Unanswerable Questions

“I wish I was never born...”

My heart sank, as I tried to process the sentence coming from my sweet, precocious six year old as we drove down the road. I didn't think such things until I was in the middle of my junior high “yuck” phase, hating everything about my life, a female George Bailey with no Clarence to convince her otherwise. But this was different. My daughter was still innocent.

“...because then I wouldn't have to die.”

And then my heart shattered. Poor E is still processing all the grief of losing a loved one, and grappling with the inevitability of death. I have a hard time with it myself, so it's no wonder that she would consider such dark ideas. Hell, I caught myself thinking the exact same thing only the day before.

My father passed away suddenly and unexpectedly in August 2013, followed a month later by my maternal grandmother. Since that time, both my children have been obsessed with death. And who wouldn't be? I'm obsessed with death and think about it all the time. Perhaps it's because I have no answers, but I have the same questions they do. What happens? Where do you go? What do you do? Do you see your family? Can you talk to people? Does it hurt? And my favorite - Are you magical?

Aside from Christmas, Easter and when her baby teeth fall out, I am completely open and honest with my daughter. I try to tell her the truth in everything, in the best way I think she will understand. When I broke the news to her about my dad dying, she was initially upset that she wasn't going to be getting pretty dresses for Christmas and her birthdays anymore. And then she blew me away and broke my heart by saying “He'll be your daddy forever and you'll never see him again.” We held each other like our lives depended on it and cried until our tear ducts dried out.

Until December of last year, I've been able to reassure her that I won't be dying anytime soon. While I've been honest that I don't know when I'm going to die, I may have allowed her childhood innocence to believe that only old people die. My three year old drives her crazy because 32 is the biggest number he can fathom, and he's convinced that is the magical number for death.

“Mommy, when you turn 32, that's when you die,” he says.

“But Mommy's 41! Don't say that, L!”

And the tears flow.

Just a few weeks before Christmas, a dear friend of mine lost her baby at 27 weeks gestation and my daughter learned that death does not discriminate. The only thing more heartbreaking than watching your daughter realize that you can die at any moment, is watching her realize that she can die at any moment.

Hearing her only logical solution to this mysterious and frightening puzzle on routine drive home from the store made me question my ability as a mother. How can I reassure her and restore her love for life when I'm not 100% certain about this thing myself?

We sat on the couch when we got home, and we talked about those unanswerable questions. I told her that I don't know exactly what happens. I told what I believe, why we go to church, and that we should look at death as a peaceful thing - not something to fear. She asked if we would be with our families when we die. I told her that I certainly hoped I would get to see my dad and my grandparents again, and that I hopefully would be reunited with her when it was time. But I don't know for sure, and that's what's hard. And scary.

I spent the first six years of my child's life holding every answer to every question in the palm of my hand. I was the omniscient and omnipotent being in the household. I was God, and Unit 14 at Timbercrest Condominiums was the Garden of Eden. As my daughter's innocence is stripped away, I feel my resolve weaken. I cannot protect her. I cannot save her. I am just as helpless and vulnerable as she is. I'm fairly certain she figured this out long before I did, even though she still seems to act like she adores me. But maybe that's because she's six.

I can't protect her and I can't promise her that nothing terrible will happen. I can only promise that I will continue to eat my vegetables, keep up with my running, try not to hit other cars in traffic, keep my doors locked at night, drink ample amounts of water, avoid soy, take my vitamins, brush and floss my teeth, and practice yoga.

I can promise her that I will strive to bring joy into our lives. A friend of mine who lost the battle with breast cancer many years too soon always ended her journals with the line: “Every day is beauty – beauty in the every day.” I promise that I will find that beauty, I will share it, and I will treasure it. From early morning wake-up kisses, to the surprise pumpkin muffin in the lunch box, to raspberries on her cheeks at tuck-in. I will treasure the not so pleasant moments, too. The legos I step on in the middle of the night, the rush to the car for school in the morning because she decided to play in the bathroom instead of brush her teeth, the screaming with her brother in the car over which song to sing, who has what toy, or whatever egregious deed she accuses him of.

I can promise to treasure each moment as she grows from precocious six year old to the intelligent and creative young woman I imagine she will become. I can promise to share all of my joys and hobbies, and create memories that we can cherish together and will keep us warm when we're not.

I can promise her that I will support her through her hardships, cheer her endeavors, and relish her accomplishments. I can promise that nothing she can do or say will diminish the amount or intensity of love I feel for her today, and it will only grow stronger as time goes on. I can promise that I will never give her reason to doubt my love.

Because without love, what is there to live for?

Tips for Successful Road Trips with Children

This past week, I took the kids on a road trip to visit my grandmother down in Merced, CA.  I'll write more about our adventure later.  What I wanted to write down right now was a list of things I learned during this trip that may help you have a successful road trip with your own children.

1.  When planning your final destination, and the time you expect to reach said destination, add about five hours. 
This happened to us on our last day, the home stretch.  I told my husband we should be home for dinner.  When we were at our last stop before home (which was dinner time), I called him to let him know we wouldn't make it.  We stopped at a Subway to get dinner for the car, which added another 30 minutes.  Then we hit construction, another 30 minutes.  Once we were out of the construction, and five miles from the highway that would lead home and away from the coast, both kids had to poop.  That added another 45 minutes to our trip, and we didn't get home until after 10pm.

2.  When you see a rest stop sign, don't ask your children if they need to go potty, just pull in to the rest stop. 
As Murphy's Law would have it, every time I saw a sign for a rest stop coming up, I would ask the kids if they had to go.  Naturally, they would say no.  As soon as we passed the rest area off-ramp, one of them would begin crying that they needed to pee.

3.  If you are the solo adult for the trip, keep the cooler with food in the passenger seat.  When the children start complaining of hunger, reach in and toss back some food like they're caged lions. 
Because, on a road trip, that really is what they are.  My favorite go-tos are Lara Bars, trail mix, salami and fruit.

4.  Always anticipate where you may need to pull over to the side of the road for an emergency bathroom break.  
Because even if you heed #2, you will still need to do this.

5.  While you may plan 10 activities to do before your final destination, be OK with the fact that you may only get to do about 3.  
Everything takes longer with children involved.  Pick your three "must-see" activities, and all the others will be bonus.

6.  The television in the motel room will keep your children occupied long enough to get the luggage out of the car.  
This is especially helpful if you are the solo parent on the road trip.  We don't have a TV at home, so the novelty of it, even though it was CNN, was enough to keep my kids from running out onto the balcony, climbing over the rail and dropping three stories below.

7.  Sometimes the kids sleep better in their sleeping bags from home than on unfamiliar hotel room beds. 
My son had a hard time getting settled in one of the hotel rooms.  He asked for his sleeping bag.  He tried to sleep in it on the bed, but eventually climbed out, pulled his bag to the floor, and slept a good 10 hours.

8.  A dinner of sandwiches at a local park sometimes makes a hard day easy again.  
Rather than going to a diner or grabbing burgers for the car, we found a park, made some PBJ's and played for a while.  It made the last three hours of driving bearable because the children were happy again.

9. An old digital camera will keep a child happy and noticing the amazing scenery you're driving through.  
I gave E my old digital camera last fall.  She loves it, and she spent quite a lot of time taking pictures from the car.  I'd point out things, like Mt. Shasta, and she'd say, "Oooh, that's beautiful.  I'm going to take a picture."

10.  Even in Spanish, the Frozen soundtrack gets old.  Make sure you have a variety of music that everyone can agree on. 
Since they go to Spanish Immersion school, I bought them the Frozen soundtrack in Spanish.  I didn't think it could get to me like the English version, since I wouldn't know the words.  It was worse, because I don't know the words.  Now I have "Libre Soy, Libre Soy, la la la la la la la....." stuck in my head.

I will be keeping all of these tips in mind when we take our second trip of the summer in August.  We're heading to Glacier National Park.  This time, we'll be taking Daddy.

Spring Break Barf-o-Rama Haikus

Spring Break Staycation
Gardening, zoo, happy kids
Sudden halt with barf.


Puke in the backseat
Cleaning it from the carseat
Vomit on my shoe.


Head over toilet
Waiting for vomit to come.
Surprise! Liquid poop.

Spring Break Staycation

I don't know if people still do Staycations anymore.  I know they were the big thing a few years ago when the economy tanked and nobody had any money to pay their mortgages, much less leave town for even a short time.  I'm always a little bit late on trends.  I just joined Instagram, and I still don't understand the point of Twitter, or why the President and Pope each have a "feed." 

But that doesn't matter.  What does matter is that we can pay our mortgage and we can leave town . . . if we wanted to leave town.  The thing is, I've left town so often since my dad died in August, that I don't want to leave town for a very long time.  If I don't get on a plane for another year, I'll be pleased as punch.  So, Spring Break started this weekend, and I decided that we are going to do fun things at (and around) home.

The weekend was amazing -- blue skies, and temperatures in the mid to upper sixties.  We decided it was the perfect time to work on the garden.  Our condominium complex has a community garden.  P & I do most of the work, and because most of our neighbors are cool and don't take much, we reap most of the benefit.  This year, we created a condo-friendly greenhouse to start a bunch of seeds, and they've really taken off.  Our three dozen cucumber plants are already flowering.  We started hardening them off this week, and hopefully (fingers crossed that spring really has sprung) we'll be able to put them in the ground next weekend.

We cleared some space to plant beans, peas, carrots, radish and cabbage from seed.  E loved helping drag the stick through the dirt to make a line for planting.  It wasn't always perfectly straight, but it won't matter once the beans are weighing down the plant.  L, in stereotypical boy fashion, played in the dirt, threw rocks, and nearly broke a window.  He makes me such a proud mother.

We drove to one of our favorite burger joints for lunch and ate on the patio.  Aside from spending six months hiking a very long trail, professing forever love in front of family and friends, or meeting your child for the very first time, lunch on the patio of a restaurant is one of the greatest feelings ever.  There's just something about the warm rays on your skin, iced tea in hand, and hot food made to order.  It's magical.

The magic didn't end there.  4:10 was tip-off time for the game between the University of Dayton (my alma mater) and Syracuse University.  I wasn't expecting the game to be so intense.  Or close.  Or for Dayton to win, but all of those things happened.  I don't have cable, so I was stuck listening to the game on the Westwood 1 Radio network.  It's very hard to listen to a fast paced basketball game and figure out who has the ball when you haven't paid attention to the sports team in, like, ever.  But there I was, standing in front of my laptop, listening to the streaming radio, jumping up and down like a fool, as Dayton stuck their foot into the glass slipper and danced their way into the Sweet 16.

Sunday began with a 5 mile run and more time in the garden.  I met up with an old friend to watch the Veronica Mars movie at the Living Room theater.  I had my first glass of wine in I don't know how long, and ended up with a stomach- and head-ache by bedtime.  I'm thinking my body isn't a fan of alcohol, but boy did that wine taste amazing.

Today, E insisted that we go to the zoo, so after getting some cabbage seeds into the ground, I packed up the kids for the insanity that is the Oregon Zoo on the one nice day of Spring Break.  We saw two animals -- the elephants and the lions, and then we headed home.  I don't like crowds, and neither do my kids.  But they will be damned if they don't get to see the baby elephant or lion cubs.  We have a membership, so it's no big thing to swing by for a 45 minute visit. 

E suggested we eat dinner al fresco tonight.  It was a bit chilly, since the sun was hiding in the trees, but it's supposed to rain for the rest of the week, so what the hell?  As it turns out, I love eating outside.  Even when I have to cook and serve the food myself.  Maybe it's all the time I spent backpacking, eating, sleeping, living outside.  Maybe it's the fact that I know I don't have to sweep after dinner.  Whatever the reason, I always feel happier and calmer after sharing a meal with anyone outdoors.

It didn't even bother me that my neighbor's son barfed all over the hallway when I informed him that it was almost time for my kids to get ready for bed, so it was time for him to say goodbye.  As if on cue, he projectiled at me.  Juice?  Tomatoes?  Eggs?  I don't know exactly, but I found myself holding a towel under his chin and asking (begging) if he was all done yet, thinking that if I had sent him packing when I decided to set the timer for a one minute warning, his own mother would be doing this, and I would be continuing on my staycation, not realizing the ticking time bomb that was set in our house tonight.

Tomorrow is a new day, and if my children don't wake me up in the middle of the night with vomit all over their beds, we'll probably do something fun, and vomit all over that instead.

The Hardest Word

My husband and I got into a fight today.  It’s not unusual.  We’ve been together for over 10 years, and married for over 8.  It’s bound to happen.  It happens every time I’m PMS-ing (which is now), and every time one of us comes back from a trip (also now).

I honestly can’t remember the exact reason we were fighting, and it really doesn’t matter.  It simply matters that we were fighting – yelling and screaming at each other, saying hurtful things, swearing; and we did this in front of our children.  I know E was very upset over this, and asked us to stop.  L simply cried while clinging to my leg.  I remember peeling him off before I dramatically stomped into the bedroom and carefully closed the door so I wouldn’t smush any tiny fingers.  P yelled one more hurtful thing at the closed door before walking away.  I thought 15 hurtful things in my head and cried for a while.  

But while we think and say hurtful things to each other, we really don’t mean it.  We love each other and would go to the ends of the earth for each other.  The trouble is, how do you reassure your children of this, when they have born witness to the slaughter of your feelings?

I’ve heard people say you should never fight in front of the children, and I remember having friends in high school who were blindsided by their parents’ divorce because they never saw it coming.  By the same token, I’ve also heard friends wonder why their parents weren’t divorced, since all they did was fight.  When we got engaged, P told me that we would end up hating each other, but that it would all work out in the end, because that’s what happened to his parents.

My parents divorced when I was one, so I have no idea how parents are supposed to handle stress and disagreement in front of their children.  I knew my parents didn’t like each other from the moment I remember, and the divorce papers were proof.  They did eventually allow time and physical distance move that water under the bridge, and a couple years before my dad passed away, they were cordial with each other (they became Facebook friends, and may have even sent each other letters.  In the mail).

I certainly don’t want my children to think that we hate each other.  At the same time, I don’t want them to think that everything is coming up roses when a family of moles has moved in.  So we fight, scream, yell, say hurtful things in front of our children.  The children do the same thing to each other in front of us.  They probably have some empathy in that regard.  We live in a 950 square foot condo.  There really isn’t much room to escape, especially when the Pacific Northwest Winter is bearing down and your road has become the new off-shoot of the local creek.  

One thing we do, however, that I think is hard to do in front of other people, is that we make up in front of our children.  It could be the fact that we live in a shoebox, so they are subjected to the good, bad and ugly in our marriage.  It could be the fact that we don’t want them to think that we actually hate each other, because we don’t.  We all have bad days.  We all lose it, and we all say things we don’t mean.  We’re human.   Our children should be witness to that.  They should know that everyone, even parents make mistakes.  And what’s more, they should be witness to the make-ups, not just to be reassured that their world will not be falling apart any time soon, but to learn that crucial part of making relationships last:  Saying “I’m Sorry.”

Blazing a Trail to Preschool

I began my search for a preschool without a road map or any clue of what direction to go.  I had so many questions and very few answers.  How old should my child be before I start looking?  What type of preschool would work for her?  Montessori or Waldorf?  Faith-based or not?  What about language immersion, or co-op?  What do these terms even mean?  And how much will it cost?  Is it even worth it for my child to go to preschool when she can learn the same things from me at home?  Or will she learn more things at preschool?  If I keep her home, will I be doing her a disservice?  Will she be ready for kindergarten?  And of course, I thought all of these things before she even blew out that first candle on her birthday cake.

It’s hard to live in the moment of parenthood and simply be and love your children where they are when you’re inundated with Facebook status messages about your friends’ children reciting their ABC’s (in French), spelling their names, or solving quadratic equations and you look over at your two year old, giggling with glee, diaper off and playing in his poop in the corner of the living room.  So then I become the “funny mom” who posts those off the wall status updates of “cute” and “silly” things my kids do because she skips 17 every time she counts, and he sings just the first two lines of “Twinkle Twinkle” over and over again.  I just have to keep up, right?  I need to start their education right now, right?

Well yes.  And no.  If there is one thing I’ve learned from my experience as a teacher, and my most recent experience as a mom, it’s that children are learning all the time.  Let me say that again: children are learning.  All. The. Time.  From the time they wake up in the morning, to the time they go to sleep at night, they are learning things.  They learn by doing, playing, exploring, experimenting, making mistakes, observing, talking, listening, running, jumping, painting, making messes, cleaning up, crying, laughing, hugging and kissing.  So you see, their education has already started, because their education goes hand in hand with their development.

There are four major areas (or domains) of child development: cognitive – how children think; physical – how children move; social – how children relate to others; and communication – how children…um…communicate.  The way children develop in these domains directly affects how and what they learn, and vice versa.  In addition, each area is dependent on the other for development.  So many childhood tasks require all four domains to complete.  Let’s look at potty training as an example (since this has created my most recent motherhood battle scars).

In order to be considered potty trained, a child needs to be able to do the following things in the four domains:

Cognitive
Know the sequence and routine of using the toilet (first pull down pants, then sit on toilet, etc.)

Physical
The ability to hold and release waste.

Social
The understanding that others prefer not to play in your puddle of pee, or smell the poop smoldering in your underwear.

Communication
The ability to understand and answer the question “Do you need to use the bathroom?” as well as being able to state “I need to use the bathroom.”

Because of this, a child entering kindergarten needs a good, strong foundation of learning that encompasses all four domains of development.  An enriching environment where a child can explore, experiment, problem solve, make mistakes, get angry, laugh, cry, make connections, run, jump, and express themselves in any manner they please is essential to building that foundation.  That environment also needs to provide a safe, predictable structure to the day.  And where is the best place for a child to find this?  That’s right – preschool.

I know you try very hard to make sure everything in your child’s day is enriching.  I do the same for mine.  However, we have them 24-7.  There is a LOT of down-time in your day.  Think about how many times you lock yourself in the bathroom just to get a moment’s peace.  Preschool lasts about four hours, max.  It’s so much easier to create four hours of highly enriching structured activity that keeps children engaged, than to do it all day every day.  Also, it’s easier when they’re not your kids.  I know this from experience.  My daughter was a student in my class one year.  She lasted five months.  I lasted three.

Now that the why has been answered, I’m guessing you want to know the who, what, where, and when.  Remember that road map that I mentioned at the beginning?  I didn’t have one.  I blazed a path on my own, following recommendations of friends and random people on mommy boards online.  I visited a few, fell in love with some, never wanted to see others again.  In the end, we found a school that worked for my kids, for my family, and had the same philosophical ideals on early childhood foundations that I have.  I would love to give you a map of the trail I blazed.  However, it may not be the right fit for you.  What I can do is offer you a key – a map legend of sorts – to blazing your own trail to the right preschool for your children and family, and an opportunity that I did not have or even know about when I began my search.

This key is the Lake Oswego Mother’s Club Preschool Forum.  Every year in January, the LOMC invites preschools from around the area to gather together in one place, providing information on their programs to parents and families like you.  All you need to do is show up, walk in, ask questions and get answers.  There’s no cold calling here, just warm greetings and time for you, because there is childcare, too!  And the best part – it’s free!  Even if you’re pretty sure junior won’t be enrolling in the fall, it doesn’t hurt to start asking questions now.  You may learn something you didn’t know about a school or a teaching philosophy that could change your course.  If nothing else, it will make blazing your path for preschool education much easier than mine ever was.

For more information on the Lake Oswego Mother's Club, visit their Facebook page, here.

For more information on the Lake Oswego Mother's Club Preschool Forum, visit their Facebook page, here.

Sir Chomps-A-Lot

My kids go to a Spanish Immersion preschool, called Amiguitos!  (The exclamation point is in the name, so I include it whenever I write the name, even on my tuition checks).  We love the school, the staff, the teachers and the other families.  However, tonight, I'm not writing about the school.  I'm writing about L in the school.

I spent what feels like the better part of the summer getting L potty trained so he could attend Amiguitos!  They have a policy that you must be 3 when you start school there, and if not three, at the very least, potty trained.  They simply don't have the facilities to change diapers.  Since E was already flourishing in her Spanish aquisition, I just had to get L into the program.  Plus, it's five minutes from work, so there really was no other option.

L started at Amiguitos! at two years, five months, the youngest kiddo in his class.  In addition, he's small for his age.  He only recently outgrew is size 18 month pants.  The boy is a shrimp.  He's a freaking adorable shrimp, but he's a shrimp nonetheless.

Because he's small, the other kids in his class assumed that they could do whatever they want when it comes to him and the toys he's playing with.  What they didn't expect is that L had honed his dirty fighting skills on his big sister.  So, within the first month, I received my first report of my son biting another child.  It was over the little bike, which is popular among the kids because it's low to the ground and cool.  It's also the only bike the little kids can ride where they can actually reach the pedals.

So L was getting on the bike and another child decided to push him out of the way to get on the bike.

Not so fast, was L's thought, and he bit the other child.

On

His

Back.

When you are a parent of a child who bites, it's embarrassing.  When your job title happens to be "Early Childhood Education Specialist," it's humiliating.  For one thing, I felt like I should have known this was bound to happen, and I should have figured out a way to prevent it.  For another, after the third incident, I realized that I had no idea what to do, and I honestly thought I should send my teaching license back to TSPC.

Birds of a feather...

It's shameful, really.  This is what I do for a living.  I figure out functions of behavior in young children and help them meet their needs in socially appropriate ways.  I do this every day, and more than once in a day.  Yet, when it came to my own child, all I could do was hang my head, cross my fingers and pray that I would not be given the news that "this just isn't a good fit" when I picked him up from school at the end of the day.

And then I remembered that I have friends -- smart friends who also do this kind of thing for a living.  So I enlisted their help.  Specifically, I contacted my friend Ashley, who heads up the 2-1-1 Family Info line.  The 2-1-1 Family Info line is a great parenting resource for anyone living in Clackamas, Multnomah or Washington Counties.  You can call, email, or post on their facebook page any and all questions about parenting.  You may have questions about child development, school readiness, handling family stresses, finding playgroups or other parent support groups, and biting.  So I asked Ashley what I should do about L.  Not only did she respond, the great crew at 2-1-1 created an illustrated story.  I think they captured L's essence.

Click here to go to the totally awesome story.

Since contacting 2-1-1 and creating a partnership and plan with his school, we haven't had any more biting incidents.  In fact, L has told me "I rode the little bike today.  I took turns with _____!"  And I tell him that he must be so proud of himself for using kind, friendly words to take turns with his friends.  We walk out together with our heads held high.  Thanks, Ashley!

To contact the 2-1-1 family info line:

• dial 2-1-1 on your phone
• text "children" to 898211
• email children@211info.org
• facebook 

Strength In Numbers

So, I'm on this message board on Facebook for a Baby & Me group from the hospital.  The Baby & Me groups were formed by the hospital for new parents to get together and share the joys and despair of new parenthood.  It's mostly moms, even though the hospital promotes it as a place for anyone to come.  On this board, I have a friend, whose daughter is about 6 months younger than L.  She recently posted a question asking the other moms what to do about her daughter screaming in restaurants.  There was a ton of advice, and most moms posted what they do/did, and how long this phase of screaming in restaurants lasted for them.  It's an awesome place to go (both physically and electronically) to get a lot of ideas and commiserate over motherhood.

The thing that struck me, wouldn't leave me, and kept me up last night was the fact that she mentioned that while at a "family friendly" restaurant, she got disparaging looks for the fact that her 19 month old daughter was screaming (and then giggling like a fool because she was getting the attention she wanted) during dinner.  After reading all the responses, it seems to me like every toddler does this at some point in their life.  So I couldn't figure out how people at this restaurant could be put off by it.  If you have a family, you've been through this.  Are you so far separated from the toddler years and early motherhood that you forget? Or have you rewritten your personal history in your head that tells you that your children never did such things?

Motherhood (and fatherhood) is the single-most difficult job you will ever have in your entire life, for the least amount of pay.  It is also the most isolating life change a woman experiences, which is why, I think, so many women judge other mothers' parenting skills and choices.  You don't get much public support and praise for giving your best, just disdain for the outcome of your child screaming in a restaurant, peeing on the waiting room floor of the pediatrician's office, or having an all-out, on the floor, kicking and screaming meltdown at Target because you came to buy toilet paper, not a Thomas train.

When E was a baby, another new mom friend of mine & I went to one of those big consignment sales in downtown Portland.  Another couple of moms noticed the diapers our kids were wearing, and made a sweet comment: "Cute diapers!"  I noticed that those moms used cloth diapers, too, so I decided to show off my awesome cloth/disposable hybrid gDiapers, which are a local company (because local is good in Portland, right?)  The two women looked us up & down with disgust and stated "We only use wool," and walked off. 

What?!?!?!

I couldn't believe that another mother could do something like that - to make another mother feel inferior to you just because they made a different choice about what they should catch poop with.  I went home and thought about this for a while.  And by "a while," I mean, I am still thinking about this.  I will be the first person to admit that I judge.  Rather, have judged.  Past tense.  When you're a new mom, and the majority of the advice you get is 30 year old stuff from your mom who takes it as a personal affront that you're not doing things the way she did it, you need some way to validate your choices as a mother.  When you're pushing your happy kid through the grocery store and someone else's is whining over not getting chocolate, admit it.  You smile to yourself and give yourself a pat on the back because your child would never do that... at least not at this particular moment in time.

When I realized and acknowledged the fact that I was silently judging other moms, I knew I had to do something to change, or I might become that mom at the consignment sale.  It doesn't take long to go from silent, passive judge, to loud, obnoxious, overt, pushy judge.  But what could I do?  How could I feel good about my parenting choices in a world of parents who are different from me?  Yes, I had friends who exclusively breastfed, but not all of them used cloth diapers.  I had friends who used cloth diapers who bottle fed.  I had friends who nursed exclusively and used cloth diapers, but turned their kids forward facing at 1 year.  If I surrounded myself with people who did exactly what I did, I would be a group of 1.  And then I realized why it was that motherhood is so frigging isolating.  There is not one person who parents exactly like you.  There is not one person who will make the same parenting choices as you.  Not even your husband.  And when you're brand new at this job, you really need some validation to know that your choices are good and right.  Hell, even when you're at it for a few years, you need that validation, because even though you've been a mom for 10 years, this is the first time you've been a mom to a 10 year old.

And that is when I made the conscious decision to support every mother I met, no matter what, in their decisions and their parenthood.  When I nursed in public, I would seek out another nursing mom and sit next to her.  While I'm extremely shy and didn't even speak (the internet is a savior to us introverts), just having that silent support and strength in numbers was enough.  Any jackass can tell one mom to cover up, or leave an area for feeding her child in public, but there are few who will speak up to a group of moms.  In restaurants, I choose to sit next to other families.  Again, strength in numbers.

But I can do more, I can do so much more.  When I see a mom struggling in the grocery store with a screaming child, I can say "I know where you are right now.  Parenting is a bitch, and you are awesome.  My kids do that all the time."    In fact, today I did just that.  While buying shoes at the local Fred Meyer with my kids, a woman with three kids (for those of you who are mathematically challenged, that's a 3 to 1 ratio of children to parents; a 6 to 2 ratio of kid hands to adult hands.  Try to wrap your head around that one) was experiencing the drop to the floor tantrum.

I stopped and said, "Parenting while shopping is tough, isn't it?  As if parenting wasn't hard enough as it is..."

She replied that she couldn't wait until school started.

"I hear you, sister!"

And off we went on our separate ways.  It was a short exchange, but I hope that the commiseration was enough to keep her strong through that moment.

I plan on continuing to offer encouragement to struggling parents in public wherever I go.  And I offer you a challenge to do the same.  When you see a mom nursing in public, give her a thumbs up, pat on the back, high five, whatever you feel comfortable with.  Same goes for a mom bottle feeding in public.  If a toddler is screaming in a restaurant, go over to the mom and tell her what an awesome mom she is for braving a restaurant with a young child, and how you remember those times.  When a mom is dealing with an all-out tantrum, let her know that you have been there, will be there, and understand everything she is feeling right now, and that she is awesome.  Hell, if you're feeling really good about it, how about you offer to watch her cart while she goes outside to help her child with an attitude adjustment?

Let's all make a pact, right here and right now that we will stop judging to make ourselves feel better about our choices as parents, and instead start encouraging others so that we all feel good.

Because 20 minutes of this is enough to make Mother Theresa drop the F-bomb.

Patience is a Virtue (and it's hard to be virtuous)

So, last Monday, I was gung ho and sure that L would potty train in three days.  After all, he was staying dry for up to four hours at a time (and through the night), peeing on command, and recognizing when he peed or pooped in his diaper.  These were all the things that E was doing prior to PTBC, and since it took her three days, it surely would take him the same amount of time.

I didn't factor in two variables:

1. My children are completely different; and
2. My time and attention/availability for potty training is much more limited.

Let's start with variable 1.  E is a thinker.  She often won't try anything until she's sure she can do it.  She will then do things over and over and over again until they are mastered.  The girl didn't crawl until she was 8 months old, and spent three months prior to that perch on all fours, just contemplating the idea.  When she took her first step, she crawled back to where she started and took another.  And then another.  Same thing with climbing stairs, swimming, riding her bike, and reading.  The girl likes to drill herself.

L is the opposite.  The boy hurls himself through time and space without any thought.  He started crawling at 5 months, doing this strange, gimpy-type crawl that was a half-sit, half crawl.  Whatever got him across the room, it didn't matter if the form was right.  He continues to trip and fall whenever he walks, runs or climb stairs.  I stopped counting the number of goose eggs he's gotten on his forehead from walking into walls and door jambs.  He jumps in the pool with complete disregard of the fact that someone needs to catch him, and on his second birthday, he ripped his upper lip tie on the play structure trying to climb something that was beyond his current ability.

The second variable is something that occurred to me on day four, when L obviously had enough with peeing on the potty, and I had obviously had enough with him peeing on the floor. 

The first day wasn't so bad -- we went through 9 pairs of underpants, and L was generally cheerful about cleaning up the mess.  Days two & three were about the same, with less accidents because I had stopped offering unlimited amounts of milk.  However, he did not have an increase in initiating potty trips, which I found to be perplexing and frustrating.  By day four, he was beginning to get adamant about not sitting on the potty, and on day five, he had a 20 minute temper tantrum when I asked him to sit on it. 

A friend of mine mentioned that he could always wear pull-ups for the first couple months to school.  The very idea made this earthy-crunchy-cloth-diapering mommy's head nearly explode.  PERISH THE THOUGHT!  I just couldn't bear the thought, and began thinking up ways I could fashion my gDiapers into training pants and then sell them my idea for a million dollars and a sweet "You're Welcome!"  But the next day was Saturday, and Paul was home, so he could be the level-headed person to talk me down from the ledge and help L on his way.

After we came to the conclusion that L's thought process is much different than E's, I started thinking about what other things were different this time around.  I thought that I had fixed the variable of us not being home to potty train, but I didn't realize that it was more than just that.  It was the amount of time I had to really spend with L, playing with him, commenting "Ooops!  You are going pee pee!  Let's get to the bathroom and clean up!" and generally just being there with him in the moment.  In all the moments.   Instead, I was halfway there.  Sure I was around during the day, but so was E, and we weren't 100% focused on the potty, the signs ("Hey, I see you're holding your penis, do you think you might need to go potty?"), or him.  And because of this, I wasn't able to stay positive.  You can't teach a kid to read or swim by screaming at them and getting frustrated each time they make a mistake.  Same thing holds true with potty training. 

So instead of losing my mind and thinking that we would never get this potty training thing done, and would have to pull L out of Amiguitos due to lack of potty skills, I took a deep breath, told myself that he wouldn't be in diapers in college, and kept on with what we were doing, but without the anger, annoyance or frustration.  I made sure to stop L in the middle of what he was doing, look him in the eye to know that he actually was listening to me (because he may hear my voice, but that doesn't mean it sinks in), and I explained to him why I think he should at least try to get some pee pee out.  The first couple of times were met with resistance, but after a while, he became my agreeable little guy again, and was proud of himself every time he peed in the toilet.

On Saturday, we spent most of the day out of the house.  We had to pick up our packets for the Bridge Pedal in downtown Portland.  We rode the Max, picked up our packets, walked through the health expo, and used a public restroom with success.  On the way back, Paul suggested we stop at the zoo, since we have a membership, and we were at the stop, so we did.  Again, lots of walking, lots of fun, a couple public restroom successes, and soon we were home eating dinner with the same dry pants that we had left the house in.  Woo hoo!!  And then during dinner, do you know what happened?  L got stressed out and started whining.  I asked him what was wrong.

"I need to go potty!" he yelled while grabbing his crotch.
"OK, hold it, we'll go right now," I said while carrying him and running to the bathroom.

And do you know what?  He did.  He held it, and then peed in the toilet.  It was something I was expecting on Wednesday that never happened.  And when I finally accepted the fact that it would take longer for him and that was A-OK, he did it. 

"I go pee pee in toilet, Mommy!"  He said, "I proud me-self!"

And you should be, sweetie, because this is quite an accomplishment!

On Sunday, we rode in the Bridge Pedal and spent the entire day out of the house in downtown Portland.  I didn't expect him to tell me if or when he needed to go, so I simply reminded him every few hours to give it a try.  He did, stayed dry, and that was great.

Today, he has initiated every potty trip, including one right before falling asleep for nap, even though he had his "nap-time" diaper on.

Dude, you rock in so many ways, and should be so proud of yourself.  Against so many odds (not the least of which is a mommy who keeps trying to apply things that worked for your sister to your unique self), you have been able to figure this out and get it done.  And because of this, you get to go to Spanish school in the fall, something you've wanted to do since your sister started. 

As for me, I see the light at the end of the diaper tunnel, and every day, I'm even more certain that it isn't a train.

Potty Training Boot Camp, Take Two

Today we begin boot camp again.  L has been successfully peeing on the potty (and sometimes pooping) since our terrible failure in June.  This morning as I was in the shower, he walked into the bathroom with no pants on, diaper in hand, telling me he had to go potty.  I was surprised that the bed wasn't wet, and fairly certain that we would find success this time around.

I got a digital SLR for my birthday yesterday, so I'll be documenting this like a crazy woman.  I'm sure my husband wasn't thinking my first subject would be still life with underpants, or random puddles of pee on the floor, but it's good material to get used to the camera.

I started the morning, by stacking up all 18 pairs of underpants on the back of the toilet.  I hope we don't go through them all, but you never know with this one.

I then gave him unlimited access to milk, which pleased him.

Within 30 minutes, we had our first accident, followed by a successful poop on the toilet.  I'll spare you that photo, but I did take one.

L happily changed his clothes, and cleaned up the mess.

He even put the wet diaper in the washing machine for me.

Apparently, he wasn't finished, since this happened immediately after...

But once again, he changed his clothes without fuss...

...and cleaned up the mess.

It's about 11:30am now.  He's had a couple more accidents, and we had a melt-down in the bathroom over putting on new underpants.  I thought all was lost, then I realized he must be hungry.  At the mere mention of food, he happily put on his underpants and cleaned up the puddle by the couch.  I plan on stopping the unlimited milk after this snack, since E will be home from camp in a couple hours and I don't think I'll be able to keep him out of the carpeted areas once that happens.

PTBC Fail

The last day of school was last Wednesday.  We're off until our summer session begins on July 8th.  I was hell bent on potty training L because he's registered for preschool in the fall and must be potty trained by then.  And not just potty trained, but able to use the bathroom completely independently.  Since he's nearly 26 months, and E potty trained at 26 months, I figured this would be no problem.  When he's in his swim diaper, he holds his pee and tells me when he needs to go, so I decided that Thursday morning, we would begin with Potty Training Boot Camp.  Yay!!

When E started boot camp, I had been working part-time, and she'd had a ton of experience using the potty while in diapers.  She could go an entire day without wetting a diaper.  Our nanny was awesome, and continued the instruction while I was at work, so that by the time we ditched the diapers, she needed only one day of accidents for things to click.  She already pooped in the potty independently, so for her, it was a breeze.

With L, I've been working full time for the past year.  He gets time on the toilet about 50% of the time when he wakes up dry, and whenever he asks while he's wearing his swim diapers.  He stays dry for hours at a time, so he's ready to learn.  He is not, however, ready for boot camp.  I learned this the painfully hard way.

On day one, we went through 9 changes of clothes, and had two poops, which made me consider tossing his underwear.  Thank goodness we have a diaper sprayer.

On day two, we had to leave the house because of E's activities.  I reminded him continuously to use the potty, and he was extremely successful.  Once we got home, there was more pee and poop, and he had stopped telling me.

On day three, we went to the farmer's market, where there was an accident immediately after we went potty and he didn't perform, and then poop immediately after that.  I was not prepared, having forgotten to pack a plastic bag, so we left with two screaming kids (because E didn't want to go home yet), and a very frustrated mama.  Paul reminded me that L is not E, and I probably needed to step back and re-evaluate the situation.

On Sunday, we had a couple accidents and a couple successes, and while I didn't want to go back to diapers, I had to finally come to grips with the fact that I was pushing him too quickly and setting him up to fail. So....

On Monday, we went back to diapers.  We're going back to the part that I inadvertently skipped, because I saw some signs of readiness, and I felt the pressure to get it done ASAP.  I wanted him potty trained by the time I go back to work in July, so we could work on the independence part during my second break in August.  However, throwing him into undies like this was putting pressure on him, and he was having trouble getting the pee out, even when his bladder was full.  The accident at the farmer's market wasn't because he didn't try.  He sat on the toilet, pushing, grunting and trying, but nothing came out.  He was so tense and trying too hard.  The moment he relaxed, everything flowed. 

Now, there's no pressure, no clothes to clean up, no floors to wipe down.  Now, I ask him if he needs to go potty, or I tell him we should because we're getting in the car.  Now, he goes potty with no trouble, and keeps his diaper dry most of the day.  On Monday, he asked to wear undies, and I allowed it.  Then he pooped in them.  Twice.  [palm of hand to forehead] Now he wears undies OVER the diaper, at least for a little while.  Until he's really ready.

He gets excited when he's successful, and when his diaper is wet, it's no big deal.  That's not the goal right now.  The goal is to be successful and feel no pressure to perform and screw up that sweet little developing brain too much.  There will be plenty of time to screw that up, and as long as he has good insurance, the therapy bills won't kill him.

Do I still feel pressure to get him potty trained?  Oh, yes.  I want to get him in undies tomorrow.  But I have to wait.  While I want to try again next week, I know that's too soon.  I really should wait until July.  It's going to be difficult, but I need success.  He needs to be successful, and we both need to distance ourselves from this episode.  Plus, our dryer is broken and it looks like it's going to rain for the next two days, so laundry is out of the question.

The biggest lesson to be learned from this is that even seasoned moms, and moms who have potty trained tons of kids (because that's pretty much 1/2 of my job -- and they have special needs), still make mistakes.  In my opinion, it's the seasoned moms like me who make the biggest ones because we are so damn sure of ourselves.  Sometimes it takes a couple shit-filled boxer briefs to wipe that smug smile off my face and put me back in my place.  Thanks, kid.  I needed that.

Potty Training - A Re-Post

About two years ago, when I was pregnant with L, it came time for me to potty train E.  She was a quick study, and I posted the event on my pregnancy blog.  I've had some requests to share that information again, so here it is.  Originally, it was in three posts.  I just put them all together in this one post.  It sure will be interesting to see if L potty trains this easily.:

1/14/11: This blog has nothing to do with being pregnant or growing a child inside my body. Instead, this post has to do with growing a child outside my body, specifically, my toddler. She is 26 months old, and has been using the potty for quite a while. When she was about a year old, she developed a poop face. I think it was because she had GI issues and often had constipation and hard poops. In any case, when I would see her poop face, I would hold her over the toilet because I didn't want to change a poopy diaper. By 18 months, she was pooping on the toilet pretty consistently, and for the past 4 months, she's been telling us when she needs to poop.

Since she turned two, she's been peeing on the potty for the nanny, the people at her preschool, and sometimes for us. She kept her diaper dry for two days at my in-laws' house over Christmas break, using the toilet pretty consistently, and even telling my mother-in-law that she needed to pee a couple times.

So, since we have another hellion on the way, we figured we might as well get her potty trained so that we don't have two in diapers, and so we're not trying to potty train when we have a newborn.

Today is day one. We've been telling her all week that today would be the day of panties, which made her refuse to use the toilet all week. Every time we suggested it, she would scream and throw herself on the floor. She was anticipating it, and wanted to get her money's worth from those diapers, I guess.

I picked her up from preschool today, took her home, changed her soaked diaper, and put her down for her nap. When she woke up, I asked her if she needed to go potty. She said she didn't. Her diaper was dry. I let her pick out her panties. I figured she'd have an accident in 10 minutes. She didn't. She helped us make dinner, ate dinner, and began to play. She didn't have her first accident until 7:15 tonight. She handled it well, saying "pee pee!" We ran with her to the bathroom, and she even had some left for the potty. She took her panties off by herself, peed, freshened herself up with a wipe, put her wet panties in the diaper pail and put on her new panties. She wanted me to put the wet panties away, but I told her it wasn't my pee pee. As she was putting her new panties on, she kept saying "Pee Pee in panties." It will be interesting to see how she does as she has subsequent accidents this weekend.

1/16/11:We began our potty training boot camp Friday night. E did well, and had one accident just before bedtime. On Saturday, we gave her unlimited amounts of milk, and let her do her thing. She had about 12 accidents. Most were half-accidents, where she caught herself peeing and ended up finishing on the potty. Each time she had an accident, she was responsible for taking off her wet clothes, putting them in the diaper pail, and putting on new clothes.

The last accident of the night was while we were Skyping with my in-laws. When we Skype, she sits in her high chair, because it's the only place she'll stay still. She likes to strap herself in. Well, she began struggling in her chair at one point, and wouldn't speak. I kept asking her to use her words, and then I saw the pee coming out of the bottom of the chair. It really upset her. When we were in the bathroom and she had calmed down, I reminded her that she needed to tell us that she needs to go potty.

This morning, she woke up with a wet diaper. Two hours later, Daddy asked her if she needed to go potty. She said she didn't. And then she yelled "Pee Pee!" and ran to the bathroom. Her panties were just a little bit wet, and her pants were safe, which was good, since she was wearing her Thomas pj's. That was the only clothing change we've had to deal with today.

We didn't give her unlimited milk today. She had her usual dosages. We also took a two hour excursion outside this afternoon. We walked to Home Depot. Before we left, we reminded her that she should go potty, and she did. Before we left Home Depot, we reminded her that she should go potty, and she did. We stopped at John Barleycorn's for lunch. Before we left, we reminded her that she should go potty, and she did. We got home, she took a nap and woke up dry. She remained dry for the rest of the afternoon. We took another excursion for dinner, walking to Sweet Tomatoes. Once again, she went potty when we reminded her. When we got home, she said she needed to go, but then didn't when we got to the bathroom. She did go right before bed, though.

Tomorrow, I plan to take her out for a much longer period of time. We're going to visit the zoo or Children's Museum, depending on the weather. We'll see how that works for us.

1/17/11:Today was the big test. We left the house for most of the day. We left the house at 9am (or probably 9:30 or 9:45, even though the plan was to leave at 9am. Such is life with a toddler), and headed to the zoo. I lined the car seat with a cloth diaper, and packed three changes of clothing, just in case.

When we arrived at the zoo, E was dry. I put her in the stroller, and headed into the zoo. My plan was to have her sit on the potty before we entered, but to my surprise, the zoo was free today (not that it really mattered, since we have a membership, but it still threw me off), so I ended up forgetting to stop at the bathroom, until we were almost to the primate exhibit. We stopped at the bathrooms before visiting the chimps and orangutans, and E went without fuss. I'm glad she did, since the orangutans freaked her out. Next, we visited the lions, which did not scare her. She probably could have watched them all day. Go figure, my kid's afraid of monkeys, but not of lions.

We used the potty two more times at the zoo. Once before lunch and once before we left. Then we headed to the grocery store, since I needed to pick up some stuff for dinner. I planned on having her go potty when we got to the store, but I forgot. When I remembered, I was too lazy to take her and figured I would deal with the consequences of a wet car seat and screaming child.

E amazed me by staying dry through the car ride home, peeing like a champ when we got home (and pooping a weekends' worth of poop, since she didn't poop yesterday), and taking a nap without much complaint.

While she was sleeping, I spoke with a friend, and we made plans to meet for an early dinner. I met her at the Lucky Lab in Multnomah Village, and we hung out for about two hours. At one point, I asked E if she needed to go potty, and she said "yes," and did her business in the bathroom. Just as we were talking about getting ready to leave, E said "Get the poop out." I asked her if she needed to go potty again. She replied that she did, and once again, she performed. Amazing.

We got home around 7pm and played, then started getting ready for bed around 8. She peed before bedtime and I put on her overnight diaper (We're keeping her in diapers for naps and overnight until she's dry 5 times in a row. So far, she's been wet every morning, and dry two naps in a row). During snuggle time (part of our bedtime routine), we talked about how awesome she's been doing going pee on the potty and keeping her panties dry. She kept asking me to tell her more about the weekend, so we talked about how much she's progressed from Saturday until today. When I mentioned that she wet a lot of panties on Saturday, she got upset. I reminded her that she was still learning, and that she's been doing much better. I also told her that every now and then, she'll probably have an accident, and that's OK. It's all part of the learning process.

When it was lights out, she didn't make a sound. Typically, she'll cry (read: scream "Mommy! Daddy!" over and over again) for a little while, just to let us know that she doesn't want to go to sleep. Tonight, nothing. I figured she was building something up, but it's been 20 minutes, and no noise. Well, except I can hear her picking up her water bottle and putting it down every now & then so I don't have to go check for breathing.

So, I think at this point, I can say my child is potty trained. While I'm still reminding her when we're out, and I'm telling her to go before we leave the house and before and after sleeping, she's telling me at other times when she needs to go. In addition, she uses the potty at school and at the nanny's, and was really only wetting her diaper at home and refusing to use the potty for us. She's been independently pooping on the potty since she was about 18 months old, and all of this told me she was ready. It was just a matter of finding three full days to implement the boot camp.

Having worked in early childhood for the past 10 years, I've potty trained a lot of children, and I've also seen the pitfalls that parents fall into when potty training. One of the biggest is falling back into the diapers. On Saturday, E went through about 12 pairs of underpants. I was worried that we had started too soon. After all, she's only 26 months old. Typically, children aren't really ready until 2 1/2. Since we had 25 pairs of panties, I told myself that I wouldn't worry until we had blown through all of them. We still have 9 pairs that haven't been touched. I've seen parents panic and go back to diapers long before then. When diapers become an option, children don't learn to control their bladder, they learn to control their parents. They pee on everything until their parents break down and put the diapers back on.

Another pitfall I've seen parents fall into is the use of a sticker chart or reward system. While I've used reward systems for children in the past, I've used them for special needs children, not typically developing children, as they need more external motivators to perform tasks. Typically developing children learn the system quickly, and can use the reward system to their advantage. Parents will say "if you go pee pee on the potty, you'll get a sticker" and after a while, the child has the parent holding out the sticker, begging the child to pee on the potty. The child has control.

My belief is all about natural consequences. On Saturday, I didn't ask E to pee on the potty. I mentioned it, I suggested it, I asked if she needed to go. She said "no" every time. I let her pee herself. I made her clean in up. I made her deal with her own wet, pissy clothing. I made her put her clean clothes on, all by herself. She can't (or, I should say, couldn't) pull her pants up over her bum. It was frustrating. When she peed on the potty, I helped her get dressed. She learned quickly that things are easier when you go on the potty than when you go in your pants. Now, when I ask if she needs to go, she'll say "yes" if she needs to, or "no" if she doesn't. If I tell her I think she should go before we leave the house so she doesn't pee in her car seat and have to sit in her wet pants for the car ride, she'll go without fighting me. It's pretty nice.

If you're thinking about taking the dive and potty training your child, good luck. Remember it takes time, patience and a lot of underpants.