Potty Training Reports

So, we have been potty training for the last four days.  This is our second attempt at potty training.  Last time, I lasted for a half day before I broke down and wanted to put diapers back on both of us. 

This time around I have decided I would keep daily potty training reports so when Chase is older he can see the torture he put me through (and when he is rich he will feel guilty and buy me expensive things or at least put me in a nice nursing home)….

Day 1- What the heck did we get ourselves into?

We decided to set a timer every 30 minutes from the time Chase woke up until the time he went to bed.  Every time the timer went off, we put Chase on the potty.  Holy crap, I have never realized how many 30 minutes make up one day.  I swear the universe added extra minutes to the day just to torture me.  Every time I knew the timer was about to go off, I cringed and strapped on my helmet.  Yes, I did say helmet.  My child decided that it was, in fact, appropriate behavior to throw punches in my direction and scratch my forearms every time I would get within arm’s reach of him on the potty.

Note to self: Clip Chase’s fingernails tomorrow- for my own safety.

My conclusion for the day: Maybe Chase’s wife won’t mind changing his diapers.

Chase’s conclusion for the day: “Mommy, I want to scratch you.”

Day 2- Oh day 2, why won’t you end?

Chase did slightly better today.  When I say slightly, I mean not at all.  Today was more of a numbers game: 6 tinkles in the potty, 2 accidents, ½ of a poop in undies, ½ of a poop in the potty, 7 swats at me, and 1 bruise.

My conclusion for the day: I promise I won’t cry again tomorrow.

Chase’s conclusion for the day: “Mommy, I don’t want to play potty training anymore.”

Day 3- Sorry!

Chase didn't do well potty training at daycare today.  To the couch and living room carpet at daycare: Sorry you got a urine bath today.   Although Chase rejected potty training at daycare today, Chase had no accidents at home.  This is progress.

My conclusion for the day: To my child care provider:  I’m sure Chase didn't actually mean to hit you when you tried to put him on the potty. I’m sure his fist accidentally bumped your arm, repeatedly.  Right?

Chase’s conclusion for the day: “Potty training is naughty.”

Day 4- My favorite phone call ever!

While at work this morning my phone rings.  Ring. Ring.  On the other end is my Chasey; he called me from day care (No, he didn’t grab the phone and dial my number by himself- I’m sure he had help).  He yelled gleefully into the phone, “I pee in the potty. Take me to Cherry Berry.”  Chase knew he did something good and he knew he needed a reward. 

Side Note: No accidents today! 

My conclusion for the day:  Ya! I can retire my helmet and my washing machine gets a night off.

Chase’s conclusion for the day: Damn, I guess they aren't going to give in; I might as well get Cherry Berry out of the deal. 

Humpty Dumpty

At our house we spend a lot of time reading, singing and saying nursery rhymes.  Chase was repeating Humpty Dumpty the other night and it got me to thinking.  Nursery rhymes are very counterproductive to our current practices and are a little morbid. For instance:

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All of the king’s horses and all of the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again.

First off, whose name is actually Humpty Dumpty? Don’t you think having the word dumpty in your name gives you a little preview into your future that you are almost certainly going to dump yourself off of a high building.  It’s not like you need an old lady sitting at a table in a dark alley rubbing a glass ball to tell you that one.

Secondly, where were Humpty’s parent’s during this time?  It seems as though if he isn’t old enough to harness himself to the wall before climbing, shouldn’t he have had someone do that for him? Or at least be under the supervision of his parents?  I’m guessing they were probably on their IPhones.

Thirdly, how are you supposed to explain to your child why Humpty was on the wall in the first place? “Well, Little Billy, Humpty’s wife ran off with the milk man last week and he just lost his job…”  I think not.   

Lastly, couldn’t all of the king’s horses and all of the king’s men try a little harder to put Humpty Dumpty back together again?  I mean, why were they so quick to give up?  Aren’t we supposed to teach our children to try and then try again?  I think that this rhyme is missing one last sentence:  “And then all of the King’s horses and all of the King’s men tried really hard one more time and eventually did put Humpty together again. (And then they all did a chest bump and headed to the bar to celebrate.)” That ending would be way more suitable for small children, well minus the bar part.

I’m not saying I’m never going to repeat this nursery rhyme ever again to my child (because frankly, I’m proud that he can repeat the whole rhyme himself.   So I’m going to encourage him to show off his Humpty Dumpty skills to every stranger we see- I certainly cannot let his skills go unnoticed.), but I might think twice about changing the words again to “Chasey Dumpty,” because I guess in that version, I was unknowingly killing off my son.  Opps!  Anyway- Happy Friday!

And I quote (sadly): "Mom, my cheese is like whiskers on a kitty."

 

The last Ho-Ho, Oh, No!

There it was.  Sitting on the top shelf of the pantry, glistening in the fluorescent kitchen light; the last ho-ho.  Oh what I would do for a ho-ho… but just as quickly as my delight came over me, it turned into fear.  Fear because there was only one ho-ho left.  (I know what you’re thinking, don’t they come in a 2-pack?  Well, yes, they do, but breaking up a pair is unthinkable.  It would be like breaking up Bert and Ernie or Peter Pan and Tinkerbell- Man, I watch a lot of cartoons.)

Chase had been asking all morning to go outside and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity.  I shoved the ho-ho up my sleeve as we headed outside, trying to cover the crinkling of the package with a loud cough as the plastic wrapper slid from side to side in my sleeve.  I waited a minute or so until Chase was playing joyfully in his sandbox to open the wrapper.  I knew I had to wait for the perfect opportunity.  Luckily, Chase had a bucket on his head so he didn't hear me fumble with the wrapper.  Then, quickly, I shoved the ho-hos (yes both of them) into my mouth.  I think I may have unhinged my jaw-similar to a snake eating a rat.  But I didn't care, I needed to eat the ho-hos and I needed them bad. 

But I made one mistake; one big mistake.  I laid the wrapper on the ground next to my lawn chair.  It didn't take long for my tiny tot to recognize the package lying lifeless on the grass.  He asked me for a ho-ho and I had to be honest (mainly because my breath still smelled like sweet, sweet chocolate and delicious filling).  I sat him down and filled him in on the situation, “Honey, Mommy ate the last ho-ho.”  Chase let out a shriek as if I had just stabbed him in the heart.  Then he did the only rational thing he could think of- he kicked me.  I understood his need for revenge.   But being the only parental figure in sight, I figured I needed to do some parenting.  I told him that it is naughty to kick mommy and if he did it again he would have a timeout. 

So, he did what toddlers do best- he kicked me in the shin again (luckily for me he was wearing his crocs that are a thick fluffy plastic, so it hardly hurt.  But I tell you, my child kicks like a bull so I’m lucky my pale, pale skin didn't bruise like a peach).  But, I was forced to give him a timeout.  This timeout probably won the record for the longest, most grueling timeout in history.  Once Chase finally sat down in the timeout chair, he threw his crocs at me and he proceeded to slither underneath the arms of the chair (I guess Chase and I both have snake like qualities). 

This is the second Chase realized Mommy ate the last Ho-Ho. 

Finally, after about 15 minutes, and many neighbors peering out their windows to make sure I wasn't abusing my child, Chase finally sucked it up and said sorry.  When I picked him up out of the timeout chair he growled in my ear, “I want to throw a ball at you.” 

I guess do I have to give him props for communicating his feelings and not following through on his naughty thoughts- all of the time.   

The better my child becomes at communication the more I find myself apologizing.  Not that Chase is having new thoughts, but now strangers can actually make out what he is saying.

My list of apologies for the week (and mind you, it’s only Tuesday morning):

               I am sorry to the petite woman at Coborn’s with a really short haircut.  I’m sure Chase didn’t actually mean to say, “Look at the little boy,” and point in your direction. 

               My apologies to the pizza delivery woman.  I realize that just because you were wearing a sports shirt and athletic shorts, doesn’t mean that you are necessarily on a softball team and on your way to practice, but apparently Chase didn’t know that.  (But my toddler does bring up a good point, maybe your company should invest in some matching uniforms.  I’m sure it’s confusing for children to have their food delivered by an athlete lookalike and not snazzy restaurant employee.  He’s going to be disappointed when Michael Jordan doesn’t make his nuggets at McDonald's now.)

               My apologies to the teeny bopper who was crying at Target the other day.  I’m sure my child didn’t mean to call you a “little baby.”  I’m sure it is completely age appropriate for a 12 year old to cry over not getting a new pair of shoes.  I don’t know how that behavior could have confused a toddler. 

 

               My apologies to my kitchen walls.  I’m sure it was a disappointment when we spent all night painting you, just the right color of blue and Chase’s only response when he woke up and saw it was, “I like orange.”

               My most sincere apologies to my backside.  It was hurtful when Chase said, “Mom, I have a little butt and you have a big squishy butt.”   Little does he know, he’s the reason my derriere isn’t nearly as perky as it used to be.

Well, from the bottom of my heart- I’m sorry (but if you don’t want to be offended by my toddler in the future, you may want to stay out of his path.)

Who couldn't forgive this little nugget?  :) 

Poetry

Believe it or not, when I was in college, I spent some time studying poetry.  For a brief period of time (please remember I enjoyed a drink or two during my college days) I toyed with the idea of being a full-time poet (only because I found out jury duty wasn't actually a full time job). As it turns out, there isn't a high demand for poets these days, who would have thought?

The one thing I haven’t written a poem about is parenting (and trust me, I have written poems about pretty much everything- including fainting goats), so I thought I would give it a shot.  Besides, who doesn't love a good rhyme?

Instructions for poem: The odd numbered lines are what I was thinking as a parent during my first year of parenthood and the even numbered lines are the things I think during my second year of parenthood.  Ex: Line 1: First year thoughts,  Line 2: Second year thoughts, Line 3: First year thoughts… and so on.  (Do you follow? Sorry for forcing you to think during this poem.)

I love to count your ten little toes,

I don’t especially like it when you pick your nose.

I can’t believe you are mine,

You want an apple fritter for dinner?  Sure, that’s fine.

I love your blonde curly hair,

Can I use the bathroom alone?  It creeps me out when you stare. 

Sure, stranger, I would love to hear your parenting tip,

If you question my parenting again, I may flip.

Infants are easy… I got this,

Where did he go? Chase? What did I just miss?

I should have 16 children; my child is so mild,

Sorry bud; you're going to be an only child.

Future Architect? 

Mousekersizing

So, yesterday I decided to bite the bullet and start exercising again (On a side note, I've never really understood the saying, “bite the bullet.” It sounds painful and if you actually have a bullet in your mouth, you are probably unintelligent enough to choke on it.  Any who……).  I know, I don’t want to rush into it.  I mean, I only took 14 years off.  But I decided to put on my big girl granny panties (mainly because that’s the only type of underwear that doesn't cause a gigantic wedge when you’re running, or slowly, slowing, speed walking) and dust off my treadmill- with my only pair of socks. 

My tennis shoes were not the only ones confused with my newly found fitness desire (Yeah, I was surprised I own a pair tennis shoes too).  Chase was a little taken aback when he saw me on the treadmill.  I’m not actually sure he was aware of the purpose of the treadmill.  He usually uses it to swing like a monkey from handle to handle while asking me for a banana. 

When I was in fully panting- pace (4 minutes into my painstaking workout) Chase stood in front of the treadmill in his full, head to toe MN Twins attire and asked, “you mousker-sizing?”  I looked at him (with shame in my eyes for 2 reasons: One because my child has to clarify with me what I am doing when he sees me exercising because it is such a foreign activity and secondly because my little cartoon addict uses Mickey Mouse Clubhouse references in his everyday vocabulary.) and said, “No sweetheart, it’s called exercising… say it with me, exercising.”  His response, “Where the ice-cream truck?”  I guess my child only believes I would run if I was headed towards an ice-cream truck (and typically he would be right).      

Although, my tiny tot isn't showing his support for my new healthy lifestyle, I am actually adjusting to my new healthy lifestyle quite well.  I am currently on day two of my rigorous workout routine.  I was a little worried I might over-do-it and pull a muscle but I think I have come up with the perfect workout routine.  It consists of walking for 15 minutes straight- with hardly any breaks, while watching reruns of the Real Housewives (because honestly, watching them once is not enough).  So this is what I have been doing.  But rest assured, since I did so well yesterday, I rewarded myself by stopping 7 minutes premature today.  Tomorrow I may reward myself with the day off.      

With this rigorous routine, I am bound to shed this baby weight in no time (I know what your thinking- once your child is 2.5 years old you can no longer blame your extra pounds on a pregnancy from 3 years ago... but you're wrong.  I have 18 years to loose my baby weight.)

9 Reasons Why My Child Cried Today

Awhile back I posted a list of reasons why my child was mad one day.  As it turns out there are many days that my child feels that the world has done him wrong and today was one of those days. As my child gets older and grows more independent he has begun to form his own opinions about things.  And in true toddler fashion, he expressed all of his opinions in tears today. Below are 9 (not 10- because 10 is so predictable) reasons my child cried today.

9 Reasons Why My Child Cried Today:

1. I woke him up this morning.  When I rubbed his back to lovingly wake him up, he opened one eye and growled, “No scratch me.” (And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how our day began.)

2. We drove to daycare in our green car (like we have done for the last 2.5 years) but for some unknown reason, Chase wanted our car to be blue today and he wouldn’t settle for anything less.   

3.  The sun was out this morning.  Chase requested the moon to make an appearance at 7 am and the moon failed him.  (Can you tell my child isn’t an early bird?  He never catches the worm, only bad moods.)

4. I said the word dinner.  (Apparently, even the thought of my cooking sends him into a downward spiral.)

5.  I put his pirate eye patch on the wrong eye (Man, I really need to pull myself together.)

6. We went to the store. 

7.  I mistakenly reached for the grape juice in aisle 3,234 (Well, maybe Walmart doesn’t have that many aisles, but it sure felt like I walked through 3,234 of them tonight.) instead of apple juice.  (Good thing Chase was there to correct me or this could have been a disaster.)

8. We left the store (and got into our disappointingly green car).

9. We didn't purchase Despicable Me 2 minion figurines.  (I pulled one of those, “sure you can have this toy” to keep him entertained in the cart while we shopped and then ditched it at the last second at the register when Chase was engulfed in all of the impulse buys at the checkout aisle.  Unfortunately for me, my child has the memory of an elephant and frantically dug through the grocery bags when we returned searching for his minions.  I’m pretty sure if Chase could have sent me to bed without a bedtime snack, he would have for trying to pull this.)

While rocking before bed, I asked Chase if he had a bad day.  He said that he did indeed, have a bad day (this may have been the only thing we agreed on today). I told him that I hope tomorrow is better and that I love when he is a good boy.  Chase said with a very defeated tone, “Thank you, Mommy.  I was a good boy last weekend,” and laid his head on my shoulder.  After I laid him in his crib, kissed him on the forehead, I headed for the door.  As I closed the door, I heard him say, “I love you Mommy.”  Even after all of the tears of today (his, not mine), I welcome any day that I get with my toddler- the good or the bad.  

Mother of an Only Child Syndrome

Every day I spend time swatting off the comments and pressure from people in my life (and society) to have more than one child, so recently I've been reading a lot of articles on “Only Child Syndrome” to learn more about the benefits and negatives of being an only child.  Although, none of the studies I have read have shown any negative-long term effects on an only child, it got me to thinking... There has got to be a "Mother of an Only Child Syndrome."  Symptoms include: hovering, having too much time on your hands and the ability to turn any naughty behavior your child exhibits into a positive. 

After pondering these symptoms, I fear I am suffering from this syndrome... I'm wondering if I should see my doctor about this (well a doctor or a shrink).

I spend my days, morning to dusk, hovering; hovering around my sweet, sweet 2 year old.  So much so, that he actually walked me over to the corner of the sandbox at a park and told me to stay as he gallivanted to the other end to play with other children (although, I still maintain the thought that Chase would have had more fun building sandcastles with me and not those dirty-faced kids with mismatched socks- after all, I don't reek of dirty diaper and urine soaked sand.) But anyway, glad he had fun.......

I realize that I have a lot of time on my hands now that my only child can entertain himself for several minutes at a time (but apparently never when I am using the bathroom) and can feed himself.  So with all of my newly found extra time, I enjoy spending it matching his clothes.  I believe that Chase has a better, more well-round day when his socks match his shirt and his shorts match his blankie and his blankie matches his clothes for tomorrow.  :) 

The other night during supper Chase didn't want to eat (like normal, he feels like my cooking is slowing killing him- and he may be right). He picked up his meatball from his plate and hurled it across the kitchen.  When I asked him why he did that he simply said, "I had too."  I immediately thought, well his meatball does kind of resemble a ball, and balls are meant to be thrown, so I get where he coming from, instead of scolding him for this less than desirable behavior, which would have knocked this naughty behavior to the curb before it became an issue.  Now I spend most nights dodging flying food (that may or may not resemble sports equipment).  But who am I to deter him from playing sports and getting some physical exercise? Any who, I have just learned to wear a helmet at dinner. 

  

I am fully aware that if I had another child I wouldn't hover, obsess over matching clothes that are going to be pooped through or make excuses for naughty behavior, but as long as the studies show that I'm not raising Norman Bates, I'm cool with it.  I am not going to hide in silence anymore, I am proud to say that I have Mother of an Only Child Syndrome and I am proud to be their spokesperson (Ya know, I do have some extra time on my hands so I have nominated myself to be their spokesperson).