One more reason why potty-training stinks

Cary and Dean have handled potty training fairly well, I think.

After the initial bumps and fits and starts, they slowly got the hang of understanding when an "event" was about to happen, and taking themselves to a potty or a toilet to handle said event.

They were doing so well that we long ago moved the potty chairs from the living room. And just recently, the boys stopped using the little cushiony seat that sat atop the toilet.

Like big boys, they march upstairs when they have to go, scoot themselves up on the toilet, and handle all their events. (We still have to help with the clean-up after major events. But minor events they handle like old hands!) They are dry all day long, and I honestly can't remember when we had an accident -- even when we're out of the house for long periods and they have to wait to get to a bathroom.

All good, right?

Wrong!

The problem now is that they -- like most people -- have to pee first thing in the morning. And we have taught them that peeing in their overnight Pull-Up is not a good idea. THIS, they listen to.

So what happens? They wake up at RIDICULOUS times of the morning to pee. At first, my boys who used to sleep till 7 or even 7:30 started waking up at 6:30. Then it was 6. This morning, it was 5:35. Ay. Em.

And you know there is no way a 3-year-old can be awake without the entire world knowing about it. So we always wake up. I guess it would be irresponsible of us if we just let them wander alone through the house to hang out in the bathroom at 5 a.m., so I suppose they are doing the right thing by announcing that they have to go.

But dang!

Five-thirty A.M.? Really?

We even left one potty seat in their bedroom so they might use that one for overnight and wee-hours of-the-morning peeing. But they complained that it was too dark in their room to see the potty, which is why they just HAD to come get us to take them to the bathroom instead.

So we bought a little night-light. Problem solved, right? Plllbbbbt. What do they do now? Go in the potty, then come in our rooms to tell us that they've gone.

Why? Why? Why?!!

I was never a morning person, and becoming a parent has not changed that about me. Six a.m. wake-up times feel like death sentences to me. Five-thirty feels like a condemnation to hell.

Here's hoping they'll get the hang of this potty-in-the-room thing until they're old enough to get up out of their beds, take themselves to the bathroom, handle their events and go right. back. to. bed.
All without waking us up. 

Hmmm... what age would that be exactly?

Worst night with the babies ever!

OK, this blog post title is definite hyperbole.

But I remember back when the boys were infants that bad nights always seemed like the WORST NIGHTS EVER. Looking back on them, even this one -- they don't seem that bad after all. And now, with a little parenting experience under my belt, I can even realize  -- smack in the middle of the bad night -- that this night is not the worst it could be.

Still. Last night was pretty sucky.

All three kids have had runny noses, but had been feeling mostly normal. Until five minutes after Michelle left yesterday and I snuggled up to Cary on the couch, only to feel that he was hot, hot, hot. I took his temperature - 101.5. Dean insisted I take his temperature: It was 99.5. And then Clair took the thermometer and dragged it across her forehead (it was so cute) so I appeased her by taking her temperature, too: It was 100! What the what? These fevers came out of nowhere!

Immediately after finding out they had temperatures, the whole lot of them descended into whininess. I tried to distract them, tried to hug and love them, but they seemed almost happy to be whiny. (Whining does make me feel better when I'm sick, too, so I guess I understand). I popped some Tylenol and decided to go with it.

But then, Cary had to go to the potty. He shuffled slowly, whining the entire time, to the potty and barely pulled his pants down. By the time he lowered his narrow behind onto the potty, it was too late. Pee was all over the floor. I hustled to the kitchen to get paper towels and cleaner. I heard a scream: "Mommy!! Clair's touching the PEEEE!"

I ran from the kitchen to the living room to keep the baby out of the wet spot, while Cary whined that he did more than just pee and now he needed me to help him wipe. (At least that part made it into the potty!) I asked him to wait while I cleaned up the pee. This pushed him from whining to full-blown crying. Clair was also crying because she had a desperate need to play in the pee, apparently.

Using one arm to barricade her, I got the floor cleaned up with the other hand, wiped Cary and told him to pull his pants up. "I cannnnn't!" he whined. "I want YOUUUU to do it!"

Meanwhile, Clair kept trying to open the potty lid to see what was in it. So I ran up the stairs to take both potties and dump them in the toilet. Cary whined ever louder as I noticed that the potties - and the potty seat that goes on the toilet -- smelled horrendous, even after I washed, rinsed and scrubbed them with Scrubbing Bubbles. I almost gagged, it was so bad. How had I not noticed this before??
I started scrubbing more and more and got a little bit OCD about it, tuning out Cary's whining, until I heard another scream: "Mommmmmy! Clair's in the kitchen cabinet!"

I ran downstairs and sure enough, Clair was sucking feverishly on a bottle of floor cleaner.  (We are really not winning any parenting awards this year, believe me.)

I pried it from her, stuck a bottle brush through the cabinet handles as Clair screamed, ran to pull Cary's pants up and decided that everyone needed to go to bed early. So up the stairs we marched.

When Dean realized that there was going to be no bath, he flipped out. The only way I got him to calm down and come put his pajamas on was to tell him that after his pajamas were on, he could have some medicine. Yes, I bribed my child with drugs. The same child who had to go to the emergency room for chugging medicine while we slept. Yes. I did. Moving on...

Sufficiently incentivized (you like that corporate-speak, don't you?), the boys got their pajamas on quickly, and took their medicine. I had to go downstairs to get Clair's bottle, so I told the boys to keep their bedroom door closed while I ran to the kitchen and not to open it under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.  I had just crossed the threshold into the kitchen when I heard the boys' door open.

Frustrated, I yelled up the stairs, "I said not to open that door under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!!"

Deanie started stuttering: "M-m-m-m-mommmy, Cary, Cary, Cary. Umm....Cary, Cary, Cary, Cary. Umm. Cary spit up! Cary spit up because he choked!"

Then of course, I felt like the WWM (world's worst mother). I ran up the stairs (lot of running up and down stairs last night) and comforted a sad Cary, who had indeed coughed until he choked (a regular occurrence for him) and then he threw up, all over a green plastic chair. And Dean, being his ever-helpful self, tried to wipe it up and was freaking out about the fact that there was now spit-up on his hands. Meanwhile, Clair is crying because she also doesn't feel well, and is SO ready for her bottle and for bed; Cary is crying because he just threw up mushrooms and medicine; and I felt like crying because seriously -- this might not be the worst night ever but it is pretty darn close!!

I got the chair, Cary and Dean cleaned up, ran back downstairs, got Clair's bottle, ran back upstairs, said prayers, tucked the boys in, gave Clair her bottle, put her to bed and was putting all the potty seats and potty-related gear in a soaking bath with disinfectant in the laundry room basin when Lester came home around 7:45.

At that point, I considered my shift OVER. And I went to bed -- with buttered popcorn and Raisinets as my reward for surviving.

I thought I was home free, but Lester and I had just settled in for an episode of House of Cards when we heard an ear-piercing screech. Poor Clair had had a nightmare! I ran into her room (why don't I lose weight with all the running I do around here?) and scooped her up, brought her back into our bedroom, snuggled under our comforter with her on my lap and soothed my sleepy, sniffling baby girl.

After she calmed down, she was so sweet and cuddly. She smiled at us and looked adorable with her messy hair and wide eyes. She crawled over and laid on Lester, looking up at the TV as if she could understand the plot. She was so pleasant, I almost forgot that this was ADULT time. But I came to my senses, deposited her back in her bed with a million kisses, and finished the evening relaxed and content.

And with an ending like that, how could the night ever be classified as the worst night ever?


I'll save that title for another night. I'm sure there will be plenty more that are worthy.

My first photo retraction

I caught a lot of flack about posting the photo yesterday of the boys on their potties. Lester was good-natured about it, but let me know that he wasn't thrilled. Angel made me worried about weirdos lurking around every mouse-click. And sooo many people on Facebook said my kids would hate me for that picture later, I actually started to get sad thinking about it.

So I took it down.

I want this blog to be honest -- our family, warts and all. But I don't want to embarrass my children unnecessarily. And I certainly don't want to compromise their safety. So I'll admit that I made a mistake (even though I thought the photo was cute!) and move on.

And just to even the score, here's a picture of me this morning, no make-up, sick as a dog (AGAIN!), in my bathrobe, in bed:

Lovely, no? I especially love my double chins and Kimora Lee Simmons neck rolls on full display. And what you can't see are the balled-up tissues strewn all about, or the half-eaten oatmeal on my nightstand, or the laundry that needs folding all over everywhere.

Seriously. Can it just be spring already? I have never been sick so much in my life. Excuse me while I go blow my nose -- again.

And so it begins...

Potty training has begun in earnest in our house.

It happened literally overnight.

On Saturday, everyone was in diapers, relieving themselves at will, without any thought about it.
On Sunday, Dean said he had to go potty, we sat him on the potty and he went.
Later he did it again. And again. Until it was so close to bathtime, I didn't want to put another diaper on him, so on a lark, I put on Big Boy Underwear. He told me two more times after that that he had to go -- and each time he did.

On Monday, we sent him to school with BBUs, and would you believe it? NO accidents.
And all day long, no accidents.

Somewhere along in there, Cary decided he didn't want to be left out of the potty parade.
He has less success actually going when he's on the potty, but we praise him nonetheless for trying.
Every time Dean says he has to go, Cary wants to try too. So there has been a LOT of pottying in our house the last two days. A LOT.

This morning, both boys went to school with BBUs, so we'll see how that goes.
Of course, as soon as we were about to leave the house to go to school, Dean said he had to go potty, and Cary parroted him. So we sat and sat and sat and eventually ended up late (of course), but what else can you do when they're just beginning but accommodate their every urge to sit and try?

Nothing happened (of course) but when we got to school, Dean said he had to go again. (Cary chimed in, of course.) So Miss Toni and I marched them to the school bathroom where Dean really did have to go and Cary really did have to try.  And 15 minutes later, I was late for work.

Ugh.

And people keep telling Lester and me all about the awesomeness that now awaits us in terms of having to rush through public places trying to find bathrooms for panicked toddlers, having to wake them up in the middle of the night to pee (or worse, to change clothes and sheets) and all the cleaning up and laundry and inability to drive long distances unencumbered. 

Ugh.

Is it wrong to be happy that they're growing, getting more independent and inching their way toward a diaper-free existence, and at the same time dread all that comes with it?

Even if they do look super cute in their little Big Boy undies!

Seriously awesome weekend!

So much great stuff happened this weekend, I would be here all day writing if I didn't break it into manageable chunks.

First ... Clair perfected her get-down-get-funky dance, and it is the best part of my day.

The girl's got rhythm, no? Takes after her Mommy. Sorry, Lester. You know it's true.

Also, we went to Storyville again, and Clair really got into it, as opposed to the last time we came, when she was a teenier baby and conked out the entire time.

Fun with magnets.

The Davis family took over a whole section of Storyville. We roll deep, yo!

The boys' second time at the library was a huge success. While I picked out books that were all on a waitlist, dangit, they picked out books to take home, put 'em in a basket, and then sat down -- uninstructed by me -- and started "reading." Yes. My boys are awesome.

Seriously, I turned around from the library counter and this was happening. I almost fell over.

Also, drumroll please ...... Dean Ezra Davis earned himself a pair of Elmo-covered Big Boy Underpants for successfully declaring his need for the potty -- and then successfully using said potty -- three times in a row!

"I'm getting bigger!" he said, after putting on his underwear.

He was sooo excited! And when he also woke up this morning with a dry diaper, and went to the potty first thing in the morning, we also decided to send him TO SCHOOL WITH HIS BIG BOY UNDERPANTS ON!  I have no idea how this turned out. I will have to call Michelle at some point and see if there were accidents, but I'm too scared.

For his part, Cary tries, but he is not having as much success as his brother. But he melts down when Dean gets a Raisinet for his potty-success, and he doesn't, and he wants to wear Big Boy Underpants, too. So, being the sucker that I am, I just give him a chocolate raisin for "trying," and I put underpants on over his diaper. This seems to satisfy him for now. But it's making a mockery of the incentives. Oh well.No one said parenting was easy.

But the total cherry on top of this sweet-sundae of a weekend, was piling my entire family into the minivan and driving 100 hours to Angel's house in Virginia, where we got Clair's 1st Birthday photos taken, hugged and squealed over one another, ate, drank, laughed and had the. best. time.

Of course, I have NO photos of us together because I was so focused on Clair and her photo shoot, I lost my phone for several crucial hours in Angel's bedroom. But Angel has documented the fun, fun day here on her excellent blog (which you should be reading, anyway, if you're not already because she is absolutely hysterical and her children are gorgeous).

Angel and I have become such good friends over the course of the last 3+ years, seeing us together on Saturday, you would never have known that we've only actually met in person twice -- yesterday's visit counting as one of the two times. Being with her was so easy and warm and familiar, it was like we were lifelong friends. I was so happy to be in her house, cooing at her babies, laughing with her two Roars, eating fine cuisine (LOL!) and drinking supremely tasty cocktails. (I was a little tipsy when the night was over, but don't tell my children.)

Anyway, I am always amazed at what a great job I do picking friends. Just about all the women in my life are fabulous in so many ways, I marvel at how much awesomeness would be in one room if I was lucky enough to get them all together. Angel is no exception. She is beautiful, talented, smart, skilled in a wide range of things, a loving, kind and inspirational Mom, creative, generous and has great hair.

I kind of hate her.

But when I start to get jealous, I think about how those talents often benefit ME (of course). For example, her skills with a camera give me sweet shots like these:

Tahira, don't ask me what I'm doing with her hair. OK? I don't. frikkin.' know.

Isn't that so cute? I can't wait to see the rest of her photos! Most importantly, I hope we can find time to get together more often, now that we know that we fit together like orange juice and coconut rum. And oh, how sweet it is.

Peeing with intention

Lester's friend Antwyne got him tickets to the Ravens' game last night for his birthday, so I had kid-duty.

Thankfully, everyone was in a really good mood and there were no incidents to speak of. In fact, we had a lot of fun singing at the dinner table and talking about their friends in class. Dean can pretty much name every single kid in his class, even kids with hard names for a 2-year-old to pronounce like "Graciella."

The highlight of the night, though, was after bathtime, when I was putting the boys' pajamas on. While I had Cary on the changing table, Dean told me he had to go to the potty. I sighed, because I knew if I had to sit with him in the bathroom while he lolly-gagged on the toilet, Cary would be running wild in the bathroom, turning the water on and off, and Clair would be getting restless and fussy and the whole bedtime would be prolonged unnecessarily even though everyone knows Dean DID NOT REALLY HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!

But I had to take him, because he asked. So I finished up with Cary and then sat Dean on the kid-seat on the toilet. Of course he starts having a heart attack! "No, no, nooooo!" he said, sliding off the toilet.

I sighed some more. Deanie, I said, you said you had to go potty. Do you not have to go now?

"No, no, noooo!" he yelled. "I want to stand up on the stool."

Great, I thought. Not only do I have to stay in here, but now he wants to stand up. Ugh.

But I had to do it, because he asked, and this is how they're teaching them at pre-school.

So I stood him up on the stool, pointed important parts south, and waited and waited. As I suspected, nothing was coming out. This could go on half the night, I thought, sighing some more.

Finally, I told Dean I was leaving to go read a story to Cary and Clair. I told him to stay in here by himself (I emphasized that part) and put his pee-pee in the toilet, knowing full well he'd hate being alone and would call me back very shortly.

I went into the boys' room, closed the door and started loudly reading their current favorite book, "Two-legged, Four-legged, No-legged Rhymes."

I didn't get very far before I heard Dean frantically yelling for me. My plan worked! I knew he wouldn't stay in there too long by himself. I went into the bathroom and said, "Are you finished trying, sweetie? No pee-pee came out? It's OK, you can try tomorrow."

As he furiously shook his head, I noticed the huge smile on his face.

"No Mommy!" he said. "I DID go pee-pee. I put the pee-pee in there!" He pointed to the toilet.

And sure enough, he had! There was pee in the toilet! He was so excited!

I honestly think that this is the first time he's known he had to go, actually asked to go ahead of time, and then been successful at his attempt. All the other times he's peed/pooped in the potty have been because someone (Michelle, most likely) sat him on the potty after a meal and waited.

So this, my friends, is the first intentional peeing!

We did a happy dance, and hugged and shrieked, and he was so ridiculously proud! (Cary saw all the glee and tried to say he had to go pee-pee, too, but I really knew better than that. Whatever, already-diapered-fibbing-child. You missed that window.)

And the best part was when he came back in his room and went straight to Clair, who was sitting on the floor, chewing on a toy, and leaned down to her level and said, "I did it, Clair! I went pee-pee in the toilet! I did it! And I FLUSHED it!" I loved seeing his eyes all sparkly with happiness.

And the award for best ability to keep pee-pee OUT of his diaper goes to: Dean Davis!!

I know that, when it really gets going in earnest, potty-training is going to be a big pain-in-the-arse. Times two.

But I have to say last night was really sweet and satisfying. Never thought I'd ever say that about pee. :-)

First "No Tears" day!

Hooray!

There was no whining on the ride to school, no whining walking into the building, no whining at the doorway of the classroom and NO TEARS when I left. In fact, Dean refused to even give me a kiss good-bye. And not in a "I'm mad at you for leaving me here" kind of way. More like a "Mom, go to work already!" kind of way. Which was, strangely, kind of nice.

Everything moved so smoothly, I even got to work super early and had to turn off the alarm and start the coffee!! I'm always one of the first ones at work, but I'm not always THE first one at work.

I'm hopeful this is the way things will go from now on. No tears, smooth transitions, get to work early, get my coffee, and quiet time at my desk to read news stories and blog. Whoo-hoo!

Sidenote: I did make an appointment to meet with Miss Toni tomorrow to discuss what I consider to be some significant issues with the way she is reporting on the boys' day. I don't want to go into too much here until after the meeting. So stay tuned. (Pray *I* don't leave the meeting in tears. LOL.)

Meanwhile, I leave you with this musical gem from yesterday:

 
CRACKS ME UP!!!

I refuse to get excited

Text I got from Michelle this morning:


The boys went pee pee 2x on the potty! Clair is having a great day as well.

After 2-plus years of parenting, I now know that this could mean something. Or it could mean nothing at all.

So, I won't even mention it. (Except to all of you.)

:-)

Updates, updates, updates

Here's what's been happening in the world of the Davises lately:

I've been out and about like an adult!

First, Lester and I went to the Green School Gala, an annual fundraiser for the charter school of which I'm on the board. The Gala was tons of fun (read: drinking! dancing! free food!) and thanks to my lovely friend Stacey, we didn't even have to pay a babysitter! Thanks so much, Stacey!! You are awesome!

There was also a silent auction. Somehow, my wine-stoked competitive streak latched on to a photo of the Domino Sugar sign, a Baltimore landmark. I demanded Lester be "aggressive" about winning it, and darnit if he didn't take me up on it. We won the frikkin' thing, and I don't even want to say how much we bid on it, especially considering this is the Year of Austerity. Good grief. Remind me never to participate in a silent auction when there is also wine involved.

But -- the gala raised $15,000 for the school, so I guess it was for a good cause. And it's tax deductible. And we have this pretty cool picture:

Also, I got to get dressed up, in a dress and heels and everything! (Post-pregnancy illusion of thinness courtesy of the 5 S's: Stand up straight, Suck it in, Spanx, Spanx, Spanx.)

Saturday, I also went out for dinner and drinks with my fabulous friend BETH!

We went to an undisclosed Italian restaurant where we just might have been on Candid Camera, where the sorta-hot, possibly under-aged bartender just might have been married to a transvestite tramp, and where our pen to sign the credit card statement just might have been some sort of ancient Irish phallic symbol. Other than those curiosities, we had a really great time talking and laughing and not having to share our meals with tiny people!

Speaking of tiny people, I also took the boys out for some Saturday morning yard-sale shopping, soccer-game watching, park-playing and Red Canoe-visiting.

I love the fact that they have all kinds of things for kids to play with at the Red Canoe, especially books!

There were no meltdowns worth mentioning during said outing, I bought lunch for everyone instead of fixing it myself, and my boys and Clair all conked out for three hours after we got home, allowing me to listen to This American Life and take a nap on the sofa, too. Yes, it was a great weekend!

Speaking of Clair, she has discovered her hand -- and it apparently is quite delicious! (This photo cracks me up):

And... at 10 weeks and some change, she's still super-cute! See?

Meanwhile, in other news:

Remember the potty excitement? Me, hollering "Poop!! Poop!"  And being giddy?
Yeah. Well. Here's what has come of the potties:

 Stepstools.

Or sometimes...seats.

No pooping. No peeing. No nothin'... Oh well. I knew this was going to be a long haul.

And here's the latest on the maternity leave checklist:

• Finish sending out thank-you cards to friends
• Organize and clean out my basement Starts tomorrow!
• Swap out winter and spring/summer clothes
• Figure out what to do with maternity clothes (consignment? Freecycle? Give to a friend?)
• Frame (and/or re-frame) photos; hang them in the house Started this project.
• Find an aesthetically-pleasing (or if not, then cheap and easy) way to organize the boys' books in the living room play area
• Take my bedroom comforter to the Laundromat to wash
• Take my Christmas tablecloth to the dry cleaners (yes, I still have not done that and it's April. And what?)
• Take some things back to Macy's/Target
• Get a pedicure
• Get my eyebrows done
• Go to the Dominicans and get my hair done  
• (This item and the previous two are all part of Operation Bring the Sexy Back.  New spring/summer clothes are also a part of that mission, but only after this baby belly has gone the way of the wooly mammoth.) I bought a few things, but nothing compared to what's coming when my gut is gone. Lester, be prepared for the spending spree, sweetie.
• Go visit friends with Clair, or the boys, or all 3 (Kelly, in particular)
• Go visit friends all alone! Preferably where a meal and cocktails are present (Angel, Kelly, Beth, Stacey) Beth- check; Stacey and Kelly -- next week or the following week, for sure!
• Go visit Granddad
• Have lunch with Lester during the work week
• Go out with Lester on a real grown-up date Went to the Green School Gala. Michelle will babysit on May 4, so we're going out again. Yay!
• Take my Dad out for lunch again, this time with Tahira since she missed it last time
• Get Clair on a predictable eating and sleeping schedule Getting there, somewhat.
• Get Clair sleeping in her own bed Yeah, right.
• Wean the boys from their nighttime bottle Down to 3 ounces a night.
• Get on the pill Picked up my prescription. Gotta wait for Aunt Flo to show before I can start taking them.
• Get on the pill! Where is Aunt Flo?
• Get ON THE PILL! Seriously, where the HECK is Aunt Flo?
• Make an appointment with my primary care doctor to get my sugars tested Called and he said call back in 3 weeks, because they need a certain amount of time to have passed after delivery to get a true reading.
• Plan and have the boys' 2nd birthday party. Now I don't know if we're having a party. I keep going back and forth. Will keep you posted. 

 That's it for updates for now. Tomorrow is Clair's doctor's appointment, so I'll report back about that. I'm also starting my basement project tomorrow, so if anyone has a trained canary to send after me, please get it ready. It just might come in handy. Ugh!

Poop!

We have POOP! We have POOP!

Michelle and I have started introducing the potty to the boys. Very slowly and with no pressure or real schedule or consistency -- just introducing it, like, "Hey Cary,  hey Dean. Meet Potty. He's gonna hang around here for awhile. Why don't you get familiar?"

So far, they've mostly enjoyed sitting on it, while Michelle or I read to them, and also standing on top of it. We had a little bit of pee in one (Dean's) last week, but other than that, nothing. Which is fine with me, because we're not earnestly potty-training until after the boys' next doctor's appointment, when I can talk to my pediatrician about it and also find out what's the best potty training book to read. (Seriously, how would I parent my children without Amazon.com?)

But today, even without us really trying, Dean pooped in the potty!!! (Picture me doing my pooped-in-the-potty-dance!)

I took a picture of it and sent it to Lester at work, who pronounced the achievement "exciting and gross at the same time," but I will spare you the evidence of Dean's poopage and just show you how enthralled the boys were by it:

Holy poopage, Batman! That came out of Dean!

Believe me, I kinda had to stare at it too. It was...hmmm...what's a polite way to say this? Umm...it was *impressive.* 

Like I said, we're far from even really starting potty-training in earnest, so I know we have a long way to go before this is a regular occurrence, but am I wrong for already mentally spending the money we'll save in buying diapers once they're really trained!!!? Whoo-hooo, Momma needs a new pair of shoes!