If you have not potty-trained a boy, you may not know the importance of the phrase "point it down." This concept is instrumental in order to protect your bathroom floor, walls, and, well... all of your bathroom. Some parents of boys opt for the stand-and-train method, but since 99% of the world's toilets (including our own) are well above the height for this to even be a possibility right now, we went the sit-and-train route.
As with all aspects of parenting our son, we need to repeat everything several hundreds of times. The phrase "point it down" is used at just about every potty break, and usually, he does pretty well getting the pee in the potty. Today, however, Mommy heard "uh-oh" from the bathroom, and knew that something that came out of him and was meant to be in the toilet probably wasn't.
Before I continue, let me set the backdrop here.
#1: Mommy is cooking chicken on the grill outside.
#2: 18-month old sister is extremely (borderline psychotically) attached to Mommy these days.
Mommy has just run back in after flipping the chicken on the grill. She hears son say "uh-oh" from the bathroom and knows that even though she does not want to, she needs to learn the truth and deal with it. Upon entering the bathroom, she notices a sea of liquid on the floor (something that does happen from time to time) but then realizes that the pee-sea is actually coming from under the basket of magazines and books. This evidence leads her to deduce that her son must have peed straight forward, or perhaps upward even, creating an arc of pee that drenched the entire basket on the opposite bathroom wall. Mommy lifts the basket up and out of the bathroom, but since baby sister has followed her in there, the dripping wet pee basket is lifted directly over sister's head. Mommy then wrestles herself from sister's grasp in order to go grab paper towels and returns to find sister standing directly in the middle of pee-pond, staring at her brother, still sitting on the toilet.
As I begin explaining that everything in the basket will have to be thrown away, all of Mommy and Daddy's magazines and all of his own books, he cries and begs me to "clean" his books and not throw them away.
Once the basket is tossed and floor is cleaned, Mommy recalls that she is also cooking dinner! Again, wrenching the death grip of her 18-month old daughter's fingers from her legs, she rushes outside to salvage the burning chicken, and in her haste, touches the grate and sears her fingers.
2 hours later -- I kid you not -- he does it again. This time, however, "It's okay, Mommy. It only got all over the floor."
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
A new word
My 1-year old daughter has recently taken up the habit of trying to grab a hold of my 3-year old son's frontal appendage. Her latest attempt, while getting into pajamas tonight, led to the following conversation with him.
"No, you don't touch your brother's penis."
"But I can touch my own penis."
"Yes, but she cannot touch your penis, just like you cannot touch her..."
Yikes. I had not introduced this word to him yet.
"Her what?"
"Her vagina."
"Her WHAT?"
"Her vagina. She does not have a penis. She is a girl. Girls have vaginas."
"Where did her penis go?"
"She never had one. She was born as a girl."
"She is not a girl. She is a baby."
"She is a girl and you are a boy. You were born that way."
"Well, where is her vagina?"
"It is covered by her diaper right now."
I watched the wheels turning in his head as he listed everyone he knows who is a boy (Daddy, Papa, Poppy, friends at school, Mickey Mouse...) and who is a girl (Mommy, sister, Nana, Mimi, Dora the Explorer...) and pieced together this new information about everyone's anatomy.
After about 475 questions, eventually the conversation changed topics. However, later when my husband called to say good night to the kids, my son immediately piped in with his newfound terminology. My husband was provided with a dissertation on penises and vaginas and who has what. Tomorrow night's bath might be a little bit more interesting.
"No, you don't touch your brother's penis."
"But I can touch my own penis."
"Yes, but she cannot touch your penis, just like you cannot touch her..."
Yikes. I had not introduced this word to him yet.
"Her what?"
"Her vagina."
"Her WHAT?"
"Her vagina. She does not have a penis. She is a girl. Girls have vaginas."
"Where did her penis go?"
"She never had one. She was born as a girl."
"She is not a girl. She is a baby."
"She is a girl and you are a boy. You were born that way."
"Well, where is her vagina?"
"It is covered by her diaper right now."
I watched the wheels turning in his head as he listed everyone he knows who is a boy (Daddy, Papa, Poppy, friends at school, Mickey Mouse...) and who is a girl (Mommy, sister, Nana, Mimi, Dora the Explorer...) and pieced together this new information about everyone's anatomy.
After about 475 questions, eventually the conversation changed topics. However, later when my husband called to say good night to the kids, my son immediately piped in with his newfound terminology. My husband was provided with a dissertation on penises and vaginas and who has what. Tomorrow night's bath might be a little bit more interesting.
Monday, June 4, 2012
A Celebration
This week officially marks one year since we jumped into underwear and started potty-training our son. Being the festive fellow that he is, he wanted to commemorate this happy occasion, and did so twice today.
Event #1: While peeing on a public toilet a local farmstead, he neglected to point his peeter into the bowl, thus spraying 10% of the urine on Mommy's hand (who was frantically trying to control the stream), 30% of the urine all over Mommy's leg, and 60% of the urine all over the bathroom floor.
Event #2: Despite a lengthly conversation about what to do if he needed to go potty at the gym, including a threat that he would not be allowed to play in the pool after the gym if his underwear did not stay dry... When I picked him up at the childcare room after my workout, his underwear, shorts and shirt were all soaked with pee. Since it is 93 degrees outside, the only outdoor activity that is remotely pleasant is playing in our $40 plastic pool (currently the favorite toy in our house), so we are therefore stuck inside until bedtime as this frustrated mommy is following through with her promise.
Happy Anniversary, little man. It is has been a rocking year.
Toot (me blowing my celebratory horn).
Event #1: While peeing on a public toilet a local farmstead, he neglected to point his peeter into the bowl, thus spraying 10% of the urine on Mommy's hand (who was frantically trying to control the stream), 30% of the urine all over Mommy's leg, and 60% of the urine all over the bathroom floor.
Event #2: Despite a lengthly conversation about what to do if he needed to go potty at the gym, including a threat that he would not be allowed to play in the pool after the gym if his underwear did not stay dry... When I picked him up at the childcare room after my workout, his underwear, shorts and shirt were all soaked with pee. Since it is 93 degrees outside, the only outdoor activity that is remotely pleasant is playing in our $40 plastic pool (currently the favorite toy in our house), so we are therefore stuck inside until bedtime as this frustrated mommy is following through with her promise.
Happy Anniversary, little man. It is has been a rocking year.
Toot (me blowing my celebratory horn).
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Someday
Someday...
I will pee without 2 visitors -- one trying to brush my hair and the other trying to sit on my lap to read me a book.
I will use a public restroom without having a child open the door, exposing me, on the toilet, to the world.
I will enjoy a visit to the park that does not involve poop in any way.
My son will know that it is okay for the different foods on his plate to touch each other.
My son will eat a vegetable or fruit without the promise of chocolate or cookie. (Maybe not)
My daughter will stop falling off of things and smacking herself in the face.
My kids will sleep past 6:03 in the morning.
Someday, I will miss bathroom visitors, silly games played to entice my son to eat, kissing boo-boos on my daughter's forehead, and 6 a.m. wake-up calls from a little person standing next to my bed holding books.
Wishing for someday. But not wishing for someday.
I will pee without 2 visitors -- one trying to brush my hair and the other trying to sit on my lap to read me a book.
I will use a public restroom without having a child open the door, exposing me, on the toilet, to the world.
I will enjoy a visit to the park that does not involve poop in any way.
My son will know that it is okay for the different foods on his plate to touch each other.
My son will eat a vegetable or fruit without the promise of chocolate or cookie. (Maybe not)
My daughter will stop falling off of things and smacking herself in the face.
My kids will sleep past 6:03 in the morning.
Someday, I will miss bathroom visitors, silly games played to entice my son to eat, kissing boo-boos on my daughter's forehead, and 6 a.m. wake-up calls from a little person standing next to my bed holding books.
Wishing for someday. But not wishing for someday.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Sister in space
Although his relationship with his little sister has improved greatly, we still have some work to do with our son. Our conversation this morning:
"Mom, only 3 people should live here, not 4."
"Who should be here?"
"Mommy, Daddy, and me."
"What about your sister?"
"She can live in space."
"But we would miss her!"
"We can go visit her in space, Mom. On our space ship."
"Mom, only 3 people should live here, not 4."
"Who should be here?"
"Mommy, Daddy, and me."
"What about your sister?"
"She can live in space."
"But we would miss her!"
"We can go visit her in space, Mom. On our space ship."
Saturday, May 19, 2012
A bookworm without pants...2
While staying with the grandparents...
3-year old runs up stairs yelling, "I'm gonna need a book Mom!" (I am sure you can crack that code as to what's about to happen in there.)
10 minutes later, child appears on stairs. Naked and reading. The book is big enough to cover his unmentionables. He descends down the stairs, completely engrossed in the book, walks into the playroom, and sits back down into his previous reading chair that he had left a few minutes before. As if nothing had changed.
No awareness that his pants and underwear are still upstairs.
That's our boy.
3-year old runs up stairs yelling, "I'm gonna need a book Mom!" (I am sure you can crack that code as to what's about to happen in there.)
10 minutes later, child appears on stairs. Naked and reading. The book is big enough to cover his unmentionables. He descends down the stairs, completely engrossed in the book, walks into the playroom, and sits back down into his previous reading chair that he had left a few minutes before. As if nothing had changed.
No awareness that his pants and underwear are still upstairs.
That's our boy.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Going on a year now...
We actively began potty training our son last June. As in June of 2011. It is now May. Of 2012. And honestly, I thought we really were about done. He has not had a real accident in months. However, the following has occurred in the past 48 hours:
Yesterday... Pick up son from child care room at gym. He is disheveled and his shirt is tucked in to his pants in the front. This is evidence that we went on the potty there. Good boy. Or not? As I retrieve child #2 and we begin to exit, I notice that he is holding his butt and walking oddly. I ask him if he pooped in his pants, to which he lies, "No." Upon further investigation, I learn that yes, in fact, he did poop in his underpants although he actually did use the potty at some point...???
After several interrogation attempts that lead to no real information, I give up. I chock this event up to him not knowing the childcare workers well at the gym and not being familiar with the bathroom there. An annoying hiccup, but we get past it.
Then today we attend a play date at a friend's house -- a house he has been to a countless number of times, and a house he has pooped and peed at successfully. While running around outside, he begins to do the potty dance but swears he does not have to go. (I know this is untrue, but he needs to come to terms with it on his own, accept the reality that he needs to walk away from the toys to use the potty. Usually he does manage this with enough time to spare. Usually.) Finally, after several potty-dancing minutes, he runs to me frantically yelling that he needs to go potty. I take him inside and he pees on the potty, but I also notice his underwear are soaked. I am very angry at this because he did not give himself enough time to get there. After scolding him, I decide to just let him run around outside in his mesh shorts without underwear (as the clean underwear are in the car and I need to get back to tending to his sister too). I also state clearly that if he has another accident, now that we have had TWO in the past two days, that I am going to take his LeapPad away for a day.
A few minutes later, back outside, he runs up to me holding his butt and crying, "Don't take my LeapPad away!" I am in disbelief. Are you kidding me? Did you poop in your underpants AGAIN? Then I realize with horror that he is not wearing underpants and that the only thing between the poop and the rest of the world -- my friend's yard and house -- is a pair of loose mesh shorts.
The next 20 minutes is a bit of a blur, but you can imagine how it went down. Thank goodness Mommy has Book Club tonight and that there will be wine.
Yesterday... Pick up son from child care room at gym. He is disheveled and his shirt is tucked in to his pants in the front. This is evidence that we went on the potty there. Good boy. Or not? As I retrieve child #2 and we begin to exit, I notice that he is holding his butt and walking oddly. I ask him if he pooped in his pants, to which he lies, "No." Upon further investigation, I learn that yes, in fact, he did poop in his underpants although he actually did use the potty at some point...???
After several interrogation attempts that lead to no real information, I give up. I chock this event up to him not knowing the childcare workers well at the gym and not being familiar with the bathroom there. An annoying hiccup, but we get past it.
Then today we attend a play date at a friend's house -- a house he has been to a countless number of times, and a house he has pooped and peed at successfully. While running around outside, he begins to do the potty dance but swears he does not have to go. (I know this is untrue, but he needs to come to terms with it on his own, accept the reality that he needs to walk away from the toys to use the potty. Usually he does manage this with enough time to spare. Usually.) Finally, after several potty-dancing minutes, he runs to me frantically yelling that he needs to go potty. I take him inside and he pees on the potty, but I also notice his underwear are soaked. I am very angry at this because he did not give himself enough time to get there. After scolding him, I decide to just let him run around outside in his mesh shorts without underwear (as the clean underwear are in the car and I need to get back to tending to his sister too). I also state clearly that if he has another accident, now that we have had TWO in the past two days, that I am going to take his LeapPad away for a day.
A few minutes later, back outside, he runs up to me holding his butt and crying, "Don't take my LeapPad away!" I am in disbelief. Are you kidding me? Did you poop in your underpants AGAIN? Then I realize with horror that he is not wearing underpants and that the only thing between the poop and the rest of the world -- my friend's yard and house -- is a pair of loose mesh shorts.
The next 20 minutes is a bit of a blur, but you can imagine how it went down. Thank goodness Mommy has Book Club tonight and that there will be wine.
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