every hour or so, and each time, we had just missed the window of opportunity. The change was that he was heartbroken each time, and cried inconsolably that we hadn't made it - I felt terrible for the little guy, and did as much as I could to reenforce that we were going to master the potty, and he was doing SO WELL, and we'd get it soon, I could just tell.
Then we went out for the afternoon and got into a pullup because who knew if we'd be near a bathroom.
And then we went to a party, and went swimming in my friend's pool -- and before he'd go into the pool, he insisted that he had to go potty (with little effect) and then NOW we could go in the pool.
And then we got home, and then through the evening, we'd find him holding his crotch, we'd say "You want to go potty?" and he'd run to the bathroom -- AND PEE! He stayed dry the whole evening, peed 3 times, and went to bed in the dry pants he'd been wearing all evening.
Overnight? We'll deal with that hurdle later. But this morning, after breakfast, he went to the potty and IMMEDIATELY peed, and so far, so good today!
I think my boy is figuring it out. I'm so proud.
HALELLUJIAH! By George, I think he's got it!
Yesterday morning, we began the routine of going to the potty every hour or so, and each time, we had just missed the window of opportunity. The change was that he was heartbroken each time, and cried inconsolably that we hadn't made it - I felt terrible for the little guy, and did as much as I could to reenforce that we were going to master the potty, and he was doing SO WELL, and we'd get it soon, I could just tell.
Then we went out for the afternoon and got into a pullup because who knew if we'd be near a bathroom.
And then we went to a party, and went swimming in my friend's pool -- and before he'd go into the pool, he insisted that he had to go potty (with little effect) and then NOW we could go in the pool.
And then we got home, and then through the evening, we'd find him holding his crotch, we'd say "You want to go potty?" and he'd run to the bathroom -- AND PEE! He stayed dry the whole evening, peed 3 times, and went to bed in the dry pants he'd been wearing all evening.
Overnight? We'll deal with that hurdle later. But this morning, after breakfast, he went to the potty and IMMEDIATELY peed, and so far, so good today!
I think my boy is figuring it out. I'm so proud.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Potty Training Boot Camp: End of Week Three
I went to a Premier Jewelry show last night, and was out of the house until nearly what would be regular bedtime at our house. When I walked into the house, I was greeted by my jubilant husband.
"Noah made a poopie and peepee in the potty," he announced. Then he went back to watching an alien slaughter most of the life on Earth on the SciFi channel.
I went upstairs to find Noah watching Shrek in our bed, curled up with several plastic dinosaurs, and a wooden skillet and fried egg. "I hear you used the potty!" I said as I entered, and he stood up and shouted that yes, he had made a poopie AND a peepee. Then he began reenacting the scene where Princess Fiona makes the bird explode, and then cooks the eggs from the nest for Shrek.
We're not all the way there, but I'm feeling more and more confident that he'll be potty-compatible by September. Or, as my father would say, "close enough for government work."
"Noah made a poopie and peepee in the potty," he announced. Then he went back to watching an alien slaughter most of the life on Earth on the SciFi channel.
I went upstairs to find Noah watching Shrek in our bed, curled up with several plastic dinosaurs, and a wooden skillet and fried egg. "I hear you used the potty!" I said as I entered, and he stood up and shouted that yes, he had made a poopie AND a peepee. Then he began reenacting the scene where Princess Fiona makes the bird explode, and then cooks the eggs from the nest for Shrek.
We're not all the way there, but I'm feeling more and more confident that he'll be potty-compatible by September. Or, as my father would say, "close enough for government work."
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Caught talkin' naughty at day care!
Uh-oh. Cheese it - the cops! Noah's been caught "talking naughty."
It is not an uncommon turn of phrase in our house to refer to someone as a dumbass, when it's appropriate. I think that's going to have to stop. This morning on arrival at day care, I was told that after several days of pondering, our DCP has finally determined that no, Noah was not calling his buddy Jonathan "Thomas" for some inscrutible reason -- he was calling him a dumbass.
Now, she had to acknowledge that his use of the word and his delivery were perfect. It was always when Jonathan was doing something that Noah didn't like and he was "instructing" him to do something differently, and his intonation was perfect. And yet -- this is bad, and it's got to stop.
Because it came up in the context of something else incomprehensible that Noah's been doing that I was able to shed light on today. He breaks into this little song sometimes, and I finally was able to place it: he was singing Ricky Martin's "Shake your Bon Bon." In one of his movies, some character sings about 2 lines of it, and that's Noah's entire exposure to the song. Here comes the hysterically charming part: he doesn't know the words, so what he's singing is this:
Now he has all 4 boys at day care singing it too.
Other things that we're trying to discontinue include absolutely perfect use of the name of a large segment of our society's savior in vain, and impersonation of an Asian comic. Let me explain.
My beloved husband (SphericalFrictionlessBull?) has an Asian friend who self-parodies when he's said something silly by taking on an exaggerated Chinese accent and saying "You funny, AAAH!" SFBull found this funny and started doing it too. Okay, Jewish American using mock Asian accent strikes me as a little inappropriate for reasons I can't seem to properly express to him, and he persists in doing it, and encouraging Noah to do it. I persist in trying to stop Noah from doing it. Most of the time, at least in my presence, he doesn't add the "AHH!" part, and so I'm okay with that. I'm just praying that he's not setting our little boy up for an Asian gang ass-whoopin' later in life.
Second story: Last week one night, I'm guessing the dog sat down next to Noah and farted. And he responded just exactly the same way that I would -- with a hearty "Oh, JESUS, Lucy!" You know, for us, it's not taking the Lord's name in vain or anything -- I don't think too terribly much about it if I let an "Oh Jesus" escape my lips in frustration. I'll admit -- I've laughed at the occasional "Oh Jesus" from my toddler, too. It seems so adult on him.
But when I saw it from our (oh, egad) delightful and Christian day care provider's eyes as we talked this morning, I realized that it was clearly something we need to put an end to, to be appropriately respectful of her, and you know, the hundreds of Christian friends we have.
And of course this is the perfect time to mention that before he could say Ls with any allacrity, Noah would occasionally address his "flock" (a la Wiley T Sheep from Jakers!), and sound like he was uttering the dreaded F-word....
So, to summarize, clearly I need to maintain the following....
I'm sure the list will continue to grow.
It is not an uncommon turn of phrase in our house to refer to someone as a dumbass, when it's appropriate. I think that's going to have to stop. This morning on arrival at day care, I was told that after several days of pondering, our DCP has finally determined that no, Noah was not calling his buddy Jonathan "Thomas" for some inscrutible reason -- he was calling him a dumbass.
Now, she had to acknowledge that his use of the word and his delivery were perfect. It was always when Jonathan was doing something that Noah didn't like and he was "instructing" him to do something differently, and his intonation was perfect. And yet -- this is bad, and it's got to stop.
Because it came up in the context of something else incomprehensible that Noah's been doing that I was able to shed light on today. He breaks into this little song sometimes, and I finally was able to place it: he was singing Ricky Martin's "Shake your Bon Bon." In one of his movies, some character sings about 2 lines of it, and that's Noah's entire exposure to the song. Here comes the hysterically charming part: he doesn't know the words, so what he's singing is this:
Chicken - BAWK BAWK!
Now he has all 4 boys at day care singing it too.
Other things that we're trying to discontinue include absolutely perfect use of the name of a large segment of our society's savior in vain, and impersonation of an Asian comic. Let me explain.
My beloved husband (SphericalFrictionlessBull?) has an Asian friend who self-parodies when he's said something silly by taking on an exaggerated Chinese accent and saying "You funny, AAAH!" SFBull found this funny and started doing it too. Okay, Jewish American using mock Asian accent strikes me as a little inappropriate for reasons I can't seem to properly express to him, and he persists in doing it, and encouraging Noah to do it. I persist in trying to stop Noah from doing it. Most of the time, at least in my presence, he doesn't add the "AHH!" part, and so I'm okay with that. I'm just praying that he's not setting our little boy up for an Asian gang ass-whoopin' later in life.
Second story: Last week one night, I'm guessing the dog sat down next to Noah and farted. And he responded just exactly the same way that I would -- with a hearty "Oh, JESUS, Lucy!" You know, for us, it's not taking the Lord's name in vain or anything -- I don't think too terribly much about it if I let an "Oh Jesus" escape my lips in frustration. I'll admit -- I've laughed at the occasional "Oh Jesus" from my toddler, too. It seems so adult on him.
But when I saw it from our (oh, egad) delightful and Christian day care provider's eyes as we talked this morning, I realized that it was clearly something we need to put an end to, to be appropriately respectful of her, and you know, the hundreds of Christian friends we have.
And of course this is the perfect time to mention that before he could say Ls with any allacrity, Noah would occasionally address his "flock" (a la Wiley T Sheep from Jakers!), and sound like he was uttering the dreaded F-word....
So, to summarize, clearly I need to maintain the following....
LIST OF FORBIDDEN UTTERANCES
- Oh Crap! - primarily uttered by SS14
- Dumbass! - primarily uttered by SphericalFrictionlessCow and Bull
- Oh, Jesus! - ditto
- The dreaded F-word, or anything that sounds like it
- Any song by Ricky Martin, unless rewritten to refer to barnyard foul
I'm sure the list will continue to grow.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
And then, there's normal life
You know, even with the honeymoon, there are occasional bouts of non-honeymoon. Friday morning, I came upstairs to convince my boy to come down for breakfast and put on clothes and go potty, and found him sitting at the top of the stairs reading FOX IN SOCKS to the dog. I rounded the corner, said "Come down for breakfast now," and he responded by shouting to the dog:
It's not all smooching all the time. That's probably a good thing.
Hey look! A great ugly ogre!
It's not all smooching all the time. That's probably a good thing.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Second honeymoon
I read in one of the parenting books that around the 3rd birthday is the start of what the author referred to as a "second honeymoon" between the child and the mother, and I had no idea that it would be so profound. After a period of fairly intense "I do it myself" style independence, suddenly my son is a ball of affection that, if I could find a way to bottle and sell it, would solve the loneliness problems of the entire world. I'm greeted each evening when I get home from work by a child who screams "MOMMY!" at the top of his lungs and runs to hug me. Each morning, a little voice from down the hall calls for me, and when I go see his little descheveled morning face, he looks up at me with beaming eyes and requests that I come snuggle with him. In the evening, he comes upstairs with me before bed, gets into bed with me and we curl up and watch a cartoon together. He pats my face. He holds my hand. He tells me that he loves me. Sometimes he gazes at me and tells me that I'm his sunshine.
Now don't get me wrong -- he loves his Daddy. He likes hanging out with Daddy. He likes going out and playing in the yard, and going for walks, and periodically he announces that he wants to go fishing, which is the way to his father's heart. There's a lot of love there, too.
But the sheer volume of affection at this stage in his development is staggering. I wish I could bottle it and store it away for about 12 years from now, when he thinks I'm the most horrible dumbass to walk the face of the planet.
Now don't get me wrong -- he loves his Daddy. He likes hanging out with Daddy. He likes going out and playing in the yard, and going for walks, and periodically he announces that he wants to go fishing, which is the way to his father's heart. There's a lot of love there, too.
But the sheer volume of affection at this stage in his development is staggering. I wish I could bottle it and store it away for about 12 years from now, when he thinks I'm the most horrible dumbass to walk the face of the planet.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Weekend 1 - Making friends with the potty!
Things throttled back at Potty Training Boot Camp this weekend. Let's be honest -- there's just a lot to do over the weekend, and staying 10 steps from a toilet is out of the question in some circumstances. So we switched back to pull-ups for the weekend, but maintained a fairly healthy schedule of spending time on the potty both days. And I am pleased to make the following declaration:
Now, apparently this wouldn't be exciting news at day care, where it's a routine occurance. But for me, it's a first since we started this process, and I was pretty darned excited, even though most of it ended up on the floor somehow.
We've gone from a lollipop for EVERY trip to the potty to a lollipop randomly, in order to reenforce the behavior more solidly. (I read several places that inconsistent reenforcement is more successful than 100%, because hey! what's the fun if you know you can do it and get a lollipop. But if you do it and SOMETIMES you get one -- that's worth testing again and again! See for reference all those crazies sitting in front of slot machines in Las Vegas.)
The consistent reenforcement method now is that 100% of the time that he actually makes a deposit, he gets to flush, and flushing is COOL. So now it's all about being allowed to flush. How easily he's entertained.
I brought a TV tray into the bathroom, too, which allows him to sit for 10 minutes or more at a time while he plays with playdough, and the extra playdough time has led to some impressive artistic efforts.
In other news, Noah got a new haircut this weekend and actually did not cry to the point of vomiting on his mother this time -- I consider that progress as well. We also had time to go to the pool, where he jumped in from the side (in water wings) without holding Mommy's hand, and other than horking up a good cup of pool the one time he went all the way under and the resulting discussion of how you have to CLOSE YOUR MOUTH when you go under, the pool trip was a complete success. And on Sunday we went to the mall, played in the huge tube crawl thing, and went to see Shrek in the theater, also a first time for Mommy but not a first time for day care.
Yesterday morning we transitioned back into big boy pants for the ride to day care, and again this morning, and each morning a very willing but unproductive sit on the potty before we left and after breakfast. I'm trying to introduce a schedule change to make the potty sit the FIRST thing we do, but he's not buying yet.
So at day 9, not HUGE progress, but all steady forward progress, and some fabulous playdough art, to boot!
I HAVE WITNESSED MY SON PEEING IN THE POTTY!
Now, apparently this wouldn't be exciting news at day care, where it's a routine occurance. But for me, it's a first since we started this process, and I was pretty darned excited, even though most of it ended up on the floor somehow.
We've gone from a lollipop for EVERY trip to the potty to a lollipop randomly, in order to reenforce the behavior more solidly. (I read several places that inconsistent reenforcement is more successful than 100%, because hey! what's the fun if you know you can do it and get a lollipop. But if you do it and SOMETIMES you get one -- that's worth testing again and again! See for reference all those crazies sitting in front of slot machines in Las Vegas.)
The consistent reenforcement method now is that 100% of the time that he actually makes a deposit, he gets to flush, and flushing is COOL. So now it's all about being allowed to flush. How easily he's entertained.
I brought a TV tray into the bathroom, too, which allows him to sit for 10 minutes or more at a time while he plays with playdough, and the extra playdough time has led to some impressive artistic efforts.
In other news, Noah got a new haircut this weekend and actually did not cry to the point of vomiting on his mother this time -- I consider that progress as well. We also had time to go to the pool, where he jumped in from the side (in water wings) without holding Mommy's hand, and other than horking up a good cup of pool the one time he went all the way under and the resulting discussion of how you have to CLOSE YOUR MOUTH when you go under, the pool trip was a complete success. And on Sunday we went to the mall, played in the huge tube crawl thing, and went to see Shrek in the theater, also a first time for Mommy but not a first time for day care.
Yesterday morning we transitioned back into big boy pants for the ride to day care, and again this morning, and each morning a very willing but unproductive sit on the potty before we left and after breakfast. I'm trying to introduce a schedule change to make the potty sit the FIRST thing we do, but he's not buying yet.
So at day 9, not HUGE progress, but all steady forward progress, and some fabulous playdough art, to boot!
Friday, June 08, 2007
Potty Training - Day 4 and start of Day 5
Thursday morning started much like Wednesday. A cheerful "Okay!" when it was suggested that he could get a lollipop for using the potty, and no action, but a banana lollipop. (Banana? Who's idea was THAT?)
Thursday nights, Noah and his Daddy go out to dinner while Mommy fences (for fun, see my blog on the subject here. So although I skipped class, Daddy had soloed at a restaurant with a potty-training 3-year-old, and my hat is off to him for trying it. He got home and needed to be changed, and Daddy, having had enough, put him in a diaper. But we did do another potty-sit after they got home, and in the middle of watching Elmo Potty Time on DVD. Which held Noah's attention, I might add, much longer than I thought it would.
Day 5 was just more of the same morning routine -- a happy "okay!" and willing hopping on the potty, presentation of lollipop, and then a very quick "Okay I done now." I convinced him to stay on while I put on my makeup, but he wasn't there very long. I'm thinking about using the little DVD player in the bathroom to hold his attention, actually.
I talked to his day care provider, Car-Car, about the regular schedule so we can maintain it over the weekend, and she tells me that he does potty-sits 1) after arrival in the morning, 2) mid-morning, 3) before lunch, 4) after lunch, and 5) after nap. They're about 15 minutes each (how DOES she do that? oh yes, she gives him those tiny M&Ms!) and he does actually pee when he's on the potty for her. At home? No joy. She did notice that he's been waiting to poop at home (and frankly so had I).
But after week 1 of Potty Training Boot Camp, I think the progress of him willingly sitting on the potty for any period of time at all as part of his regular routine is a step in the right direction. Here's hoping that the next couple of weeks show the same rate of progress, so that the application and tuition deposit I made for preschool aren't in vain!
And in cute Noah news: Noah's very into THE LAND BEFORE TIME right now. So when he and Daddy got home from dinner, he ran over and hugged my leg and started saying "I'm so glad you're not leaving!" and I thought "what the heck is he thinking?" and then he launched into Ducky's soliloquy from LAND BEFORE TIME 4, I think, about "I'm so glad you're not leaving, I am, I am, and the Great Valley will never ever change nope nope nope." Which shouldn't surprise me, because occasionally he also summons up as much bat-like eerieness as he can and tells me in his best Boris Karlov voice that "Petrie is VEEERY SCARRRRRY!"
Wish us luck on the first 48-hour "solo flight" of potty training boot camp!
Thursday nights, Noah and his Daddy go out to dinner while Mommy fences (for fun, see my blog on the subject here. So although I skipped class, Daddy had soloed at a restaurant with a potty-training 3-year-old, and my hat is off to him for trying it. He got home and needed to be changed, and Daddy, having had enough, put him in a diaper. But we did do another potty-sit after they got home, and in the middle of watching Elmo Potty Time on DVD. Which held Noah's attention, I might add, much longer than I thought it would.
Day 5 was just more of the same morning routine -- a happy "okay!" and willing hopping on the potty, presentation of lollipop, and then a very quick "Okay I done now." I convinced him to stay on while I put on my makeup, but he wasn't there very long. I'm thinking about using the little DVD player in the bathroom to hold his attention, actually.
I talked to his day care provider, Car-Car, about the regular schedule so we can maintain it over the weekend, and she tells me that he does potty-sits 1) after arrival in the morning, 2) mid-morning, 3) before lunch, 4) after lunch, and 5) after nap. They're about 15 minutes each (how DOES she do that? oh yes, she gives him those tiny M&Ms!) and he does actually pee when he's on the potty for her. At home? No joy. She did notice that he's been waiting to poop at home (and frankly so had I).
But after week 1 of Potty Training Boot Camp, I think the progress of him willingly sitting on the potty for any period of time at all as part of his regular routine is a step in the right direction. Here's hoping that the next couple of weeks show the same rate of progress, so that the application and tuition deposit I made for preschool aren't in vain!
And in cute Noah news: Noah's very into THE LAND BEFORE TIME right now. So when he and Daddy got home from dinner, he ran over and hugged my leg and started saying "I'm so glad you're not leaving!" and I thought "what the heck is he thinking?" and then he launched into Ducky's soliloquy from LAND BEFORE TIME 4, I think, about "I'm so glad you're not leaving, I am, I am, and the Great Valley will never ever change nope nope nope." Which shouldn't surprise me, because occasionally he also summons up as much bat-like eerieness as he can and tells me in his best Boris Karlov voice that "Petrie is VEEERY SCARRRRRY!"
Wish us luck on the first 48-hour "solo flight" of potty training boot camp!
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Potty Training Boot Camp - Day 3.
Day 3 of potty training boot camp dawned bright and clear. After a few minutes of disorientation when he woke up, which is genetic and he got it from me, he was ready to start the day with unusual enthusiasm. Holding his beanie-baby pig and several plastic friends, he stood at the top of the stairs and announced:
And so off we went to make pancakes, which he ate with gusto.
Belly filled, I suggested that while we were changing into his clothes, perhaps it would be a good time to sit on the potty. "No thanks," he replied. "I don't have to." I reminded him that boys who sit on the potty get lollipops. "I want to sit on the potty!" he announced, and sped into the bathroom, slipped his pajamas off and hopped up. "A purple one!" he demanded, and sat and kicked his cute feet and licked his lollipo for several minutes while I brushed my teeth and put on makeup.
No outcome, but an overwhelmingly happy potty experience.
Last night? Not one, but TWO poop explosions. Somehow I went from needing tequila to recover from the first one, to being up to my elbows in a toilet, rinsing out a pair of underwear. How quickly the world changes....
I have to go downstairs! I have to make pancakes!
And so off we went to make pancakes, which he ate with gusto.
Belly filled, I suggested that while we were changing into his clothes, perhaps it would be a good time to sit on the potty. "No thanks," he replied. "I don't have to." I reminded him that boys who sit on the potty get lollipops. "I want to sit on the potty!" he announced, and sped into the bathroom, slipped his pajamas off and hopped up. "A purple one!" he demanded, and sat and kicked his cute feet and licked his lollipo for several minutes while I brushed my teeth and put on makeup.
No outcome, but an overwhelmingly happy potty experience.
Last night? Not one, but TWO poop explosions. Somehow I went from needing tequila to recover from the first one, to being up to my elbows in a toilet, rinsing out a pair of underwear. How quickly the world changes....
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Potty Training - Days 1 and 2
We arbitrarily selected Monday as the official start of potty training chez cow, and I thought I'd report in on our progress.
But first, let's stipulate who the "we" is. It's me and my parenting partner -- our day care provider. We frankly didn't even tell my beloved husband that we were doing this. Poor guy didn't even know what was coming.
So yesterday morning, we got up, got breakfast, and I put him in a pair of cloth/vinyl pants instead of a diaper, and off to day care we went. When we arrived, he immediately went under the dining room table and pooped. I felt tremendously guilty about it, but I pointed it out and fled the scene of the crime, thanking God in heaven for the woman he brought me to, who I love far more than she knows for being such a wonderful, willing, and supportive third parent to my son.
I got home last night, and lo! there was my son in the second vinyl/cotton pants arrangement, that I'd taken with him for the trip home. I didn't push going to the potty, and sure enough, as it was time for bed, he was wet, but just wet. Okay. Not a big deal. Cleaned up, changed into a diaper for the night, and went to bed.
I had NO idea how things went during the day yesterday, but this morning we gamely went for round two -- and I put him in a vinyl/cotton pants arrangement and off we went. The report was that after the pooping incident, he'd reluctantly (read: crying hysterically the whole time) sat on the potty, and that during the course of the day, all three boys had managed to pee on the rug, which was now outside.
So I went off to work where the challenges pale by comparison with potty training.
Tonight, I arrived home to find my beloved husband instructing my son in the fine art of reading an LL Bean catalog while sitting on the potty. And he got a lollipop reward for sitting gamely, though producing little.
The horror began shortly after.
We went for a walk, and then came up to watch SHREK for the 300th time in 4 days. And when I began changing him into his pajamas, I caught a whiff of something that made my blood run cold. Cloth pants -- poop. Oh no.
I convinced him to pause Shrek and come into the bathroom, and what came next was Benny Hill-esque, and really only lacked the soundtrack, so please, for effect, just sing it quietly to yourself in your head. I peeked into the pants. Not just poop -- no, he could have generated a little pile of rabbit pellets or one of his more "sturdy" bits -- it was a little pigsquish of poop. I inhaled one last time the clean air of the bathroom, and began peeling the wet, squishy pants off him. Got them to his feet with little ill effect, and asked him to step out. First foot okay, second foot okay -- clear! We made it! NO! He lost his balance, and stepped directly back INTO the pants, collecting approximately 80% of the poop onto the bottom of his foot. I quickly dropped the pants to grab ahold of his foot so he wouldn't run off that way, and thought "oh dear God, what do I do now?" No paper towels in reach, no toilet paper in reach -- but if I really stretched.... REEEEEALLY stretched.... I could get the box of wipes.
Ten wipes later, I had gotten most of the poop off of his foot, but there was a nasty pile of wipes stuck to the bathroom floor in a very unsanitary fashion. But, as I told my beloved son who was whimpering quietly through the whole process -- Hey! Everything can be washed! Even Mommy.
Got the boy cleaned up, and managed to find a Target bag to collect up the wipes, and then use more wipes to clean where the wipes had been, and the little bit of dirty rug. Then I took my bottomless son into the other room to get a diaper on for the night.
And then it dawned on me. The pants. The other 20% of the poop was on the inside of the pants. Dear God, what do you do NOW? And it dawned on me -- WIPES! So I carefully wiped out the interior of the pants, and then *ew!* soaked them clean in the bathroom sink. With everything contained in the pitcher from the potty and the Target bag, I left my beloved and now mostly clean son watching Shrek, went down to regale my darling husband with the tale, and take the evidence out to the trash and into the laundry room, respectively.
And then did one last ritual that seemed appropriate to this milestone in my life. I did a shot of tequila.
Other Jews would say Shehekianu:
Me? Didn't even dawn on me. But I did appreciate God handiwork in the distilling of cactus, and its combination with lime. Yay God! Nice thinking.
My boy is in a diaper for the night, and two pairs of pants are bouncing around on "sanitize" mode in our washing machine, for which I also say "Thanks, God."
More reports as they happen. Wish us luck.
But first, let's stipulate who the "we" is. It's me and my parenting partner -- our day care provider. We frankly didn't even tell my beloved husband that we were doing this. Poor guy didn't even know what was coming.
So yesterday morning, we got up, got breakfast, and I put him in a pair of cloth/vinyl pants instead of a diaper, and off to day care we went. When we arrived, he immediately went under the dining room table and pooped. I felt tremendously guilty about it, but I pointed it out and fled the scene of the crime, thanking God in heaven for the woman he brought me to, who I love far more than she knows for being such a wonderful, willing, and supportive third parent to my son.
I got home last night, and lo! there was my son in the second vinyl/cotton pants arrangement, that I'd taken with him for the trip home. I didn't push going to the potty, and sure enough, as it was time for bed, he was wet, but just wet. Okay. Not a big deal. Cleaned up, changed into a diaper for the night, and went to bed.
I had NO idea how things went during the day yesterday, but this morning we gamely went for round two -- and I put him in a vinyl/cotton pants arrangement and off we went. The report was that after the pooping incident, he'd reluctantly (read: crying hysterically the whole time) sat on the potty, and that during the course of the day, all three boys had managed to pee on the rug, which was now outside.
So I went off to work where the challenges pale by comparison with potty training.
Tonight, I arrived home to find my beloved husband instructing my son in the fine art of reading an LL Bean catalog while sitting on the potty. And he got a lollipop reward for sitting gamely, though producing little.
The horror began shortly after.
We went for a walk, and then came up to watch SHREK for the 300th time in 4 days. And when I began changing him into his pajamas, I caught a whiff of something that made my blood run cold. Cloth pants -- poop. Oh no.
I convinced him to pause Shrek and come into the bathroom, and what came next was Benny Hill-esque, and really only lacked the soundtrack, so please, for effect, just sing it quietly to yourself in your head. I peeked into the pants. Not just poop -- no, he could have generated a little pile of rabbit pellets or one of his more "sturdy" bits -- it was a little pigsquish of poop. I inhaled one last time the clean air of the bathroom, and began peeling the wet, squishy pants off him. Got them to his feet with little ill effect, and asked him to step out. First foot okay, second foot okay -- clear! We made it! NO! He lost his balance, and stepped directly back INTO the pants, collecting approximately 80% of the poop onto the bottom of his foot. I quickly dropped the pants to grab ahold of his foot so he wouldn't run off that way, and thought "oh dear God, what do I do now?" No paper towels in reach, no toilet paper in reach -- but if I really stretched.... REEEEEALLY stretched.... I could get the box of wipes.
Ten wipes later, I had gotten most of the poop off of his foot, but there was a nasty pile of wipes stuck to the bathroom floor in a very unsanitary fashion. But, as I told my beloved son who was whimpering quietly through the whole process -- Hey! Everything can be washed! Even Mommy.
Got the boy cleaned up, and managed to find a Target bag to collect up the wipes, and then use more wipes to clean where the wipes had been, and the little bit of dirty rug. Then I took my bottomless son into the other room to get a diaper on for the night.
And then it dawned on me. The pants. The other 20% of the poop was on the inside of the pants. Dear God, what do you do NOW? And it dawned on me -- WIPES! So I carefully wiped out the interior of the pants, and then *ew!* soaked them clean in the bathroom sink. With everything contained in the pitcher from the potty and the Target bag, I left my beloved and now mostly clean son watching Shrek, went down to regale my darling husband with the tale, and take the evidence out to the trash and into the laundry room, respectively.
And then did one last ritual that seemed appropriate to this milestone in my life. I did a shot of tequila.
Other Jews would say Shehekianu:
Blessed are you, oh Lord our God, Maker of the Universe, for giving us life, for sustaining us, and for enabling us to reach this moment of poop.
Me? Didn't even dawn on me. But I did appreciate God handiwork in the distilling of cactus, and its combination with lime. Yay God! Nice thinking.
My boy is in a diaper for the night, and two pairs of pants are bouncing around on "sanitize" mode in our washing machine, for which I also say "Thanks, God."
More reports as they happen. Wish us luck.
Monday, June 04, 2007
The best compliment EVER.
This morning, my little guy crawled into bed with me, and in no hurry to get in the car, I acquiesced to his request that we "snuggle" for awhile. We turned on Bob the Builder, and cuddled up with his head on my shoulder.
Mommy?
Yes, darling?
I love you, Mommy.
I love you too, snugglebug.
He looked at me very seriously, like he was formulating a complex thought.
Mommy?
Yes, darling?
You make .... glad.
What?
You make .... .... glad.
I make you glad, honey?
Yes. You make me glad.
I'm so flattered....
Mommy?
Yes, darling?
I love you, Mommy.
I love you too, snugglebug.
He looked at me very seriously, like he was formulating a complex thought.
Mommy?
Yes, darling?
You make .... glad.
What?
You make ....
I make you glad, honey?
Yes. You make me glad.
I'm so flattered....
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