Potty Training 101

The above title is a misnomer since we have no practical advice to give on potty training. Below, however, are our war stories from the trenches:

(1) Do not mistake pull-ups for kinda cool diapers. Because if you give in to your toddler’s demands that she wants pull-ups just like all of her friends in preschool, but you’re not actually ready to potty train yet, then you’ll be stuck buying pull-ups for ages until she is ready. And in addition to being much more expensive, you will find yourself without a transitional piece, forcing you to go cold turkey (or full commando, whichever metaphor is more appropriate here).

(2) Cleaning out a “solid” accident from a pair of close-fitting underwear is not at all as efficient as changing a dirty diaper. There’s the navigation of said full panties down the legs and over the feet without leaving streaks behind. And then you have to wash out the panties yourself without turning a bit green. All under the constant threat of another accident while your babe is now bottomless.

(3) You start to sound like a raving lunatic as you oscillate between repeating the same questions every five minutes (Do you need the potty? Are you sure? Why don’t you try to use the potty, anyway? Do you need the potty?) and being the world’s most hyper cheerleader (Yay!! You used the potty! Great job! You’re such a big girl! Way to go! Look at that poop!). If you ask these questions often enough, you will elicit an actual eye-roll from your toddler with the accompanying “I know, Mom!” full of teenage scorn and attitude.

(4) Accidents will happen, just like the spit-up on a new shirt or baby food on the walls. What is astounding is the quantity that can flow from such a tiny little person. Apparently that’s what 12 ounces of fluid looks like on the floor. On the plus side, doing two loads of laundry every day does make you a bit nostalgic about the newborn days. You know it’s bad when you kind of miss the convenience of diapers (There, I said it, we all have our little dark secrets).

(5) Toddlers are stubborn little things with the will of a dictator and the attention span of a gnat. Although she may be standing within inches of an available potty, and although you may have asked her a dozen times in the last five minutes and finally convinced her to go into the bathroom with you, she may still have a full blown accident standing beside the potty because she was distracted by a decorative bowl of little stones next to the toilet. Note to self: giving in to her initial demands of holding one of these stones five hours earlier is seeming less innocent now, in the wake of the big clean-up that followed.

(6 ) Potty training is not fun for toddlers either. If given the choice between having an accident in her pants or continuing to play with Play Doh, guess which one option she will choose? Now refer back to #2 above.

(7) Little girls are not born knowing to keep their knees together when on the potty. Apparently when your daughter sits on a full-sized potty with a wide stance (to keep from falling in), and you kneel in front of her (to keep her from falling in), your chest is at just the right level to receive an inconvenient dousing. I suppose this is where you feel lucky that it’s your chest and not your face. I didn’t feel quite this lucky when it happened to me.

(8) You begin to have anxiety attacks when you travel for any distance in the car. You start to obsessively memorize the maps of stores and the zoo and can tell anyone where the nearest bathroom is from your current location. You learn to chant to your little one, “Hold it in, hold it in, keep holding it in!” as you race for these spots at the count of 1, 2, 3 “I have to pee!”

(9) You notice how much better your toddler’s jeans fit without the bulk of a pull-up or diaper. Yes, this is minor silver-lining, but still, you take what you can get.

(10) You marvel the first time your toddler makes it a whole day out of the house without an accident. And life feels just a little bit easier. So while she is still able to double your blood pressure with the simple phrase “I need to use the potty,” you start to envision a life without bottles and pacifiers and diapers and lovies. At least until the next one comes along…

(11) You imagine just how much harder this would be if you had a son and had to teach him how to aim standing up. For those that do, kudos to you!

Sugar and Spice…

One of my best friends and I had children around the same time, three years ago. She had a boy, I had a girl. We often commented how fun it is that we can compare being a mom of a daughter versus a son. And there are indeed big differences, as one can image, and yet more similarities still. One of the bigger differences that we have encountered, although this may be limited to just our experiences, is the idea of gender-specific roles for boys and for girls.

My little girl is a daredevil in many ways. She has never met a sofa she didn’t want to jump on, or an obstacle too tall to climb. We did have prior knowledge since her favorite activity at 4 months old was to throw herself backwards in your arms in a reckless back dive. She also loves cars and trucks and trains, and “Bob the Builder” and “Thomas the Train Engine” were both recent obsessions. Her favorite color can be orange or black or blue or pink, depending on the day (and let’s be honest, whatever color happens to be in front of her at the time). She loves to jump in puddles and poke at insects with a stick; she loves to wrestle and dig in sand until she’s a mudpie herself. Not that she’s a tomboy, because she also adores her ballet classes, twirling in front of the mirror in her skirts or dresses, and dressing up like mom. I mention all of these activities because in my mind, she is first and foremost, a child, and then a girl.

My friend on the other hand, is always apologizing when her son likes something that is considered more “girly.” My daughter recently received a furnished doll house for her birthday. My friend’s son came over for a playdate and was absolutely enraptured by it, and she apologized several times that he was playing with her doll house and mentioned that her husband would be . . . not exactly horrified, but that they would never buy their son a doll house. She had the same reaction when he played with her play kitchen, and with her Cabbage Patch Kids. At an earlier playdate, her son was soaking wet after a satisfying time at the water table, and I offered dry clothes for him to ride home. Although the shirt was burgundy and the shorts were navy and white, she grudgingly accepted the loan because the shorts were too short and looked “girly.” I could go on, but you get the idea. She has very clear gender-roles in mind for her son.

My personal favorite has been the idea that boys are not allowed to play with play kitchens. More than one of my friends has mentioned this in passing, or sometimes it is the father that objects to the play kitchen. Here are my diplomatically couched thoughts on this: (1) I hope he marries right after college so he will never have to cook for himself; (2) what are all of those world famous chefs doing being men? and (3) it’s just playtime. Seriously. He’s not going to put on a tutu and a tiara to stir that soup he’s making for his future partner.

This is something that I have noticed at more and more playdates and public play places. The idea that some toys are feminine and others are masculine. There are even masculine and feminine equivalents of the same toy. There can be Barbie Jeep cars and cameo Hummer type cars. But somehow, the girls are supposed to gravitate towards everything pink and sweet and boys are supposed to love guns and trucks. In the end though, I think kids just like to explore and imagine and be allowed to march to the their own beat.

Regardless of color or decor or type of toy, surely childhood is the brief respite we should have to live outside box and just enjoy play time. From our perspective, she can wear her hard hat and pink tutu skirt while she plays with her Thomas Train set, or sit down to tea in her purple pajamas with her vampire doll and King Kong action figure as guests. Either way, she will find her place soon enough, and we intend to enjoy every quirky moment along the way.

Our little girl is made up of sugar and spice AND snips and snails and puppy dogs tails.

Sticks and Stones

Originally written 5 Sep 2011

Girls can be mean. Just ask anyone who has survived junior high, or high school for that matter.

Or ask a pregnant woman or first time mom.

The playgrounds are no less terrifying for a new (or battle hardened) parent than for their munchkins. At least with the littler set, I can understand. I mean, that is a pretty cool toy you have there, of course you would both want to play with it at the same time. And yes, I did see him push you first, of course you would want to push him back. Not to mention that no one likes being assaulted with a toy or having someone steal your goldfish crackers (a capital offense, if ever there was one).

But the cruelties of parents to one another is more subtle, and more undermining, in many ways. It is the way that someone can compare her child to yours without actually making an overt criticism. It is the way a supposed friend can always one-up you when you are having a bad day (or a good day for that matter). Or the way a strongly opinionated soapbox can render your parenting choices as selfish and immature, or how unsolicited advice can come across as judgmental.

Unless the person really is putting herself or her children in immediate harm’s way, chances are, she already knows that it’s time to lose the diaper and the paci, and that a lunch of goldfish and chocolate milk is not the most nutritious choice. She probably wishes her child would behave in restaurants as much as you do, and she probably hopes that some day her child will sleep past dawn. I doubt that she enjoys answering her child’s endless questions, or stepping in as referee every other minute because her child is going through a year-long “hitting phase.” And most of all, she probably wishes you would understand well enough to offer her an ear, or at least a stiff drink.

Because a support network of good friends who have blazed this trail before or alongside of you is also uplifting and necessary. No pediatrician or hand book is as personalized and meaningful as asking your friends if your child really should be screeching at the top of her lungs, or whether she will ever calm down long enough to get dressed or eat a meal at the table, or whether you can really survive potty-training while keeping your sanity. Friends are good for the practical advice that never make it into books or manuals, and when all else fails, friends are great company for a bottle of wine or something stronger.

I have been blessed to have wonderful friends who keep me sane (and some of those other “friends,” too, who keep me on my toes). Much like a good pair of jeans that hide the mummy-tummy, or a fabulous purse that can hold everything without looking like a diaper bag, or a fantastic pair of shoes that allow you to chase your toddler down the street and still look stylish, another mommy-must-have is a great group of girlfriends. ‘Cause although we love them to death, but men are just not hairy women, as a local newspaper rightly pointed out, years ago.

We’re all treading water here, even if some of us appear better at it than others.

Yoga for Moms (or Dads)

I used to be a yoga-addict (does it count as addiction if it’s good for you?). Nothing helped lower my stress and zen me out more than a hard, sweaty class followed by a yummy frozen yogurt dinner (ah, the life of a 20-something). These days, yoga has taken on a new stance in the most-baby world. Here are some of my favorite poses:

Warrior 3 – closing the fridge door with your foot (that your toddler left open) while serving up breakfast from the skillet and turning off the running faucet with the other hand (that your husband left running); a typical family morning

Tree pose – standing on one leg because you just stepped on another lego/Dora doll/rattle with baby balanced on your hip, diaper bag over arm, trying to get out the door

Cobra pose – lounging on the floor on your belly, playing with puzzles with your child, while he/she alternates between riding on your back, climbing on your shoulders, and running back to take away the puzzle piece you just fit into the board

Chair pose – sitting down in squat without aid of a chair because they were all occupied by your child’s favorite stuffed animals and dolls, but she still insists that you join them for tea (and you cannot sit on the ground because –that- would be improper, apparently)

Triangle pose – using one leg/foot to keep a heavy door wide open into the store (most likely a coffeeshop), while navigating a wide stroller through it, holding your breath that your infant who just fell asleep will continue to sleep in the store just long enough for your quadruple espresso over ice (so you can chug it like a junkie shoots heroin)

Child’s pose – curled up in a little ball in the dark closet while playing “hide and seek” with your moody toddler, enjoying the few minutes of bliss before she finds you; consider maybe hiding in the next door neighbor’s house to prolong the process

Lotus pose – or sitting cross-legged on the floor, as this is the only place that you sit anymore since you stand everywhere else and the sofa has only been used as a trampoline (by your toddler) and as a bed (at 3am by an exhausted parent who has been exiled by the (finally) sleeping baby next to his or her spouse in bed)

Corpse pose – lying on your back, pretending to sleep, taking deep breaths while counting down the last hours before your child’s bedtime; breath in (just three hours to go), breath out (I can see the light at the end of the tunnel), breath in (this too shall pass), oommph! breath out (I didn’t need those ribs anyway)

The Third Tri

Now that our daughter is three, I can see similarities between the first three years and the three trimesters of pregnancy.

In those first few months as a newborn, you experience exhaustion and nausea and wild mood swings. The exhaustion is pretty self-explanatory, except that no one ever mentions that “sleep when the baby sleeps” is a fabulous concept for those lucky few who can afford housekeepers and chefs and personal assistants. Otherwise, you start to resemble a sticky, sweaty, badly neglected baby who may receive enough sleep, but could sorely use a well balanced meal and a long, hot shower. Or even a poorly executed meal and a cold, harsh shower. We’re not terribly picky at this stage.

The nausea, of course, comes from the incredible deluge of bodily functions and fluids you never thought you could or would be comfortable handling, until you have a newborn. Your mantra becomes “I can always wash my hands. And my clothes. And the baby’s clothes. And all of the sheets. And get new carpeting. And paint the walls a nice dark plum that will cover all the stains. And breathe through my mouth.” With every blowout, the trauma lessens a bit and your ability to stomach the next strengthens, until one day you’re handling the full stripper routine like a pro: baby first, then you, then both of you in the tub, then clean clothes for baby and into the crib for a full scrub down of bathroom/bedroom/hallway, etc. for you.

And the mood swings! Who knew that this tiny little package would make you feel such wild dynamics of pure joy and utter terror all within the space of a breath (or the lack of a breath, as you check to make sure baby is breathing for the fiftieth time in an hour). To fall in love so completely is to also surrender to the tightest grips of fear of every tiny danger that could befall your beloved, including that fabulous bumper that you thought you had to have, or that intellectually-stimulating, monochromatic mobile that could fall on her head, or that 50 year old crib that your grandmother keeps insisting you use for your baby.

But then miraculously, you enter that golden second trimester, where baby becomes mobile. And although that brings its own challenges, you start to remember what a regular routine feels like and you start to get more than 3 hours of sleep a night. Diaper changes become far more routine and life is kind of fun, introducing your little one to new places and experiences. Other new parents with infants start to ask YOU for advice and you think, “huh, I think I’ve got the hang of this.”

And then your child gets older and you hit the third trimester, where everything becomes larger and unwieldy and uncomfortable. I’m talking potty-training and temper tantrums here. Because although “baby” is now over two years old, she still wants to be carried everywhere when she is tired or anxious. And let me tell you, 37 pounds of joy is just plain heavy compared to that initial 8 pounds of love. And just when you were coming to terms with diapers and actually appreciating the convenience of being able to go anywhere, for any length of time without fretting, along comes potty-training to throw a wrench in the mix. And your lovely diaper bag that was replaced with a cute, medium-sized bag, now becomes a large, unwieldy backpack as you carry two changes of clothes for your child, one change of clothes for you (because she insists on being carried), and snacks and diversions and other miscellaneous gear.

So here we are, firmly entrenched in the third trimester. She is much more active, much more expressive, but as temperamental as a summers storm. From happy go lucky to full-fledged throw-down mode in the time it takes to utter “no more lollies for you.” Not to mention the discomfort as those same parents seeking advice look around in embarrassment at dinner when it’s your child screaming a the table or it’s you chasing your streaking preschooler around the house with threats of “no books or chocolate milk tonight unless you put on these clothes right now and don’t even think about having a potty-accident while you’re running around naked! and what in the world do you have in your mouth??”

And where will this lead? With hope, to the birth of a well-behaved child as we near her fourth birthday. Although at this point, I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be all natural and mommy needs a stiff drink to anesthetize the (growing) pain(s).

Norman Rockwell Can Kiss My Tush

Growing up, my dearest, fondest wish was a very Merry Norman Rockwell Christmas (and Thanksgiving, but this is the Christmas edition). You know, the version with little rumple-haired children falling asleep in front of the lit fireplace and the sparkly tree on Christmas Eve, being carried to bed by mom and dad, and sleeping soundly until (very early) Christmas morning to bounce down the stairs to a heavily laden stash of brightly colored, wrapped presents.

Well, having not received these types of rosy holidays as a child, I was determined to make them extra-special for my daughter when our little family of two became a family of three. So far, this is what I have learned:

1) Babies and toddlers are scared of Santa. I mean, come on! Who doesn’t love the big guy with the twinkly eyes, the wide lap, and the power to give great presents?

Babies and toddlers, that’s who. Every time we tried to take a photo with Santa, usual mayhem ensued. As a baby, at least all she did was launch herself out of Santa’s lap into mommy’s (unsuspecting) arms. As a toddler, she happily raced to Santa when it was her turn, in order to make a sharp, right turn as she neared the big guy, with a look of utter terror on her face that he was much, much bigger in person than she thought. This year, we have finally graduated up to the lean as far away from Santa as possible and pretend-to-be-happy-about-it-smile. I’ll take it.

2) Too many presents can overwhelm a young child. After opening the first present, she wants to play with the new toy. Now, while I certainly cannot blame her, why does every toy have to come with 100 of those annoying black twist ties? And the non-twist-ties that take a pair of garden shears to cut open. And about 100 yards of tape. And don’t get me started about those hard-plastic-two-piece packages around some electronic toys that take super human strength (and leave about 12 fairly deep cuts) to open. Seriously. Who are these sadists that invent these migraine-inducing packages?

3) Kids only know one (if you’re lucky two) Christmas carols. So while you may have visions of singing around the Christmas tree or piano, your toddler has plans to scream “Jingle Bells” at the top of her lungs. And not the entire song, just “Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells.” And if you’re silly enough to try singing the “dashing through the snow” verse, be prepared for a lot of bossy shrieking about how you’re not doing it right.

Subsection (b) if you’re really lucky, your child is in preschool and they have taught her a new “holiday song,” the words of which you do not know. And since she’s only 3, she doesn’t know the words either. But she desperately wants to sing them with you. So you try to make the words up as you go. Big. Mistake. I refer you back to mayhem above regarding “dashing through the snow.” Nothing annoys a preschooler more than when she knows something that you don’t know, but she can’t remember it well enough to teach you.

4) Christmas cookies apparently look prettier on the walls, the floors, and down your preschooler’s pants. You have 1950’s visions of making beautiful, poignant cookies with your darling little girl, and decorating them with festive sprinkles and artful little swirls. Ha. Yeah, that’s right, ha.

As you’re turning around to get another pan out of the oven, your tiny darling is trying to shovel as many cookies in her mouth as possible (leading to the hysteria-driven tantrums mentioned above when you don’t know the words to “the blue mitten loves Frosty who is best friends with Rudolph on Santa’s Sleigh” or something like that).

Sprinkles are finding themselves into every conceivable crevice of your kitchen (where you know they will melt unseen and cause little pet ants to migrate in the spring) and into your hair and down your shirt and down her pants, but NOT on the cookies themselves. And if you were silly enough to let her have a hand in making the cookie dough that morning? Flour was already in all those same crevices that the sprinkles now adorn.

5) Decorating a tree with your gorgeous bundle of joy will be a wonderful family tradition. Well, it’s not entirely your preschooler’s fault that spherical ornaments look like balls. They are after all, balls on a string. And you can’t really blame her for treating them like the soft balls they throw at school. Even if they were a family heirloom (and you shouldn’t have turned your back on her in the first place, even if it was to catch the 8 foot tree as it started to tip over on your head). The same with all those priceless (or pricey) crystal ornaments. They are pretty sparkly after all. Who wouldn’t want to run over to the window with one to see how the sunlight creates rainbows in the crystals. Even if you might trip and send the said crystal flying.

6) Sleigh rides are a lovely winter tradition. Especially when you were smart enough to bundle up your baby in layers, with mittens and hat and snowpants and snowboots to keep her cozy. Even better when she’s now potty-trained and after waiting for 30 minutes for the sleigh ride, you hear, “mommy, I need to go potty,” as you get ready to board. At the mall. With no potty in sight. Well, at least all those layers will be absorbent if you don’t make it in time.

7) Snowball fights and snow angels are a great winter activity, sure to make memories. Unless your little one has a hard time making snowballs with her mittens on (seeing as she’s still mastering turning door knobs and getting her shoes on by herself). So she takes off her mittens and happily makes a few to toss at you. And then she starts to cry because her hands are too cold. But now you’ve lost the mittens, and she won’t take yours as a substitute because they are (a) too big and (b) not pink, which you should know is her “favorite color!!!”

Snow angels on the other hand, are kind of doomed from the beginning if you have a child who is not thrilled by the idea of cold snow going down her neck or up her pants (but keeps forgetting her finicky ways and insists that you help her make an angel).

8) Writing a letter to Santa is a lovely tradition to start when your child first understands the concept of both Santa and letters. That is, unless your child sees this as a free-for-all to ask for whatever catches her eye. And as any parent of a young child knows, their whims have a shelf-life shorter than a ripe banana. And Murphy’s Law dictates that as soon as you find that “must-have” toy (and if you’re brave, at a great discount on Black Friday), she will have changed her mind and now desperately, heartbreakingly earnestly must have something entirely different.

9) Extended family can make the big day extra special with their festive attitudes and helpful ways. I’m pretty sure we all have extended family and know how naïve this one is from the start.

10) There’s nothing like sitting down to a joyful meal with all of your nearest and dearest to celebrate the season. That is, unless some of you happen to be under the age of 10, and there’s nothing you would rather do less than sit still for a long, boring meal. And not only will you not admire the food (because you’re 3 years old), but you will also not eat any of the lovely meal. And will demand that you have buttered toast for dinner. Buttered on both sides. With the crusts off. No!! Not cut into slices, I need it whole! (unlike yesterday when I wanted it in slices.)

Despite all of this, there is no one I would rather celebrate my favorite time of year with than my darling little girl. Seeing the wonder of the lit trees and shiny decorations reflected in her eyes makes it all worth it.

So raise a glass with me, will you, and Merry Christmas, one and all.

10 Ways To Make The Holidays Meaningful For Kids

As we recover from Black Friday and Cyber Monday, I wonder if there’s a way (or two or three) to show our munchkins some of the non-present sides of the season. Here are some ideas:

1) Get together with some friends or moms’ groups and teach your kids just a few, simple carols. If you’re ambitious, add in a few instruments like bells or some sign language. And go serenade a retirement home. Get extra brownie points by checking to see if you can bring some cookies along.

2) Ask a local soup kitchen if you (and your friends or moms’ groups) can bake some cookies for them and enjoy making (several dozen) cookies for those less fortunate. Or your local Ronald McDonald House, or a shelter for women and children.

3) Go to your local bookstore and buy a book for a child, and maybe inspire the love of learning in another family. Choose a family favorite to make it special, or let your child choose a new holiday classic to add to his or her collection and give a second as a gift to a family less fortunate.

4) Adopt a child or a family to shower with Christmas presents. Let your child choose a toy or two, and explain that although he or she is a very lucky child, others are less fortunate and he or she has the ability to be “Santa’s little helper” and make someone else’s Christmas just a bit more jolly.

5) Collect together old toys and cold weather clothes, still in great condition, and make a trip to your local charity for a drop off.

6) Make some homemade Christmas cards with handprints or footprints (and plenty of sparkle) to send to the military overseas who must be extra-homesick during the holidays. May be include a little wish for “Peace on Earth” so that they may return soon to their families at home.

7) Donate some favorite holiday classics like hot chocolate mix or packages of marshmallows or pre-packaged cookies to a food shelter. You may not be able to feed everyone, but whomever receives it might feel just a bit more warm and toasty. Maybe package each piece nicely with some holiday stickers and a personal note.

8) Consider donating a goat or flock of geese to a family abroad, whose lives and livelihood could change overnight with such a gift. Explain to your child what this might mean to a family who is less fortunate, and have your child help you with handmade cards explaining to loved ones that this year, you have donated the gift of livelihood to another family, in their honor and in the spirit of the season.

9) Pick out a plastic (or other easily sterilized) toy and wrap it up for a child spending his or her Christmas at the hospital. Maybe a new, shiny toy would be a nice distraction as they are recuperating.

10) Make sure to remember loved ones far away with something personal. Maybe a Skype call or a video greeting or some personalized pottery piece for the grandparents or aunts and uncles who are too far away to travel. Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like the personal touch.