Mother's Day Gifts

Each year for Mother's Day, I ask for the exact same thing.

Extra sleep, to not do any cooking, to not do any dishes/laundry, and a walk in my favorite park.

Between our often hectic schedules, it hasn't always been possible to accommodate all those things. My family is getting pretty good at it, though. Most years, I sleep in, Hubster takes care of meals and dishes.

And we always get our walk in.

While we wandered through the woods under gray skies, the air heavy with the promise of rain, I thought more about what I hoped I gave to my children, more than any gift I would get that day.

We hunted Jack-in-the-pulpits and named off different wild flowers, while I thought about what I hoped I would pass on to them. 

We ran thunderously across bridges and dropped sticks and rocks in the small creeks, and I thought about what they might remember me by.

I hope that I give my children a love of nature. I want them to enjoy wide open, empty spaces, the feel of wind and sun on their skins, and the sound of bird song, insect harmonies, and even silence. I want them to admire fragile, green growing things. I want them to feel awe under canopies of trees and breathlessness at views from mountain tops. I want them to feel protective of nature and what it has to offer.

I hope I give my children kindness. I want them to cheer for the underdog, advocate for the downtrodden, empathize with the battles others are fighting. I want them to hold doors and speak kindly.

I hope I give my children knowledge and the desire for education. I want them to lose themselves in books. I want them to realize that learning is life long, from our family's bird and plant identification books to our random Internet searches (that range from how tall was Napoleon and the origins of Mother's Day), there is always so much to learn. I want them to know that education can open nearly any door and pave nearly any path.

I hope I give my children a strong sense of family. I want them to know to much I love them, that I'm always in their corner. I want them to know how hard we've worked to make this family what it is. I want them to remember our little traditions and our big traditions. 

I hope that my children will remember me for those things, for my love of just getting out there, of always wanted to learn more, of how much I really loved them.

In Defense of Books

I tend to drag my feet when it comes to new technology. Sometimes I feel silly about this, because I'm supposed to be a member of the generation that is comfortable with the lightening fast changes technology throws at us. After all, I've been through the birth of the internet, the development of email, mp3s, texting, smart phones. 

Somehow, I always find myself dragging my feet in the back of the line when it comes to new things. I don't want to be a cautionary tale, trying to figure out what to do with my collection of laser discs or HD DVDs.

Also, I'm never quite convinced that latest and greatest could ever actually be that great. I had a film camera for years after digital cameras started coming on the market, because I hated the pixelated look of the digital cameras. Nothing would ever be as good as film. 

Umm, yeah.

When I started seeing Nooks, and Kindles, and other e-readers hit the market, I had an even more exaggerated response. Because it wasn't just another new technology.  It seemed that these devices were taking away the very soul of reading: sitting quietly, cracking the cover, turning the pages.

After an extended trip where I lugged around 3 huge novels in my carry on, I began to see the advantage of an e-reader. When I stayed up late on vacation and finished my book and had nothing the read on the return journey, I felt myself warming up to the idea even more. 

Turns out, I'm not completely against them.  I've read a couple of books on my tablet and it's just fine.

However, and maybe this is me just being me and continuing to drag my feet in the face of technological advancement, e-readers are not going to replace books in my house.

My family struggles with screen time. We set time limits and make rules and do the best we can to keep the time our children are sitting in front of a screen as minimal as possible. But then we get tired, or have bad days, or it's cold outside, and it's just easier to put on a movie or let them play Angry Birds or Minecraft. I'm always harping on my kids to get off the computer, put down the iPad, turn off the TV and do something else. Play outside! Build a puzzle! Read a book!

If books are all electronic, how can I continue to help my children see the difference between unhealthy screen time habits and healthy book reading habits?

I'm a voracious reader. Once I start a book, I have a hard time putting it down until I've finished the entire story. I always have a long list of books I want to read. I buy books and then keep them forever, unwilling to part with stories and characters I love.

So, I felt completely sucker punched when I commented a few weeks ago to my eldest that I loved seeing him enjoy reading as much as I do, and he replied in shock, "What?  I never see you reading!"

Sitting in front of a screen, my children can't differentiate if I'm skimming Facebook or absorbed in my favorite dystopian novel. They don't see me as a reader, no matter how many books are on my Kindle.

So that's why I'm going to continue to defend books. Good old fashioned, paper paged books. We will still make Sunday afternoon trips to the libraries. We will hold a physical book during bedtime family story time.  I will continue to tell my children to put down the tablet and pick up a book.


What are your thoughts on e-readers, electronic books, and making your children readers?

Taking It Slow

Yesterday at work, two OR techs were talking about their children; one with a three year old, one with a two month old. 

"I just can't wait until she's older.  She's coming and getting in bed with me almost every night." 
"I know. I can't wait until my baby gets older and sleeps through the night."

Now I don't have a lot of parenting advice.  Most days, I feel like I'm flailing my way through this whole process of raising children. So many times, I struggle and often fail, spending many of my last conscious thoughts at the end of each day thinking about how I can do better tomorrow.  So I don't feel qualified to give anyone any advice about parenting.

Except this one thing. This one thing I have learned about parenting the hard way. 

Take it slow.

Don't wish away these moments. Yes, I know that you are tired and it would be lovely to get more than two hours of sleep a night. We are all tired.  Yes, I know that it's stressful to have nearly every grocery store trip end in a monumental melt down that only a two-year-old can do. We've all been there.

Go on and be excited about the future. Celebrate each new milestone, first steps, first words, first days of school.

But don't miss out of the beauty of your child, here and now, just as they are, for some longing for the next stage.

It look me clear until my third child to realize this lesson. Poor Bug really got the brunt of it. I was so stressed out by everything, by the not sleeping, the fights over baths and car seats. I wanted him to be amazing, the obvious extension of that being that I was amazing.  I pushed him to read, to excel, so I could have that pride that my kid walked earlier, learned to read faster, was smarter, somehow thinking that that was the sign of a successful parent and a happy child.


But really, all it takes to be happy is to hold your children and marvel at the unique creature they are today.

Because someday, your child is going to be staying out past curfew, wearing heavy eye make up and screaming at you that you just don't understand.

And yes, you will still love them, still be amazed that the creative, independent person they have become. But part of you will ache for that little one that wanted to crawl into bed and sleep next to you at 2 am.  The small hand that wanted to hold yours in public. The little newborn that you were the whole world for.

Here's the real irony in this whole thing.  Now that I have learned my lesson, now that I am doing every thing I can to savor each moment, it feels like they are flying by even faster. The days slip by fast enough on their own without my encouraging them along.

Childhood is such a magical, fleeting journey. Take it slow.

Full

Most of the time, I feel like our house is filled with stacks of unwashed dishes, piles of half-finished laundry, sand-filled shoes, books on the floor, paper airplanes stuck behind the couch, bouncy balls stuck behind the bookshelf, half eaten apples, untouched tuna sandwiches, too many text books, piles of junk mail, half-finished home improvement projects, unbalanced check books, missing coats, and "hurry, hurry, hurry."

But sometimes, I have a chance to clear my head, take a deep breath, and actually look.

And then I realize that our house is actually a home.

And it is filled with bedtime stories, extra marshmallows for hot cocoa, doors that open as soon as I get home, laughter, slobbery kisses, hugs around the knees, Candyland, bright shiny blue eyes, high fives for everything, jumping as high as you can, socks that slide perfectly, the chance to be a hero, stuffed animals that are real, memories, noses pressed against windows, stacks of artwork, snuggles, and love.

Oh, and a whole bunch of silliness!

Not Me! Monday

I do NOT have moments where I freak out and forget all my medical training when something happens to the boys.

Roman DID NOT swallow a penny and my first thought was NOT to take him straight to the ER for an x-ray. I would realize they would have me watch him, see if it passes, and bring him in at the first sign of abdominal pain.

Blaise DID NOT develop a new rash on his cheeks. My first thought was NOT some horrific illness or rare manistation of swine flu. I DID NOT think about calling his pediatrician. It is a rash, and I've seen hundreds. Once I calmed down, I DID NOT realize it DID NOT look perfectly benign and is most likely a mild flare of his eczema due to the drier conditions in our home now that the furnace is on.

I would never panic and have my first thought be to call a REAL doctor. I DO NOT keep forgetting that I am a real doctor. Nope. I would never do that.

My cardiology rotation is completely NOT terrifying me. I have NOT ONCE badgered Keith to get his 34 year old self into his doctor to get started on a statin for cholesterol. He DOES NOT have a family history of heart disease that scare me to death. I DO NOT think about him everytime I admit another 40-something year old male with a heart attack. I NEVER image myself a widow at an early age. I will NOT keep pestering him until he goes in and does it. And I do NOT bring up the whole daily aspirin thing on a daily basis. I would always wait and let his doctor do proper blood testing and make a decision based on rational and not the terror of ending up alone prematurely. And I don't badger my husband. Nope. Never.

I have NOT been so tired that I have just dumped the last several loads of laundry onto my bedroom floor. My family is NOT looking for their daily clothes in huge piles of laundry. Nope, not me. I always put the laundry away immediately, no matter how bad the call night has been. Just the same way I do the dishes and NEVER set the table using all of Blaise's IKEA plastic utensils because there was not any clean silverware. I would NEVER get let the dishes go that long.

Or would I?

Our house is NOT completely over run with lady bugs. Or Japanese beetles. Or what every you call them. I DID NOT get home from work two hours late to find our living room floor covered in dead ladybugs. Keith would NEVER go on a bug killing spree. And we obviously would have contacted a exterminator a long time before it got this bad. We're on top of things like that.

And after a long weekend of call in the cardiac ICU, I did NOT forget that today was Monday until I read Gina's blog. I did NOT let Roman stay up almost an hour past his bedtime because I DID NOT think that since I have a day off tomorrow, that it was the weekend. I always know what day of the week it is. Don't you?

Join MckMama and the rest of us who HAVE NOT done anything this week.

Somebody's Three!

I know my last post was all about Blaise. But my "baby" turning three necessitates another post.

Turning three in this house means a very silly turtle cake.

It also means turtle cake with possibly a little bit of, spit, after some enthusiatic candle blowing!

And it also means presents, which include a great swing for the backyard (I'll show you, I promise.)

As I was uploading the pictures from today, I looked over the pictures from his last birthday. I can't believe how much has changed in one year.

Actually, I can not believe how much has in the shortest and longest three years of my life.

Blaise: One day old!

3 months old

5 months old

9 months old

One Year Old!

18 months old, and finally starting to act like the Blaise we know!

2 Years Old!

Blaise was the happiest, chubbiest little baby I had ever seen. And I was completely enamored by the fact that he was all mine. I was able to spend six months home with him after he was born. Those six months postponed my medical school graduation, and led to me starting residency a year after my friends and classmates. But I wouldn't trade those six months for anything. In return, I had nearly another six months with him before residency started.

I'm sure that he won't remember that I took that time to be with him. He will remember the school years when I can't be there, when I'm taking frequent overnight call at the hospital, when I'm working 80+ hours a week, and I may miss birthdays, and holidays, and sporting events. But I will always remember it. And I will continue to do everything I can to make the most of every second we have.

Blaise took terrible twos to a whole new meaning. I've been asked to leave a store after Blaise was found licking the entire length of the store front window. I've had to apologize to fellow shoppers at the grocery store after they have been run over by a cart Blaise was maneuvering or hit in the head by an object he decided no longer belonged in the cart. Books, toys, entire pieces of furniture have met a painful and untimely death at Blaise's hands and mouth. We've had mood changes stronger and faster than anything previously witnessed. I've questioned my parenting skills and my sanity.

Through it all, Blaise has been so intensely cute that I get a painful heart squeeze nearly everytime I look at him. He greets me daily with a tight hug around the knees and a "You're my best friend!" He asks me to dance everytime I wear a skirt.

I don't think we are leaving the terribleness behind now that we've entered three. Not yet anyway. Blaise has taken to standing by my bedside at ungodly hours and crying. I can never figure out what he wants, as he rejects all offers of my bed, his bed, milk, cuddling, and stories. He eventually falls asleep on the floor next to me. He tattles incessantly on Roman.

But he is still potty trained. He is still happy and cuddly and cute.


And above all, he is still loved.

Not me! Monday: Sugar High

At the fair this weekend, we did NOT eat candy bars dipped in funnel cake batter and then deep fried. And then after that, we absolutely did NOT eat powder sugar covered funnel cakes. And there was NO WAY we also ate cotton candy. I am fanatic about my kids eating healthy and would NEVER fill them up with sugar and let them loose on a barn full of animals. Nope, not me.

While I was showering last week, I was NOT shaving my legs with my feet propped up awkwardly against the shower wall. No, I would have definitely have found a better way to shave my legs. And while I was shaving, my foot DID NOT go through the wall. Tiles did NOT fall down and sheet rock did NOT start crumbling. And I know for sure that I DID NOT calmly finish showering and getting dressed before telling Keith. I love our house and would never try to downplay such an event. And I DID NOT feel terrible that I have created another project.

I did NOT invite three families over this weekend for Blaise's upcoming birthday party. Our house is SO CLOSE to being done and three year old's need big parties. Or NOT.

I absolutely did NOT postpone doing my anesthesia textbook reading because I was trying to finish reading the entire Harry Potter series (again.) No, I would NEVER do that. I always have my priorities straight.

Feeling guilty for something you totally DID NOT do this week? Hop on over to visit MckMama, and see what else everyone has NOT been doing.

Mission Accomplished

We decided that we should hurry and celebrate while we still can.


Blaise is potty-trained!

Oh, he still has the occasional accident, and still wears a Pull-Up for naps and bedtime. But other than that, we've done it!

He can wear underwear all day, and keep them dry. We can go shopping, to the park, or on a walk, and he stays dry.

He tells us when he needs to go. Sometimes, he goes by himself and then comes to find us to tell us he's already gone.

We owe a lot of his success to popsicles. Once we started using popsicles as a reward for going potty, we started making a lot of headway. We were already having a lot of success having him go bottomless. Once we added popsicles to the mix...well. Blaise is potty trained. It helps that he would always give half his "piddle Skittles" and half his popsicle to Roman. Once Roman figured out that he got treats when Blaise went potty, Blaise got a lot more encouragement.

We're celebrating now, because we know it may not last. School is starting back up. Roman will be starting 2nd grade. Keith will be going back to work on some final dental prerequisites. Blaise will start attending daycare (more about that later.) With all these changes, there is sure to be set backs.

But we are not going to let that distract from the happiness we feel at being once again, diaper free!

Now, if only we could get Blaise to wear clothes again.

What did you do?

This is what I came home to after work today.

If you can't tell, this previously was an industrial sized roll of toilet paper that we found in our bathroom when removing the old vanity. Now it is a huge mess. And please ignore the fact that our master bedroom flooring is carpet pad, sans carpet. That is scheduled to change.

"Blaise, what did you do!?"

"Nothing. My cars did it. The toilet paper was bad!"

Sigh.

It doesn't appear that the terrible twos will be ending anytime soon.

No more diapers...well, almost

We are celebrating!


Two days ago, we put Blaise in his first pair of little tiny underwear.

Is it terrible that I think him running around in his small WALL-E underwear is the cutest thing in the entire world? He just looks too little to be wearing such big boy clothes.

We never thought we would get to this point. Potty training, well, it's been rough, to say the least. We've struggled, taken breaks, tried again.

And the Big Move? Yeah, that didn't help at all.

A month ago (wow, a lot has happened in a month), Keith and I were nearly beside ourselves potty training Blaise. We both remember things being surprisingly easy with Roman (although I think there is some parental history skewing in those memories.)

I read several books, searched the internet, talked to people. But I hadn't found anything that I really wanted to implement. Until I read this post by MckMama over at My Charming Kids.

Her technique is very laid back. Which suited me. I don't need to be getting all worked up over pee. I have enough on my, er... suddenly "plate" doesn't seem like a good word choice here.

Basically, it is letting children go "bottomless" to connect their physical feelings with a physical result. "Oh, I felt like this, and "piddle" came out of me (yes, we have our own strange nicknames for bodily functions).

We didn't start bottomless training at our old apartment, because most of the apartment was carpeted, and we were getting it cleaned prior to the move. But once we got to our new house, complete with a wide expanse of laminate flooring, the pants came off.

And it worked! Blaise would go all day without an accident. Or he would come yelling that he needed to go potty. Then he would say that he had "piddled" on the floor and show me two or three small drops.

We've been doing this for a couple weeks and during his bottomless time, he had fewer and fewer accidents. Practically none the last several days.

We were now brave enough to go on to step 2: underwear. We put on his first pair on Saturday. He's still very proud of them.

Saturday went great, just two accidents. Sunday, a few more. Today, a few more.

All completely expected.

The important thing is that we are moving forward!

He still wears diapers (or Pull-Ups, but who are we kidding? Pull-Ups are just diapers with different pictures and side closures) at nap and bedtime. Because I have my limits on how much laundry I want to do.

I can almost see it now... the day we once again become diaper free!

Don't make me feel worse than I already do

Today and Monday we are going to be looking at daycares for Blaise.

Roman won't need one this time, since we plan on getting him enrolled in his elementary school's after school program. The one at his school is supposed to be the best in the area (even some of the daycare directors I've talked to today have confirmed this.)

I hate that we need daycare.

I went back to school full time when Roman was 6 weeks old. It was one of the most difficult things I had to do. Fortunately, at that time, my parents lived reasonably close to us and my mom was able to watch my darling little baby for me.

But it was still hard for me to hand over my still very new little baby and leave for sometimes the entire day.

My parents moved when Roman was about 6 months old. At that time, one of Keith's sisters was able to watch him. She lived an additional 30 minutes away, but had a little girl close to his age. My SIL watched Roman until about 2 years old. At that time, she was expected another baby, and felt that it was too much to continue to watch him. After that, we found neighbors and friends to watch him.

The problem with having friends and relatives act as your very full time babysitter is that there was always a sense that we were an inconvenience to them. It means that they need to conform to your schedule, which can impact family activities or even vacations. During finals, when days might go longer, they would have to watch Roman longer. Some semesters, I had very early morning classes, which meant that I occasionally woke people up, much earlier then they probably would have liked.

We still appreciate every person who helped us out during that time. They freely gave of their time and support.

But after Blaise was born, we decided we could not continue to prey on other people's schedules. Especially with two children.

At that time, we looked to professional child care. I looked into nannies, but our "budget" just didn't allow it (I say budget, but what I really mean is extra student loans.)

So, when Roman was 4, and Blaise was 6 months old, and I was headed back to medical school after a nearly 7 month hiatus, the boys started in daycare. (I'm so glad I so much time with Blaise as a baby. A whole 6 months where he was just mine.)

In someways, it was easier for me. Especially since it was Keith who dropped them off (my days started at 5 am, way before any center was opened).

I don't like that my darling children have spent so much time in daycare. Obviously, I would much rather that they had spent most of that time at home, with me, surrounded by people absolutely invested in them.

But that, unfortunately, was not an option (unless I were to quit school. And don't think that thought didn't cross my mind nearly everyday.)

But daycare had definitely made somethings easier. We don't impact other peoples schedules. The center is there, for us, and if we drop them off earlier or later, or pick them up earlier or later, or have a day off and they don't go, it doesn't matter.

Roman and Blaise have had the chance to interact with more children, do more activities, learn more than they might have otherwise.

Blaise has been out of daycare since March. And he was only going part-time for several months before that.

Everyday we have together is so precious to me.

But now, we are on the search again. Hopefully for a place that we both feel comfortable being his second home.

A Case of the Grumps

A bad bug has been going through our family the last couple days.

That is...a bad case of the grumps.

The moment I walked into Blaise's room this morning, he started yelling. "I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want breakfast. Go away. Go AWAY!"

If I have the gall to say no to Roman, he has been falling on the floor in tears and screaming, "You don't let me do anything. You are always trying to keep me from doing anything!"

And by saying no, I mean, no, you can't stay up until 11 pm. No, you can't eat that entire package of Reese''s Pieces by yourself. No, we are not going to Disneyland this week.

Blaise's word of the week is "Stupid!" And he has been using it very generously.

Right at this moment he is screaming from his bed that he doesn't want to go to school. It's stupid!

And let's just say that this current bug is slightly contagious. It's hard to be screamed at all day for three days without, um, um... yeah.

I'm not going to deny that there have been very cute things over the last several days.

So, if you'll just all hang tight until I'm in the mood to share them.

Thank goodness for back doors

Yesterday, I took Roman and Blaise to the Museum of Natural History. We probably go about twice a month.

I like to think that if I surround them by academics, they will take something away, even at this age. It really seems to be working. Roman loves our museum trips. And yesterday, Blaise did lick fewer display windows and didn't climb into any exhibits.

We went yesterday because currently, there is this amazing exhibit about frogs. And nothing captures little boys attention like frogs.

We had a great time, talking about what they ate, being grossed out by really big or really slimy ones. Fabulous.

A little fellow just like this one hopped up to the glass
and spent as much time looking at us as we did looking at him

My personal favorite: Strawberry poison dart frog
Seriously, it carries its tadpole babies around on its back

Afterwards, we proceeded, like always, to tour the rest of the museum. My boys probably know this place backwards and forwards. I'm sure even Blaise could give a pretty good tour.

By the time we reached the paleontology hall, it was nearing 5:30, closing time. There were still a couple other families milling around.

And by that time, both Roman and Blaise were pretty obviously in need of a bathroom break. So we took the elevator downstairs to use the restroom. We went in the restroom at 5:26. (I know, because I heard my phone take a picture, so I pulled it out, turned off the camera, noticed the time, and then put it back in my purse.)

We came out of the bathroom at 5:33.

All the lights were off. As in pitch dark except for the light from some windows and the emergency exit lights.

Roman says, "Mom, I think we should go home now." Good idea.

The doors between where we were and the main lobby was shut. I went over to it. Locked. I wiggled, and knocked, and called. Nothing. Well, lets just take the elevator back upstairs and go down the main staircase into the front lobby. Nope. The elevator has been shut off as well.

At this point, Roman starts into hysterics. "We're going to be stuck in here, and no one will ever find us, and they will all wonder what happened to us, and I hate this, and I want to go home!!!" (He did say all these things, although between the tears and near shrieks of terror, it was a little hard to understand.)

I, rather firmly, told him to calm down, we would be fine. I just followed the signs for emergency exit (because being locked in a buiding afterhours does count as an emergency in my book), down two flights of formadehyde smelling staircases that eventually deposited me and my hysterical boys behind the museum. Outside.

I guess when they say 5:30, they mean 5:30.

A Confidence Boost

As mentioned before, Roman is currently in karate lessons.

The only reason we started was because Roman earned an award in school that came with several months of free karate lessons. Since he isn't currently in other extracurricular activities, we thought we would go ahead and let him do this before we move.

I'd never considered karate for him. He's done swimming lessons and tennis lessons in the past and we loved both of those. (Yes, we can see our very own Roger Federer in him. But we are being good, quiet, non-psychotic-push-your-kids-to-their-breaking-point parents.)

The first day of karate, I was worried.

Roman is a quiet kid. He's very subdued and very shy. He's been like this since he was very little.

So, taking my quiet, timid child into a room of screaming, "kie-yah"-ing kids scared us both. Roman was so shy, he couldn't even crack a smile, not even on demand. He would get so scared when people talked to him that he wouldn't look them in the eye and couldn't follow directions.

I sat at the edge of the mat, wanting desperately to run out and protect him. It's painful to watch his instructor say, "No, look at me when I'm talking to you. No, look at me."

But it's good for him. He's already more confident. He is able to go and introduce himself to other students. He's starting to smile in class.

Maybe this is just what he needed.

Now, I just have to control the urge to push through all the other kids and hug him.

Free to Run

I spent the weekend at my mom's.

View of orchards on the drive to Grandma's house

I had a long list of reasons for doing this. Keith has finals early next week, and he really needed uninterrupted time to study. I've started several projects, then left all the materials at my mom's house. It was really time to work on and finish these. And with just over a month until the Big Move, I'm trying to spend as much time with my family as possible.

But in additional to all these well thought out reasons, it is just nice for Roman and Blaise to have somewhere they can run around, which out me hoovering over them every second.

We pulled up, I unbuckled them, and in less then two minutes (after I was handed now unwanted stuffed animals and books and sweaters) they were gone. They has disappeared into the towering bushes of just blooming lilacs, into secret hide-outs and grape hyacinth dotted lawns.

The entire two days we were there, I hardly saw them. No "I'm bored," no "I'm starving! When's lunch," no "Can we please play outside?" like there is when we are cooped up in our tiny apartment at home. My role, between visiting with my mom (and not really finishing any of my projects) was to kiss and bandage any accidents, find above mentioned stuffed animals and sweaters, and to hug as they occasionally ran past.

And although I'm going to miss my family so much I can already feel the ache, I'm hoping that our own tree covered, hedge-surrounded yard that is waiting for us in Iowa will provide the same happiness, memories, and room to run that they find at Grandma's.

Breakthrough!

Potty training is going very slowly.

We started two weeks ago. Most of the time, it feels like we aren't making any progress.

Although I kinda expected this. I'm feeling too lazy to push Blaise very hard. And he still seems so little to me, that I let him get away with quite a bit.

I haven't been very good with the whole making him go every hour. Mostly because I want to take naps, and window shop, and such. And Blaise gets to do those things with me.

Mostly, it's because he just hasn't been able to tell (or at least tell me) that he needs to go before he is already in the process.

Which led to us, wandering through the expanse of IKEA, and Blaise turning to me, and shouting at the top of his lungs, "Mom, I'm peeing!! I'm peeing right now!!"

(And I guess that I'm progressing in my parenting skills, because I didn't find this embarrassing at all. Just funny.)

It felt like things went so much faster with Roman. But of course, that could just be my retrospective rose-colored glasses.

But today, we had a breakthrough!

Blaise told me he needed to go potty, BEFORE he already had!

(Welcome to the world of parenting, where some days the most exciting thing to talk about is your child's bathroom skills or lack thereof. )

Catch Up

I can't believe how quickly things change. I feel that things should be slowing down, each day filled with plenty of time to do all the things I want. But each day is so crazy and busy, I'm not sure how anything gets down. And I hate feeling rushed. I just want things to slow down, so I can savor each moment.

Okay, this will be the very last picture of our Easter tree. Because Easter is over. But you can see by the flowers that it really is very beautiful. Once again, I wish that I had started this a week before Easter, so that we could have enjoyed the flowers then.


Roman has been sick for 4 days now. Fever, fatigue, grouchiness. I'm pretty sure that after today, with movies, lots of rest, lots of water, and stories, he will be good to go tomorrow. I hate when my boys are sick. Just because I don't like seeing them go from balls of energy to droopy, sad little things. Although I do like that Roman gets extra cuddly when he is sick.

Blaise's potty training is going slowly. At least it isn't such a fight. But I can't get him to tell me that he needs to go. So we go on a schedule. Every hour (except when we are out and about, or sleeping.) Sometimes he stays dry. Sometimes he doesn't. But he has figured out how to milk the situation.

He realizes that when he is sitting on the potty, he has my undivided attention. So he brings a handful of toys with him, and wants to play all sorts of games while he sits there. When I'm starting to get ready to move on, he says, "No, don't go. I still need to go potty." But really he just wants to play. I think it is very cute. But I would think it was cuter if each trip to the potty didn't take 30-45 minutes.

"Mom, I've got my red hat on. I'm ready to go outside!"

Roman has started karate lessons. I know, I know. Of all things. But he got a "Classroom Leader" award that included two months of free karate lessons. And of course, he couldn't think of anything cooler than taking karate. And since we will move in two months, it works out pretty well. He looks so darling in his little white suit, trying to keep up with the other kids. He is still painfully shy. Any time an instructor comes by and tries to help him, he can't even look at them. I'm hoping he gets a little confidence from this whole things.

Although I am doubtful that we will continue this outside the two months.

I just got my schedule for my intern year. My first rotation is Emergency Medicine, which starts me to death, since the only time I have been in the emergency room is as a patient and to admit people to the floor. But never to work up what ever walks through the door. Hopefully, since it is my first rotation as an intern, everyone will expect me to suck, so anything I do will be above expectations.

I'm on Trauma Service in December, which pretty definitively secures that I will be working over Christmas.

But other than that, my schedule is not that bad. An alternating patterns of easy, hard, and so difficult I'm pretty sure I'll want to die.


As far as the house goes, things are almost done. The seller agreed to fix everything we requested. Even the vent for the microwave. (It kind of makes me wish we had asked for more things to be fixed. ) I agree with Keith. The seller is just ready to get this house off of his hands. No counter offer, no disagreement on the remedy request, nothing. I've sent in all our paperwork for our mortgage. I've found homeowners insurance. I'm ready to book the movie van. We're pretty much ready to go.

Now we just hurry up and wait.

Another Attempt

We had initially started potty-training Blaise earlier this year.

It was much earlier than I had anticipated or wanted. Technically, he was passed the 27 months of age that pediatricians recommend starting potty-training. He showed a huge interest, asking to use the potty, saying he was done with diapers. So, we started.

It went well for, well, a whole two days.

By the third day, he wouldn't go. Every time I mentioned going potty, he would scream and cry. Nothing would calm him down. We couldn't keep him on the potty. He would cry and cry. And we would feel terrible.

After two days of fighting, Keith and I made the decision that it wasn't worth it. If it was that much of a struggle, all potty-training was going to be was a power struggle. He would just become more resistant, which would lead to failure.

So we decided to call a break.

Well, several months later, we are trying again.


We are four days in, and things are going great!

Although Blaise still will fuss when we tell him it's time to go potty, it's just because he doesn't want to stop playing. And we have found ways around it, like letting him bring toys with him.

And yesterday, he stayed dry for 6 hours!!

Honestly, I would prefer to wait until he was closer to three. And I know that with the move to Iowa coming up, he will regress.

But he will most likely be starting preschool near the end of August. And for most good preschools, children need to be potty trained in order to attend.

So I hope that by starting now, even with a set-back after we move, we will have more to work with than if we didn't start until August.

And the thought of entering another diaper-free period of our lives is also quite appealing.

Entourage

Blaise has an entourage. They follow him where ever he goes. Sometimes willing; sometimes not.

They go on drives, bike rides, occasionally shopping, and always, ALWAYS, to bed with him.

Today, they, along with Blaise, are not very happy with me.

See, all this activity accumulates.

They needed a bath.

Blaise's faithful companions looking very unhappy after their cleaning.
Giraffe, Bear, and Dog. Yes, those are their names.
There is never any confusion about who anyone is talking about.

The Scariest Thing of All

Blaise is taking the most official step there is between being a baby and being a little boy.

That's right. We have started potty training.

As a new parent, I think I was more afraid of potty training than anything else. Give me 3 am feedings, give me fevers of unknown cause, give me terrible twos and adolescence. But please, please, spare me from potty training.

As it turned out, Roman was a breeze to potty train. It could not have gone better.

Blaise is 30 months old. 2 1/2. The perfect age to start. (Especially since pediatricians recommend that potty training not be started until after the age of 27 months.)

I have been dragging my feet on getting started. I always had excuses. "I'm still in school." "I'm traveling for interviews." "I'm working on a research project." I kept telling Keith, my mom, and the daycare that I was waiting until I had more time at home and could focus on it.

But truthfully, that's not the reason. Blaise still seems so little to me. He is round, and chubby, and dimply, and giggly. He's still my baby. And I want to keep it that way as long as possible. Potty training means that he leaves the title of baby behind and joins his brother as a little boy.


But, as he kept asking to go potty, there wasn't any sense to continue to procrastinate. He's ready, so I need to become ready.

So we have started. Slowly.

Wish us luck.