I'm pretty worried about what I've done to Story. See, in the Tracee school of potty training, I try all the feel-good stuff (sticker charts, rewards, positive thinking). Then, I get impatient and I move to shame.
I guilted both of my kids into using the potty by complaining about cleaning up their messes, making them apologize to their panties and the potty, and mentioning all the people they know who do use the potty. This seems to work faster than the other way. Ivy turned out okay.
With Story, though, it seems to have added an unwanted reaction. This evening, she was trying to get her pants and tutu down for the potty....but her bladder wouldn't wait. From the kitchen I heard her shriek, "MOMMY! I SORRY! I SO SORRY!!!!" I rushed into the bathroom to find her standing in a puddle.
My poor baby. I comforted her, told her it was okay, and then ran bathwater for her. She was really upset that she missed the potty.
Did I do that? I mean, I thought it was okay...she is using the potty, you know. Could I have scarred her for life? And if I did, will that cause her to pee the bed later????
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Paper towel meditation
I brought home the groceries Sunday after church. One of my purchases was a three-pack of paper towels. As I set it on the counter, I had one of those weirdo flashbacks you get when you look at the person you used to be and the person you've become and realize they aren't the same...that they aren't even close. That you are pretty sure you and that person wouldn't even be friends.
The paper towels symbolize what I've become. I still have a partial roll of paper towels on the holder. I bought the new pack just in case I ran out this week, so I wouldn't have to go without paper towels at all (the partial roll is still there).
Pre-kids Tracee wouldn't have bought those paper towels until she had been paper towel-less for at least a week, maybe two. Pre-kids Tracee never had tissues, and was lucky if she had a spare roll of toilet paper. She went to the grocery store or Wal-mart daily if she needed something to cook (and I use the word "cook" loosely- more like "heat-up"). Most of the time, she and her unfortunate husband didn't eat, and if they did it was because they took the long trip up to Pikeville and got something. I can't tell you what she bought, but she never had money, even for paper products.
Post-kids Tracee always has paper towels. She plans ahead. She is always never without tissues and has at least four back-up rolls of toilet paper at all times. She never runs out of soap, shampoo, medicine, and in normal circumstances, diaper wipes. She cooks (still "heats up") dinner every night and plans out every dinner at least two weeks in advance when she takes stock of the ingredients she needs and makes a detailed shopping list that is divided by aisles. She also picks out her children's and her own clothes for the entire week based on the weather forecast every Sunday. She is a creature of organization and habit.
How in the world can I reconcile these two Tracees? They are as different as night and day, and there's not much they have in common. Pre-kids Tracee talked about band, school, and more band. Post-kids Tracee talks about facebook, diapers, and childhood diseases. Would I be friends with me? How is it possible to change that much in just a couple of years? Oh, yeah, I know the answer:
Story and Ivy. They're good...they put me through trial and error all the time.
The paper towels symbolize what I've become. I still have a partial roll of paper towels on the holder. I bought the new pack just in case I ran out this week, so I wouldn't have to go without paper towels at all (the partial roll is still there).
Pre-kids Tracee wouldn't have bought those paper towels until she had been paper towel-less for at least a week, maybe two. Pre-kids Tracee never had tissues, and was lucky if she had a spare roll of toilet paper. She went to the grocery store or Wal-mart daily if she needed something to cook (and I use the word "cook" loosely- more like "heat-up"). Most of the time, she and her unfortunate husband didn't eat, and if they did it was because they took the long trip up to Pikeville and got something. I can't tell you what she bought, but she never had money, even for paper products.
Post-kids Tracee always has paper towels. She plans ahead. She is always never without tissues and has at least four back-up rolls of toilet paper at all times. She never runs out of soap, shampoo, medicine, and in normal circumstances, diaper wipes. She cooks (still "heats up") dinner every night and plans out every dinner at least two weeks in advance when she takes stock of the ingredients she needs and makes a detailed shopping list that is divided by aisles. She also picks out her children's and her own clothes for the entire week based on the weather forecast every Sunday. She is a creature of organization and habit.
How in the world can I reconcile these two Tracees? They are as different as night and day, and there's not much they have in common. Pre-kids Tracee talked about band, school, and more band. Post-kids Tracee talks about facebook, diapers, and childhood diseases. Would I be friends with me? How is it possible to change that much in just a couple of years? Oh, yeah, I know the answer:
Story and Ivy. They're good...they put me through trial and error all the time.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Poop in the tub
I was lucky with Ivy- she never pooped in the tub. Ever. The possibility of it never even crossed my mind.
I was not so lucky the second time around. Story is a serial tub pooper.
Story loves to take a bath. She pooped in the tub for the first time at 6 months and has managed a bowel movement during her bath about once a month since then until her recent potty training.
When she has pooped in the tub in the past, I have been left with a huge dilemma- what to do? Do I scoop it out and continue with the bath? Is the water actually tainted? How long would the poop have to be in there before it actually dispersed poop-germs throughout the water? Should I clean the tub afterwards?
Here's the major conflict- I am super cheap and running an entire bathtub of water for the second time in one evening would bother me immensely. BUT, I am also an anti-germ OCD kind of person. It also bothers me to think of microscopic poop all over the tub. And the toys. And the kids.
If I get the kids out of the tub, then they sit in the bathroom crying about how cold and wet they are while I empty the tub and scrub it down, pull out the toys to run over with antibacterial wipes, rinse, and refill the tub. by the time I am done, they are probably running around the house getting microscopic poop germs on everything. Plus, I am going to have to get them new towels because of the microscopic poop germs....and new towels mean the old ones need washed which is even more water...
But, if I scoop it out quickly and flush it, and continue to bathe the kids, all I can think is that they are covered in poop. And the tub is covered in poop. I will hesitate to touch them, and then when I comb their hair, I am getting poop in the comb. And on everything they touch- their sheets, toys, clothes, dishes, sippy cups, the couch...the list goes on and on. If I don't clean the tub after, I will keep spreading feces for much longer than just one evening. But, I will have saved money.
So, what wins? Money or germs?
That being said, potty training Story was the best. idea. ever.
I was not so lucky the second time around. Story is a serial tub pooper.
Story loves to take a bath. She pooped in the tub for the first time at 6 months and has managed a bowel movement during her bath about once a month since then until her recent potty training.
When she has pooped in the tub in the past, I have been left with a huge dilemma- what to do? Do I scoop it out and continue with the bath? Is the water actually tainted? How long would the poop have to be in there before it actually dispersed poop-germs throughout the water? Should I clean the tub afterwards?
Here's the major conflict- I am super cheap and running an entire bathtub of water for the second time in one evening would bother me immensely. BUT, I am also an anti-germ OCD kind of person. It also bothers me to think of microscopic poop all over the tub. And the toys. And the kids.
If I get the kids out of the tub, then they sit in the bathroom crying about how cold and wet they are while I empty the tub and scrub it down, pull out the toys to run over with antibacterial wipes, rinse, and refill the tub. by the time I am done, they are probably running around the house getting microscopic poop germs on everything. Plus, I am going to have to get them new towels because of the microscopic poop germs....and new towels mean the old ones need washed which is even more water...
But, if I scoop it out quickly and flush it, and continue to bathe the kids, all I can think is that they are covered in poop. And the tub is covered in poop. I will hesitate to touch them, and then when I comb their hair, I am getting poop in the comb. And on everything they touch- their sheets, toys, clothes, dishes, sippy cups, the couch...the list goes on and on. If I don't clean the tub after, I will keep spreading feces for much longer than just one evening. But, I will have saved money.
So, what wins? Money or germs?
That being said, potty training Story was the best. idea. ever.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Hair bands
There was a small piece of a hair band floating in the tub as the water ran out.
"Mommy," Ivy said, "can that hair band go down the drain?"
I looked up. "Yes, it'll be fine." I said.
"But where will it go" she asked.
"Down the drain."
"But where?"
"The sewer."
"What's the sewer?"
I said I didn't know. She contered with, "What if another hair band goes down the drain?"
"We'll get more."
"What if they ALL went down the drain? I would be so sad. I like my hair bands."
"Ivy," I said, "There is no way ALL the hair bands will go down the drain." *Mentally knocking on wood.*
"What if you put them down the drain?"
"I wouldn't."
"You might," she said.
"I won't."
"But what if they accidentally go down the drain?" she asked. At this point, I was trying hard not to bang my head against the wall.
"Ivy, that's not going to happen."
"It might."
"It won't. We'll buy more."
"But they won't be the same."
"Yes they will."
"Mommy, what if all the hair bands in the world go down the drain?"
"They won't."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because why? How do you know?"
I stared her down and refused to answer.
"Okay," she said. After a short pause, she asked meekly, "Are you sure?"
"Mommy," Ivy said, "can that hair band go down the drain?"
I looked up. "Yes, it'll be fine." I said.
"But where will it go" she asked.
"Down the drain."
"But where?"
"The sewer."
"What's the sewer?"
I said I didn't know. She contered with, "What if another hair band goes down the drain?"
"We'll get more."
"What if they ALL went down the drain? I would be so sad. I like my hair bands."
"Ivy," I said, "There is no way ALL the hair bands will go down the drain." *Mentally knocking on wood.*
"What if you put them down the drain?"
"I wouldn't."
"You might," she said.
"I won't."
"But what if they accidentally go down the drain?" she asked. At this point, I was trying hard not to bang my head against the wall.
"Ivy, that's not going to happen."
"It might."
"It won't. We'll buy more."
"But they won't be the same."
"Yes they will."
"Mommy, what if all the hair bands in the world go down the drain?"
"They won't."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because why? How do you know?"
I stared her down and refused to answer.
"Okay," she said. After a short pause, she asked meekly, "Are you sure?"
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Questions from Ivy
Here's the latest compilation of difficult to anser Ivy questions:
Mommy, does God know everything, even that I like purple?
How did you learn to read, Mommy?
Was Story and I always in your belly before we were borned?
Why is Story so mean?
Why is cleaning so boring?
Who made pumpkins? Why are they orange? Why are pumpkins for Halloween?
Why did the chicken cross the road? No, REALLY Mommy!
Did the boy who played Jesus in the play know Jesus? Did Jesus really look like that boy? Why not?
How does the car know where to drive us?
Why do you get fired if you don't go to work?
Why do boys stand up to pee?
When will I be grown up?
How long did it take you to be grown up, Mommy?
Why can't you and I share a room? Daddy can share a room with Story.
And this was just today......
Mommy, does God know everything, even that I like purple?
How did you learn to read, Mommy?
Was Story and I always in your belly before we were borned?
Why is Story so mean?
Why is cleaning so boring?
Who made pumpkins? Why are they orange? Why are pumpkins for Halloween?
Why did the chicken cross the road? No, REALLY Mommy!
Did the boy who played Jesus in the play know Jesus? Did Jesus really look like that boy? Why not?
How does the car know where to drive us?
Why do you get fired if you don't go to work?
Why do boys stand up to pee?
When will I be grown up?
How long did it take you to be grown up, Mommy?
Why can't you and I share a room? Daddy can share a room with Story.
And this was just today......
Disclaimer
I started thinking about my blog today, and I just want you to know that regardless of what I write, I DO love my children. Yeah, they get lots of ketchup, I give them Kool-aid, I might drop them in the middle of the night and sometimes Ivy's mulit-decibel voice grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Really. Just saying. :)
Bedtime Antics
My kids hate to sleep. No, let me rephrase that...they hate to sleep before 11 PM.
Ivy and Story seem to have this internal clock that cause them to try and stay awake until 11 and sleep until 9. Unfortunately, they have to be up at 6:30, which means they really need to go to sleep at 8:30.
But that ain't happening.
Even with the best intentions, they will rarely get in bed before 9, and will probably lay there awake and crying for at least an hour.
Last night, I was determined that they'd be in bed asleep before nine! We ate dinner early, had baths early, and at 8:40 I yelled, "Bed time!!" Which instantly caused Ivy to burst into tears and Story to run around screaming "Catch me!" frantically.
I told Ivy to chin up and sent her to her bed while I concentrated on catching Story. After two revolutions around the furniture, I finally faked her out and had her writhing, thrashing, tutu-clad body in my arms. I met sobbing Ivy in the hallway and ushered her back to her bedroom.
I rocked Story for two minutes until the sound of Ivy's wails were so loud as to attract the neighborhood coyotes. I dropped Story in the crib, and she started to cry. I ran in Ivy's room and tried to console her. We read a book, but I couldn't hear what I was saying because Story's cries were even louder than Ivy's (who is the loudest child on the Earth- Story has accomplished a large feat!!!). I gave Ivy two more books to look at, and rushed back to Story's room.
Story didn't stop crying, though, just because I came back. She wanted OUT. It's not FAIR. Where's my POLLY POCKET? I settled into the rocking chair and tried my best to convince her to stop treating the crib like a trampoline. (Remind me to buy a new crib if I ever have any more kids- this one is probably ready to fall apart) Finally, I had to use the counting method (1..2..3..all right, spanking time). She laid down with a shriek, which caused sympathetic shrieks from Ivy in the next room.
I quickly lost most of what was left of my hearing. I blew Story a kiss, popped my head into Ivy's room to say goodnight, and plopped myself on the couch with my snuggie and my netbook. This is what occurred as I sat there for the next hour:
IVY: Mooooommmmy, Story's crying, I can't sleep.
STORY: NO I NOT!!!!!!!!!!!! WAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
IVY: Mooooommmy, can you come turn my light on?
STORY: Mommy! I need a drinkie!!!!
IVY: Story, stop!!!!!!!!
STORY: MOMMY, I need you!
IVY: Mommy, I'm scared.
STORY: Jingle bells, jingle bells.......
I yelled, "No!" a couple times, and threatened to close their doors, too....eventually, they fell asleep, exhausted. I can't promise it was before I did, though! An hour and a half is too much of that!
Ivy and Story seem to have this internal clock that cause them to try and stay awake until 11 and sleep until 9. Unfortunately, they have to be up at 6:30, which means they really need to go to sleep at 8:30.
But that ain't happening.
Even with the best intentions, they will rarely get in bed before 9, and will probably lay there awake and crying for at least an hour.
Last night, I was determined that they'd be in bed asleep before nine! We ate dinner early, had baths early, and at 8:40 I yelled, "Bed time!!" Which instantly caused Ivy to burst into tears and Story to run around screaming "Catch me!" frantically.
I told Ivy to chin up and sent her to her bed while I concentrated on catching Story. After two revolutions around the furniture, I finally faked her out and had her writhing, thrashing, tutu-clad body in my arms. I met sobbing Ivy in the hallway and ushered her back to her bedroom.
I rocked Story for two minutes until the sound of Ivy's wails were so loud as to attract the neighborhood coyotes. I dropped Story in the crib, and she started to cry. I ran in Ivy's room and tried to console her. We read a book, but I couldn't hear what I was saying because Story's cries were even louder than Ivy's (who is the loudest child on the Earth- Story has accomplished a large feat!!!). I gave Ivy two more books to look at, and rushed back to Story's room.
Story didn't stop crying, though, just because I came back. She wanted OUT. It's not FAIR. Where's my POLLY POCKET? I settled into the rocking chair and tried my best to convince her to stop treating the crib like a trampoline. (Remind me to buy a new crib if I ever have any more kids- this one is probably ready to fall apart) Finally, I had to use the counting method (1..2..3..all right, spanking time). She laid down with a shriek, which caused sympathetic shrieks from Ivy in the next room.
I quickly lost most of what was left of my hearing. I blew Story a kiss, popped my head into Ivy's room to say goodnight, and plopped myself on the couch with my snuggie and my netbook. This is what occurred as I sat there for the next hour:
IVY: Mooooommmmy, Story's crying, I can't sleep.
STORY: NO I NOT!!!!!!!!!!!! WAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
IVY: Mooooommmy, can you come turn my light on?
STORY: Mommy! I need a drinkie!!!!
IVY: Story, stop!!!!!!!!
STORY: MOMMY, I need you!
IVY: Mommy, I'm scared.
STORY: Jingle bells, jingle bells.......
I yelled, "No!" a couple times, and threatened to close their doors, too....eventually, they fell asleep, exhausted. I can't promise it was before I did, though! An hour and a half is too much of that!
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