I admit it. I hate potty training. I mean, it seems like a really good idea-- no more diaper changing: whee! A child who can take care of their own business seems like a true accomplishment.
That's the rub right there, really: no newly potty-trained child is really taking care of their own business. It requires you, the designated responsible party, to remind them to go, join them in the bathroom, wipe, and wash hands. Not to mention the book-reading while perched precariously on the side of the bath tub. The problem is, potty-trained is actually more high maintenance than untrained for quite some time.
Even the word "potty" sounds stupid. Yet, it's one of those fine examples of parenting vocabulary that has a way of slipping itself into my adult life. As in, "Excuse me, I am really enjoying this meeting about the resuscitation of the economy, but I need to use the potty."
So, even though I do want my children to become productive self-pottying members of society, I dread every step of the process required to get them there. Every accident is not only an inconvenience, but also a signal of parenting failure. It has nothing to do with the particular child who is actually going to the potty (or not); it has everything to do with mom. All the other moms look at you like, "Oh, well she started too soon" or "she's obviously not following-through on the program" or "she's definitely not using the Dr. Phil plan." It's all yet another opportunity to match up my own personal potty-training skills with the others and see who comes out on top.
Therefore, I will continue to hate potty-training until the line of true self-sufficiency is crossed. In an ideal world, I would wake up one day and find both children perfectly dry and ready to go in their Buzz Lightyear or Princess undies. Until that day comes, I'm a hater.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Soccer Pics
Sam had two soccer games this weekend-- a regular game and a make-up. The first game was more of the same-- general confusion with scattered moments of joy. However, some sort of light bulb went on for Sam in the second game. It involved figuring out the timing of it all-- kicking it harder so that he could get ahead of the pack. He scored 3 goals! It was great. Not that we're keeping score or care at all about the outcome of the game (okay, one of us does), but it was really fun and he had fun too. In that first picture above, he's just scored his first goal. You can maybe tell it's an emotional cocktail of shock and pride.
Unfortunately, there is no pic of my favorite soccer moment of the weekend: that being when a little guy from Sam's team decided to throw down with a guy from the other team. Not once, but twice. If you've never seen a 4/5 year old thump his chest as if to say, "bring it", then you are really missing out. On something. Not sure what exactly, but it was something to see.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
When the parents are away, the grandparents will play
And play, and play, and play!
The grandparents have been doing super-duty this week with Sam at Mamaw/Papaw's and Kate with Grandma/Granddad. We've called home daily to find out what the kiddos are up to, and it seems that the old rumors of grandparent spoiling are hardly exaggerated.
Sam spent the week in Hutch and took two trips to the State Fair, went to the Cosmosphere and the IMAX, went shopping (natch!), played t-ball, and ate bologna/cheese sandwiches for breakfast. At least they recognize the discrepancies between my upbringing and Sam's grandparent-experience. I always tease Dad about how he never let Philip and I touch the trains, much less run them at the age of 3 (like Sam). But they NEVER let us ride carnival rides. Oh no. They were too expensive, too dangerous, too... Well, Sam rode not once, but twice. And he rode everything. What a fun trip!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Kate was dipping her chicken nuggets in caramel apple dip, doing puzzles, playing downstairs (usually reserved for Sam!), and running the household. Unfortunately (for them, not us), it rained like monsoon season all weekend long, so their outside exploits were limited. Until one morning, they innocently (yeah right) opened the patio door to let Miss Kate look out at the rain. With a moment's of hestitation, she went outside to explore, getting soaked in her pjs and loving it. They quickly stripped off the jammies and let her parade around out back in her diaper-- dancing in the rain. What a girl. They even sent us a picture.
So if you've ever wondered what your kids do when they are away from home, I'm sure it looks something like this:
The grandparents have been doing super-duty this week with Sam at Mamaw/Papaw's and Kate with Grandma/Granddad. We've called home daily to find out what the kiddos are up to, and it seems that the old rumors of grandparent spoiling are hardly exaggerated.
Sam spent the week in Hutch and took two trips to the State Fair, went to the Cosmosphere and the IMAX, went shopping (natch!), played t-ball, and ate bologna/cheese sandwiches for breakfast. At least they recognize the discrepancies between my upbringing and Sam's grandparent-experience. I always tease Dad about how he never let Philip and I touch the trains, much less run them at the age of 3 (like Sam). But they NEVER let us ride carnival rides. Oh no. They were too expensive, too dangerous, too... Well, Sam rode not once, but twice. And he rode everything. What a fun trip!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Kate was dipping her chicken nuggets in caramel apple dip, doing puzzles, playing downstairs (usually reserved for Sam!), and running the household. Unfortunately (for them, not us), it rained like monsoon season all weekend long, so their outside exploits were limited. Until one morning, they innocently (yeah right) opened the patio door to let Miss Kate look out at the rain. With a moment's of hestitation, she went outside to explore, getting soaked in her pjs and loving it. They quickly stripped off the jammies and let her parade around out back in her diaper-- dancing in the rain. What a girl. They even sent us a picture.
So if you've ever wondered what your kids do when they are away from home, I'm sure it looks something like this:
BMB: Away and Liking It
I slipped away into the KCI terminal, glancing back at my little lady in tears in the back seat of Grandma and Granddads car. And I left anyway.
As if that weren't bad enough, I enjoyed it. I had a great time in Vegas, spa-ing at the Bellagio (jealous much?), eating extremely tasty yet expensive food, sleeping in a big bed and controlling the shades by remote. Stuart left work on Thursday and we jetted away to scenic Reno (um, no) and enjoyed two days together at the Reno Air Races.
Ah, but here comes the rub: I couldn't indulge without noticing all the little almost-two-year-old girls riding in strollers with their moms at the outlet mall. Or the boys checking out the airplanes and having shirts signed by the pilots.
The moral: You can leave town, but the ties remain.
I was totally floored by a story on Good Morning America (another of my childless pleasures) about a woman who left her family for a writing conference 7 years ago and never came back. Abandoned her husband and 6 children, leaving them penniless and the 14-year-old daughter to sacrifice her life for mommyhood. How does that happen? How can she walk away without seeing her kids faces in the streets of London, or checking out the kids clothing in a catalog? How do you take the savings, knowing your kids are left destitute?
No matter how independent I want to be, or how fun it is to be childless for a weekend, I can't imagine pushing away the shoestrings tying me to my two little bundles of fun.
As if that weren't bad enough, I enjoyed it. I had a great time in Vegas, spa-ing at the Bellagio (jealous much?), eating extremely tasty yet expensive food, sleeping in a big bed and controlling the shades by remote. Stuart left work on Thursday and we jetted away to scenic Reno (um, no) and enjoyed two days together at the Reno Air Races.
Ah, but here comes the rub: I couldn't indulge without noticing all the little almost-two-year-old girls riding in strollers with their moms at the outlet mall. Or the boys checking out the airplanes and having shirts signed by the pilots.
The moral: You can leave town, but the ties remain.
I was totally floored by a story on Good Morning America (another of my childless pleasures) about a woman who left her family for a writing conference 7 years ago and never came back. Abandoned her husband and 6 children, leaving them penniless and the 14-year-old daughter to sacrifice her life for mommyhood. How does that happen? How can she walk away without seeing her kids faces in the streets of London, or checking out the kids clothing in a catalog? How do you take the savings, knowing your kids are left destitute?
No matter how independent I want to be, or how fun it is to be childless for a weekend, I can't imagine pushing away the shoestrings tying me to my two little bundles of fun.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Oh, my daughter
What a wild woman she is. Defining characteristic of 22-month-dom: independence. Now, I'm not sure where she gets this from, but she is a very very independent woman.
When we get dressed now, Kate insists on doing everything "by myself. I do it myself." And she does. She can put her pants on and shoes, though it does take a smidge longer than when Mom does it (I may have to start waking up 30 minutes earlier!) Today after she got both legs in her pants, I made the mistake of pulling them up, which caused screaming and the need to start completely over. Good grief.
This also bleeds over into other areas, such as activities. We started gymnastics last week and though interested in what the teacher told them to do, she broke out in tears twice and all I can figure is that I either helped when I wasn't supposed to help or didn't help when I was supposed to. It's very confusing. And don't even get me started about our photography session on Friday. My independent little woman will be taking pictures only when she's good and ready. Don't try to bribe her into standing where she doesn't want to stand. She won't hear of it. And I won't hear the end of it.
When we get dressed now, Kate insists on doing everything "by myself. I do it myself." And she does. She can put her pants on and shoes, though it does take a smidge longer than when Mom does it (I may have to start waking up 30 minutes earlier!) Today after she got both legs in her pants, I made the mistake of pulling them up, which caused screaming and the need to start completely over. Good grief.
This also bleeds over into other areas, such as activities. We started gymnastics last week and though interested in what the teacher told them to do, she broke out in tears twice and all I can figure is that I either helped when I wasn't supposed to help or didn't help when I was supposed to. It's very confusing. And don't even get me started about our photography session on Friday. My independent little woman will be taking pictures only when she's good and ready. Don't try to bribe her into standing where she doesn't want to stand. She won't hear of it. And I won't hear the end of it.
Now he's just messing with me.
I've mentioned how I'm getting sentimental about how big and grown-up Sam is getting. Well, now he's just egging me on. Last week, on Tuesday the 2nd, Sam lost his first tooth. It's his lower left center (facing him). He's got this adorable toothy smile now, though he probably wouldn't want me saying that.
He complained Sunday night when we were swimming with friends that his tooth was wiggling. Sure enough, it was bleeding and wiggling. It was probably loose enough then to pull, but just barely, so we just told him to keep wiggling it and it would fall out eventually. Boy was he proud though.
For the next two days, Sam complained about what his loose tooth could chew and what it couldn't, and what made it feel better (like milk). Fortunately, on Tuesday night, it just came out when he was talking to his grandparents. I'm so glad, because the last thing we needed was for it to be some traumatic experience.
I have a picture I'll post later, but I wanted to add the big news before I forgot. (We would have posted it last week, but Sam wanted it to be a surprise when he went to visit my parents this week.)
He complained Sunday night when we were swimming with friends that his tooth was wiggling. Sure enough, it was bleeding and wiggling. It was probably loose enough then to pull, but just barely, so we just told him to keep wiggling it and it would fall out eventually. Boy was he proud though.
For the next two days, Sam complained about what his loose tooth could chew and what it couldn't, and what made it feel better (like milk). Fortunately, on Tuesday night, it just came out when he was talking to his grandparents. I'm so glad, because the last thing we needed was for it to be some traumatic experience.
I have a picture I'll post later, but I wanted to add the big news before I forgot. (We would have posted it last week, but Sam wanted it to be a surprise when he went to visit my parents this week.)
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