Potty Chronicles Pt. IV

So last post, we left off with Brent going to bed Friday night in underwear.  At 11:45pm, he started crying and I went into his room to find him crumpled in a heap on the floor by his (closed) bathroom door.  He had peed and pooped in his underwear, but his bed was completely dry - which tells me he made the effort to get to the toilet.  I let him know we weren't mad and that was a huge accomplishment that he tried.  Once he calmed down, we discussed what we could do to make it easier for him to find the bathroom.  His night light has now been moved to the bathroom and that door stays open to his bedroom.

On Saturday, GeeMa (Matt's Mom) came and took over the "training" while Matt and I had a weekend away.  I felt bad leaving her to it, but at the same time, I felt more confident leaving him to her instead of myself because she has already potty-trained two boys...so as far as potty training experience goes, I think that's a pretty good record.

Today is Monday.  He changed underwear twice due to two "leaks" - where he loses a few drops but then makes it to the bathroom, and he pooped in his underwear once.  He has stayed completely dry at night and during nap.  So, basically, he is just fine-tuning his "I feel the pee coming" and pooping in the pot skills.  Totally worth the ten Hot Wheels cars it took over the weekend!

I have learned that if I ASK him if he needs to go, it takes him that much longer to actually go - so if I DON'T ask him, he is more likely to go...and he wants to do it all by himself - so we both do much better if I just leave him alone.  Kind of hard for a "germ a-phobe" like me, but it seems to be what works best for him.

My only regret is not doing this sooner.  As a teacher (and parent!) you are told NOT to punish your child for going the bathroom in their pants and to wait until they are ready.  However, Brent was past the point of having the ability to potty, he was just choosing not to and was quite content with his decision.  I had to win that power struggle in order for him to realize he did not have a choice.  It was hard, and I felt horrible, but I feel like it was necessary due to his personality to move forward.  Now that he is making the effort, I am not punishing him when/if he has an accident, but I don't have to, because he feels bad enough already.  Before, he was doing it out of spite.  That alone is a HUGE accomplishment!

Parenting is truly a learn-as-you-go experience.  My friends that have more than one child keep telling me that just because I "figure it out" with this one doesn't mean I won't have to start over with the next one!  Oye...

Potty Chronicles, Pt. III

Sigh.  We are at it again...and this time, I am determined we are not looking back!  At the beginning of Spring Break, I told Brent it was time to wear big boy underwear.  He immediately argued with me and backing away as if I were a dinosaur about to eat him. 

I asked if Mommy wore diapers, "no!" he replied.  "Does Daddy wear diapers?"  "No!"  came his response.  "Brent is now a big boy and it's time for him to wear underwear like Mommy and Daddy."  He lost. his. mind.  Screaming, crying, flailing.  I was weak.  I walked away and decided to try a different tactic next time.  I have come to the conclusion that if you are going to start a war, you need to be prepared.

So yesterday, Brent was in a good mood and I realized Spring Break was almost over.  On the spur of a moment thought, I grabbed his stuffed dog, Clifford, and acted as though he were telling me he had to pee.  I ran through the house and to the bathroom as quickly as possible, with Brent on my heels.  Once in the bathroom, I set Clifford on the potty.  "Owf no pee pee, noooo" he said while making appropriate hand gestures.  So I made a pee sound out of the side of my mouth, "pssssss."  Brent laughed, clapping, "Yay, owf go pee pee!" and he flushed the potty.

I told him to pick out a pair of underwear for Clifford since he was using the potty.  We put them on Clifford and Brent wanted some too.  I told him he needed to use the potty to wear underwear and held my breath....YES!  He took the bait!  1 point for Mommy.

I left the TV off all. day. long.  We played Candy Land, Uno Choo Choo, Chutes and Ladders, Cars, Trains, etc.  At first I used a timer to have him go sit on the potty after 15 minutes, and he got mad...sooo, miraculously, Clifford needed to potty every 15 minutes and so Brent had to go, too - after all, he needed to support Clifford in his potty training efforts!  Occasionally, Clifford would randomly let me know he needed to go pee, too.  A few times he sat on the potty and didn't need to pee, and once he even didn't make it to the potty.  Brent was eating it up.  I was ecstatic.  After a few hours, we then lengthened our potty trips to 30 minutes, 45 minutes, and 1 hour.  Every time he or Clifford peed in the potty, they got to do the Potty Dance- which Brent LOVES!  2 points for Mommy.

Brent stayed dry all day long.  Hallelujah.  3 points for Mommy.

At bedtime, I was torn whether to put him in pull-ups or take the chance with the underwear.  I decided on the pull-ups.  Minus a point...

This morning I regretted that decision.  Brent fought me to go back into underwear, then he fought me to sit on the potty....every single time. 

At 7:59am, 1 minute before his "scheduled" potty time, he peed his pants...and did not care.  He helped me clean it up and sat on the potty anyway.

At 9:21am, he peed his pants again...20 minutes after peeing on the potty.  This time, he announced, "Mamaaaaaa, I pee peeeeee" and laughed.  He helped me clean it up, sat on the potty, then I took the advice of a blogger and had him run back and forth from the "scene of the accident" to the potty 10 times yelling "No pee pee in pants, pee pee in potty!"  By the fourth time, he was chanting the words and leading the charade.  He found it so utterly amusing that I feared he would pee in his pants just so we could play "that game" again...

At 11:35am, he did it again, 5 minutes after sitting on the potty but not doing anything.  I went against all of my "teacher instincts" and took away the truck he was playing with at the time he peed in his pants.  Saying he was not happy is an understatement.

At 1:30pm, he went down for a nap.  He peed prior to laying down and woke up 2 hours later dry!  I was SO ecstatic that I immediately told him how proud I was and gave him a new Hot Wheels car...a random surprise.  For some unknown reason, he didn't like this attention and got so mad he threw the biggest fit I have ever seen.  I knew he had to go pee - he had eaten lunch prior to nap then slept for two hours!  Who wouldn't need to pee?!  He absolutely refused.  I sat on the floor of the bathroom and told him to sit on the potty.  He screamed, kicked, fought, cried.  It was horrible.  I felt like the worst mom ever...but I had that little voice inside of me telling me this was a power struggle.  So I stayed calm and told him to pee on the potty.

After ten minutes, he finally calmed down.  As I looked up, he peed on the floor, next to the potty, on purpose.  I am not sure how I didn't lose my mind at that moment.  I calmly sat him on the potty and told him we were not leaving the bathroom until he chose to pee on the potty.  He just stared at me for about two minutes - it was odd.  I am not sure what he was thinking.  Finally, he peed in the potty.  I had him help me clean up the puddle, then we sat in his room for a talk.

I explained that I was going to let him keep the car despite his tantrum because despite his behavior, I was very proud that he got through nap dry.  I told him we had a new plan: every time he peed his pants, I get a car; but every time he tells me he needs to potty, he gets a car.  I swear a light bulb went off over his head.

We went out for dinner with friends and he did tinkle just a little tonight in his pants during dinner, but not enough to notice from the outside.  I did take the car back though, just to make my point.  He used the potty at the restaurant and earned it back.

Tonight he is sleeping in underwear.  I told him I wouldn't take a car if he wets the bed tonight, but that he is expected to use the potty when he wakes up.  We'll see what happens...

Face Paint & a Movie

Yesterday we went to a restaurant that was having kids' night.  They had free face painting and we thought we could give it a shot - Brent has never had it done and it was free, so if he started squirming, no harm done, right?

I start pointing to all of the "boy stuff" - footballs, baseballs, paw print, soccer, etc.  Brent points to the princess tiara...without hesitation, and states matter-of-factly, "this!"  Now, let me add that we had gone with our neighbors, and their 4-year old girl had just chosen that for herself.  So whether Brent was doing it out of camaraderie or his true love of tiara's, I am not sure.  Did I mention we went out last week and he picked a pink balloon?  Nothing wrong with it, Matt and I just find it amusing.  We don't really guide him towards anything in particular, and I have even tried to encourage him to play with dolls (with no luck)...but he now suddenly seems to have this strong opinion.  "I 'ike 'ink" (I like pink) he'll say.  Lately, he chooses the green man when we play CandyLand, but I am almost certain he is disappointed there is not a pink one.

I am totally okay with my child toting a pink balloon, but I must admit, getting a pink tiara on his cheek bothers me just a tad... NOT because he wants it, but because of what other people would think of me as a mother.  Don't judge.  So, we sat down and looked at all of the other things offered - first he decided a dog, then monster, a dinosaur, then finally, an alligator.  His MawMaw would be so proud - Go Gators!  Chomp, chomp!

So tonight it was time to wash the gator off.  Matt stuck him in the shower and Brent was fine...until a googly-eye (yes, the gator had googly eyes) hit the floor of the shower.  A blood-curdling, heart wrenching, absolutely devastated cry erupted from Brent.  He sobbed for at least 10 minutes, and Matt says he went to bed mad.  We'll see what happens tomorrow.  The kid tends to hold a grudge.

Today, Brent also saw his first "big" movie!  We went to go see Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked.  He was SO well behaved I was amazed!  He really enjoyed it and ate 3/4 of a bag of popcorn by himself!  He made me smile - sitting there like a big boy, his eyes gleaming as he laughed at the humor.  Oh, how I wish I could hold on to these moments.

" 'et out my house!"

So my Mom came to visit Friday.  Brent is always excited when someone comes to play with him!  He was excited when Grammy arrived and we had a nice lunch and played together before he needed to take a nap.  After nap, we played some more!  My Mom told him that she would have to head home soon and he said, "aaaaaawww!" with true disappointment.

Then while Mom was getting her things together, Brent asked me to play cars with him again.  I explained that we were going to tell Grammy good-bye and then we would play again as soon as she left.  I was surprised when he didn't argue with me and actually left my side without throwing a fit! 

I then hear from the other room, "i-i, 'et out my house, 'me!"  (Bye, bye, get out my house, Grammy!)...and a little stomp....

A conversation of manners followed, and he did give his Grammy a proper good-bye and hug.  Oye, this child.

"Go 'ight, NO! 'IGHT!!"

This blogging thing is hard.  I am not sure how other people do it every day...and some multiple times a day!  My life just isn't that interesting.  Even when Brent keeps me laughing, I have usually forgotten by the end of the day what it was he did that was so funny....or I decide it really isn't that funny if you didn't experience it first hand.  So sometimes I am really digging.  Work with me here.

Brent has been telling me how to drive now for several months.  " 'een! Go 'ast, Mama!" (Green! Go fast, Mama!) or " 'een! GOOO!" (Green! GOOO!)...never mind the cars sitting still in front of me.  Then he moved on to telling me which direction things were...  " 'ounce house 'at way!" (Bounce house that way!) However, last week, he started giving me literal directions.  "Go 'ight, Mama!" (Go right, Mama), or my favorite, when I don't actually go the direction he declares, "Go 'ight, Mama...NOOOOO!!  'IGHT!!!"  Thank you, Brent!  I realize I do not have the best sense of direction, but I am pretty sure I know how to get to Wal-mart.  He had never told me to go left- he always said, "that way" and pointed left.  However, he was always pointing right when he said 'ight.  I was telling Matt about it and how I didn't know the kid had figured it out.

Last night Matt tells me to watch our son.  He asked him where his right hand was...he held it up.  Left knee...he pointed.  He went through both ears, feet, elbows, and hands.  Seriously!??!  When did the kid learn left and right?  He still screams and throws a tantrum (WHILE still refusing to use the potty, did I mention that?!?) but he knows the difference between left and right?

Speaking of potty training, the excitement over the potty dance has died...along with my hope that my child will not go to Kindergarten pooping on himself.  I am still convinced God is laughing at me because of all the poor parents I probably made feel horrible because I had no idea what being a mom was like when I was teaching.

"Ok" and " 'ats 'asty!"

So I took an entire week off from blogging - without meaning to.  Matt had shoulder surgery and I was/am exhausted.  I got quite a few naps in this weekend, but am still dragging.  Brent has been a total pain in the rear - I think it's because Dad is in a sling and hasn't been able to play + I really think Brent is worried about him and doesn't understand.

On Friday, Matt's Mom was here and we left to go get pizza.  Brent was told to let Daddy rest so his owie could get better.  When we walked in the door, Matt was standing there waiting for us and Brent dissolved into tears of frustration.  I had no idea what his issue was, but Matt's Mom figured out it was because he expected that if we let Daddy rest, his owie would be gone.  Oops.

Sunday, we were sitting at a Mexican restaurant and Brent tried the salsa, "Blech, 'asty!"  What?  He repeated it.  For your info, " 'asty" = "Nasty".... NICE.  There is suspicion he picked up the word while a diaper change was being done.  Today, he added, " 'ats 'asty" (That's nasty)...and other than "ok" it is his favorite new phrase!  It is rather amusing though...

He has also decided that kisses are meant to be made on the lips...and I don't mean a peck, I mean I feel like the kid is trying to make out with me.  Some of you may disagree, but I feel kisses should be done on the cheeks/forehead/nose/etc...just not the lips unless it is your significant other.  He started this after seeing Matt and I kiss upon his returning home from work last week.  It is very hard to explain to your three year old that only Mommy and Daddy kiss on the lips.  He keeps acting/getting his feelings hurt and I am not quite sure where to go from here...definitely not something you learn as a teacher!  Any advice would be appreciated.

After being so close (or so I thought) to being potty trained several weeks ago, Brent decided to go on a hiatus.  Part of it (or all?) was due to the fact he was sick and taking an antibiotic that had him using the bathroom quite often.  So, today, I had a DVD in the car we had received from a friend by Pull-ups called "The Potty Dance."  I kept forgetting to bring it in and really didn't think he would care about it.  This afternoon, he demanded that we watch it and I am pretty sure I have done the potty dance 15 times since 1pm.  It took me ten times before I finally got smart enough to say, "we aren't doing the potty dance anymore unless you actually use the potty!"  So, he's back to using the potty...but then we have to do this dance.  I found it pretty annoying at first, but I have to admit, it has grown on me.  Especially when he sings, " 'oo 'da 'otty 'ance!" (Do the Potty Dance!)....Toes, Waist, CELEBRATE!  Potty Dance video

Mom vs. Teacher

I constantly struggle with finding a balance between being "mom" and "teacher."  Honestly, I didn't even realize how bad it was until about two months ago, when Brent's speech teacher took my hand and told me, "...I struggled the same way with my children.  He doesn't need a teacher, he needs his Mama..."  It made me cry, and still does.  Being a teacher is who I am.  It wasn't just a career choice, it was a complete lifestyle change.  Not that I had much of a lifestyle as a college student, but it was a mold to fill.  You are expected to behave a certain way - at all times - because parents and students can be anywhere.  Teachers are expected to be the best of role models, and anything but spreads like wildfire through the parent grapevine. The items in your cart at Wal-mart must even be acceptable - or at least strategically placed in the cart.

So because of this, I find it challenging to separate "mom" and "teacher."  I mean, Moms are supposed to be teachers, but I know I am sometimes on a dangerous level.  I expect more of my child.  I constantly see the opportunities for "life lessons."  I realize now his speech teacher was right- sometimes, maybe most of the time, I need to focus more on loving, and less on teaching.  But then, I find myself falling back into "teacher" mode because as a teacher, we do love our students...there are just too many similarities between "teacher" and "mom" to really, truly separate the two...at least I haven't figured it out yet.

Tonight I finished reading a book, Firefly Lane, that I thoroughly enjoyed.  It was primarily about friendship, but I really took away another strong impression: the relationship a mother has with her children is completely what she makes of it.  It is a relationship that should be unconditional, unfailing, and strong.  What we give/teach our children is something they will carry with them forever- whether they want to or not.  I want the best for Brent.  I want him to be successful and happy, kind and forgiving.  I want him to feel safe and loved, respected and cherished.  I understand what the speech teacher meant, but I am just not sure how to separate "teacher" and "mom" - because both roles are so intertwined.

This morning we were at a program at the library with lots of younger kids; true toddlers.  Brent was kicking a ball, rather wildly.  I had asked him repeatedly to please be careful and pointed to the smaller children.  At one point, another child kicked the ball and Brent turned on his heel, running to go after it- and immediately ran down a little girl who couldn't have been one.  She started crying.  As I tried to comfort her, Brent suddenly was taken over by heart-wrenching sobs that shook his whole little body and he clung to me, as if trying to disappear.  I couldn't pick both of them up, and finally the mom appeared.  I don't recall yelling at Brent when it happened.  I knew it was an accident.  I remember telling him to say he was sorry, and then he started crying.  I've never heard him cry like that.  It was heart-wrenching.  I think he was embarrassed, and truly felt bad for hurting the little girl.  It took him several minutes to stop crying, and even after the incident, he didn't act like his normal self for several hours.  I told him it was a good thing that he felt bad, and that it was okay, that accidents happen, but next time, he should say sorry.  It's hard to find the right words - or to even know if I need to say anything at all. 

"I 'isbee?"

This morning while I was working around the house, I heard Brent open the door to the garage.  He knows he shouldn't go out there without permission, so I had to go see what was up.  He met me at the door, "I 'isbee?"  I had no idea what he was saying...so I asked him to show me.  He took my hand, led me into the garage and did his Vanna White impression towards a large red bucket we use as toy storage.  Even then, it took several minutes of me trying to figure out what he was saying...we couldn't play outside, it was almost time for school.  Did he want to put something in there?  Bring something inside?  Finally, I understood he was saying "My frisbee."  I told him the frisbee couldn't come inside.  He finally collapsed in a fit of frustration on the floor of the garage.  After I explained to him I didn't understand what he was trying to say about his frisbee, he stood up and dramatically said, "I 'isbee ALL 'ONE" (My frisbee all gone).  I searched the bucket, and sure enough, he was right.  Odd.  We always put toys away!  I told him we would find it later.

On the way to school, he told me to " 'all Yaya, I 'isbee all 'one!" (Call Dada, my frisbee all gone!).  So we called Matt.  Then the moment he got in the car from school, he was telling me, "I 'isbee not at I 'ouse, no" (My frisbee not at my house, no.)  We got home, and Matt was there for lunch.  Once again, Brent tells him about the missing frisbee.  Seriously?  Why is this such a big deal?  And why did he notice it was missing this morning?!?!  It's not like we were playing outside and he realized it!

So Brent wakes up from nap, sad that his frisbee is missing and starts crying about his missing frisbee again when Dad calls to say he's on his way home.  Matt makes the comment we'll go after dinner and let him pick one out.  Sounds great!  Brent was excited again.  (Why didn't I think of this earlier?)

We ate dinner - Brent even had seconds - then grabbed our things to head out the door.  I really don't see how this frisbee could have gone missing, so I spend a moment digging around as I walk by the bucket.  I discover it stuck between the wall and bucket.  When I pulled it out, the look on Brent's face was priceless!  You would have think I had discovered gold.  "Oooh, I 'isbee, Yeah!!!"  Silly kid.

Oh, to be three and your worst day consist of having lost a frisbee.

Boys and Bugs

Saturday, we went to see Matt's grandma for her birthday.  I gave Brent a bag and told him to pack things he wanted to take.  While I was getting dressed, he brought three cars - "these cars, Mama, yes?"  He asked enthusiastically, nodding his head.  I agreed and he disappeared.  A few moments later, he returned with a ball and we had the same conversation.  Next, he brought his blanket.  Instead of asking about bringing it, he stated matter-of-factly, "this mine, Mama, Yes!"  I reassured him that his blanket was welcome.  Then I didn't hear back from him, but Matt came in and started emptying the bag.  Cars (check), two balls (check), blanket (check), two dog toys...and every pair of socks the boy owns.  Wait, what?!  First we explained it was very kind of him to think about Duke, but he would be staying at home.  Brent was not happy about that.  He felt the need to explain to the dog that he would be staying at home: "Owf, you 'ay 'ouse with E.e. and owfs.  I 'ouse 'ight, yes!" (Duke, you stay at the house with E.e *turtle* and the other dogs.  I will come back the house tonight, yes!)  Then of course, we had to argue that we were only going for the day and he didn't need all of those socks!  For a kid that takes off his socks while he's at home so he can run fast, I cannot imagine why he felt the need to pack all of those socks!

Today, we were in the car and Brent was pretending to eat by making chomping noises.  He proceeded to excitedly tell me, "I eat 'un zee, Mama!" (I eat one bug, Mama!)  Then he said, "I eat 'oo zees, Mama!"  At this point, I decided to play along and said, "What?!  You ate TWO bugs?  YUUUCCKY!!"  He just laughed, chomped some more, and told me he was up to " 'ree zees".  He went all the way to ten (skipping seven) and was so tickled at himself by the end he could hardly breathe.  Boys are so weird!  And no, we don't know why he calls bugs "zees."

" 'anks, Mama"

Despite all of the tantrums, this might be my favorite stage...at least it is so far.  Seeing Brent learn and grow is so rewarding.  His newest words consist of " 'anks" (Thanks) and " 'ess you" (Bless you).  His " 'anks, Mama" comes out almost for everything- I give him juice, water, get him dressed, fix his toy, hand him something, give him crayons, etc.  He looks at me with those long lashes and says, " 'anks, Mama"...  he doesn't know it, but I would give him almost anything he wanted for that!  I am not sure if it is because he says it so, so sweetly and genuinely, or because I have wanted him to start using words for so long; but either way, I cherish each " 'anks, Mama".

Monday, I sneezed and he was sitting at the table eating.  He looked up from his show, laughed, mimicked me, then said, " 'ess you, Mama" then continued eating.  I was amused.  Tuesday night, he was in the shower and Matt sneezed.  He didn't mimic him (ie. make fun of him) but he did give him a sweet, " 'ess you, Yaya".  Why do I have to be outnumbered?

So, Tuesday morning Brent got up really early and apparently, Matt gave him breakfast and told him not to wake me up because they would both get in trouble.  I woke up at 7:15...7:15!  I hadn't even bothered to set an alarm because Brent hasn't been sleeping past 6:30 lately, anyway.  I thought it was so sweet he actually let me sleep!  Then, Tuesday night I must have had some type of 24-hour bug, because I got nauseous, and stayed that way until Wednesday night.  Brent let me stay in bed for the most part - except when he really needed something like food, diaper change, etc. and played by himself.  I might have the best 3-year old ever.  Now, I just need to remember that when he is laying on the floor throwing a tantrum...

"Cheeeeeeese"

This morning, Brent woke up at 6:15.  Matt had gotten a work call sometime much, much earlier and I had yet to fall back asleep.  I got up with Brent, turned on PBS and make his breakfast, then returned to bed.  I think I had just drifted off to sleep when he arrived at my side, "'ay 'eese, Mama!" (Say cheese, Mama)  I lazily opened one eye, only to realize he was holding my SLR camera...with no lens cap...what?!?!  I took the camera and explained that one is mommy's but he should go get his.  I put the camera up on our dresser, and snuggled back into the covers, swearing to myself it was only for 10 more minutes.  Two seconds later, I hear, "'ay 'eese, Mama!"  Brent's first picture taken today is of me in bed.  The next 125 consist of his feet, the dog, and everything from my bedroom to the living room and kitchen from his perspective - the door knobs, the drawers, the middle shelf of the fridge, his Dad's mid-section...  It was amusing looking through the pictures tonight and seeing how he truly documented his little world throughout the day!

Tonight we read a book that used animals to do the alphabet.  He knows all of his letters except L, Q, and W.  I am amazed.  He was also able to tell me which animals are on the show "Octonauts" (a new Disney favorite) which is just too amusing.

"Mama 'oves Pat!"

It's already Thursday.  Somehow I missed Tuesday and Wednesday.  I am not sure how this keeps happening!  It's even more frustrating when I think about what an "interesting" week it has been.

Tuesday, we were headed to school and I was talking to my husband on the phone.  From the backseat, Brent squeals, "'appy 'ines 'ay, Yaya!!!"  I think I might have turned around and glared at him...but maybe I just glanced in the rear view mirror.  I was driving...but I can't remember.  Seriously?  I asked Brent to say it again.  He did.  (Happy Valentine's Day, Dada)...  This is one of those mommy moments that I love him so, so, so much but really want to throw something at him.  So, now rewind to that morning.  Brent gets out of bed and even though I am NOT a morning person, I struggle each day to act cheery because I want him to grow up to be a morning person.  "Good morning, love!  Happy Valentine's Day!!!" and I proceeded to tell him how he was going to have a Valentine's Day party at school and how the day was all about love, blah, blah, blah.  Fast forward two hours and he tells his DAD (who he is NOT even talking to on the phone) Happy Valentine's Day!  Are you kidding me?

Now, let me explain something else that makes me want to throw things at my beautiful child.  He will say, "I 'ove Yaya" (I love Dada)...and he will say, "Yaya 'oves 'e!" (Dada loves me!).  However, despite the fact that I tell him SEVERAL times a day, whenever I tell him OR Matt "I love you" Brent immediately interrupts to correct me and spats, "No!  Mama 'oves Pat!"  (No!  Mama loves Pat!)

Did I mention Pat is one of our dogs?  Not even the dog that was my baby before Brent - she's just one of our outside dogs.  She is sweet, and a big lap dog, and I do love her, but where he is getting the idea that she is my favorite is beyond my understanding.  Matt and I both have tried to explain that you can love more than one person...and animal...but Brent will not be deterred from the fact that I do not love him, or anyone, other than Pat.  Is he seriously old enough to do this crap to bug me on purpose?  I can't imagine anything we could have said or done that would make him think anything other than I love him and Matt!

Why am I a stay at home Mom?  No respect, appreciation, or "love" from this preschooler.

Speaking of no appreciation, Brent made it through the night on Monday (when he slept in underwear), his bed, however, did not.  Tuesday, he went through 3 pairs of underwear in an hour and a half and I told him I was done.  Today, a friend suggested keeping him in the underwear and continuously cleaning it up.  By putting him back in pull-ups, I am just reinforcing the fact that I will let him do just that.  Huh.  That makes sense.  Maybe I'll start that next week...

Note:  IF I have another child, plan to start potty training during warmer weather so they can run around outside in underwear...

Potty Chronicles, Pt. II

A week ago, I took Brent to the doctor for an ear infection.  The doctor prescribed omnicef.  Five days later, the poor child's butt was practically raw from a er...certain side effect of the medicine.  Today, I decided he couldn't take three more days because it was getting progressively worse.  So, I called the doctor and got another prescription.

However, there may possibly (hopefully?) be a silver lining.  Brent decided his butt was so sore that he went and got his big boy underwear.  The look of desperation in his face is etched in my mind as he pleaded, "'ease, Mama!" ("Please, Mama!")  I put the underwear on and proceeded to put a pull up over it, which he strongly disagreed with - and has not done so before.  I decided okay, we'll give it a try.  He stayed dry for two hours!!!  At nap time, I did insist on a pull-up, but he woke up dry- yes!  We headed to wal-mart...I am just not brave enough for accidents that could happen in the car or mid-store, so Brent was suited in a pull-up over underwear.

However, when we got home, he absolutely refused to use the potty.  Screamed bloody murder.  I finally forced him - and discovered a wet pull up and underwear.  He insisted on wearing just underwear again.  I thought, "Okay, maybe this is what it's going to take."  Then, for the first time in underwear only, he peed himself.  Distraught is an understatement.  He was doing an awkward don't want my legs to touch/wish I could get my feet off the ground/this feels so gross type of dance and screamed all the way to the bathroom.  Then, he asked for a book- and did an eensy, teensy, weensy little poop!

HALLELUJAH!

On a side note, the book he was "reading" on the potty had a picture of Christmas stockings - he proceeded to tell me in his 'Brent-a-nese" how Santa comes down the chimney, eats cookies, leaves choo choo's, balls, and E.e's (turtle) then goes back up high and says ho ho...I was ROLLING.  I wish I had it on camera.

He insisted on wearing underwear to bed.  I doubled up his waterproof mat and sheet in case I needed to change it tonight.  Maybe this is it...*fingers crossed*  Even if he doesn't make it through the night, he is trying really hard to make the effort.  Goodness, if the secret all along was to let him pee on himself, I am going to throw something.

Too Cool for School

I always think the best part of parenting is watching Brent grow into his own little person.  As a baby, children are told "smile at mommy!", "roll over!", "walk this way!"...then as toddlers they are told, "stay here", "dance!", "say bye bye!"...but as they grow out of the toddler stage, a parent begins to see more things that the child chooses to do on his or her own free will.

Sometimes they are mannerisms learned from us, or a playmate; but the best always seem to come from who-knows-where!  Brent's most popular "action" that we have NO idea where it came from is to take the back of his hand and swipe it across his forehead - either when he has carried something heavy or when he almost messes up (ie. spilling his snack).  Neither Matt nor I do this and I have yet to find someone - or a show he watches that does.  So did he come up with this well-know behavior on his own?  Every time he does it, it's like watching a short episode of Looney Tunes.

Today, I took him to school and as he was getting out of the car, he snatched up his sunglasses.  The sky was completely cloudy.  I asked him to leave his glasses in the car, which he was not going to do.  We agreed that he could wear them to the door then would need to take them off and hand them over.  He did just that...after basking in the comments from all of the passing parents and teachers about how cool he was.  It was obvious that was exactly his purpose.

Where does he come up with this stuff?  I love it.

Rock, Paper, Scissors

Yesterday, I got done getting dressed and Brent enthusiastically pulled me into the computer room.  On the desk, he showed me 3 post-it notes that he had scribbled on.  I said a silent thank you that our furniture and wall were spared.  Then he held up three empty spools of ribbon - which were in a heap on the floor...and upon closer inspection, I discovered cut into tiny pieces with scissors.  Next to those, lay a pile of papers I had been working on that also had nice little diagonal slits cut into the sides.  As I took a deep breath to think about how to handle this I was thinking: 1) we leave the pens and scissors in a cup on the desk where he can get to them, he had just never shown any interest before so it is our fault, 2) he must be using scissors at school, 3) his cuts are very nice and uniform, 4)....  a voice interrupts my thoughts: "MAMA!  Me cut, 'ike 'ool, yeah!"  ("Me cut like school, yeah!").  I asked him if he was using scissors at school and he enthusiastically said yes while holding the paper in a Vanna White-like style.  All I could do was tell him that I appreciated his hard work, but that was Mama's ribbon, paper, and scissors.  I reassured him that we would get him his own pair of scissors, but he could only use them when I was watching because he could get hurt since they are sharp.  He seemed happy and even ended the conversation by pointing at the scissors and pen and saying, "No 'ine, Mama's, yes!" ("Not mine, Mama's yes!")  Generally, when he shows me understanding this way I don't have to worry about him misbehaving again.

I. was. wrong.

Today I walked in on him cutting another piece of ribbon.  Too tempting, I know.  This must be a skill he feels the need to practice.  They are tiny scissors, and rather dull.  The ribbon can be replaced.  I am not mad at him for his curiosity and craving to learn, practice, and play.  I just worry about him using scissors unsupervised.  I placed the scissors in a drawer, but left the pens out.  Hopefully, I won't regret this.

As parents, we often try to hide, cover up, or get rid of things we don't want our young children to touch/break/explore/eat/get hurt by/etc.  However, we really need to remember that the best way to learn is for a child to do.  If a childhood is spent well-protected but only being told not to do something, chances are, that child will not have learned the meaning of conseqences.  We need to try our best to childproof for our children's safety, but not take away everything that could teach them how to learn from their mistakes.  We should take the time to explain to our child(ren) why we must (or cannot) do something- but expect that they will (or will not) out of curiosity.  Then, provide a consequence related to the action so they learn from the experience.

On a funny note, Matt was home later than usual tonight and Brent was ready to eat dinner.  He told me, "Call Yaya!  I eat!"  I told him I was not going to but he could.  The moment Matt answers the phone, Brent matter-of-factly says, "Yaya, my house, NOW!" then hands me the phone.  He is a man of few words, but he definitely gets his point across!

"I 'iss Yaya"

Today was an eventful today...probably because I haven't felt like I had anything to write about lately...so I jotted down all the cute things and will share them for future writer's-block days! If I shared them all on this one entry, it would be a book!

This morning Brent woke up with another fever so we headed for the doctor.  I (again) promised him ice cream if he was on his best behavior and prepared him for everything that would happen at the doctor...standing on the scale, having his temperature taken, listening to his lungs, looking at his throat and ears...I was certain it was just another ear infection...perhaps the same one that never went away completely!

So, we get to the doctor's office and the nurse tells him to stand on the scale.  He does it perfectly, without hesitation...or so I thought.  The nurse tells him to put his hands down to his sides because he is holding on to the pole of the scale....SERIOUSLY?!  Have they not dealt with three-year olds before?  Aren't they just happy he's ON the damn thing?

So then we go into the exam room - normal stuff...until the nurse says they want to test him for strep and flu.  What?  As she says this, my child is spinning in circles and laughing...pretty sure he doesn't have the flu!  I lose the argument about the test - despite repeating the fact that we were just in here several weeks ago with the same symptoms (fever only and restlessness) and it was just an ear infection then.  So she sticks a q-tip up his nose and scrapes the back of his throat.  Nope, didn't prep the poor kid for that stuff.  He still did well though!  I did hear, "I 'iss Yaya" (I miss Dada) several times...

So then the doctor comes in and checks him over- confirms that it is an ear infection.  Nurse comes in and says tests are negative.  Great, so that's why my health insurance is so high...because doctors charge them whatever they want.  Can I please have my deductible back for doing your job?

We dropped off the prescription at the pharmacy - when the pharmacist asked for the patient's birthday I said, "'09."  She looked at me as if no one has ever said this before!  "You mean 2009?" she asked.  Sigh.  Nah, 1909...here's your sign.  (Thank you, Jeff Foxworthy...)

Insert ice cream from McDonald's here and happy boy.

After nap, Brent woke up coughing and obviously not feeling well.  We went outside for a bit and he was really enjoying himself until he did a sliding face-plant on the driveway.  We had already discussed how Dad was going to be gone until after bedtime and he immediately wailed, "'o 'ee Yaya!"  After having him repeat it a few times, I figured out, "Go see Dada"...okay....I called Matt at work and we were able to go see him...the best band-aid that boy could have gotten.  He loves his Dad, I like to think more than most other kids I know.  As a stay-at-home Mom, I have to remind myself that it isn't necessarily a reflection of my own parenting skills, but how great of a relationship Matt has created with our son.  Every boy should have a Daddy like that!

Little Things in Life

How do Mom bloggers post every day - some even multiple times a day?  I didn't start that long ago and have not been very good at keeping up with this!  Some days I am just too tired and other days nothing really "important" enough happens to bother writing about!...and then there are the days I totally, completely forget to even think about it!

Last night we didn't sleep well.  Brent was fighting a fever and claimed he was hungry.  It's hard to convince your child he needs to wait until the sun comes up to eat.  Saturday, I told my husband I thought Brent was getting sick.  Right before he get sick, he becomes unusually defiant (such as refusing to do simple tasks), he doesn't eat, and he doesn't sleep.  Sure enough, last night the fever showed up.  He seemed fine today, but it's obvious he is fighting something, though no symptoms have showed themselves.

He was sad I didn't let him play outside long.  It's colder than it has been, and if he's fighting a cold, I definitely didn't want to make matters worse.  He was sad, frustrated, and annoyed.  Ice cream has been his absolute favorite lately, and I remembered an activity I did with my first graders several years ago.  Brent enjoys helping in the kitchen, and he loves ice cream, so I thought this activity would be a hit!  We made ice cream in a bag...he LOVED it and brought him out of his grumpy mood!  (See recipe below.)

I really need to remember to take the time and do these easy, classroom-like things with him.  If this is something I do often, he'll grow up to remember when "Mom use to let me make ice cream"...it's too easy not to try to make these memories!

1 point for Mommy Success.  Minus 1 Parenting point for letting your little boy go hungry at night...

From teachnet.com

Make Ice Cream in a Plastic Bag

1/2 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon sugar
4 cups crushed ice
4 tablespoons salt
2 quart size Zip-loc bags
1 gallon size Zip-loc freezer bag
a hand towel or gloves to keep fingers from freezing as well

Mix the milk, vanilla and sugar together in one of the quart size bags. Seal tightly, allowing as little air to remain in the bag as possible. Too much air left inside may force the bag open during shaking. Place this bag inside the other quart size bag, again leaving as little air inside as possible and sealing well. By double-bagging, the risk of salt and ice leaking into the ice cream is minimized. Put the two bags inside the gallon size bag and fill the bag with ice, then sprinkle salt on top. Again let all the air escape and seal the bag. Wrap the bag in the towel or put your gloves on, and shake and massage the bag, making sure the ice surrounds the cream mixture. Five to eight minutes is adequate time for the mixture to freeze into ice cream.  Makes one serving.

Tips
Freezer bags work best because they are thicker and less likely to develop small holes, allowing the bags to leak. You can get away with using regular Zip-loc bags for the smaller quart sizes, because you are double-bagging. Especially if you plan to do this indoors, we strongly recommend using gallon size freezer bags.

Teaching

For the first time since starting the blog, I am already behind!  So, Monday, Brent had his 2nd speech class at the public school.  He seems to really be enjoying it and is working on a few words!  Yay for talking!  While he was in speech, I went to volunteer in the pre-k room.

Wow, I really miss teaching.  The odd thing is, walking into this other teacher's classroom and "jumping right in," I felt more at ease and confident than ever.  I have thought about this and decided that when I was a first year teacher (6 years ago?!? gasp...) parents were the scariest part of my job.  I didn't want them to doubt me, some did.  I had absolutely no self-confidence while dealing with pushy parents and unfortunately, "Dealing with Parents" was not a college course offered in education.  It should be.  Now, I have this new-found confidence, and I watch the teacher, who is obviously a "young first-year," with sympathetic eyes.  Funny how having a kid can make you feel so accomplished and experienced. 

However, while I really enjoyed my time in the classroom, I was also reminded as to why I never, ever, ever want to work in a public school again.  In a group of 18 children, she had 4 who were constantly so disruptive and disrespectful I am not sure how I would have handled it myself.  At one point, a child shared the fact that she "did not give a shit" that the teacher took away privileges.   The assistant then had to physically restrain the child for lashing out.  I must admit, I would have called the principal.  This pre-k room only started 3 weeks ago, but still, I would never expect behavior at this level from 4-year olds!

Brent continues to be an "outstanding" 3-year old.  Sure, he has the occasional tantrum, but he actually gets over it much more quickly!  He has done several funny things over the last three days, but I will have to start writing this stuff down.  Once bedtime rolls around, my memory of the day completely fades!

Thoughtful Thursday

Today was rather uneventful...or at least nothing stands out as super-exciting or cute.  So I started thinking about what I could possibly write about - since I told myself I WILL write Monday through Thursday.

There have been several occasions since I started writing that I wish I had made my blog private...but I have mixed feelings on this.  Part of the reason for the blog is to share Brent's funny antics.  However, I would also like to vent and know that I can say things/share stories/give my opinion without worrying that those who know me may be upset, offended, or judge me.  I think I will still sensor a little, but I guess I'll just jump right in (insert reader discretion here)...

Lately I've been wondering at what age you stop being "naked" around your child.  Right now, there is no option.  I can't lock the door when I need a shower.  If I think I have escaped for two minutes to use the bathroom, I am found.  Yesterday, I was trying to get out of the shower and Brent leaned on the door with all his strength to try and keep me in.  The only reason I was able to get out was because he was laughing so hard he couldn't stand up.  (He is just like his father!!!!)  No, I don't seen an end to this "nakedness" anytime soon.

I will never, ever, forget the day Brent walked in on me just finishing the job of, ahem, replacing a tampon.  The look on his face was total shock, confusion, and horror...in fact, probably a lot like what a grown man would look like as well.  "Mama, owie?!" he asked, his voice raising an octave with each syllable.  "Uhhh...yep, Mama's got an owie and that's a special band-aid!"  He turned around and left it at that.  Thank God.  Except now, when he walks in and I am mid-pee, he purposely checks for my "special band-aid" and if it is not present proclaims, "Yay!  Mama, no owies!"  I am really dreading taking this kid out in public when he starts talking so other people understand him...

On another note, I have over 400 views, holy cow!  Maybe I should look into that "get paid when someone goes to your blog" gig...

"Owf, NO!!"

 Today was another great day.  We went to Toys R Us and Brent walked through the entire store by my side.  I only had to ask him to put something back twice - and he actually did...without throwing a tantrum!  Another good day..."three" is still being good to me!!

Matt and I always joked that Brent's first words would be "no, Duke."  Luckily, they weren't, but he has definitely made up for it.  The poor dog hears it so much between the three of us I don't think he has any self-esteem left.  Brent doesn't exactly say "no, Duke" but he calls him "owf" (it started out oof like woof, but somehow morphed into OWf.) 

So, this morning, I fed Brent breakfast...he was adamant about sitting on the couch and not at the table, so I told him no toast or cereal.  He chose pancakes (the mini frozen kind) except he prefers to eat them frozen...and plain.  Stop judging.  They don't get any healthier when I throw them in the microwave for 30 seconds and add syrup!  Then I fed the dog.  While I was in the kitchen, I noticed Brent was wandering aimlessly in the living room and it immediately occurred to me he was looking for his pancakes.  I had just fed the dog.

Brent is going through a phase where he likes to watch the dog eat...and sometimes eat like the dog.  "Brent, did you put your pancakes by Duke's food?"  His facial expression was that of recollection and he took off running.  From my bedroom I hear in a voice full of devastation, "OWF, NOOOOOO!!!!!" as I go racing to the room, the dog comes trotting out, half a frozen pancake hanging from his mouth.  The kid is right behind him, ready to pounce and retrieve what's left.  "Brent, did Duke eat your pancake?" I asked.  "Yes!  NO OWF!  My 'cake!"  It was like separating a fight.  I had to hold Brent back.  He was ready to let the dog have it.  I explained that he was the one that left them on the floor, and if it's on the floor, it belongs to the dog.  Brent stuck out his bottom lip and turned from me, heartbroken to have lost a pancake.  As he walked by the dog, he pointed his finger and gave one more "NO OWF" to make sure the dog knew just how upset he was.  The dog looked at me to make sure I wasn't going to punish him then was pleased he got away with a pancake.

When I shared this story with a friend today, she told me I should have given Brent another pancake.  I disagree.  It's only one pancake, he won't starve, and by providing another I lose the opportunity for a life lesson - a teachable moment - a consequence.  Next time he might remember food does not belong on the floor.  As a mother, it saves me the breath of having to repeat, "don't leave your food on the floor."  I am not having to enforce it - he's learning from his actions!  Mama won't always be there to make things better, nor do I need to be.

No Lies Here!

Today Brent was fabulous, really!  I am truly enjoying this reflection of my days with him because it does seem like I am having more good times than bad...it didn't always feel like that before!  Maybe we're just going through a good streak, or maybe "three" is still being good to me...

Tonight, Matt was out late for a work meeting.  At precisely the moment Brent's head hit the pillow, the doorbell rang.  The dog started barking, the kid jumped out of bed, running for the door, screaming.  Who. in. the. heck. was. ringing. my. doorbell?  Everyone knows Brent goes to bed at 8.  Wth.

I grabbed my phone, which proceeded to lock up, then dial Matt.  I considered not answering the door - sure, the lights were on, but the tv was off.  Oh, wait, the screaming child. Who could possibly be at my door this time of night?  In the past few months, the neighboring areas have been hit by people breaking into cars- then stories of them ringing the doorbell and going to the backdoor if no one answered.  This is beyond terrifying for anyone - especially someone that stays home all day with a little one!

The doorbell rang three more times.  I answered the door.  It was the "kid" from across the street.  I say kid, but he's 18 and lives with his parents.  He tells me he's locked out of his house and needs to use my phone.  At this point, I've only told Matt to "hold on" so if someone was planning on killing me, he'd at least hear me scream.  I tell him I'll call him back and hand the "kid" my phone.  Meanwhile, Brent and the dog are doing a crazy barking/screaming/giggling/running in circles kind of dance.  I tell Brent, "Go get your Dad so he can get Duke."  My motive was to let the "kid" think I wasn't there alone.  My child does not usually speak much.  Would you believe he stopped, looked at me, put his hands out like "where is it?" and proceeded to loudly announce (in case my lack of memory also effected my hearing?), "Mama, Yaya NO HOUSE!" (Mama, Dada not at house!)  Yeah, okay, Brent, thanks for nothing.  Since I didn't respond in a way he apparently found pleasing, he proceeded to look at me with a stern expression and repeat, "Mama, Yaya, nooooo hoooouuuusssse."  Okay, Brent, thanks.  He must have been truly confused as to why I believed Dada was in the house because he continued to repeat this and look at me with the deepest of concern.

The "kid" returned my phone.  I shut the door, relieved.  I bent down and explained to Brent that when someone rings the doorbell at night and Dad isn't home, it frightens me and I want whoever is there to think Dada is home.  He placed his hand on my arm, leaned forward, looked deep into my eyes and slowly, and as carefully as he could, enunciated, "Mama, Yaya no HOUSE.  Noooo."  He added a head shake for emphasis.  Then he turned and walked away from me with, "I 'iss Yaya" (I miss Dada).  He has it so rough - having to spend every day with his delirious mother.  But seriously, where did he learn to talk to someone like they're stupid?

Lesson: Remember this moment.  "Lying" is going to bite me in the ass again someday when he's listening.

Potty Chronicles

Today Brent had his first speech appointment at the public school.  It went well and he came out smiling.  Relief is the only word I can think of, but that is truly an understatement. His teacher said we would have homework next week - a list of words to practice.  Great.  There is no way this will possibly go well.  The kid is less than cooperative.

Speaking of less than cooperative, someone needs to open a potty training boot camp.  Other than me.  It is a gold mine waiting to happen!  I apologize profusely to the friends that I offered potty training advice to BC (before child).  Potty training children at school is SO MUCH DIFFERENT than trying to potty train one at home.  It's easier at school, really...because they are ALL doing it!  Mine could care less.  I've tried all my tricks.  Nothing works.  Stickers, M&Ms, big boy underwear, diapers, pull-ups, toys, other bribes, going every 30 minutes to an hour, potty dances, reading books, singing songs, watching videos, running the water, decorating the bathroom, etc.  Nothing works.  The only thing I have left is to let him run around naked.  I have heard this works.  I am still debating whether it is worth it.  I really think diapers aren't that expensive...but in all honesty, if someone will take my child now and potty train him within a month, I would pay hundreds of dollars.  Yes, seriously.  Have you tried to potty train lately?  We started so long ago I can't even remember when we started.  I began when the books say to - he started showing interest.  He learned quickly the purpose of sitting on the potty.  He pees every time he sits!  In fact, he's so good at it, he can pee, stop, then two minutes later, pee again to try and convince me he deserves more candy and another sticker!  The problem is, he is convinced he has "better things to do" and finds the convenience of peeing on himself better than sitting on the potty for two minutes.  I have tried to convince him it takes me longer to change his diaper, but really, he just doesn't care.  Did I mention hundreds of dollars?  Anyone?

Until Next Year

The "birthday week" is officially over.  I can happily rest my butt knowing that every ounce of energy was worth it - my son thoroughly enjoyed it...even if it isn't a memory he remembers down the road.  I enjoyed this party a lot more than the others, too.  I am not sure if it's because I didn't put as much prep into it or if it was because Brent truly had fun and he got it.  He knew the party was for him and it was obvious he really enjoyed himself.  It is a "successful" parenting day!

As a Mom, it is hard not to ask yourself, "Am I doing this right?  Should I do this differently?"  The argument "nature versus nurture" is often discussed in education - and sometimes parenting.  It is based on the belief by philosopher, John Locke, that children are born with a "tabula rasa," or "blank slate," and from that moment on are molded into the being they become by everything that occurs around them.  However, many argue that nature (genetics, etc.) has a lot to do with it as well.  I don't believe it is a "versus" - I feel that they are both equally important and work together.  I know that without a doubt, I look at my son each day and see a combination of his father, myself, other family members, and things I have no idea where he gets them.  Television, radio, school, people in public, his own mind, etc.  His little body holds such a huge personality, and he never ceases to amaze and surprise me.

Today, a friend shared another blog entry that I really enjoyed.  As a "mother of one" who often looks at those with multiple children and says, "I don't know how you do it!  I can hardly handle one!"  I understand this writer.  I find relief in her words: "Dear mother, don’t worry about enjoying your life.  Your life is hard; your life will be hard.  That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong—it means you’re doing it right."  I hope she's right! Read:  To the Mother with Only One Child

McD's FRIES!!

Today was interesting from the moment I woke up.  I barely rolled out of bed, begging my husband to take the bean to "school."  He couldn't, he had a work meeting.  Yeah, yeah, I have tons of those (insert eye roll here).  I proceeded to spend twenty minutes debating whether I wanted to stay in bed and deal with whatever my toddler would dole out on me, or take the 20 minutes of misery to get him to school.  Yep, off to school we go!  I jumped in the shower as I overhead my husband telling Brent, "Mama doesn't feel well today, so you need to be nice, behave, and take care of yourself."  When I got out of the bathroom, my son was sitting at the table eating Cheez-its from the box.  Oh. my. gosh.  I am not judging those of you that do this in your household, but I do not, do not, do not get things out of a bag with hands.  We have bowls.  By inserting your hands into a full box/bag of food, you contaminate everything else in the container!  Blech!  Just my opinion.  I proceeded to text my husband and he made the point that at least he was at the table.  True that.  I couldn't get mad at the boy, he was doing exactly what Dad had told him - taking care of himself.  I figured it was already a lost cause and left him alone.  Would you believe he even wiped off his hands and mouth when he was done?  Proud Mommy moment, well, minus the Cheez-its for breakfast part!  Maybe I should tell him I am sick more often...

Tonight, since the hubby and I still weren't feeling well, we headed to Sonic.  Milk shakes make sore throats feel so much better!  When we left the house, Brent shared his protest so we asked if he wanted french fries - one of his favorite gourmet foods.  He was happy to hear this and settled in for the ride...until we passed the unmistakeable Golden Arches of McDonald's.  "No, no, noooooo... (fr)ies!!!!  M(c)D's (fr)ies!!!"  he screamed from the backseat while pointing erratically at the sign.  Our immediate laughter only made him angrier.  Once we were able to catch our breath, we explained we were getting fries from Sonic and they were just as good.  "Nooooo!" he wailed.  Can't really argue with the kid, McD's does have the best french fries!

I am just amused that:

1. He recognizes the Golden Arches (does that mean we go too much?)
2. Lately, my non-talker sure is spitting out some really good sentences when he is upset!
3. He argued that McD's has better french fries than Sonic.

Happy B'day, Brent!

Today Brent turns three.  He let everyone know, too.  "No 'oo. 'ree!" ("No, two. Three!)  He is definitely excited.  He enjoyed opening presents and is always fun to watch because he seems to really appreciate everything - no matter what it is.  I hope that characteristic will always remain with him.  That no matter how blessed he is, he is thankful for every bit of it.

We headed to Chuck E Cheese for lunch, where he enjoyed "being a kid" and then it was home for nap.  I took a nap, too, as I was feeling unusually exhausted.  Would you believe my family has shared the household plague with me?  Great.  I have a birthday party to finish planning for Saturday, groceries to buy, and all I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep.  Did I mention raising a three-year old?  Stay at home Moms really get screwed in this department - probably more so than anything else.  No sick days.  You and the kid(s) can be sick as everything and you are usually left to fend for yourself.

I felt so badly - we didn't go out for dinner, and we didn't even sing Happy Birthday (though it was his choice not to eat a cupcake).  I realize this will all be done again on Saturday and he won't even remember (and probably doesn't even realize) but Mom Guilt is a very strong thing, over the silliest things, usually.

Happy Birthday, Brent!  Mama loves you.  Today I will share this blog...may it always remind me to cherish every moment with you and create happy memories that you, too, will want to instill in your own child(ren).

"My Cakes, Yeah!"

My baby is turning three tomorrow.  I can't believe it.  The time has flown by, yet it feels like ages ago that I held that little, calm bundle in my arms.  Having him sick reminds me that I won't get to hold him like this much longer.  He is already so long! 

Thankfully, he was feeling better today and was excited to head to "school" with cupcakes I had made for his class.  "My (c)akes, yeah!" he exclaimed as I loaded them into the car.  I explained to him all the way there that they were his cakes, but he would be sharing them with his friends at school.  "My (c)akes, yes!  (Th)ree!" he said enthusiastically while nodding his head, showing his understanding that they were his cakes because he is turning three...at least, that's how I interpreted it. 

When he got home from school, his Dad was sick in our bedroom - something that very, very rarely happens.  To my surprise, he did not go running in, but insisted the dog stay out and didn't even go in to see his Dad until after dinner.  He played well and entertained himself literally all day long so I could clean and Dad could rest.  It amazes me how some days are so, so, so simple and other days it is like every little thing is a battle.  When I thanked him at bedtime for being such a good boy, he reminded me he is going to be three.  Please God, let this be what "3" is like everyday!  Yes, please!  (Just let me pretend until morning, okay?)

Other than the fact that he was on his best behavior today, I love the little moments when he randomly pulls on my heartstrings.  Tonight, while I was cooking dinner, "Country Girl (Shake it for me)" by Luke Bryan came on the radio and he grabbed my hand, insisting I go into the living room.  We occasionally get up and dance, but he has never encouraged me to dance with him.  Did I mention the fact this is my favorite song?  Love that boy and his almost 3-year old booty shakin' self!

Ice Cream = Happy

Brent has been sick for three days now.  I am pretty sure it started out as a cold, but I decided to take him to the doctor this morning because he hasn't been eating or sleeping - both of which he usually does a LOT more of when he's sick.   Throw in the low-grade fever and colored mucus and I figured it was a sinus infection.  The doctor didn't check for a sinus infection - but said he has an ear infection and the antibiotic will take care of all of it.

I don't often remember to count my blessings.  I am thankful for the fact that this is only my son's second ear infection (his first one was 11 months ago) and he is going to be three in two days!  As a child (and adult) that has chronic ear infections, I am so, so, so thankful that he doesn't seem to have the issues I do.

So, anyway, when I knew we were headed to the doctor this morning, I started prepping him.  Telling him how he would stand on the scale, get his temperature taken, the doctor would look in his mouth, ears, and listen to his chest and back.  Then I did it - I bribed him: "We'll get ice cream afterwards if you're a good boy!"  (Ice cream is the only thing he has wanted to eat in two days...)

Saying that he was well-behaved at the doctor is an understatement...and was worth every penny of the dollar I spent at McDonald's for the mini sundae.  In fact, I probably would have paid $10.

As a teacher, I really didn't like parents that bribed their children.  What does it teach them?  To expect something for doing something they should be doing anyway.  I vowed every day that I dealt with a bribed child that I would never, ever, ever bribe my child.  You really don't know anything until you have kids.

Bribery makes life SO much simpler.  They are happy, you are happy, life is good.  Somewhere down the road, I may come to regret this.  I keep telling myself consistency is key.  That really is true in all aspects of parenting.  Had I promised him ice cream and he had not behaved at the doctor, I would have had to explain that he didn't earn the ice cream.  Maybe when he isn't a toddler I will have the ability to say, "if you misbehave at the doctor, I will make your life miserable."  For now, a tantrum-free, cooperative visit to the doctor is well-worth a bowl of ice cream.

I think I'll just tell myself that bribery is really "positive reinforcement"...

Pajama Day

Today was pajama day at "school" (mom's day out).  This was Brent's first taste of pajama day and I was almost sure he was going to be the only child at school in normal clothing.  I had told my husband last night what pair of pajamas I wanted Brent to wear to school: the least worn, still fits in all the right places, cute Hugh Hefner style.  However, this morning, when I started to get Brent dressed, I explained to him that it was pajama day so he would get to wear pajamas to school!  (Insert enthusiastic yay! here).

Now, for those of you who don't know, Brent does not like change.  In fact, that is an understatement.  He has an expectation and opinion for everything that should, would, or could happen in his world.  So, you can only imagine the ball of hysteria he crumpled into upon learning this news.  Pajamas - to school?  What was this insanity I was forcing upon him?  He recovered fairly quickly and immediately began explaining to me why it was not sensible to wear pajamas to school: "no 'eep!" (no sleep) he wailed as he used his hands and head to make the sign for sleep.  "No, no, sleep!  You are just wearing pajamas to school because it is a fun, crazy day!"  I said.  The boy has a point, his entire life he has only worn pajamas to sleep.  Why would that change now?  I then decided to throw in the "big money" - I told him he could take his blanket.

His blanket has been his forever lovey.  As a baby, I tried stuffed animal after stuffed animal and he had no interest in any of them.  I had tried other blankets, he didn't care.  Then, all of a sudden, this was the blanket he had to have.  It went everywhere with him.  Luckily, he wasn't as clingy as some children so I did have the ability to wash it weekly.

Anyway, once he got comfortable at "school," I had told him the blanket had to stay home.  So I guess having the option to take it was a much more enticing offer to him than I had even imagined, because he yelled, "yay!" and ran to his drawer to choose his pajamas.

Did he choose the pair I wanted him to wear?  No.  But, the pair he chose were still new, and fit well.  Choose your battles, right?  So he got dressed in his pajamas, grabbed his blanket, and we were out the door for school.

We walked in and the first words his teacher says to him are, "Brent, good morning!  You look like you are ready for a nap in those pajamas!"  I am not exaggerating when I say everyone in the school...and possibly across the street heard him scream, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

I then explained to his teacher the discussion that had occurred at home.  She told Brent she was just kidding and there would be no naps.  So, the day went well.

I fear he will want to wear pajamas again tomorrow.

Rain, Rain Go Away

Yesterday and today Brent was easily frustrated more than usual.  His train fell off the track, and he crumpled to the floor in a dramatic mess of cries and toddler-like curses at his "choo-choo."  His fork fell off the plate and he laid his head on the table as if it were gone forever.  You don't even want to hear about what happened when the dog refused to play with him!  Something was wrong in his world and he was feeling defeated in almost every aspect.  Finally, after a few moments of cuddling on the couch, I explained to him that it didn't help to behave that way, but he needed to tell Mama what was bothering him so I could help.  He pouted and fidgeted for a moment and then proceeded to tell me in his quasi-speech/sign-language that the "ain up high go 'way now me go out-ide 'ay!"  (Translation:  "Rain up high go away now so I can go outside to play!")  Did I mention it has been rainy and dreary for four days?!?

Let me also mention that a year ago my son's only words consisted of "more," "mama," "yaya" (dada), and "mo" (no).  The fact that he came up with a sentence like that to try and express his frustrations still has me impressed.  After that, I had to explain that I couldn't make the rain stop, but I definitely agreed with him that it would be nice if it did.  He argued with me for a few minutes, then I told him tomorrow should be better.  He gave me a big hug, then proceeded to get down on the floor and play cars.  Wow, it is an amazing thing to have someone believe that you can do anything.  It makes you want to be a better everything!

Everyday Play

As an Early Childhood Educator, the importance of play was drilled into my head in practically every class I had in college.  It was easy to incorporate into my classroom - role playing, centers, exploring the world outside, etc.  However, as a Mom, I am amazed at how often this critical component is pushed to the back of my brain.  I need to clean the house, do laundry, run errands, cook dinner, pay the bills.....and all the while my little boy approaches me intermittently with "Play, Mama" while batting his long eyelashes and holding up a toy car.  Too many times my response has been, "Mama can't play right now, baby, I'm busy."

Now, my son approaches me with, "Mama, play now, please?"  I am not sure if it's the fact he has added the "now, please" or that I see that he has really changed and grown in such a short period of time.  What am I thinking?  Play is his world.  How he learns, how he grows, and how I will teach him to be a good man.  I make a conscious effort to play with my son for a period of time every day - with no distractions.  No cell phone, no grocery list; just me and him.  It can't be a coincidence that when I give him my undivided attention and then have to tell him "Mama can't play right now, baby" he seems to understand and entertains himself.

The Beginning

When you first discover you are going to be a parent, advice starts rumbling in from every direction.  (Enjoy them, they grow up so fast! - Be consistent! - Don't spoil the baby! - Breastfeed! - Don't stress yourself about breastfeeding, formula is just as good! - Give plenty of tummy time! - Let them cry it out. - Don't let a baby cry too long!) Well, you get the idea. The advice doesn't slow down once they are born either...except that's when you realize that you really do need advice, it just doesn't all work! As a new mom, I turned to anyone that would tell me what worked for them. I read mounds of books, I surfed the internet, and I tried dozens of methods before one was successful. Out of all of the advice I have ever received - I will never forget the most important of all. After I had asked a list of questions, my son's first pediatrician said, "You need to stop reading all of those books. Those authors may have advice- and it may or may not work for you, but they did not have your child. Only you can know what is best for your child. Trust your motherly instincts." Bless that man. Even after three years, it feels like almost every day holds a new challenge, and each time I feel I am struggling, I repeat those words. I feel a little stronger and remind myself of my goal: to raise a child who is independent, compassionate, confident, patriotic, gives Thanks to God, and has the desire to learn. I am starting this blog to attempt to document my son's funny antics, how I handle them, and the things he teaches me along the way.