Lent Photo a Day: Celebrate

Particularly when our children are very young, there are plenty of exciting milestones for parents to celebrate. We celebrate the first smile, the first step, the first word. When they’re a little older, we celebrate when they learn to read, when they learn to ride a bike, when they learn to drive a car. When they become young adults, we celebrate when they graduate from high school and from college, when they get married, when they have children of their own. Each milestone is satisfying and exciting. But there is perhaps no developmental milestone quite so satisfying, quite so exciting, quite so freeing, quite so worthy of celebration, as potty training.

For the past five years, diapers, pull-ups, diaper pails, and the wiping of small bottoms have been an integral part of my life. I had to deal with other people’s bodily fluids multiple times a day, every day. I was at the biological beck and call, so to speak, of my children. But this week, I am able to officially declare that our family is a complete family of underpants-wearers!

I do not declare this fact lightly. I took on the task of intense potty-training my youngest child about a month ago, during her February break from preschool. She spent the entire week running around free of diapers, pull-ups, and underpants, happily “bare-bummed.” Every hour, I would call her to come sit on the potty. Each time, we would slowly count to ten as she did a “try.” Sometimes we’d reach ten without any action. But other times, we’d both open our eyes wide as we heard the unmistakable sound of peeing. And then her face would blossom into a wide grin of excitement, pride, and wonder, and she would giggle with delight. And so would I. We’d high-five each other, sing Daniel Tiger’s song reminding her to “flush and wash and be on your way,” and then I’d reward her with a piece of candy.

As the days wore on, we’d venture a bit further into the world of “big girl underpants.” Santa had put a few pairs of Disney princess underpants in her stocking (he was apparently as eager to get the pull-ups out of our house as I was), but we obviously needed a few more pairs, so we went to the store and she got to pick out some new underpants, opting for the “My Little Pony” collection. Then we were ready for our maiden underpants outing. We went to the grocery store, doing a “try” right before and checking several times during the trip to see if she needed to go again. We made it home with dry pants. She had an accident less than an hour later, but we made it through our outing accident-free. Celebrate!

After a few more days of practicing wearing underpants without pants around the house and then underpants with pants, we were ready to try a day at school. I warned her teachers and asked them to encourage her to go during the day. I packed extra pants just in case, but she made it through without an accident. Again, she had one after we got home, but it was a minor setback. Celebrate! Later that week, she went to her gymnastics class wearing underpants under her leotard. I was a bit nervous when a try at home and one at the gym right before class produced nothing, but she made it through class dry and clean – and then made it through the rest of the day at home with no accidents. Celebrate!

But the real trial came this past weekend when my husband and I attended a two-day conference spanning Friday evening and Saturday all day, and the kids had a sleepover with friends. Luckily, one of their kids is at about the same stage of potty-training as my daughter, so the parents were unfazed at the thought of possible accidents and were more than willing to risk an accident or two. I wasn’t sure how her training would be affected by a different, although familiar, house, and an unfamiliar potty. I needn’t have worried: my daughter was fascinated by the thought of using a different potty and not only did she not have any accidents, she hardly needed to be reminded to use the potty, but ran in herself whenever she needed to go. Celebrate!

And so, I am boldly declaring that my house is now a diaper-free zone (at least during the day). And I am ready to celebrate!

Celebrate!

Photo A Day, Day 28: Chaotic

“Chaotic.” That one word pretty much sums up every day of my life for the past few years. Particularly recently. At this moment, I am attempting to potty train two children at once, which, as any mom will tell you, is an exercise in chaos. You have to be prepared at any moment, no matter where you are, to rush to a bathroom. You need to be able to unhook, unbutton, unzip, or otherwise undo various assorted garments in a split-second. You need to be able to locate and reach a bathroom in any public place in under 30 seconds. You have to have the magical ability to determine the exact urgency of the situation at a single glance. You must develop secret psychic powers to determine the exact moment when a child needs to relieve him- or herself and somehow get him or her to a toilet before all hell breaks loose. The word “chaos,” in this instance, is an understatement.

This pretty little potty chair looks so innocuous, doesn’t it? And yet, it is the hub of chaos for every parent for a period of approximately 6 months per child (although in my case, I’m starting to have the feeling it’s going to stretch out to closer to 6 YEARS). For those 6 months, your life seems to revolve around potties. You let your child watch you use the potty. You watch Elmo use the potty. You talk about using the potty. You talk about Elmo using the potty. You watch videos, read books, and have conversations that all revolve around toilets. You invent new words for bodily functions involving toilets. Your world, for a period of time, is centered around toilets.

It is a sad, sad period of parental life.

But eventually (or so they tell me) it is over, and the chaos transforms into freedom. Freedom from diapers, freedom from diaper pails, freedom from diaper bags, freedom from all things associated with diapers. I yearn for that day. But until then, I will just deal with the chaos.

Bathroom Bribery

Once upon a time (or, more accurately, twice upon a time), I gave birth to a couple of babies. Which means that at some point after that, I had to start potty training those babies. And for child #1, that day has come.

That day has been a long time coming, truth be told. My son was only about 18 months old the first time he peed in the potty – at his own request. I was thrilled to death, and pictured my amazingly advanced child potty-training himself by his second birthday.

Ha.

He’ll be three years old in a few short months, and although he will willingly pee in the potty right before tubby time and even asks to use the bathroom every time we’re at Costco (I don’t see the allure of the public bathrooms at Costco, but apparently he does), but he has shown very few indications of being able to sense when he needs to pee or of being bothered by a wet or dirty diaper. So I had resigned myself to the fact that he, like me (as my mother often reminded me), was simply too busy and uninterested to be potty-trained until he was closer to age 4 than to age 3.

But just this week, he’s started to show more interest and willingness in using the potty, so yesterday I went with my gut and we started potty training in earnest. He loves pushing the buttons on the kitchen timer, so I brought it down to the playroom, set it for 30 minutes, and let him push the “Start” button. I explained that every time it beeped, he could turn it off, and then he could pee in the potty, and each time he did, he’d get some kind of a treat.

I am not above bribery.

I am also aware that there are many different things that motivate a child, so I made a mental list of a bunch of different bribes – er, motivators – to encourage him to use the potty. The most obvious is, of course, sweets. Like most children, my son has a sweet tooth, and like most parents, my husband and I allow him sweets sparingly. So dangling the figurative carrot in the form of a mini cupcake, half a brownie, or a single Rolo candy was my first line of attack. But I realized that dealing with a small, already energetic child who had been eating candy and sweets every half hour all day long was not necessarily an improvement over changing diapers all day, so I tried to mix it up. He’s always begging for juice boxes (mostly because he like to put in the straw by himself), so that became one of his rewards. He hates wearing pants, so another reward was getting to play outside without having to put on pants. Watching YouTube videos on my computer is another treat he begs for on a regular basis, so the offer of getting to watch a few silo demolitions or a clip from Cars 2 dubbed in Russian (? we stumbled across it by accident once and for some reason it became one of his favorites) was added to the treat list.

Other than a few token protests here and there, he was surprisingly willing to go “do a try” periodically through the day. At the end of the day, we’d only gone through two diapers – and the only reason I had to change one was that he’d peed in his sleep during nap time.

So we’re on to day 2 of “motivational training.” If all goes well, by my son’s third birthday, bathroom bribery will be a thing of the past.

At least until child #2 is ready to be “motivated.”

 

The Uncooperative Octopus

They look so sweet and innocuous, those little hands and feet, don’t they? And if you count them, there really are only two of each. But now that Ryan is learning to control them, they seem to have multiplied. Or maybe it’s just that I’m only using two limbs to try and control his four. But whatever the situation, it’s often like dealing with an uncooperative octopus.

I first discovered that this could be a problem when I had Ryan on the changing table and suddenly I was being whapped in the face with a (clean, fortunately) diaper. Mr. Flaily Arms had discovered the stack of clean diapers that was conveniently within arm’s reach (his as well as mine) and had also discovered that clean diapers make a nice crunchy sound and are easy to clutch by any of their parts. Daddy had apparently discovered this issue before I had because I noticed that the bottle of hand sanitizer had been moved to the far end of the changing table. (Wonder if that was a messy discovery?)

Feet are also an issue on the changing table. Even aside from the difficulty of slipping pantlegs over feet which don’t wish to be encumbered by clothing, we have the difficulty of diaper kicking. Naturally, diaper kicking is much more fun when the diaper is poopy – and there has been poop on my nursery walls to prove it. Fortunately, I am resourceful enough that I’ve managed to create a system of holding Ryan’s legs and backside up in the air with one hand while folding the diaper with its unpleasant contents safely sealed inside with the other hand. But again, Mr. Squirmy makes even that supposedly simple task something of an aerobic exercise.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted to see him exploring with his hands and feet. I love watching him carefully and deliberately scoop up a toy with both hands. I love watching him stretch out his toes to pull his bear toward himself. I love that he’s gaining more and more control over his limbs every day. I just wish that he’d be a bit more of a cooperative octopus sometimes.

The Real Poop

Since this is a blog about motherhood, I suppose it was inevitable that at some point I'd be discussing poop. I swore, before Ryan was born, that I'd never be one of those moms who discussed poop all the time. And I won't be - but there are times when the subject is unavoidable. I still doubt I'll ever be making excited announcements about it (yeah, I realize I may change my tune once potty training rolls around), but I suppose to do have to mention it every now and then. And I guess today is now.

The reason the subject is on my mind is that I've noticed that almost every time Ryan plays in his exersaucer or jumperoo for any length of time, I end up having to change a poopy diaper. It makes me wonder: is there something inherent about these bouncy toys that is poop-inducing? Or is it just that the bounciness makes the poopy diapers spectacularly messy? (Did you know that if a baby in a poopy diaper bounces hard enough, the poop will actually reach all the way up to his shoulders? True story. More than once.)

I have a degree in biology, so I do know something about human anatomy and physiology, and about physics. And I don't see any particular physiological reason that bouncing up and down would induce pooping. In fact, I would think that the continued motion would keep the body much too busy for such a process. Apparently I am wrong in this, because Ryan has no trouble at all doing both at once. His bounces don't slow down, there's no pause to give me a hint of what's going on - which means there's plenty of bouncing to create quite a mess inside his clothes before my nose (or his whines) alerts me to the situation.

So I guess the solution is to be alert, put him in washable clothes when he's bouncing, and just expect poop. After all, it's inevitable.