When Life Gives You Lemons -- Just hope the lemons are good enough to make lemonade out of. This Old House has been, well, an experience. We are on standstill AGAIN. Although this time, the rooms and the entire perimeter have been framed, electricalled and the new stair way built and we were ready to drywall. And then the rain came. And then the floor leaked. And then we knew our problem was not fixed. Back to square one, here we come! We are making plans to just build an ark instead so that whether rain or shine, we will be dry. And so will our house.
Potty Training 101 does not work 100% all the time. If it works on Child #1, it is not guaranteed to be successful with subsequent children in your family. It may have just been a coincidence that it worked even just once. Or, it may only work for a select handful of boys. Or, it may only work for one boy. Or, worst case scenario, it may not work at all. Just thought I would throw that disclaimer out there.
Showing posts with label potty training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label potty training. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Monday, January 21, 2008
Potty Training: Does It Ever End?
WHY do kids go through a stage where they HAVE to tell you that they need to go to the bathroom? And it's not just a, "hey mom, if you're wondering where I am, I'll be on the pot" kind of a thing. It's a an alert. A life and death warning. A if-you-don't-know-I-have-to-go-to-the-bathroom-now-this-might-be-the-last-time-we-see-each-other-on-earth kind of notification. Same idea as when the Tax Man audits you. That gut wrenching, heart breaking information.
I have seen kids walk past the bathroom while having to go really bad. Where are they going that is more important than just going? Let me guess... they are on their way to tell their mom they have to go to the bathroom.
It sure would be nice if kids did that about other things. Like say for example, eating dog food. They walk past the dog food to ask if they can eat the dog food. And then you can know they are wanting to eat dog food and are able to stop them in time from contaminating themselves with dead meat in the dog food.
Or why not ask if they can bite their brother? When they suddenly feel the urge to bite their brother, they could ask you instead. Wouldn't that be nice? Just think of all the quarrels you could prevent, let alone the human mouth shaped teeth marks on your son's arm you could stop. That would be nice.
But, no. They only ask about the bathroom. Why is it an universal thing too? I have seen kids all over the country, the world, from many different homes, from many different nations ask their mom if they could use the bathroom.
I had thought for awhile we had evaded this stage of parenting/childhood with Landon but it looks now like we haven't. He is exactly almost 4 years old. I wonder if that's the normal age to start this stage or not?
I am thinking the next time Landon asks me if he can go to the bathroom, I will just say no. Absolutely not. "I am so glad you asked me if you could go because I had been meaning to tell you that today, you are not allowed to pee...." OF COURSE YOU CAN USE THE BATHROOM!
I have wondered if kids just want a personal escort to take them to the bathroom. Or if they were afraid of the darkness of some windowless bathrooms. Or if they needed to know that somebody cared about them. Or if they were afraid they'd sit on the big open expanse of the pot and out of the blue fall in and disappear forever down that cold, dark hole. Or if they are just testing our patience as time after time we point out the obvious... "For Pete's sake the bathroom is right there behind you and it has your name written all over it."
There are so many reasons that could be why kids have to notify their mom about their need to use the home's toilet facilities. I am just not sure if we know of all those possible reasons yet.
So, I scheduled an interview...
Me: Landon why do you tell Mommy when you have to go to the bathroom?
Landon: 'Cause... So when I poop you can know when you should come and do me. (by "do me," he means wipe.)
Me: Is that all?
Landon: No.
Me: What are the other reasons?
Landon: Because then you know how I'm done. And when I get off the potty chair, that's disobeying.
Me: Why is that disobeying? (I am wondering where this is going and where it came from.)
Landon: Because then you're gonna get a spanking. I'm serious. My dad used to be older (he means younger) and he got off the potty chair. When he was a little boy, I was big. I wasn't the little boy, Daddy was.
Me: What does Daddy being on the potty chair have to do with why you tell Mommy you have to go to the bathroom?
Landon: (he began to tell me about the UPS man (the SRP truck, as he calls him). I get him back on the subject at hand...) I don't know because... then you will come and wipe me. You have to come in about 3 minutes. Like today we went all potty in my potty chair... 2 of them. (he means he went twice but I'm not sure about the "we" part).
Me: Why do you tell Mommy when you just have to pee?
L: Hey Mom, let's talk about the monkey that peed...
Me: No, let's talk about why you ask Mommy everytime you have to pee.
L: Because.
Me: When you have to go potty, why do you tell mommy?
L: Because then I don't know what I have to say.
Me: Do you have to go potty right now?
L: No. I'm writing. (he was addressing his mail.)
Me: Well, Landon when you have to pee in a little bit, are you going to tell Mommy?
L: No. When I'm older then I'll go poop. (he then got up to get the stamps.)
Me: Landon, Mommy needs to talk to you about something... just like I talk to Daddy about things sometimes... why do have to tell Mommy that you're going to the bathroom?
L: Because then I won't understand you. And I'll talk to you... "Mommy I'm done." (he means he sits in the bathroom and says, "Mommy I'm done.)
I ask him again.
L: Because then I won't understand you and you won't come and I'll have to keep asking and asking. And you won't come because you're not...
Me: (a little King James speech there... "because she was not.") Okay, but why when you just pee?
L: Becaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaause... the monkey peed.
Me: (okay, if you want to talk about the monkey, we'll talk about him...) Did he tell his mom?
L: Um, or his daddy. Or his friend.
Me: Really? So is that why you tell mommy?
L: Ummmmm. Uh-huh.
Me: When you ask me again if you can go to the bathroom, I'm gonna say no. Then what will you do?
L: Spank you.
Getting a little weary, I repeat my question one last time.
L: Because then...(his voice trailed off)... I don't know.
So, there's our proof. These kids really don't know. It's not some irrational fear that makes them tell us they have to go to the bathroom. It's not the dark. It's not the cold toilet seat. It's not their fear of forever being gone from us and getting flushed right down the toilet with their pee. It's not that they need permission.
The reason is because.... well, they don't know either.
I have seen kids walk past the bathroom while having to go really bad. Where are they going that is more important than just going? Let me guess... they are on their way to tell their mom they have to go to the bathroom.
It sure would be nice if kids did that about other things. Like say for example, eating dog food. They walk past the dog food to ask if they can eat the dog food. And then you can know they are wanting to eat dog food and are able to stop them in time from contaminating themselves with dead meat in the dog food.
Or why not ask if they can bite their brother? When they suddenly feel the urge to bite their brother, they could ask you instead. Wouldn't that be nice? Just think of all the quarrels you could prevent, let alone the human mouth shaped teeth marks on your son's arm you could stop. That would be nice.
But, no. They only ask about the bathroom. Why is it an universal thing too? I have seen kids all over the country, the world, from many different homes, from many different nations ask their mom if they could use the bathroom.
I had thought for awhile we had evaded this stage of parenting/childhood with Landon but it looks now like we haven't. He is exactly almost 4 years old. I wonder if that's the normal age to start this stage or not?
I am thinking the next time Landon asks me if he can go to the bathroom, I will just say no. Absolutely not. "I am so glad you asked me if you could go because I had been meaning to tell you that today, you are not allowed to pee...." OF COURSE YOU CAN USE THE BATHROOM!
I have wondered if kids just want a personal escort to take them to the bathroom. Or if they were afraid of the darkness of some windowless bathrooms. Or if they needed to know that somebody cared about them. Or if they were afraid they'd sit on the big open expanse of the pot and out of the blue fall in and disappear forever down that cold, dark hole. Or if they are just testing our patience as time after time we point out the obvious... "For Pete's sake the bathroom is right there behind you and it has your name written all over it."
There are so many reasons that could be why kids have to notify their mom about their need to use the home's toilet facilities. I am just not sure if we know of all those possible reasons yet.
So, I scheduled an interview...
Me: Landon why do you tell Mommy when you have to go to the bathroom?
Landon: 'Cause... So when I poop you can know when you should come and do me. (by "do me," he means wipe.)
Me: Is that all?
Landon: No.
Me: What are the other reasons?
Landon: Because then you know how I'm done. And when I get off the potty chair, that's disobeying.
Me: Why is that disobeying? (I am wondering where this is going and where it came from.)
Landon: Because then you're gonna get a spanking. I'm serious. My dad used to be older (he means younger) and he got off the potty chair. When he was a little boy, I was big. I wasn't the little boy, Daddy was.
Me: What does Daddy being on the potty chair have to do with why you tell Mommy you have to go to the bathroom?
Landon: (he began to tell me about the UPS man (the SRP truck, as he calls him). I get him back on the subject at hand...) I don't know because... then you will come and wipe me. You have to come in about 3 minutes. Like today we went all potty in my potty chair... 2 of them. (he means he went twice but I'm not sure about the "we" part).
Me: Why do you tell Mommy when you just have to pee?
L: Hey Mom, let's talk about the monkey that peed...
Me: No, let's talk about why you ask Mommy everytime you have to pee.
L: Because.
Me: When you have to go potty, why do you tell mommy?
L: Because then I don't know what I have to say.
Me: Do you have to go potty right now?
L: No. I'm writing. (he was addressing his mail.)
Me: Well, Landon when you have to pee in a little bit, are you going to tell Mommy?
L: No. When I'm older then I'll go poop. (he then got up to get the stamps.)
Me: Landon, Mommy needs to talk to you about something... just like I talk to Daddy about things sometimes... why do have to tell Mommy that you're going to the bathroom?
L: Because then I won't understand you. And I'll talk to you... "Mommy I'm done." (he means he sits in the bathroom and says, "Mommy I'm done.)
I ask him again.
L: Because then I won't understand you and you won't come and I'll have to keep asking and asking. And you won't come because you're not...
Me: (a little King James speech there... "because she was not.") Okay, but why when you just pee?
L: Becaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaause... the monkey peed.
Me: (okay, if you want to talk about the monkey, we'll talk about him...) Did he tell his mom?
L: Um, or his daddy. Or his friend.
Me: Really? So is that why you tell mommy?
L: Ummmmm. Uh-huh.
Me: When you ask me again if you can go to the bathroom, I'm gonna say no. Then what will you do?
L: Spank you.
Getting a little weary, I repeat my question one last time.
L: Because then...(his voice trailed off)... I don't know.
So, there's our proof. These kids really don't know. It's not some irrational fear that makes them tell us they have to go to the bathroom. It's not the dark. It's not the cold toilet seat. It's not their fear of forever being gone from us and getting flushed right down the toilet with their pee. It's not that they need permission.
The reason is because.... well, they don't know either.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Sanitary Sunday for the Sane
No baby crying, no kids starving and no phone ringing. Ahh! The bliss of a blog moment.
Okay, you noticed my title and probably wonder what in the world would inspire such a subject. I never seem to participate in Wordless Wednesday, or Works-For-Me-Wednesday, or Kitchen-Tip-Tuesday, or Friday Funnies, or any of those catchy phrases that define the topic for the day on several of the blogs I visit. Instead, I've decided to make up my own just now. Actually, I was going to write this post last Thursday but then didn't get a chance. I never could come up with a good one for Thursday anyway. As is the custom of things put aside, I didn't get to it until today... Sunday.
I've had a heavy topic on my mind lately. A real heavy one. We could call this post, "The Topic" since it falls in such a stark category. Hopefully we won't broach this subject again, at least for a real long time, but for now I think we need to discuss the following.
The topic at hand involves a toilet. I know, I know. It doesn't get much heavier than toilet talk. Especially when I'm referring to a toilet commonly used by a little boy who utilizes his full height for something that needs all of his stature and then some. I think you agree that this is a pretty weighty topic now.
So, the fact that we have only toilet in our home and no urinal, I was desperate. I mean, I hate to be so brash in my honesty right now but I was finding it frustrating to find small puddles of, well, of THAT and realized early on that simply wiping the puddles up with mere toilet paper was probably not very sanitary.
For the record, I LOVE cleaning toilets. Toilets and sinks are my favorite to clean. You probably think that's gross and perhaps your least favorite chore. Let me assure that yes, dirty toilets and dirty sinks are gross. But, in hardly anytime, a little elbow grease can have a bad toilet looking really good. And I love it when my work has a fast turn-around rate -- you start the project and the thing looks bad; in a matter of seconds, you are finished and the thing is a shiny piece of porcelain. Unlike laundry where you sort it, wash it, switch it, dump it, fold it, put-it-away and then start on the next load. Takes forever to see progress... unlike toilet cleaning.
But, I don't like cleaning toilets constantly. I like to enjoy my progress; not keep repeating the chore over and over every time my child has to use the bathroom. I was honestly getting a little weary with the fact that my little boy seemed to arrive in the bathroom just on time every time so was only given enough time to aim in the general direction of the toilet instead of aiming precisely IN the toilet. Aiming AT the toilet and aiming IN the toilet are two entirely different things. Plus his stature is a little wanting so that makes a difference too. Teetering on your tip toes into something that is a tad too tall anyway is enough of a road block from keeping you from getting the job done efficiently. And not being efficient in the bathroom when you're a little boy is just not a good thing for whoever regularly cleans the bathroom.
As if the puddles weren't bad enough, I investigated further one day when the bathroom smelled especially ripe. I found by looking in just the right light, that there was a spray of dried, well, STUFF on the wall and I realized that a little velocity practice had been going on in our civilized house. Folks, I live in the United States of America and reside in a modern Midwestern town; this isn't a third world country. I believe in freedom but not the kind of freedom that allows, well, THAT to be relieved anywhere it strikes your fancy. It's one thing to use a tree for such talents but we do not use anything inside our home for, well, THAT STUFF.
Upon examination, the top trickles were almost 4 feet high. And my son is only about 3' tall. While observing his achievement on the bathroom wall, I had to wonder if he thought he had succeeded in his pursuits. I'm sure he was impressed but I sure wasn't.
I washed all the walls in the vicinity of the toilet a good way up and sanitized the entire toilet. I had a good talk with my boy's father, who by the way, was more than slightly amused by what our son did. Though he was almost impressed, he still promised to talk to Landon.
In the meantime, I needed to find a solution for all the little "accidents" that happened several times a day in our bathroom and have been ever since our son became "potty trained." For those of you with baby boys still using diapers, I have one words of advice for you: don't potty train your son until he is tall enough to stand in front of the toilet. In case you don't know this, potty chairs are for girls. Boys stand. Even when they can't reach, they still stand. Trust me on this. Potty chairs with pee guards big enough to contain an elephant should he try out the plastic little throne, is only deceiving: potty chairs are a girl thing. A pee guard does no good when the boy stands at the toilet instead.
Normally what I did to these obnoxious puddles of what-the-pee-guard-on-the-potty-chair-that-my-son-doesn't-use-since-he's-a-boy didn't get, was attack them with generous sprays of Fantastic cleaner and evacuate the areas with sterile paper towels. But, keeping both in our tiny bathroom and trying to stay on top of the messes with constant bathroom upkeep similar to what most people do once a week, was getting weary.
I decided to splurge: I bought antibacterial cleaning wipes instead. In no time, I can have the entire toilet area spic and span WITHOUT using clumsy paper towels, rags and a spray bottle of disinfectant that I don't have room for.
This keeps me sane, the bathroom sanitary and is even simple enough to do on a busy Sunday. Now Landon can continue to grow big and healthy and hopefully smart and tall and someday, just someday, I might actually have a clean bathroom in between the times that I clean it.
A weighty topic indeed but reality all the same. Especially when you live with a little boy like I do.
Okay, you noticed my title and probably wonder what in the world would inspire such a subject. I never seem to participate in Wordless Wednesday, or Works-For-Me-Wednesday, or Kitchen-Tip-Tuesday, or Friday Funnies, or any of those catchy phrases that define the topic for the day on several of the blogs I visit. Instead, I've decided to make up my own just now. Actually, I was going to write this post last Thursday but then didn't get a chance. I never could come up with a good one for Thursday anyway. As is the custom of things put aside, I didn't get to it until today... Sunday.
I've had a heavy topic on my mind lately. A real heavy one. We could call this post, "The Topic" since it falls in such a stark category. Hopefully we won't broach this subject again, at least for a real long time, but for now I think we need to discuss the following.
The topic at hand involves a toilet. I know, I know. It doesn't get much heavier than toilet talk. Especially when I'm referring to a toilet commonly used by a little boy who utilizes his full height for something that needs all of his stature and then some. I think you agree that this is a pretty weighty topic now.
So, the fact that we have only toilet in our home and no urinal, I was desperate. I mean, I hate to be so brash in my honesty right now but I was finding it frustrating to find small puddles of, well, of THAT and realized early on that simply wiping the puddles up with mere toilet paper was probably not very sanitary.
For the record, I LOVE cleaning toilets. Toilets and sinks are my favorite to clean. You probably think that's gross and perhaps your least favorite chore. Let me assure that yes, dirty toilets and dirty sinks are gross. But, in hardly anytime, a little elbow grease can have a bad toilet looking really good. And I love it when my work has a fast turn-around rate -- you start the project and the thing looks bad; in a matter of seconds, you are finished and the thing is a shiny piece of porcelain. Unlike laundry where you sort it, wash it, switch it, dump it, fold it, put-it-away and then start on the next load. Takes forever to see progress... unlike toilet cleaning.
But, I don't like cleaning toilets constantly. I like to enjoy my progress; not keep repeating the chore over and over every time my child has to use the bathroom. I was honestly getting a little weary with the fact that my little boy seemed to arrive in the bathroom just on time every time so was only given enough time to aim in the general direction of the toilet instead of aiming precisely IN the toilet. Aiming AT the toilet and aiming IN the toilet are two entirely different things. Plus his stature is a little wanting so that makes a difference too. Teetering on your tip toes into something that is a tad too tall anyway is enough of a road block from keeping you from getting the job done efficiently. And not being efficient in the bathroom when you're a little boy is just not a good thing for whoever regularly cleans the bathroom.
As if the puddles weren't bad enough, I investigated further one day when the bathroom smelled especially ripe. I found by looking in just the right light, that there was a spray of dried, well, STUFF on the wall and I realized that a little velocity practice had been going on in our civilized house. Folks, I live in the United States of America and reside in a modern Midwestern town; this isn't a third world country. I believe in freedom but not the kind of freedom that allows, well, THAT to be relieved anywhere it strikes your fancy. It's one thing to use a tree for such talents but we do not use anything inside our home for, well, THAT STUFF.
Upon examination, the top trickles were almost 4 feet high. And my son is only about 3' tall. While observing his achievement on the bathroom wall, I had to wonder if he thought he had succeeded in his pursuits. I'm sure he was impressed but I sure wasn't.
I washed all the walls in the vicinity of the toilet a good way up and sanitized the entire toilet. I had a good talk with my boy's father, who by the way, was more than slightly amused by what our son did. Though he was almost impressed, he still promised to talk to Landon.
In the meantime, I needed to find a solution for all the little "accidents" that happened several times a day in our bathroom and have been ever since our son became "potty trained." For those of you with baby boys still using diapers, I have one words of advice for you: don't potty train your son until he is tall enough to stand in front of the toilet. In case you don't know this, potty chairs are for girls. Boys stand. Even when they can't reach, they still stand. Trust me on this. Potty chairs with pee guards big enough to contain an elephant should he try out the plastic little throne, is only deceiving: potty chairs are a girl thing. A pee guard does no good when the boy stands at the toilet instead.
Normally what I did to these obnoxious puddles of what-the-pee-guard-on-the-potty-chair-that-my-son-doesn't-use-since-he's-a-boy didn't get, was attack them with generous sprays of Fantastic cleaner and evacuate the areas with sterile paper towels. But, keeping both in our tiny bathroom and trying to stay on top of the messes with constant bathroom upkeep similar to what most people do once a week, was getting weary.
I decided to splurge: I bought antibacterial cleaning wipes instead. In no time, I can have the entire toilet area spic and span WITHOUT using clumsy paper towels, rags and a spray bottle of disinfectant that I don't have room for.
This keeps me sane, the bathroom sanitary and is even simple enough to do on a busy Sunday. Now Landon can continue to grow big and healthy and hopefully smart and tall and someday, just someday, I might actually have a clean bathroom in between the times that I clean it.
A weighty topic indeed but reality all the same. Especially when you live with a little boy like I do.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
On Pews And Potty Chairs
They tell me the child is 2, certainly old enough to potty train. So, they start the brigade.
Every 20 minutes, the child is asked if she has to go potty.
Any excuse to get behind the exciting and until now, forbidden bathroom door and mingle with water and soap and flushers is way too exciting for a 2 year old. Especially when it involves water.
A steady stampede is repeated throughout that day. And the next. And the next. And the next. And so forth until the child turns 3 or 4.
Of course, at home this scene isn't repeated quite as often. The child is left to play uninterrupted with pull-ups on or some other fancy fanny wear and eventually she learns that all she has to say is the "p" word and the whole house swarms to her side in order to meet her request before an "accident" takes place.
Soon it gets boring to go to the bathroom so often. The water and toilet paper and flushers just aren't quite as appealing as they were before. Eventually the child takes on the schedule of any well potty trained individual; not too often and not too infrequent. A healthy balance.
But, when it comes to church time, the former schedule of every 20 minutes comes into action. Only this time, you drop the 0 and keep the 2, making it about every 2 minutes. In a short service, that child can be seen being ushered down to the enthralling throne room at least a half a dozen times. The look of glee and contentment on the child's face is seen by all except the well meaning parents who "just don't want another accident."
After repeated episodes of trips to the bathroom, I had to wonder if the child had a severe bladder problem. Surely it is never healthy for anyone to have to go to the bathroom every few minutes. But, maybe a 2 year old's bladder is just a bit more active. Her parents don't seem to be too concerned but I had to wonder if a trip to the doctor the next day would perhaps be a good idea.
But I knew the truth. I have a two year old. A girl too. She plays on every chance she can to do something "fun," something interesting and something with water. I also know she'd have to go potty every 10 minutes at Church too, if she knew the beauties that the Church bathroom beholds.
And if you're like me and inwardly smirk at the predicament of parents to their child's whims and wants for the Church bathroom, you have all you can do not to discreetly get the child's attention and then mouth "POTTY" across the pews when you happen to see the child actually sitting for all of five minutes between potty sessions.
You know you'd see the little face turn up to the bathroom-weary-face of her poor father and then she'd pull on his neck and whisper the powerful "p" word and off they'd rush to the bathroom. Again.
But I couldn't do it. Some time in the near future, my 2 year old girl will be fancily clad with becoming fanny wear and sitting in Church wishing she could be down in the bathroom too. And she really won't have to go potty either.
Every 20 minutes, the child is asked if she has to go potty.
Any excuse to get behind the exciting and until now, forbidden bathroom door and mingle with water and soap and flushers is way too exciting for a 2 year old. Especially when it involves water.
A steady stampede is repeated throughout that day. And the next. And the next. And the next. And so forth until the child turns 3 or 4.
Of course, at home this scene isn't repeated quite as often. The child is left to play uninterrupted with pull-ups on or some other fancy fanny wear and eventually she learns that all she has to say is the "p" word and the whole house swarms to her side in order to meet her request before an "accident" takes place.
Soon it gets boring to go to the bathroom so often. The water and toilet paper and flushers just aren't quite as appealing as they were before. Eventually the child takes on the schedule of any well potty trained individual; not too often and not too infrequent. A healthy balance.
But, when it comes to church time, the former schedule of every 20 minutes comes into action. Only this time, you drop the 0 and keep the 2, making it about every 2 minutes. In a short service, that child can be seen being ushered down to the enthralling throne room at least a half a dozen times. The look of glee and contentment on the child's face is seen by all except the well meaning parents who "just don't want another accident."
After repeated episodes of trips to the bathroom, I had to wonder if the child had a severe bladder problem. Surely it is never healthy for anyone to have to go to the bathroom every few minutes. But, maybe a 2 year old's bladder is just a bit more active. Her parents don't seem to be too concerned but I had to wonder if a trip to the doctor the next day would perhaps be a good idea.
But I knew the truth. I have a two year old. A girl too. She plays on every chance she can to do something "fun," something interesting and something with water. I also know she'd have to go potty every 10 minutes at Church too, if she knew the beauties that the Church bathroom beholds.
And if you're like me and inwardly smirk at the predicament of parents to their child's whims and wants for the Church bathroom, you have all you can do not to discreetly get the child's attention and then mouth "POTTY" across the pews when you happen to see the child actually sitting for all of five minutes between potty sessions.
You know you'd see the little face turn up to the bathroom-weary-face of her poor father and then she'd pull on his neck and whisper the powerful "p" word and off they'd rush to the bathroom. Again.
But I couldn't do it. Some time in the near future, my 2 year old girl will be fancily clad with becoming fanny wear and sitting in Church wishing she could be down in the bathroom too. And she really won't have to go potty either.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
P.O.T.T.S. 101
Potty On The Train Studies
How Landon was really potty trained
Nearing the arrival of Landon's 3rd birthday, I was beginning to think that there was no time like the present to introduce a potty training method in his young and impressionable life.
But, I didn't know for sure how to cross the final thresh hold from diapers into underwear without dealing with annoying accidents, pee on the carpet and just a general sense of frustration on both his part and mine.
One morning, I was contemplating the day ahead and thinking of the goals I needed to focus on for that day. Landon's potty training was persistent in my thoughts and I really wanted to give that a shot. But where should I start?
But God!
Obviously, the Lord could see my thoughts and desire to get this boy trained and being the all knowing God that He is, He could fully see my difficulty in conjuring up bright ideas in this pregnancy fogged mind of mine. So, He thoughtfully did all the figuring and concocting and firmly planted a bright plan into my head. Honestly, nothing like this plan had ever crossed my mind before that I'm convinced He sent it just when I needed it. God is good!
The plan of action
Plan and schedule. First off, I determined my schedule for that day and also the next few days... was it a good time to concentrate on one thing and one thing only? Or would I need to focus on something else for several hours over the next few days? The coast looked clear so I mentally checked that box "okay."
Evaluate and arrange. Secondly, I evaluated our house and analyzed what room would be most adequate for both him and I as we pursued this potty training. I didn't want to spend the entire next 3 days in the bathroom but neither did I want Landon streaking around the house with just cloth on his behind. The threat on our carpet and furniture was too great to allow free range of the house. So, I chose the kitchen, a logical and easy to maintain room.
Equip and prepare. Thirdly, I got the tools around needed for the actual potty training part.
How Landon was really potty trained
Nearing the arrival of Landon's 3rd birthday, I was beginning to think that there was no time like the present to introduce a potty training method in his young and impressionable life.
But, I didn't know for sure how to cross the final thresh hold from diapers into underwear without dealing with annoying accidents, pee on the carpet and just a general sense of frustration on both his part and mine.
One morning, I was contemplating the day ahead and thinking of the goals I needed to focus on for that day. Landon's potty training was persistent in my thoughts and I really wanted to give that a shot. But where should I start?
But God!
Obviously, the Lord could see my thoughts and desire to get this boy trained and being the all knowing God that He is, He could fully see my difficulty in conjuring up bright ideas in this pregnancy fogged mind of mine. So, He thoughtfully did all the figuring and concocting and firmly planted a bright plan into my head. Honestly, nothing like this plan had ever crossed my mind before that I'm convinced He sent it just when I needed it. God is good!
The plan of action
Plan and schedule. First off, I determined my schedule for that day and also the next few days... was it a good time to concentrate on one thing and one thing only? Or would I need to focus on something else for several hours over the next few days? The coast looked clear so I mentally checked that box "okay."
Evaluate and arrange. Secondly, I evaluated our house and analyzed what room would be most adequate for both him and I as we pursued this potty training. I didn't want to spend the entire next 3 days in the bathroom but neither did I want Landon streaking around the house with just cloth on his behind. The threat on our carpet and furniture was too great to allow free range of the house. So, I chose the kitchen, a logical and easy to maintain room.
Equip and prepare. Thirdly, I got the tools around needed for the actual potty training part.
- Lined training pants (typical training pants inside but the outer is an attached rubber pants -- one accident is contained in each pair so they're more absorbent than regular training pants)
- Potty chair
- Splash guard (100% necessary for boys)
- Treats
- Child's small table and chairs
- Potty chair (or in our house, the potty "train")
- Step stool next to the sink and a full bottle of hand soap
- Beads to string and other "school" stuff
- Timer
- Clear and obvious boundaries in all doorways of the kitchen (for Landon, I just pointed to the doorways and told him he wasn't allowed to step over them. Depending on how the child understands verbal commands, a gate or door (if possible) would be definite boundaries set.)
Communicate and be patient. The fifth and final thing I did was have a little talk with Landon before we took the diaper off. I explained to him in simple facts that his diaper was coming off and he would wear underwear from now on. When he had to go potty, he would go in the potty chair. I stressed the importance of all the pee going in the potty chair. He understood me perfectly and was so anxious to try this new thing out.
Staying positive by remembering your focus
Then the rubber met the road and the class started. I wanted this to be a positive thing for Landon and not a negative experience. Yes, we were potty training but I didn't want to make it into a big deal as he learned to detect when he had to go and how much time he had to get to the potty chair. So often I had seen kids struggle for months being potty trained -- even with adequate treats when they did well and punishments when they failed. I wanted this to be a fun, natural process so that we would all enjoy it.
Keeping child positive with praise and incentives
I also made it "fun" for Landon to be cooped up in the kitchen. I didn't want to see him sitting in the doorways longing for freedom. He stayed very busy but considering the fact that potty training was our focus for the day, he was consistent in "trying" the chair out every few minutes. I'd set the timer for 20 minutes but he'd usually take himself there about 4-5 times within that time frame. Both he and Janae worked at their little table and then we cleared it off for lunch time. They thought it was great fun to dine in such style -- a table and chairs their size!
Using variety when change is needed
Between lunch time and nap time, Landon seemed to get hyper which isn't very typical of him. I think the tiny quarters was making him stir crazy. I did let him move around a bit but used the timer even more frequently and kept following up with him, making it hard for him to allow an accident.
About 30 minutes before nap time, I gave him his juice and then had him go potty one last time right before I diapered him and tucked him in bed. I didn't care if the diaper would end up wet or dry because today we were only focusing on wake-time potty training. Nap time and bed time would come later and I didn't want to bite off more than we both could chew.
All roads have bumps -- be prepared
That evening, he had a bowel movement so that was good thing for him to get under his belt in his potty training experience. Because of the difficulty it is for him to do a bm even with a diaper on, we encouraged him through the process by reminding him of the new train engine he would get for his tracks. It was a good motivator for him and gave him the incentive to "get the job done."
The proof is in the pudding
The next morning, he went back into his "underwearems" (Landon's word) but neglected the potty chair: the regular toilet was the new fad. He was so consistent with taking himself there that I hardly had to remember we were still officially potty training. He'd jump up from his trucks, tell us he had to go potty as he ran to the bathroom. I was in the bathroom once when he came flying in and he wouldn't go until I went out. The little squirt!
Landon really took potty training seriously and acted responsibly on it. As I look back on the beginning stages, I can honestly say that I basically ended up devoting just one day to this potty training cause; he took on the rest himself. In a weeks time, we only had 3 accidents.
One size does NOT fit all!
If you read this and think, "Oh, I can do this with my child too," keep in mind that a lot of the success depends on your child's readiness to be trained. I waited until I knew Landon was ready before I got serious myself in making a plan for him. I didn't want to be trained to take him to the potty chair all the time; I wanted him to be trained to take himself.
Just because I efficiently did this once with one of our children, doesn't make me an unfailing pro! For instance, Janae will be 2 this spring and though several of her playmates her age are being trained, I know she is not ready. She's too distracted to focus on physical changes such as a full bladder, she is unreliable in relaying information and she is still too much a baby to grasp the concept of becoming potty trained.
Points to consider
In talking to other moms, I hear a frequent set of tips shared by many potty trainers regardless of the age of their children they were successfully trained.
- Make certain that the next several weeks are clear of any known schedule changes, travel plans, new baby coming, holidays, moving plans, or any busy work load that would effect the child and distract the mom for several days.
Tip one leads into tip two.
2. Once you start training, don't stop until it's done.
Through my own experience, I would have to say that within a half of day of training, most moms will be able to detect if their child is ready or not. Landon had at other times shown interest in being potty trained but when it came right down to it, he didn't end up being ready. I would quickly end any "training" we had started before it had made too big of an impact on him.
A little history...
Once Landon disappeared for several minutes and left no trace of where he was. We looked all over the house, out side, down the street and in every imaginable place but he was no where. Finally, a little voice was heard from the bathroom and what should be found but an underwear clad boy sitting on the potty chair! We were moving the next day and couldn't possibly take the time to consistently train him over such a busy time. Needless to say, it was a nice thought while it lasted but he was soon back in diapers and forgetting all about his short trend with the potty chair.
In conclusion
Now at last I can say that my little boy is trained and fully capable of learning the ropes with all bathroom activity. We're still teaching him that he can go in other people's toilets and are working on eliminating the diaper altogether when we go places. Bed time and naps are still accompanied with a diaper but I'm sure that eventually that will not be necessary either.
Above all, I have to say how thankful I am to the Lord for blessing me with such a smart boy who made potty training so easy. And also, the plan He etched in my mind to try that first day of training, proved to be the faultless and perfect design for us. P.O.T.T.S. is over for Landon!
Now for that girl child...
Monday, January 29, 2007
Potty Training Tradition
With the prospect of another child in diapers due to arrive in June, we were contemplating the diaper bill, the frequent activity in our household of changing diapers and just the overall demand a child in diapers can have on a mother and father. Multiply that by three and we were ready to subtract at least one child from the mess.
We had two options.
First option was to give one of the children away. We discussed that option but we couldn't decide which one to get rid of so we scratched that idea.
Second option was when Toby came up with a profound idea: get rid of 1/3 of the diapers instead. That way, we'd only have enough diapers for 2 children and the 3rd child would have to find something else to use or somewhere else to go.
That made a lot of sense to us. Plus, we liked that idea better than giving a child away.
We noticed that since we no longer have to wear diapers, surely one of our children could at least try to quit wearing them as well. It is common knowledge to realize that we inherit so many things from our parents -- either through genetics or just watching them. So, we hoped that perhaps this was one thing we could pass down to our kids. If it's not passed through DNA, perhaps we could just set a really good example.
Not knowing where to start on this example setting, we both agreed to keep our eyes peeled and our ears open to any options.
Amazingly a few days later, we were walking through the store and what should we find but a special "chair" used for eliminating diapers. Kinda like the electric chair effect only not quite as shocking. It had good ratings and there was a picture of a child sitting on one of these chairs. The child appeared to be happy so we assumed it would be safe for our children as well. We made the purchase.
We considered it an investment in comparison to all the money on diapers it would save us. We'll probably have to record this investment in our taxes as well. The IRS is sure to notice the improvement in our budget.
After purchasing this chair, we ceremoniously set it next to our adult sized toilet. We hoped that our children would notice the similarity between the porcelain bowl and this little plastic pot.
It was hardly similar though... it played music when anything passed a certain zone in the bowl part, it had no flusher and it didn't automatically refill with water when you flushed it because like I said, there was no flusher. Plus, you couldn't play with the water in the bowl since there was none in it and it wasn't as fun to fill with toilet paper as you flushed it and watched it disappear because, as previous mentioned, there was not one trace of a flusher. Also, you could pick it up and carry it around the house, even if you were only 2. We all know that regular toilets don't provide that convenience -- a grab and go pot -- like this little chair did but we still had faith that it would somehow do the trick.
At this point, we determined which child would be required to break their steady habit of diapers. We went through a very intense evaluation of each one of our children and came up with the following results:
Child #3: We realized there was no way to connect our unborn babe to the qualities of this rare chair so we crossed that child off.
Child#2: Our darling little girl. Evaluating her personality and fine motor skills, we noted that our most wild imaginations could not fathom her leaving her diaper behind. That left us with our eldest child, the one who will forever carry on our family's name.
Child #1: Ironically, he fit the bill.
The fateful day finally came when the chair and our child were going to meet. And not just shake hands and greet each other and walk away. Rather, this poor, vulnerable little child was required to strip his beloved and warm diaper off and sit his privates on the opening of this cold little chair. Not a very friendly way to greet someone or something you've never met before.
Of course, it had to happen on the very day when my child's father abandoned me and went off to make a living. He stole away early in the morning, ensuring himself enough time to not partake in the festivities looming on the horizon of that cold, winter morning.
Arming myself that morning with determination and a dislike for the diaper bill, I bravely introduced my child to this amazing little chair. Creeping carefully and softly to the shadow of this magic throne, we went through the ceremony of purging the diaper forever from the habit of my son's life. It was quite touching, to say the least.
Miracle after miracle began to happen. Trickles and tinkles were soon heard ringing from the little chair. All throughout that blessed day, such unbelievable activity was practiced around the plastic throne. Diapers were neglected and underwear were the new fad. The chair had marvelously worked it's magic.
I think we will forever celebrate this day as a holiday for the rest of our family's history. Imagine passing something down to our children so rare and profound as potty training. Yes, January 19th will definitely be considered as sacred as a national holiday.
We are now striving as responsible parents to continue being good examples to the rest of our children and also hoping that the DNA built into our other two children -- the girl and the child yet unborn -- will carry the potty training trait in them as well. Maybe someday our house will indeed be diaper free. Imagine an entire generation holding such a strong tradition as frequent and planned trips to the porcelain bowl and full elimination of all diapers.
With the first of our prodigy successfully practicing the fine tradition, we definitely have a start on such a legacy.
We had two options.
First option was to give one of the children away. We discussed that option but we couldn't decide which one to get rid of so we scratched that idea.
Second option was when Toby came up with a profound idea: get rid of 1/3 of the diapers instead. That way, we'd only have enough diapers for 2 children and the 3rd child would have to find something else to use or somewhere else to go.
That made a lot of sense to us. Plus, we liked that idea better than giving a child away.
We noticed that since we no longer have to wear diapers, surely one of our children could at least try to quit wearing them as well. It is common knowledge to realize that we inherit so many things from our parents -- either through genetics or just watching them. So, we hoped that perhaps this was one thing we could pass down to our kids. If it's not passed through DNA, perhaps we could just set a really good example.
Not knowing where to start on this example setting, we both agreed to keep our eyes peeled and our ears open to any options.
Amazingly a few days later, we were walking through the store and what should we find but a special "chair" used for eliminating diapers. Kinda like the electric chair effect only not quite as shocking. It had good ratings and there was a picture of a child sitting on one of these chairs. The child appeared to be happy so we assumed it would be safe for our children as well. We made the purchase.
We considered it an investment in comparison to all the money on diapers it would save us. We'll probably have to record this investment in our taxes as well. The IRS is sure to notice the improvement in our budget.
After purchasing this chair, we ceremoniously set it next to our adult sized toilet. We hoped that our children would notice the similarity between the porcelain bowl and this little plastic pot.
It was hardly similar though... it played music when anything passed a certain zone in the bowl part, it had no flusher and it didn't automatically refill with water when you flushed it because like I said, there was no flusher. Plus, you couldn't play with the water in the bowl since there was none in it and it wasn't as fun to fill with toilet paper as you flushed it and watched it disappear because, as previous mentioned, there was not one trace of a flusher. Also, you could pick it up and carry it around the house, even if you were only 2. We all know that regular toilets don't provide that convenience -- a grab and go pot -- like this little chair did but we still had faith that it would somehow do the trick.
At this point, we determined which child would be required to break their steady habit of diapers. We went through a very intense evaluation of each one of our children and came up with the following results:
Child #3: We realized there was no way to connect our unborn babe to the qualities of this rare chair so we crossed that child off.
Child#2: Our darling little girl. Evaluating her personality and fine motor skills, we noted that our most wild imaginations could not fathom her leaving her diaper behind. That left us with our eldest child, the one who will forever carry on our family's name.
Child #1: Ironically, he fit the bill.
The fateful day finally came when the chair and our child were going to meet. And not just shake hands and greet each other and walk away. Rather, this poor, vulnerable little child was required to strip his beloved and warm diaper off and sit his privates on the opening of this cold little chair. Not a very friendly way to greet someone or something you've never met before.
Of course, it had to happen on the very day when my child's father abandoned me and went off to make a living. He stole away early in the morning, ensuring himself enough time to not partake in the festivities looming on the horizon of that cold, winter morning.
Arming myself that morning with determination and a dislike for the diaper bill, I bravely introduced my child to this amazing little chair. Creeping carefully and softly to the shadow of this magic throne, we went through the ceremony of purging the diaper forever from the habit of my son's life. It was quite touching, to say the least.
Miracle after miracle began to happen. Trickles and tinkles were soon heard ringing from the little chair. All throughout that blessed day, such unbelievable activity was practiced around the plastic throne. Diapers were neglected and underwear were the new fad. The chair had marvelously worked it's magic.
I think we will forever celebrate this day as a holiday for the rest of our family's history. Imagine passing something down to our children so rare and profound as potty training. Yes, January 19th will definitely be considered as sacred as a national holiday.
We are now striving as responsible parents to continue being good examples to the rest of our children and also hoping that the DNA built into our other two children -- the girl and the child yet unborn -- will carry the potty training trait in them as well. Maybe someday our house will indeed be diaper free. Imagine an entire generation holding such a strong tradition as frequent and planned trips to the porcelain bowl and full elimination of all diapers.
With the first of our prodigy successfully practicing the fine tradition, we definitely have a start on such a legacy.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
On Potty Training And Going To Bed
(written late Friday night -- 1-19-07)
After a delicious and overfilling meal at Macaroni Grill tonight -- thanks to our kind friends, David and Desiree (LOVED the meal you guys! Thanks!) -- we came home.
Now, there's nothing unusual about coming home after you're done being gone, I'll admit that right now. But when a sudden ailment, disease, plague and tempest strikes both of your children as soon as you cross the homey and familiar threshold into your warm house, you may naturally assume that crossing the barrier of the outside world into your comfortable four walls, can at times cause unusual and unplanned tragedies -- not that any tragedies are ever planned but you know what I mean.
Unfortunately, that was our fate tonight.
Everything was normal until we walked through that door. The entire evening out, the trip home and even the entertaining walk from the van to the house with my two-year old was normal and safe. ("Are the guys gonna put more snow on the yard again, Mom?" Who the guys are, I have no idea but I think Landon has figured out in his own little head where snow comes from and that 'the guys' send it and put it on our yard.)
As soon as I pulled the wet shoes off my son, he walked to the couch and snuggled under a blanket. I knew something wasn't right with him then. Normally a two-year old with the energy and creativity of my little boy, will not be found under a blanket smothering away all of his energetic potential and plans the last few minutes before bedtime. But this little guy was obviously ailing silently as he cuddled himself under the blanket.
He didn't seem in too much discomfort and considering the fact that he voiced his preference to just be left alone, I took it as a good opportunity to wrap up a few things before bed.
I got Janae's milk ready and was making my way to finish up another thing before attending to the rest of her bedtime needs when I noticed her peculiar behaviour.
She had bee-lined it to the kitchen, got her cup of milk and was heading down the hall, glancing over her shoulder to make sure I was coming with as she made her way to her room.
Snatching the rare opportunity to put a child to bed that actually wanted to go there more than I wanted them to, I quickly changed my previous plans and assisted her in her bedtime routine. Toby came in shortly to tuck her in and shut her light off.
Mistakenly, I mentally crossed "Janae" off my list of things to do today before heading to the next project. I just assumed she was done for the day but little did I know of the rest of her plans.
Then it was Landon's bedtime. He obediently and happily went to bed, seeming almost relieved to end his day. Toby tucked him in and thinking I had already changed Landon's diaper, he didn't attend to those needs. That worked fine though because I hadn't kissed Landon goodnight yet anyway.
Now, a little background history here...
Today was Landon's first Potty On The Train Studies. POTTS is a course in potty training that most (and hopefully all) toddlers his age go through.
Why we call it "potty on the train" is simply because somehow our friendly little potty chair has been affectionately dubbed, "potty train" so we seem to refer to the thing as such. I understand the literal translation of those words can seem rather disturbing so thus the clarification.
As for Landon's achievements, I am so happy to say that he passed his classes very well and seems to be doing superb for only one day of training. I'm hoping that the rest of homeschooling goes this way, everyday, forever until he's 18.
Not ironically, the reward upon graduation from POTTS is a new engine to his Thomas Train and Landon has made it very clear that he is definitely planning on the Toby Engine. Understandably, we are thrilled with his choice of engines and are looking forward to presenting him with his reward upon his achievement of forever relieving his dear father of all diaper duties on Landon.
History aside, reality hit when I realized that this aspiring son of mine was making obvious signs that the legendary "number 2" was wishing to present itself. Not only that but when I proceeded to change the diaper that had been worn all evening, I found it to be mostly dry and showed good signs that the wearer was indeed learning the concept of "holding" until facilities are available.
So, I made those facilities available.
Had I been in that predicament, I would've gladly taken the kind mother up on her offer to continue my POTTS education but that wasn't so with Landon. Assuming he needed his bladder made flatter, I quickly sent the child to his classroom for one final lecture on his POTTS education. But, wails and cries were heard instead of the normal grunts and pushes while the little man fought to avoid his final lesson on the little potty train.
At long last, I realized either he didn't have to go at all OR if he did, he was too shook up to go in the potty train now. With the admonishment from my husband to just let him go to bed, I finally gave in.
As soon as Landon was diapered and tucked back in bed, that other child of mine was practicing her inflections on the name/sound, "Mom." Every tone and combination of sound you could conjure from "mom" was hailing out her door and down the hall.
She wasn't giving up nor was she getting discouraged or despondent. Her pleas for "mom" were not being met by anything but empty air and she continued on in a happy attitude. I went in before that attitude changed to see what I could do to help her. I didn't want to encourage despondent behaviour by showing up after she grew frustrated with the lack of response she was getting as she practiced saying "mom."
I went to her side and tucked her blanket around her and put it by her chin just the way she likes it. She seemed pleased and content. I kissed her again and told her to go na-night and then headed out the door. But, before I walked away from her bed, I grabbed her empty milk cup and snuck it out with me. I knew is she saw me do that, she'd assume she was getting more milk. Tonight, she wasn't getting more than what she already had and I didn't want to make it any harder for her to give that up. Thankfully, she didn't see me.
By this time, Landon was becoming more uncomfortable with the nature wanting to take it's course in his diaper. I comforted him and patted him but he preferred to just be left alone.
I went back out and headed to the last of my tasks needing to be done while it was still called today.
Janae started crying then.
This time, her father attended to her and told her to go to sleep. She calmed down for the moments he was in her room but then let out the pent up wail as soon as her door was emptied of her guest.
Landon continued his sporadic wails and I simply ignored or comforted, depending on the needs at hand.
Janae's wailing turned into hiccup-styled sobs and seemed to only increase for the next several minutes. Toby checked her again and calmed her down but the fact that he continued to shut the door and leave made all her symptoms of heart broken syndrome to only keep flaring up.
After a period of time, I went in and gave her a hug and tucked her back under the fluffy blankets. I got one of her babies to snuggle with and she immediately calmed down and seemed pleased with the company of another little one in her bed. Thinking I had done the trick, I left the room over confident. As soon as the door shut, her wails resumed.
By now, Landon was obviously needing some relief and I tried talking him into trying the potty train again. But, the fact that neither my husband nor my first born son seemed very cooperative with my idea of late-night potty training, I didn't push my agenda too much.
As I left Landon's room, I noticed Janae's sobs had only increased. This time I decided to be serious about motherhood and take my responsibility to all ends. The word "comfort" struck my desperate brain and I suddenly decided that I indeed needed to comfort this child of mine. After all, isn't "comfort" a main characteristic of all good mothers?
I went in and rocked and sang quietly to her in the darkened room. Her sobs had been so deep apparently that her hiccup-styled breaths had evaded her normal paced breathing. After struggling against my arms for the first few minutes, she finally snuggled in and nestled her head into my chest. Her breaths evened out and she started relaxing enough to let her eyes close.
Here again I misunderstood these signs to actually be signs of sleep. Instead, they were deceiving and false because as soon as I laid that little girl down in her cozy bed and tucked her baby next to her as I pulled her blankets up around her face, she frantically pulled her arms out and made a very desperate sign in sign language: "more."
She needed more milk.
Needing and wanting more milk are two different things though. She thought she needed it; I knew she merely wanted it.
As I told her the milk was "all done" and signed that information to her in universal sign language fashion, she made one more desperate attempt to make herself clear to me: she reached for that empty milk cup. But, it wasn't there.
I think the whole scenario was very confusing to her and sent her even further on her emotional wreck. I comforted her again and stole aways from her, wishing I could help her give up the milk she wanted so bad. Unfortunately, that was her choice to make and not mine.
I didn't have long to feel sorry for her because that brother of hers was definitely needing someone to take him to his little potty train. Being the wise and observant mother that I am, I took the responsibility on myself and carried the wailing child all the way out to his little plastic throne.
Seeing this situation as a vital opportunity to teach my first born son that all diaper duties should actually take place in a potty chair or toilet and NOT a diaper, I set the ultimate goal for him. I explained that if he did a "diaper shape" (his word for #2) in the potty train and not his diaper, tomorrow he would get the Toby Train Engine.
Apparently, we had a deal.
Here, I will spare the reader the remainder of the events that took place. I'll just say that the coaxing on the pot for my boy and the comfort in the bed of my girl, were events that continued close to midnight.
But, miracles do still happen and this tired mother witnessed the happening of TWO miraculous events in one evening. I haven't been so relieved at that end of a day in a long time... my little girl was contentedly sleeping in her warm bed and that little boy of mine had succeeded in all his attempts on his potty chair.
Yeah, I suppose I am rather jubilant in their successes that I made sure happened but seeing the look of peace and rest on Janae's face and listening to Landon marvel over the fact that he actually did a "diaper shape" on the potty chair, meant more to me than the fact that at last I could go to bed myself and call it a day.
It was an obvious revelation to contemplate the fact that they both had to choose to do the task before them and accomplish it on their own. I could coach and coax but in the end, it was their choice. Now they are both reaping the joy of a job well done.
Deep in my heart, I kept thinking to myself all along that I knew they could do it. That thought alone compelled me to not give in to Janae's wishes to not go to sleep and it definitely helped me keep my focus when Landon was tragically fighting what obviously needed to take place. I knew Janae could go to sleep and I knew Landon could do the job in his potty chair. But, like the rest of us children of God, kids just don't get it when you tell them: you can do it. They have to try everything else before resorting to the plan that will get them to the end of their task.
You may think the kids were the ones that learned a lesson. I think we all hope that is the case, considering the sooner a lesson is learned, the easier life becomes in those situations.
But, even more than the kids, what a lesson tonight was for me: watch out for the front door.
After a delicious and overfilling meal at Macaroni Grill tonight -- thanks to our kind friends, David and Desiree (LOVED the meal you guys! Thanks!) -- we came home.
Now, there's nothing unusual about coming home after you're done being gone, I'll admit that right now. But when a sudden ailment, disease, plague and tempest strikes both of your children as soon as you cross the homey and familiar threshold into your warm house, you may naturally assume that crossing the barrier of the outside world into your comfortable four walls, can at times cause unusual and unplanned tragedies -- not that any tragedies are ever planned but you know what I mean.
Unfortunately, that was our fate tonight.
Everything was normal until we walked through that door. The entire evening out, the trip home and even the entertaining walk from the van to the house with my two-year old was normal and safe. ("Are the guys gonna put more snow on the yard again, Mom?" Who the guys are, I have no idea but I think Landon has figured out in his own little head where snow comes from and that 'the guys' send it and put it on our yard.)
As soon as I pulled the wet shoes off my son, he walked to the couch and snuggled under a blanket. I knew something wasn't right with him then. Normally a two-year old with the energy and creativity of my little boy, will not be found under a blanket smothering away all of his energetic potential and plans the last few minutes before bedtime. But this little guy was obviously ailing silently as he cuddled himself under the blanket.
He didn't seem in too much discomfort and considering the fact that he voiced his preference to just be left alone, I took it as a good opportunity to wrap up a few things before bed.
I got Janae's milk ready and was making my way to finish up another thing before attending to the rest of her bedtime needs when I noticed her peculiar behaviour.
She had bee-lined it to the kitchen, got her cup of milk and was heading down the hall, glancing over her shoulder to make sure I was coming with as she made her way to her room.
Snatching the rare opportunity to put a child to bed that actually wanted to go there more than I wanted them to, I quickly changed my previous plans and assisted her in her bedtime routine. Toby came in shortly to tuck her in and shut her light off.
Mistakenly, I mentally crossed "Janae" off my list of things to do today before heading to the next project. I just assumed she was done for the day but little did I know of the rest of her plans.
Then it was Landon's bedtime. He obediently and happily went to bed, seeming almost relieved to end his day. Toby tucked him in and thinking I had already changed Landon's diaper, he didn't attend to those needs. That worked fine though because I hadn't kissed Landon goodnight yet anyway.
Now, a little background history here...
Today was Landon's first Potty On The Train Studies. POTTS is a course in potty training that most (and hopefully all) toddlers his age go through.
Why we call it "potty on the train" is simply because somehow our friendly little potty chair has been affectionately dubbed, "potty train" so we seem to refer to the thing as such. I understand the literal translation of those words can seem rather disturbing so thus the clarification.
As for Landon's achievements, I am so happy to say that he passed his classes very well and seems to be doing superb for only one day of training. I'm hoping that the rest of homeschooling goes this way, everyday, forever until he's 18.
Not ironically, the reward upon graduation from POTTS is a new engine to his Thomas Train and Landon has made it very clear that he is definitely planning on the Toby Engine. Understandably, we are thrilled with his choice of engines and are looking forward to presenting him with his reward upon his achievement of forever relieving his dear father of all diaper duties on Landon.
History aside, reality hit when I realized that this aspiring son of mine was making obvious signs that the legendary "number 2" was wishing to present itself. Not only that but when I proceeded to change the diaper that had been worn all evening, I found it to be mostly dry and showed good signs that the wearer was indeed learning the concept of "holding" until facilities are available.
So, I made those facilities available.
Had I been in that predicament, I would've gladly taken the kind mother up on her offer to continue my POTTS education but that wasn't so with Landon. Assuming he needed his bladder made flatter, I quickly sent the child to his classroom for one final lecture on his POTTS education. But, wails and cries were heard instead of the normal grunts and pushes while the little man fought to avoid his final lesson on the little potty train.
At long last, I realized either he didn't have to go at all OR if he did, he was too shook up to go in the potty train now. With the admonishment from my husband to just let him go to bed, I finally gave in.
As soon as Landon was diapered and tucked back in bed, that other child of mine was practicing her inflections on the name/sound, "Mom." Every tone and combination of sound you could conjure from "mom" was hailing out her door and down the hall.
She wasn't giving up nor was she getting discouraged or despondent. Her pleas for "mom" were not being met by anything but empty air and she continued on in a happy attitude. I went in before that attitude changed to see what I could do to help her. I didn't want to encourage despondent behaviour by showing up after she grew frustrated with the lack of response she was getting as she practiced saying "mom."
I went to her side and tucked her blanket around her and put it by her chin just the way she likes it. She seemed pleased and content. I kissed her again and told her to go na-night and then headed out the door. But, before I walked away from her bed, I grabbed her empty milk cup and snuck it out with me. I knew is she saw me do that, she'd assume she was getting more milk. Tonight, she wasn't getting more than what she already had and I didn't want to make it any harder for her to give that up. Thankfully, she didn't see me.
By this time, Landon was becoming more uncomfortable with the nature wanting to take it's course in his diaper. I comforted him and patted him but he preferred to just be left alone.
I went back out and headed to the last of my tasks needing to be done while it was still called today.
Janae started crying then.
This time, her father attended to her and told her to go to sleep. She calmed down for the moments he was in her room but then let out the pent up wail as soon as her door was emptied of her guest.
Landon continued his sporadic wails and I simply ignored or comforted, depending on the needs at hand.
Janae's wailing turned into hiccup-styled sobs and seemed to only increase for the next several minutes. Toby checked her again and calmed her down but the fact that he continued to shut the door and leave made all her symptoms of heart broken syndrome to only keep flaring up.
After a period of time, I went in and gave her a hug and tucked her back under the fluffy blankets. I got one of her babies to snuggle with and she immediately calmed down and seemed pleased with the company of another little one in her bed. Thinking I had done the trick, I left the room over confident. As soon as the door shut, her wails resumed.
By now, Landon was obviously needing some relief and I tried talking him into trying the potty train again. But, the fact that neither my husband nor my first born son seemed very cooperative with my idea of late-night potty training, I didn't push my agenda too much.
As I left Landon's room, I noticed Janae's sobs had only increased. This time I decided to be serious about motherhood and take my responsibility to all ends. The word "comfort" struck my desperate brain and I suddenly decided that I indeed needed to comfort this child of mine. After all, isn't "comfort" a main characteristic of all good mothers?
I went in and rocked and sang quietly to her in the darkened room. Her sobs had been so deep apparently that her hiccup-styled breaths had evaded her normal paced breathing. After struggling against my arms for the first few minutes, she finally snuggled in and nestled her head into my chest. Her breaths evened out and she started relaxing enough to let her eyes close.
Here again I misunderstood these signs to actually be signs of sleep. Instead, they were deceiving and false because as soon as I laid that little girl down in her cozy bed and tucked her baby next to her as I pulled her blankets up around her face, she frantically pulled her arms out and made a very desperate sign in sign language: "more."
She needed more milk.
Needing and wanting more milk are two different things though. She thought she needed it; I knew she merely wanted it.
As I told her the milk was "all done" and signed that information to her in universal sign language fashion, she made one more desperate attempt to make herself clear to me: she reached for that empty milk cup. But, it wasn't there.
I think the whole scenario was very confusing to her and sent her even further on her emotional wreck. I comforted her again and stole aways from her, wishing I could help her give up the milk she wanted so bad. Unfortunately, that was her choice to make and not mine.
I didn't have long to feel sorry for her because that brother of hers was definitely needing someone to take him to his little potty train. Being the wise and observant mother that I am, I took the responsibility on myself and carried the wailing child all the way out to his little plastic throne.
Seeing this situation as a vital opportunity to teach my first born son that all diaper duties should actually take place in a potty chair or toilet and NOT a diaper, I set the ultimate goal for him. I explained that if he did a "diaper shape" (his word for #2) in the potty train and not his diaper, tomorrow he would get the Toby Train Engine.
Apparently, we had a deal.
Here, I will spare the reader the remainder of the events that took place. I'll just say that the coaxing on the pot for my boy and the comfort in the bed of my girl, were events that continued close to midnight.
But, miracles do still happen and this tired mother witnessed the happening of TWO miraculous events in one evening. I haven't been so relieved at that end of a day in a long time... my little girl was contentedly sleeping in her warm bed and that little boy of mine had succeeded in all his attempts on his potty chair.
Yeah, I suppose I am rather jubilant in their successes that I made sure happened but seeing the look of peace and rest on Janae's face and listening to Landon marvel over the fact that he actually did a "diaper shape" on the potty chair, meant more to me than the fact that at last I could go to bed myself and call it a day.
It was an obvious revelation to contemplate the fact that they both had to choose to do the task before them and accomplish it on their own. I could coach and coax but in the end, it was their choice. Now they are both reaping the joy of a job well done.
Deep in my heart, I kept thinking to myself all along that I knew they could do it. That thought alone compelled me to not give in to Janae's wishes to not go to sleep and it definitely helped me keep my focus when Landon was tragically fighting what obviously needed to take place. I knew Janae could go to sleep and I knew Landon could do the job in his potty chair. But, like the rest of us children of God, kids just don't get it when you tell them: you can do it. They have to try everything else before resorting to the plan that will get them to the end of their task.
You may think the kids were the ones that learned a lesson. I think we all hope that is the case, considering the sooner a lesson is learned, the easier life becomes in those situations.
But, even more than the kids, what a lesson tonight was for me: watch out for the front door.
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