Potty Power Struggle March 18, 2009

      I am determined to potty-train Anthony by the summer if it kills me.  (It very likely will, so I want you to be prepared for my funeral.)  He has been “interested” in using the potty for more than a year, but the minute he found out that I wanted him to do it, the training became more of a game.  I have lost count of how many pairs of training pants he’s soiled just minutes after getting up from the potty, in acts of defiance.  We’ve tried candy bribes, going potty for pennies (brilliant idea, btw), giving him Cheerios to “aim” for, choosing “big boy” underwear, begging, whining, yelling and crying.  (Lots and LOTS of crying.  From me, of course.)

 

     The little stinker is completely unmoved.  And unmotivated.

 

     He’ll be going off to college in diapers, I’m afraid.  (Although, it would completely serve him right.)

 

     On Monday, I decided to get aggressive with the training.  I made him strip from the waist down, which he hated, and he went bare all morning.  He kept telling me, “Mom, this is as-gusting.  I want pants.”  He made it to the potty three times, and purposely had an “accident” on the floor, which I rewarded with a swat on his (bare!) bottom.  [Mother's note: Had it been a real accident, I would never have done that.  This was deliberate.]  He got a diaper for nap time, and went bare in the afternoon, until we went outside to play.  He did pretty well, but complained constantly about being “naked and as-gusting”.

 

     Yesterday was a potty no-go, as I was at the school and Kenny will have no part in potty-training, so this morning we started our second naked day.  Anthony is furious with  me, and has spent the better part of the morning wiping his (bare!) (clean!) bottom over every surface of the house and playing with his penis.  And narrating every tug and tweak.

 

     It makes me want to flush myself down the toilet.

    

     What do you do with a willful three-year-old who knows what to do, but refuses?  (Besides flush HIM down the toilet…)

Something noisy this way screams March 4, 2009

     After spending my morning in two classrooms yesterday, I thought I’d relieve Kenny for a bit and take Hannah and Anthony with me on a few errands.  (Mistake #1.) 

 

     We went to the post office first, where they fought over who got to stand on the base of the “wait here” sign and Anthony did pull-ups on the counter.  Then we went to the credit union (drive-through window…  I know better than to take him inside) where he yelled nonsense words at the cashier and kicked the back of the seat.  Then we went to the grocery store, where I had a list of six things I needed to purchase.  Six.  Not sixteen.  Not sixty.  Not six hundred.  It should have been an in-and-out trip.

 

     It went horribly, horribly wrong.

 

I Want… Some Time Off February 4, 2009

     I need some time off.

 

     Today was a bad day that got progressively worse (I HATE potty training!), and I feel like I’ve been dragged behind a team of wild horses.

 

     I would love a few days without kids or husband (sorry, Hon– it’s not you, it’s me) or pets or responsibilities.  I’d love a few days where I don’t have to answer to anyone, where I can eat (or not!) on my own schedule, nap (or not!) when I get tired, and spend my time doing what I want to do. 

 

     With nary a potty chair in sight.

 

     I would love to spend my time at a luxury spa, but really, I’m not picky.  I could be just as happy at a local motel (with room service and a jetted tub).  It’s the escape I crave, rather than the ambiance.  Calgon, take me away!

 

     Is it too much to ask that the magic Potty Fairy has Anthony fully trained when I return?

 

     Maybe after a week by myself I’d be well-rested enough to tackle it on my own, without wanting to beat myself silly with the potty chair.

 

     (I’d rather turn it over to the magic Potty Fairy.)

 

     (I’d even be willing to sacrifice my vacation.)

 

     (Did I just say that out loud?)

 

Housekeeping on Aisle 3! Housekeeping! January 16, 2009

Step 1:  Take a Shower, leaving son (3) unattended

 

 

 

Step 2:  Recognize Your Mistake; vow to refrain from showering in the future

Happy Birthday, Little Mister! December 19, 2008

 

Dear Anthony,

 

     Three years ago (well, almost, because you were delivered just before midnight), you were born.  I spent the day wrapping gifts, finalizing some candle sales, and baking some Christmas goodies.  Kendra was in Kindergarten, Alex was in first grade, and Hannah was two, and terrorizing the house.  (She proved to be a good example for you, unfortunately.  Waaaay too good.)  Great-Grandma OK had recently passed away, and since Grandma had finished with all of the funeral arrangements and services, she gave the go-ahead for you to be born.

 

     (I was having strong, regular contractions at our ward Christmas party the day after Grandma OK died, which would have been December 7, I think.  I came home, took a warm bath to see if I could get the contractions to speed up, and suddenly you did a huge flip and turned yourself breech.  Grandma was relieved that with no impending birth, she could focus on Grandma OK’s funeral stuff.  We also joked that Grandma OK needed some extra snuggle time with you in Heaven, since she didn’t get any with you here.  You would have LOVED Grandma OK, and she would have loved you right back.  You both have–  had–  similar feisty personalities.)  

 

     Daddy was working at Great Escapes, and all day he’d been on the phone with Lisa from HR, trying to figure out the insurance information and get it back-dated for us to have coverage.  (The insurnace was a nightmare.  At that point, we had none.)  At about 5:30 PM, we drove a check for the first month’s premiums to Daddy’s work, so they could credit us.  He asked how I was feeling, which was weird and sort of spacey, with a few irregular contractions.  He said to call if I needed something.  We drove home, and I started making dinner.

 

     Then the contractions came. 

 

Laundry and “Love Song” December 11, 2008

     This afternoon I decided to tackle the laundry I’ve avoided for the past few days, and to make the folding less painful, I stuck my i-pod in my ears.  (I don’t know how it is for you, but at my house, the second I stick those ear buds in, every kid needs to tell me something.  Usually at the same time.)

 

     I knelt at the couch and got a good rhythm going with the whites, when Anthony

Beaters and batter and brownies, oh my! November 23, 2008

     (Try saying THAT three times fast.)

 

     I found a recipe for Pumpkin brownies that I’ve wanted to try for a long time, so when I got back from this afternoon’s Enrichment Committee meeting and everyone was asleep, I thought it would be the perfect time to make them for tonight’s dinner at my parents’ house.

 

     Of course, the minute I got out the mixing bowl, Anthony woke up and wanted to help.  (He’s almost three.  I think it goes without saying that his “help” is not so helpful…) 

Do you want to rephrase that? November 10, 2008

     For the past few days, I’ve heard Anthony utter a phrase that, while relatively innocent in comparison to what it could be, has me rattled. 

 

     When I first heard it, I told myself it couldn’t possibly be what I thought I heard, so I went on with what I was doing and forgot all about it.  Later, he repeated it again in front of my parents and brother (it sent Kevin into a fit of giggles, which was TOTALLY worth it), but I was on my way up the stairs with an armful of laundry, and in the time it took to climb the last five steps and walk twenty feet to the couch, I had completely forgotten.  (Tangent alert:  So, that Mommy-brain?  Yeah, I totally have it.  Can’t remember didily squat.  Not a single thi…   …   … wait, where were we?)

 

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly November 7, 2008

     It’s a mixed bag today, my friends.  A mixed bag to match my mixed life.

 

     Let’s start with the good:   WE FINALLY GOT OUR MORTGAGE REFINANCE APPROVED!!!  (Oh, happy day!)

 

     Perhaps you’ll remember our nightmare saga from May (yes, we have been working on it for THAT long), and the hero Sam who we thought was our white knight?  Well, he turned out to be just as bad as Brent from Countrywide, if not worse.  (Maybe it’s just Countrywide in general?) 

 

Dairy OVERLOAD! October 24, 2008

     I am eating my third (yes, that’s ONE-TWO-THREE) yogurt of the day.

 

     I love yogurt, don’t get me wrong, but today’s trio of fruity-delight cups have been rescued from Anthony’s dextrous hands, and, ultimately, prevented from being used as weapons of mass destruction.

 

      The strawberry one was spread over the tablecloth in a thin layer, and he was pressing toys and napkins into it.  Perhaps he was sculpting a landscape, but really, dried yogurt = glue.  I chiseled his sticky mess off the table and threw it away.

 

     The peach one was used as some sort of cold cream, spread ear to ear and forehead to chin, and then “kissed” all over the doors, walls and windows.  Again, dried yogurt = glue.  And gloppy face-prints aren’t nearly as adorable as they sound. 

 

     TRUST ME.

 

     The third, blueberry, was confiscated before any mischief could be identified, but I’m confident I’ll find something somewhere.  I always do.

 

     On the bright side, I’ll have met not only my dairy RDA, but my fruit one, as well.