1. Carry 15 lbs of baby love around everywhere because he doesn't want to sleep and doesn't want to be put down.
2. Take a bath accompanied by your toddler (because no one ever gets to bathe alone around here)
3. Answer the door in your towel because you just got out of the bath... luckily it's just your friend dropping off her toddler for the morning.
4. Take 4 clean dishes out of the dishwasher and put them away.
5. Pick play-dough out of the carpet while the toddlers eat breakfast.
6. Eat two bites of cereal.
7. Try to wrestle your toddler into clothes (a fruitless effort because even if you succeed she'll just take them off again)
8. Take 2 more clean dishes out of the dishwasher and put them away while shoveling bites of soggy cereal in your mouth.
9. Go break up a toddler fight.
10. Clean pee off the carpet.
11. Swaddle and nurse the baby while giving threats and commands to the two toddlers from the rocking chair.
12. Lay the sleeping baby gently down in his sleeper. And tiptoe out of the room.
13. Go back in the room 1 minute later and pick up the screaming baby.
14. Grease up your new cast-iron pan and put it in the oven to cure.
15. Open all the windows and wave something at the smoke alarm because you aren't very good a curing a cast-iron pan.
16. Put both toddlers in time out.
17. Take 5 clean dishes out of the dishwasher and put them away.
18. Shoo both toddlers outside to play.
19. Swaddle and nurse the baby again.
20. Put the sleeping baby in his sleeper and tiptoe out of the room.
21. Take one clean dish out of the dishwasher and put it away.
22. Go pick up the screaming baby.
23. Go outside to break up a toddler fight and discover poo smeared all over the back patio.
24. Hose poo off the patio.
25. Put the baby in his Bumbo chair and finish emptying the dishwasher.
26. Pick up the screaming baby.
27. Give grapes to two toddlers.
28. Explain for the 17th time that "this bowl belongs to him and this bowl belongs to you. Eat only the grapes from your own bowl."
29. Take 6 dirty dishes out of the sink and put them in the dishwasher.
30. Wipe footprints from wet toddler feet off the kitchen floor.
31. Swaddle and nurse the baby again.
32. Repeat steps 11 & 12.
33. Give each toddler some lunch.
34. Try to coax them to try at least one bite.
35. Give up and let them starve.
36. Break up another toddler fight.
37. Count the minutes until naptime.
38. Break up two more toddler fights.
39. Load 8 dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
40. Give one toddler back to his mommy. (Wish you could give her the other one too).
41. Try to nurse a baby and put a toddler down to nap at the same time.
42. Fail miserably.
43. Finish nursing the baby while the toddler throws a tantrum.
44. Finally set a now exhausted and sleeping baby down successfully.
45. Try to cuddle/rock/read to/calm down the toddler to go to sleep peacefully.
46. Give up.
47. Strap a diaper on the toddler and leave her stuck in her crib to cry herself to sleep.
48. Use the bathroom for the first time all morning.
49. Finish loading and turn on the dishwasher.
50. Take a few minutes to breathe and enjoy writing a blog post.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Painter Counters Rediscovered! PNN News Reports
This is Emery Painter with the Painter News Network (PNN) reporting on the breaking news in the Painter household. After some groundbreaking work by Homemaker Lindsey Painter the missing kitchen counters have been rediscovered. Our on-site reporter, Warren Painter, has the story. To you Warren.
Thank you Emery! Legend has it that once upon a time in the Painter household there were some white counters designed for preparing food, storing household items that didn't fit in cupboards, and temporarily setting the mail. However, tragedy struck these counters, or so the story goes. Due to a fluke in events the Painters ended up moving half of their stuff out of the house and then back in. At that same time, historically, Lindsey Painter ended up working full time for three weeks to cover for a teacher who broke her leg, and then the whole household was struck one-by-one with the flu and then a cold. All this spells disaster for the counters which were tragically lost to us. Many historians believed that, like the lost city of Atlantis, they were gone forever.
All hope was lost, or so everyone believed. But there was one who refused to give up. And with her supportive husband, Jimmy, behind her (yes literally behind her picking up the living room and doing laundry) she resolved to find those kitchen counters at all costs.
And to all our astonishment she succeeded. And here I am standing in the Painter kitchen and I can hardly believe my eyes. Here right in front of me are the Painter's kitchen counters, still intact and ready to temporarily hold the mail once again. Back to you Emery.
Thank you Warren! Will wonder's never cease? What will happen next? Is it possible that we might start getting our clothes out of drawers again instead of digging through the laundry basket?
Haha Emery! You're such an optomist! But I guess if kitchen counters can be rediscovered then we never know what might happen.
This is Emery and Warren Painter. from PNN News. Goodnight.
Thank you Emery! Legend has it that once upon a time in the Painter household there were some white counters designed for preparing food, storing household items that didn't fit in cupboards, and temporarily setting the mail. However, tragedy struck these counters, or so the story goes. Due to a fluke in events the Painters ended up moving half of their stuff out of the house and then back in. At that same time, historically, Lindsey Painter ended up working full time for three weeks to cover for a teacher who broke her leg, and then the whole household was struck one-by-one with the flu and then a cold. All this spells disaster for the counters which were tragically lost to us. Many historians believed that, like the lost city of Atlantis, they were gone forever.
All hope was lost, or so everyone believed. But there was one who refused to give up. And with her supportive husband, Jimmy, behind her (yes literally behind her picking up the living room and doing laundry) she resolved to find those kitchen counters at all costs.
And to all our astonishment she succeeded. And here I am standing in the Painter kitchen and I can hardly believe my eyes. Here right in front of me are the Painter's kitchen counters, still intact and ready to temporarily hold the mail once again. Back to you Emery.
Thank you Warren! Will wonder's never cease? What will happen next? Is it possible that we might start getting our clothes out of drawers again instead of digging through the laundry basket?
Haha Emery! You're such an optomist! But I guess if kitchen counters can be rediscovered then we never know what might happen.
This is Emery and Warren Painter. from PNN News. Goodnight.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Animal Bath
One of my favorite times of day is when I take a bath with Emery at night before bed. She has a number of animals that she takes with her to the bath every night because apparently they all need to bathe also. So each animal is carefully named and cared for one at a time.
First, they all need a drink. She fills a cup with bathwater and declares, "Cow drink. Doggie drink. Piggie drink. Zebra Drink. Seahorse Drink. And so on..."
Then each of them need their hair washed. We take the cup and pour it over each head. Scrub imaginary hair, then pour the cup again to rinse. Emery accompanies this with repeated declarations of, "Wash hair. Rinse hair. Piggie hair."
The little brown cow is actually hollow and has a big hole on the bottom. So she fills him with bathwater then holds the cup under him and announces seriously, "Cow potty." And indeed, it looks very much like he's going potty!
We also wash their bodies while she announces each body part. "Doggie ears. eyes. leg. bottom. back. nose."
Then she wants each of her animals to nurse from me like she sees Warren do. So she holds each one up to me and says, "Cow nurse."
Next we need to brush all their teeth. So after using the toothbrush on herself she proceeds to brush each of their teeth one by one.
Here is a picture of her precious and well-cared-for animals.
First, they all need a drink. She fills a cup with bathwater and declares, "Cow drink. Doggie drink. Piggie drink. Zebra Drink. Seahorse Drink. And so on..."
Then each of them need their hair washed. We take the cup and pour it over each head. Scrub imaginary hair, then pour the cup again to rinse. Emery accompanies this with repeated declarations of, "Wash hair. Rinse hair. Piggie hair."
The little brown cow is actually hollow and has a big hole on the bottom. So she fills him with bathwater then holds the cup under him and announces seriously, "Cow potty." And indeed, it looks very much like he's going potty!
We also wash their bodies while she announces each body part. "Doggie ears. eyes. leg. bottom. back. nose."
Then she wants each of her animals to nurse from me like she sees Warren do. So she holds each one up to me and says, "Cow nurse."
Next we need to brush all their teeth. So after using the toothbrush on herself she proceeds to brush each of their teeth one by one.
Here is a picture of her precious and well-cared-for animals.You might think that I would get bored with this routine but no. I find it adorable and hilarious every time!
Sunday, May 22, 2011
The Love of Money...
Money is a touchy subject, but it has been on my mind lately as Jimmy and I prepare for me to quit my job in just a few weeks. We are burdened under student loans and we have an extremely tight budget that leaves very little money for anything extra. Even things like going to the doctor when we're sick are considered very seriously before we go because of the extra expense. And we're just starting the process of moving from a our house into an apartment to save money on rent.
Of course, I try to tell myself that compared to most of the world I am fabulously wealthy, and I try to tell myself that we have everything we need, a home to live in, clothes on our backs, food to eat, and a steady job for my husband. God has blessed us greatly. But sometimes it doesn't feel like enough. I know it's incredibly selfish, but I wish we had a nice house with a yard for my kids to play in, with a swingset and a perfectly manicured lawn for picnics. With neighbors who were far enough away that they didn't care if our dogs bark. I wish I had money enough to buy nice things for everyone who is having a baby or getting married or having a birthday. And I want to buy cute things for my kids, nice big toys and new clothes.
But lately I've begun to see my lack of money as a blessing from God. God says in the bible that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to attain heaven. I always thought that was kind of unfair. Just because you have money doesn't mean you can't love the Lord right?
And yet, my skepticism about that verse is fading away as I get older and see many wealthy families, some of whom I envied as a child, have kids who, as adults, reject God's path and the church in general. Not all of them, but many. Maybe growing up with less is better than growing up with more?
"But Lord," I argue in my prayers, "wouldn't I be responsible as a wealthy person to raise my children in Your way?" But would I really? How many times have I wanted to buy something for my child and been unable to because I couldn't afford it. Would I really have the willpower to teach my children the hard lesson of not getting what they want all the time if I could afford to get it? Maybe sometimes I could, but certainly not as often as I am forced to do now.
And what about their clothes? Sometimes when I take my child to church or to a birthday party I feel embarrassed that her clothes are obviously hand-me-downs, or well worn. And don't even get me started on Jimmy's clothes. If he owns one t-shirt that doesn't have holes then I don't know about it. And I personally have a meltdown every Sabbath morning because I have nothing acceptable to wear to church. (To be fair, part of the reason I have nothing to wear is I am in-between sizes due to my recent pregnancy). Can I really wear the same pair of pants to work all week and then again Sabbath morning?
And the answer is... yes. I can. And I do.
So my conclusion is this. I would be an irresponsible wealthy person. I would give myself and my family all the nice things because I could. And we would not learn the lesson of deprivation. And we would not learn to deny ourselves the things we want. And we would not learn to distinguish between wants and needs. And we would not learn the lesson of humility.
Therefore God has blessed me with a modest income.
Thank you God, for giving me what I need... instead of what I want. Amen.
Of course, I try to tell myself that compared to most of the world I am fabulously wealthy, and I try to tell myself that we have everything we need, a home to live in, clothes on our backs, food to eat, and a steady job for my husband. God has blessed us greatly. But sometimes it doesn't feel like enough. I know it's incredibly selfish, but I wish we had a nice house with a yard for my kids to play in, with a swingset and a perfectly manicured lawn for picnics. With neighbors who were far enough away that they didn't care if our dogs bark. I wish I had money enough to buy nice things for everyone who is having a baby or getting married or having a birthday. And I want to buy cute things for my kids, nice big toys and new clothes.
But lately I've begun to see my lack of money as a blessing from God. God says in the bible that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to attain heaven. I always thought that was kind of unfair. Just because you have money doesn't mean you can't love the Lord right?
And yet, my skepticism about that verse is fading away as I get older and see many wealthy families, some of whom I envied as a child, have kids who, as adults, reject God's path and the church in general. Not all of them, but many. Maybe growing up with less is better than growing up with more?
"But Lord," I argue in my prayers, "wouldn't I be responsible as a wealthy person to raise my children in Your way?" But would I really? How many times have I wanted to buy something for my child and been unable to because I couldn't afford it. Would I really have the willpower to teach my children the hard lesson of not getting what they want all the time if I could afford to get it? Maybe sometimes I could, but certainly not as often as I am forced to do now.
And what about their clothes? Sometimes when I take my child to church or to a birthday party I feel embarrassed that her clothes are obviously hand-me-downs, or well worn. And don't even get me started on Jimmy's clothes. If he owns one t-shirt that doesn't have holes then I don't know about it. And I personally have a meltdown every Sabbath morning because I have nothing acceptable to wear to church. (To be fair, part of the reason I have nothing to wear is I am in-between sizes due to my recent pregnancy). Can I really wear the same pair of pants to work all week and then again Sabbath morning?
And the answer is... yes. I can. And I do.
So my conclusion is this. I would be an irresponsible wealthy person. I would give myself and my family all the nice things because I could. And we would not learn the lesson of deprivation. And we would not learn to deny ourselves the things we want. And we would not learn to distinguish between wants and needs. And we would not learn the lesson of humility.
Therefore God has blessed me with a modest income.
Thank you God, for giving me what I need... instead of what I want. Amen.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Learning to Talk
You know, the English Language is a tricky thing. I've been thinking about it a lot lately because I'm trying to help Emery learn it, and I've been watching carefully how she picks things up. But there's a lot to learn! It's truly amazing that a child's mind is able to sift through so much confusing information so it can make sense.
Let me give you an example. Emery can hand me an object and I might say any of the following things about it:
pink
round
smooth
cold
ball
big
heavy
polka dots
And several more. And with her rudimentary language skills she has to decide whether I'm telling her the color, texture, weight, category, temperature, size, or name of the thing.
She also has to be able to tell that a cartoon picture of a horse, a plastic molding of a horse, a real horse out the car window, and daddy on his hands and knees pretending to be a horse are all supposed to represent the same thing. This is true for all representations of horses of all colors and spots, unless the horse is white with black stripes... in which case the horse is called a Zebra.
She loves cheese (which I have mentioned in several previous posts) and is therefore confused when I talk about cream cheese, cottage cheese, macaroni and cheese or anything else that has cheese in the name but doesn't even vaguely taste or resemble the thing she currently knows as cheese.
She knows that two means the number after one, but it also means "also" as in "I'm having watermelon, do you want some too?" But it also has several other meanings and nuances of meaning.
How on earth do we figure all this stuff out as kids? How do we process it? It's just so much information it's completely overwhelming! If you think about how much sheer information a child has to process, starting from scratch, to understand language it is truly astounding that they can master it in only a few years.
Let me give you an example. Emery can hand me an object and I might say any of the following things about it:
pink
round
smooth
cold
ball
big
heavy
polka dots
And several more. And with her rudimentary language skills she has to decide whether I'm telling her the color, texture, weight, category, temperature, size, or name of the thing.
She also has to be able to tell that a cartoon picture of a horse, a plastic molding of a horse, a real horse out the car window, and daddy on his hands and knees pretending to be a horse are all supposed to represent the same thing. This is true for all representations of horses of all colors and spots, unless the horse is white with black stripes... in which case the horse is called a Zebra.
She loves cheese (which I have mentioned in several previous posts) and is therefore confused when I talk about cream cheese, cottage cheese, macaroni and cheese or anything else that has cheese in the name but doesn't even vaguely taste or resemble the thing she currently knows as cheese.
She knows that two means the number after one, but it also means "also" as in "I'm having watermelon, do you want some too?" But it also has several other meanings and nuances of meaning.
How on earth do we figure all this stuff out as kids? How do we process it? It's just so much information it's completely overwhelming! If you think about how much sheer information a child has to process, starting from scratch, to understand language it is truly astounding that they can master it in only a few years.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The Family of the Traveling Casserole Dish
I sometimes wonder if my neighbors think it's odd how often I leave my house with food. I think involved church members and private school teachers such as myself tend to do lots of things involving food. And between potlucks, fundraisers, class parties, brunch with friends, muffins for students in the morning, etc... I am leaving my house with food very often! It seems I am frequently taking two and three trips out to the car to load the salad bowl, casserole dish, salad dressing and condiments, my purse, the diaper bag, my school backpack, and two kiddos out to the car. Whew!
But I love love LOVE all the food. :)
But I love love LOVE all the food. :)
Pink Poodle Pajama Pants
Emery has begun to exert her power of choice much more frequently lately. A lot of the time I am unable to give her what she wants when she "chooses" such as her constant requests for cheese (from the minute she wakes up till she goes to bed at night... that girl loves her cheese!) so when it's something that doesn't matter much, such as what she wears, it is my delight to let her make her own choices. I don't always agree with those choices, however.
Such is the case with her very favorite pair of pants in the whole world. It is a pair of silky pink pajama pants covered in fluffy poodles who are doing their hair and nails. It is the most nauseatingly girly thing you could imagine. Now I'm not exactly a tomboy, but I'm not really the girly-girl type either. I think the pants are adorable, but it amuses me greatly how much she is attracted to them. No matter where they are in the house, she will find them. She'll search through drawers, find them in the dirty laundry pile, find them in the clean laundry pile. And whatever she is wearing at the time she immediately removes in favor of her precious pink poodle pajama pants (like the alliteration there?). As a result we often find her shirt and pants clashing bizarrely. As was the case this morning when I snapped this picture.
My daughter is such a joy to me. I love how she makes me laugh!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
update
So Emery woke up from her nap in her crib a few minutes ago. I went to take her out of her crib and she got upset and tried to climb back in. So I put her back in, gave her a few books, and she's sitting there happy as a clam playing with her doll and reading her books. I guess she really missed it!
Mommy and Warren
I don't usually post pictures on my blog, because I post so many on Facebook. But I think maybe I should start posting more because I think I might have some blog readers who aren't my friends on facebook. Here I am with my handsome boy. Isn't he getting so big?
Little Monster
We've moved Emery from her crib onto a mattress on the floor. It wasn't originally in the plan to do it this soon, but her potty training is going so well that in order to take the next step she needs to be able to get out of bed to use the potty during naps and at night. A few months ago we tried moving her directly from her crib to the twin bed in her room, but it wasn't working so this time I just took her crib mattress out of the crib and put it on the floor so she could be more comfortable... sort of a transition mattress before we move to the big bed permanently.
The first day for her nap we fought a little to keep her in her room. She finally gave up and slept, but only about half as long. In the night she got up several times and we had to keep putting her back in her room. Several days went by and every day she slept less, and every night she fought us, and every morning she woke up earlier and earlier. And slowly, over the course of a week or so my sweet, obedient, if somewhat mischevous daughter turned into a tantrum-throwing, toy-hitting, eye-scratching monster. She's tired all the time... so tired that she's in this hyper-hysterical state which makes it even harder for her to get good sleep.
I have been observing this change with growing alarm, but faith that it would settle down when she got used to the bed. But this change has been taking its toll, not just on Emery, but on me as well... and today was the last straw.
All morning I had to follow her around watching her like a hawk. If I took my eyes off her for a single second she would deliberately get into something she knew I wanted her to stay away from. Forget housework. She would resist my descipline, scream "NO!" into my face and throw tantrums that would freeze my blood. I finally decided that she needed sleep more than she needed to learn to sleep outside her crib, and using the potty during naps can wait. So I put the mattress back in the crib and planned to put her down for her nap an hour early.
So at 11:00 I took her into her room to change her out of her panties and into a diaper for her nap. But she didn't want to change out of her panties. And then the battle started. I knew that I had to win this tantrum, just like I have to win ALL of the battles we have. So I decided to just hold her down till she stopped fighting me and started obeying. I literally held her down kicking and screaming and sweating and crying for 30 minutes. She was so tired that she actually almost fell asleep in the middle of the tantrum. I could see her eyes rolling back and her lids closing and her body relaxing, till she remembered that she was mad and would restart the kicking and screaming with new vigour. Her hair was streaming with sweat from the effort and she was choking from the saliva she didn't swallow because she was so busy screaming her lungs out. I was seriously afraid that the neighbors would call CPS.
I did win. And she is asleep in her crib with her diaper on. But it doesn't feel like a win. It feels like a loss. A big loss. I don't know where to go from here, but one thing is for sure. We're going to get her all caught up on sleep before we try the mattress on the floor again.
What did I do wrong? What can I do better? Why does parenting have to be this constant exercise in trial and error... success and failure?
The first day for her nap we fought a little to keep her in her room. She finally gave up and slept, but only about half as long. In the night she got up several times and we had to keep putting her back in her room. Several days went by and every day she slept less, and every night she fought us, and every morning she woke up earlier and earlier. And slowly, over the course of a week or so my sweet, obedient, if somewhat mischevous daughter turned into a tantrum-throwing, toy-hitting, eye-scratching monster. She's tired all the time... so tired that she's in this hyper-hysterical state which makes it even harder for her to get good sleep.
I have been observing this change with growing alarm, but faith that it would settle down when she got used to the bed. But this change has been taking its toll, not just on Emery, but on me as well... and today was the last straw.
All morning I had to follow her around watching her like a hawk. If I took my eyes off her for a single second she would deliberately get into something she knew I wanted her to stay away from. Forget housework. She would resist my descipline, scream "NO!" into my face and throw tantrums that would freeze my blood. I finally decided that she needed sleep more than she needed to learn to sleep outside her crib, and using the potty during naps can wait. So I put the mattress back in the crib and planned to put her down for her nap an hour early.
So at 11:00 I took her into her room to change her out of her panties and into a diaper for her nap. But she didn't want to change out of her panties. And then the battle started. I knew that I had to win this tantrum, just like I have to win ALL of the battles we have. So I decided to just hold her down till she stopped fighting me and started obeying. I literally held her down kicking and screaming and sweating and crying for 30 minutes. She was so tired that she actually almost fell asleep in the middle of the tantrum. I could see her eyes rolling back and her lids closing and her body relaxing, till she remembered that she was mad and would restart the kicking and screaming with new vigour. Her hair was streaming with sweat from the effort and she was choking from the saliva she didn't swallow because she was so busy screaming her lungs out. I was seriously afraid that the neighbors would call CPS.
I did win. And she is asleep in her crib with her diaper on. But it doesn't feel like a win. It feels like a loss. A big loss. I don't know where to go from here, but one thing is for sure. We're going to get her all caught up on sleep before we try the mattress on the floor again.
What did I do wrong? What can I do better? Why does parenting have to be this constant exercise in trial and error... success and failure?
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
To my dear, sweet, precious Emery
My sweet and precious Emery,
I am writing this letter to you when you are two years old so I can explain to you about my love for you. I hope that someday you will read it and understand. You see, I show you that I love you in all different ways. When you were newly born I showed you that I loved you by sacrificing my sleep to feed you when you cried, by rocking you and singing to you and bathing you and changing you when you were wet or messy. Now I show love to you by hugging you and kissing you. By reading you stories and taking long splash-filled baths with you. By taking you to Sabbath school and church to learn to love Jesus. By playing with you and feeding you and clothing you and taking you outside to run blissfully in the sunshine.
But there's another way I show you that I love you. By teaching you to obey me. And so, my beautiful, darling girl, I am your mommy and even though you don't know it now, I know better than you do what is best for you. I know that it isn't good for you to watch Sesame Street all day long. I know that you can't eat only cookies and cheese. I know that at 12:00 in the afternoon you need to sleep. I know that playing with kitchen knives or electric sockets is dangerous for you. I know that sometimes I have to hurt you to make you get better when you're sick. And you don't like any of these things. And you fight me and cry and say, "NO!" as loud as you can.
But I will keep putting you down for your nap at 12:00 even when you don't want to, and I will keep giving you healthy food even when you cry because I'm putting the cookies away. And I will keep the TV off even though you point to it and say, "Elmo!" and I will keep knives and electric sockets away from you. And even though it breaks my heart, I will hurt you, if thats what it takes for you to heal.
You see, sweet baby, if I didn't love you I would spare myself all that difficulty. I would let you stay up as long as you want, I would feed you cookies and cheese all day, and Sesame Street would be on a continuous loop. Because, let me tell you, that would be way easier for me! But in the long run, I know these things will hurt you and make you an unhappy person. So when you get put in time-out and all those tears are cried that's me saying, "I love you my sweet child."
And I hope that someday when you are an adult you will read this and forgive me for all the tears I caused in your childhood.
And I hope also that as an adult you will also remember that we are all called children of God. And that even though we sometimes don't believe it, He knows what is best for us better than we do. And that when we are going through something hard, that it just might be God's firm but loving hand saying, "I love you my sweet child."
With all my love,
Your Mommy
I am writing this letter to you when you are two years old so I can explain to you about my love for you. I hope that someday you will read it and understand. You see, I show you that I love you in all different ways. When you were newly born I showed you that I loved you by sacrificing my sleep to feed you when you cried, by rocking you and singing to you and bathing you and changing you when you were wet or messy. Now I show love to you by hugging you and kissing you. By reading you stories and taking long splash-filled baths with you. By taking you to Sabbath school and church to learn to love Jesus. By playing with you and feeding you and clothing you and taking you outside to run blissfully in the sunshine.
But there's another way I show you that I love you. By teaching you to obey me. And so, my beautiful, darling girl, I am your mommy and even though you don't know it now, I know better than you do what is best for you. I know that it isn't good for you to watch Sesame Street all day long. I know that you can't eat only cookies and cheese. I know that at 12:00 in the afternoon you need to sleep. I know that playing with kitchen knives or electric sockets is dangerous for you. I know that sometimes I have to hurt you to make you get better when you're sick. And you don't like any of these things. And you fight me and cry and say, "NO!" as loud as you can.
But I will keep putting you down for your nap at 12:00 even when you don't want to, and I will keep giving you healthy food even when you cry because I'm putting the cookies away. And I will keep the TV off even though you point to it and say, "Elmo!" and I will keep knives and electric sockets away from you. And even though it breaks my heart, I will hurt you, if thats what it takes for you to heal.
You see, sweet baby, if I didn't love you I would spare myself all that difficulty. I would let you stay up as long as you want, I would feed you cookies and cheese all day, and Sesame Street would be on a continuous loop. Because, let me tell you, that would be way easier for me! But in the long run, I know these things will hurt you and make you an unhappy person. So when you get put in time-out and all those tears are cried that's me saying, "I love you my sweet child."
And I hope that someday when you are an adult you will read this and forgive me for all the tears I caused in your childhood.
And I hope also that as an adult you will also remember that we are all called children of God. And that even though we sometimes don't believe it, He knows what is best for us better than we do. And that when we are going through something hard, that it just might be God's firm but loving hand saying, "I love you my sweet child."
With all my love,
Your Mommy
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Hip-hip-horray for Potty Training!
I know I've posted about potty training before, and I would like to apologize in advance to those who don't have small children and are totally grossed out by potty training. You can just skip this post and go on to the next one.
I have discovered something surprising about myself. I absolutely love potty training! I was reading a post on my cousin's blog about how much she hates potty training and to my surprise as I thought about it I realized that not only do I not mind it, I am actually enjoying the process very much! We've been doing "preparation" for potty training for over a year. We bought a potty before Emery turned 1 and have been sitting her on it periodically in the months that followed. Whenever she came in the bathroom when one of us was sitting we would tell her that we were going potty and when we changed her diapers we would talk about "going potty." It was extremely minimal effort, almost to the point of laziness. But my the time we were ready to start training her we already had a head start because she was comfortable with the potty and she knew what it was for.
But the thing I love about potty training is watching her progress through each stage. I'm in no particular hurry for her to move quickly through the stages, I'm not pushing her to train quickly. We're just doing each thing slowly over a period of weeks. It was so exciting to see her teach herself to hold it in till she could get to the potty. She would be so excited and have such a feeling of satisfaction and pride when she managed to make it to the potty. Then we started putting her in panties and pants (instead of being naked) so she has to pull down the pants and panties in order to go. Then she started sleeping in the panties for her nap. Next we installed a special toddler toilet seat on the big toilet and she is so excited and proud when she can climb up there and go just like mommy and daddy.
And every step she takes toward independance from diapers is a small victory and immensely satisfying for me. I don't mind when she makes messes or has accidents. In fact, we don't even use the word accident here. We just say, "Did you go potty in your panties? Come on, lets get you changed." And I find myself greatly looking forward to the future steps we have ahead of us. We still get to have the small victory of going out of the house in panties (something we have not yet attempted) and then night training. Yay!
To me potty training is just like all the other steps that are so fun to experience with my daughter. I love watching her pick up new words and learn how to express herself with words. I love seeing her adjust to a big girl bed, learning how to control her emotions, learning how to make choices, learning to identify letters and numbers and animals... her learning is explosive and potty training is just part of that process. And I LOVE the process. My baby became a toddler and now she is becoming a child. Every day I marvel at her developing brain.
So yay for potty training!
I have discovered something surprising about myself. I absolutely love potty training! I was reading a post on my cousin's blog about how much she hates potty training and to my surprise as I thought about it I realized that not only do I not mind it, I am actually enjoying the process very much! We've been doing "preparation" for potty training for over a year. We bought a potty before Emery turned 1 and have been sitting her on it periodically in the months that followed. Whenever she came in the bathroom when one of us was sitting we would tell her that we were going potty and when we changed her diapers we would talk about "going potty." It was extremely minimal effort, almost to the point of laziness. But my the time we were ready to start training her we already had a head start because she was comfortable with the potty and she knew what it was for.
But the thing I love about potty training is watching her progress through each stage. I'm in no particular hurry for her to move quickly through the stages, I'm not pushing her to train quickly. We're just doing each thing slowly over a period of weeks. It was so exciting to see her teach herself to hold it in till she could get to the potty. She would be so excited and have such a feeling of satisfaction and pride when she managed to make it to the potty. Then we started putting her in panties and pants (instead of being naked) so she has to pull down the pants and panties in order to go. Then she started sleeping in the panties for her nap. Next we installed a special toddler toilet seat on the big toilet and she is so excited and proud when she can climb up there and go just like mommy and daddy.
And every step she takes toward independance from diapers is a small victory and immensely satisfying for me. I don't mind when she makes messes or has accidents. In fact, we don't even use the word accident here. We just say, "Did you go potty in your panties? Come on, lets get you changed." And I find myself greatly looking forward to the future steps we have ahead of us. We still get to have the small victory of going out of the house in panties (something we have not yet attempted) and then night training. Yay!
To me potty training is just like all the other steps that are so fun to experience with my daughter. I love watching her pick up new words and learn how to express herself with words. I love seeing her adjust to a big girl bed, learning how to control her emotions, learning how to make choices, learning to identify letters and numbers and animals... her learning is explosive and potty training is just part of that process. And I LOVE the process. My baby became a toddler and now she is becoming a child. Every day I marvel at her developing brain.
So yay for potty training!
Friday, April 1, 2011
A quick question
So someone who uses Blogger please explain to me why I can no longer put paragraph breaks into my posts. I hate having my posts be one long paragraph. When I type it in I hit enter and it looks like a paragraph, but when I post it blogger deletes all my spaces. It's driving me crazy!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Obedience training... ugh!
I've been struggling to find a way to effectively train Emery to obey me. The problem here is not the severity of the punishment, but the swiftness and consistency of the punishment. If I give her a command and she doesn't obey and I punish her 90% of the time then she's always looking for that 10% when she can get away with it. Also, I've discovered that if I let myself give the command three or four times before she obeys then she doesn't obey me when I give the command mildly, then with more determination in my voice she still doesn't obey, then with even more determination. In fact, she doesn't obey me unless I sound extremely threatening (or if I actually give threats) and then only reluctantly. This is unacceptable behavior which was illustrated with terrifying poignancy when we were out of town the other day. We were in a parking lot on our way to the van. I was holding Warren in my arms and Jimmy was on the other side of the van getting ready to get into the driver's seat. Emery was tagging along behind. I saw a pickup truck driving our direction and I called to Emery to come here now. She thought it would be a fun game to play chase so she turned with a grin and ran directly in front of the oncoming vehicle. I cried out in terror. Luckily the driver of the truck was paying attention and slowed down, coupled with the fact that Jimmy, with adrenaline pumping through his veins, sprinted to her and picked her up faster than I thought was humanly possible. So I made a promise in my heart that I would step up her obedience training. So I waited with determination in my heart for her to disobey me so I could show her how serious I was. But she's really a pretty good little girl and she didn't disobey me very often. Maybe only three or four times a day. And if I wasn't watching her very closely then I wasn't able to deal out the punishment swiftly enough for her to really get the idea. It is close to impossible to be 100% consistent when you have a baby in the house! So either I wasn't watching close enough to catch the transgression in time, or I was holding a sleeping baby in my lap that I didn't want to wake, or my hands were wet and soapy from doing dishes and I couldn't get to her, or some other problem prevented me from reaching that 100%. So I went back to the drawing board. Clearly my original plan wasn't working. I needed a new strategy. So I devised a new plan that I'm currently working on. And this plan is working better than any of my previous attempts. Instead of waiting for her to disobey me, I give her an arbitrary command and then punish her if she doesn't immediately obey. I also, of course, praise her and thank her when she does obey. But I have always done that in all my strategies. So I'll wait till she gets involved with her toys, then I will say, "Emery come here." in a mild but clearly commanding tone. If she doesn't immediately drop what she's doing then I walk over to her and mildly (not angrily) administer her punishment. Then I walk back to where I was and repeat the command in the same tone. If she still doesn't obey then I repeat the process over again. If she does obey then I praise and thank her for obeying. Since I started this strategy (yesterday) I have never had her disobey me more than once. I also give her other commands. "Emery, pick up your books and put them away." "Emery, get the stool and wash your hands." And then the standard, "Emery don't touch mommy's watch." "Emery, hold still while I comb your hair." "Emery don't push buttons on the TV." etc... This strategy is working! She is obeying me with more consistency now. And the surprise of the century... she is happier doing it! She is a happier girl when she knows that I'm in charge and she obeys me cheerfully and without reservation. I hate this part of parenting... but I'm glad I finally landed on something that is going to work for our family. Everyone in the family will be happier when the children cheerfully obey the parents.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Surprise Warren!
Because I'm nursing I'm always thirsty these days. I suppose that since Warren is taking so much liquid from me, I need that much more. Jimmy grumpily accuses me of becoming a camel sometimes when he's fetching me another glass of water from the kitchen as I nurse. I try to keep a big tall glass of water right next to my rocking chair so I can drink from it whenever I need. Well today I set Warren on the floor to play and Emery was playing with the new mini "kitchen" my mom got her for her birthday. Emery stopped to go potty and I got up from my rocking chair to assist with the potty routine. As I got up my arm knocked the glass of water. It was like watching it in slow motion. The glass tipping, Warren's open, happy, unsuspecting face, the cold water pouring down, and the inevitable splash! The poor guy just looked shocked for a split second before he let out a huge wail. I got him squarely in the face and he was soaked from his shoulders to the top of his dripping head! I couldn't supress the laugh I felt as I cuddled him and changed his clothes. Poor little guy.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Citrus Surprise
So my grandma came to visit and brought a bag of oranges that she had picked from her orange tree on her property. I was delighted because I love oranges, and because they were picked ripe and therefore sweeter and healthier than oranges you buy in the store. But also because they weren't from a store they didn't look as pretty either. But I didn't care of they had a little dirt or were shaped funny, Emery and I have been peeling and eating them two and three at a time. There were a couple of oranges that looked slightly different than the others. They were paler in color, and a little smaller. But I didn't think much of it because all the other oranges looked different from storebought oranges too. So this morning I peeled a sweet fresh orange for Emery's snack and when she was done with it she asked for more. So I peeled one of the pale oranges and gave it to her in sections. And it looked good so I took one section for myself. We put them in our mouths at the same time and... It was a lemon! And I have never tasted such a sour lemon. Emery and I both got puckered looks on our faces and then I started to laugh and as soon as she got over her shock she started to laugh too. Then she took another bite, puckered, and laughed again. Ewwwww!! So I took the lemon away and gave her some raisins and animal crackers. Now I need to find something to cook that requires lemon juice so this lemon doesn't go to waste.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Incredible Milk Machine
This is my first time really breastfeeding and I am amazed by it! I am amazed that without any intervention from me, my body automatically created this perfect source of food for my baby. I'm amazed that it provides for his nutritional needs, satisfies him when he's upset or hurt, and acts as both food and drink for him.
I'm amazed that my body adjusts the amount of milk automatically based on his need, and it doesn't just know how much, it knows when to produce it!
About a week ago Warren suddenly switched from sleeping three hours at night to sleeping 5 hours. When I woke up that first morning my body had produced too much milk, in anticipation of his need. But it only took two mornings of discomfort before the milk production was adjusted for his needs. When he was first born he would nurse every hour and a half, at small quantities each time. As he gets bigger, he nurses less often but larger quantites each time. And my amazing body has no problem making this adjustment. (haha... of course it's amazing at producing milk, I probably wouldn't call it an "amazing body" in any other sense though...)
Not only that, but the milk changes over the course of time. At first, it had a yellow tinge, because it was so full of colostrum, now it's pure white and full of creamy fat. As he gets older and doesn't need so much fat anymore, I know it will adjust according to his needs. Formula can't do that.
When I think about it it astounds me how anyone could believe that my body is a product of evolution. Breastfeeding just screams intelligent design. And I am awed by it.
I'm amazed that my body adjusts the amount of milk automatically based on his need, and it doesn't just know how much, it knows when to produce it!
About a week ago Warren suddenly switched from sleeping three hours at night to sleeping 5 hours. When I woke up that first morning my body had produced too much milk, in anticipation of his need. But it only took two mornings of discomfort before the milk production was adjusted for his needs. When he was first born he would nurse every hour and a half, at small quantities each time. As he gets bigger, he nurses less often but larger quantites each time. And my amazing body has no problem making this adjustment. (haha... of course it's amazing at producing milk, I probably wouldn't call it an "amazing body" in any other sense though...)
Not only that, but the milk changes over the course of time. At first, it had a yellow tinge, because it was so full of colostrum, now it's pure white and full of creamy fat. As he gets older and doesn't need so much fat anymore, I know it will adjust according to his needs. Formula can't do that.
When I think about it it astounds me how anyone could believe that my body is a product of evolution. Breastfeeding just screams intelligent design. And I am awed by it.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
My Clever Hubby
So we're potty training in my house right now. Emery is doing quite well! I'll spare you the gory details, lets just say there's a potty in the living room and Sesame Street is my friend. And between the potty training, and the MRSA and the regular gross stuff you have to deal with when you're keeping house and watching two kids I'm washing my hands about 100 times a day! And they're starting to dry out and get cracked...
But I'm getting way off track here...
Anyway, because we're potty training, Emery is drinking tons of fluids and she goes pee in her potty about every 15-20 minutes. And every time she goes potty we do a little happy potty dance with our hands in the air saying "YAY Emery!" Then we go dump the contents of the little potty into the grownup potty and pick out a sticker. Then we put the sticker on the potty sticker chart and do another little happy potty dance! It's quite a hullabaloo every 15 or 20 minutes... really.
Well Warren is a little cuddle bug and every time he wakes up he wants to nurse. So today he would get nursing and then Emery would go in her potty and I would have to either interrupt him and set him down with a surprised look on his face while I did the potty routine, or I'd try to do the routine with him still attached and squirming in protest. He was not happy about either one of these options. But tough luck kid... when you're not the first child you don't always get first priority.
Well I was telling this to Jimmy when he came home for lunch as we passed the fussy squirming infant between us while simultaneously eating lunch, and, of course, every 15-20 minutes, doing the potty routine.
"Well" he said, winking at me from behind the baby he was juggling and the food he was trying to eat, "I might be upset if my mealtimes were constantly interrupted too."
Hahahahaha!!!
I love my husband. :)
But I'm getting way off track here...
Anyway, because we're potty training, Emery is drinking tons of fluids and she goes pee in her potty about every 15-20 minutes. And every time she goes potty we do a little happy potty dance with our hands in the air saying "YAY Emery!" Then we go dump the contents of the little potty into the grownup potty and pick out a sticker. Then we put the sticker on the potty sticker chart and do another little happy potty dance! It's quite a hullabaloo every 15 or 20 minutes... really.
Well Warren is a little cuddle bug and every time he wakes up he wants to nurse. So today he would get nursing and then Emery would go in her potty and I would have to either interrupt him and set him down with a surprised look on his face while I did the potty routine, or I'd try to do the routine with him still attached and squirming in protest. He was not happy about either one of these options. But tough luck kid... when you're not the first child you don't always get first priority.
Well I was telling this to Jimmy when he came home for lunch as we passed the fussy squirming infant between us while simultaneously eating lunch, and, of course, every 15-20 minutes, doing the potty routine.
"Well" he said, winking at me from behind the baby he was juggling and the food he was trying to eat, "I might be upset if my mealtimes were constantly interrupted too."
Hahahahaha!!!
I love my husband. :)
Monday, March 7, 2011
My Warren
My precious boy is one month old tomorrow. And I am loving every minute of him!
Emery was a pretty difficult baby. She didn't want to be held, she wouldn't be comforted and spent hours crying for no reason. She wouldn't breastfeed, would barely take a bottle, and the doctors worried and worried because she was so underweight. Plus, we were moving when she was born and Jimmy left for 4 months of field-school/army training when she was 3 weeks old. And because of her constant crying I felt like a failure as a mother, and her inability to breastfeed shocked and devastated me. Her infancy was a huge challenge for me.
Don't get me wrong, I loved my little girl with all my heart, (and still do!) but my memories of her infancy have bitter as well as sweet memories associated with them.
Warren, on the other hand, is a relatively easy baby. He breastfed with absolutely no problems from the minute he was born, even navigating the challenging engorgement phase with no problems. He is gaining weight like a champ! He weighed 7 lbs 10 oz when he was born and now he weights 9 lbs 11 oz. He did get MRSA, but despite my worst fears, it appears to be going away with relatively little harm to him at all.
I feel a deep satisfaction that he's gained so much weight with only breastmilk to eat. I think a part of me felt so inadequate with Emery and that part is healing now.
I find myself bragging about him to people who don't care... I'm one of THOSE moms! (haha!)
And when I look at him there's something deep deep inside me that loves him so much it hurts me. I feel that way about Emery now, but it took much longer with her. Sometimes I'm brought to tears just by looking at his sleeping face.
I love my little boy. So very much.
Thank you God, for my children. My darling girl, my sweet boy. Thank you. Thank you.
Naming
So when Emery wakes up in the morning the very first order of business is to identify everything in the house and who it belongs to. We begin before she ever gets out of the crib. She points to my flannel pajama pants,
"pants!" "Yes. Pants." I agree. "Mommy's!" "Yes. Mommy's pants."
"diaper!" "Yes. diaper." "Emery!" "Yes. Emery's diaper."
And it goes on from there.
Bottle: baby's.
swing: baby's.
coat: daddy's.
towel: mommy's.
blanket: baby's.
shampoo: mommy's.
potty: daddy's. (not sure how daddy gets all claim to the potty!)
computer: daddy's.
Cheerios: Emery!
And so on. And this goes on until everything in sight has been properly named and claimed by its proper owner. Things that belong to more than one person are tricky... such as the potty.
She gets particularly excited when everyone in the house has the same thing. For example:
"Mommy's chin! daddy's chin! Warren's chin! Emery's chin! baby doll's chin! stuffed bear's chin! Shadow's chin! Watson's chin! Mommy's chin! Daddy's chin! Emery's chin!..."
I love this game and don't mind repeating the name of everyone's chin endlessly. It drives Jimmy nuts, however. I always chuckle when I hear him say from the other room:
"Yes that's daddy's chin. Yes that's baby's chin. Hey Emery let's play with your truck... Yes you're right, that's Shadow's chin. Hey let's play with your puzzle Emery! Yes that's daddy's chin..."
Haha! She is not so easily distracted as she was when she was only 12 months. :)
"pants!" "Yes. Pants." I agree. "Mommy's!" "Yes. Mommy's pants."
"diaper!" "Yes. diaper." "Emery!" "Yes. Emery's diaper."
And it goes on from there.
Bottle: baby's.
swing: baby's.
coat: daddy's.
towel: mommy's.
blanket: baby's.
shampoo: mommy's.
potty: daddy's. (not sure how daddy gets all claim to the potty!)
computer: daddy's.
Cheerios: Emery!
And so on. And this goes on until everything in sight has been properly named and claimed by its proper owner. Things that belong to more than one person are tricky... such as the potty.
She gets particularly excited when everyone in the house has the same thing. For example:
"Mommy's chin! daddy's chin! Warren's chin! Emery's chin! baby doll's chin! stuffed bear's chin! Shadow's chin! Watson's chin! Mommy's chin! Daddy's chin! Emery's chin!..."
I love this game and don't mind repeating the name of everyone's chin endlessly. It drives Jimmy nuts, however. I always chuckle when I hear him say from the other room:
"Yes that's daddy's chin. Yes that's baby's chin. Hey Emery let's play with your truck... Yes you're right, that's Shadow's chin. Hey let's play with your puzzle Emery! Yes that's daddy's chin..."
Haha! She is not so easily distracted as she was when she was only 12 months. :)
Saturday, March 5, 2011
MRSA
So here are my thoughts on MRSA.
First: it is the bane of my existence.
Now that we got that out of the way lets talk about it.
MRSA stands for Methicillin-Resistant Staphlyococcus Aureus. Basically, it's a bacterial infection that has been created by our western society's misuse and overuse of antibiotics and antibacterial products. It's a Staph bacteria that is resistant to the regular antibiotics.
It presents as a series of pimples or an abscess usually in an area that is moist and warm, such as the groin, bottom, or armpit area, or sometimes it appears wherever there is an open sore on the skin.
It is treated with a special kind of antibiotics, but even those can't completely get rid of it. The only way to get rid of it is to open the abscess and completely drain it.
And from what I understand, it never goes away completely. Therefore, since both my kids have it now (yes, we found out today that my 3-week-old son has it too) they will apparently have recurring problems with it the rest of their lives, or until medical science finds a better way to treat it.
My impression from the research that I've done, and the conflicting information I've gotten from multiple doctors is that this infection is so "new" in medical science that there isn't a lot of good solid information out there about it. Even the different doctors in the pediatric group we go to have different opinions about how to deal with it. One doctor told me that when the infection went away we should throw away all antibacterial products from our house (since overuse of antibacterial products in general is what caused this super-bug) and go on with life. Another doctor told me that we should wash ourselves with a special antiseptic soap and take bleach baths once a week for the rest of our lives. The rest of our lives!! And other doctors have told us every other variation in-between. Clearly, no one knows what to do about this.
I also found out that about 40% of the American population are carriers of this infection.
I also know that I am fighting an inclination to sink into depression. I usually try to be positive and upbeat on this blog, but to be completely honest this thing has almost beat me.
My poor babies are suffering and I am helpless. I swing wildly from frenzied action (bleach baths for everyone in the house, endless loads of laundry with bleach and antiseptic wipes over everything) to fits of uncontrollable sobbing to sitting on my couch in quiet hopelessness. I have my good times too, don't get me wrong, but it's surely hard to stay positive with these postpartum hormones raging and all this stuff going on.
I don't know what to do and I don't know who to ask. And when people offer to help me I don't have anything for them to do but pray. How can they help? Can they keep my babies from suffering?
So I'll keep praying and when I cry out I'll cry out to God. He's the only one that can help me now.
First: it is the bane of my existence.
Now that we got that out of the way lets talk about it.
MRSA stands for Methicillin-Resistant Staphlyococcus Aureus. Basically, it's a bacterial infection that has been created by our western society's misuse and overuse of antibiotics and antibacterial products. It's a Staph bacteria that is resistant to the regular antibiotics.
It presents as a series of pimples or an abscess usually in an area that is moist and warm, such as the groin, bottom, or armpit area, or sometimes it appears wherever there is an open sore on the skin.
It is treated with a special kind of antibiotics, but even those can't completely get rid of it. The only way to get rid of it is to open the abscess and completely drain it.
And from what I understand, it never goes away completely. Therefore, since both my kids have it now (yes, we found out today that my 3-week-old son has it too) they will apparently have recurring problems with it the rest of their lives, or until medical science finds a better way to treat it.
My impression from the research that I've done, and the conflicting information I've gotten from multiple doctors is that this infection is so "new" in medical science that there isn't a lot of good solid information out there about it. Even the different doctors in the pediatric group we go to have different opinions about how to deal with it. One doctor told me that when the infection went away we should throw away all antibacterial products from our house (since overuse of antibacterial products in general is what caused this super-bug) and go on with life. Another doctor told me that we should wash ourselves with a special antiseptic soap and take bleach baths once a week for the rest of our lives. The rest of our lives!! And other doctors have told us every other variation in-between. Clearly, no one knows what to do about this.
I also found out that about 40% of the American population are carriers of this infection.
I also know that I am fighting an inclination to sink into depression. I usually try to be positive and upbeat on this blog, but to be completely honest this thing has almost beat me.
My poor babies are suffering and I am helpless. I swing wildly from frenzied action (bleach baths for everyone in the house, endless loads of laundry with bleach and antiseptic wipes over everything) to fits of uncontrollable sobbing to sitting on my couch in quiet hopelessness. I have my good times too, don't get me wrong, but it's surely hard to stay positive with these postpartum hormones raging and all this stuff going on.
I don't know what to do and I don't know who to ask. And when people offer to help me I don't have anything for them to do but pray. How can they help? Can they keep my babies from suffering?
So I'll keep praying and when I cry out I'll cry out to God. He's the only one that can help me now.
Monday, February 28, 2011
The Joys of Potty Training
I'm back! The end of my pregnancy was uncomfortable and stressful as I tried to prepare lesson plans for the 6 weeks I was going to be gone, and finished all other obligations as well.
When I finally went on maternity leave I was so relieved! My mom got here on Friday February 4 and Warren James Painter came into the world at 3:56am on February 8. He is so precious and I'm completely bananas for him.
While Jimmy and I were in the hospital, my mom was working really hard on potty training Emery. We have been doing months and months of preparing for training, but my mom started doing some more direct and intensive work on it. And Emery was taking to it like a fish to water! She loved sitting on her potty, she loved wearing her "big-girl panties" (that mom had to alter just so they would be small enough for her skinny bottom!) and she was successfully alerting us in time to rush to the potty and get her diaper off before going. Both number 1 and number 2! We were so thrilled about it when we got back from the hospital. But it was only about 3 days after we got back from the hospital that Emery got her fever.
The fever was quite high, hovering around 103 most of the time. The fever lasted 6 days and after repeated visits to the doctor and Emery complaining that her bottom "hurts!" we got a diagnosis. MRSA.
The abscess on her bottom was so large and painful that she couldn't even sit down for many days. The fever went raging on even after we started the antibiotics. It was a horrible and painful process that I really don't need to get into online, but we've been to the doctor at least 10 times in the past 3 weeks and it's only just now starting to clear up.
So yesterday when I was sure she wasn't in any pain anymore I thought we would start up with the potty training again (which had been halted because she couldn't sit on the potty... too painful). But Emery is absolutely 100% against sitting on the potty now. I don't know whether she associates the potty with her pain or is resisting because of the upset of a new brother, or what, but she absolutely, kicking and screaming, refuses to sit on the potty.
I'm so disappointed. It was going SO well!!
Stupid MRSA.
So we packed up the little potty in the closet where she can't see it and we're avoiding the word potty in the house right now. In two or three weeks we'll pull it out again and see how it goes. Maybe she'll be less threatened by it by then.
Wish us luck!
When I finally went on maternity leave I was so relieved! My mom got here on Friday February 4 and Warren James Painter came into the world at 3:56am on February 8. He is so precious and I'm completely bananas for him.
While Jimmy and I were in the hospital, my mom was working really hard on potty training Emery. We have been doing months and months of preparing for training, but my mom started doing some more direct and intensive work on it. And Emery was taking to it like a fish to water! She loved sitting on her potty, she loved wearing her "big-girl panties" (that mom had to alter just so they would be small enough for her skinny bottom!) and she was successfully alerting us in time to rush to the potty and get her diaper off before going. Both number 1 and number 2! We were so thrilled about it when we got back from the hospital. But it was only about 3 days after we got back from the hospital that Emery got her fever.
The fever was quite high, hovering around 103 most of the time. The fever lasted 6 days and after repeated visits to the doctor and Emery complaining that her bottom "hurts!" we got a diagnosis. MRSA.
The abscess on her bottom was so large and painful that she couldn't even sit down for many days. The fever went raging on even after we started the antibiotics. It was a horrible and painful process that I really don't need to get into online, but we've been to the doctor at least 10 times in the past 3 weeks and it's only just now starting to clear up.
So yesterday when I was sure she wasn't in any pain anymore I thought we would start up with the potty training again (which had been halted because she couldn't sit on the potty... too painful). But Emery is absolutely 100% against sitting on the potty now. I don't know whether she associates the potty with her pain or is resisting because of the upset of a new brother, or what, but she absolutely, kicking and screaming, refuses to sit on the potty.
I'm so disappointed. It was going SO well!!
Stupid MRSA.
So we packed up the little potty in the closet where she can't see it and we're avoiding the word potty in the house right now. In two or three weeks we'll pull it out again and see how it goes. Maybe she'll be less threatened by it by then.
Wish us luck!
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