How To Potty Train Your Stubborn Two Year Old

This blogging hiatus brought to you in part by the strong willed, determined and feisty two year old shown below.

 

She looks cute, no?

Two weeks ago I had the opportunity to stare at that adorable face for approximately 10 hours per day. Which would be entirely enjoyable if those 10 hours staring weren't spent on the cold and uncomfortable bathroom floor begging her to put her pee-pee in the potty.

Because someday (a long, LONG time from now) little Mimi will undoubtedly have her own cute, strong willed little offspring that will require potty training I have decided to document the steps that worked for her. Mimi- you can call me to thank me thirty years from now from your own bathroom floor.

STEP 1: Gather the supplies.

I scrounged up at least 20 pairs of underpants, a variety of juices, milk and water to offer constantly, a doll that would be "potty trained" at the same time, skittles for a reward, and a plethora of cleaning wipes.

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Wine, though not pictured, is perhaps the most essential supply.

STEP 2: Strip the pants and be prepared to spend all the hours in your bathroom.

For two days straight, we went no where and I let you run the house in underpants only. Using the doll, we taught you the difference between wet underpants and dry underpants and periodically would ask you if you were wet or dry. Drinks were offered constantly and I brought you to the bathroom every hour even when you insisted (read: screamed and cried) you didn't have to go.

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Accidents were frequent, time spent in the bathroom was exponential and wine, though not pictured, may have been was consumed on the cold and uncomfortable floor.


STEP 3: Don't give up. Day 3 brought an hour clocked in the bathroom and two accidents before 9 AM. Coincidentally it also brought tears from me and you. As much as I love hanging out in the bathroom, I was DONE. And you were too. Rather than throwing in the towel, I decided to put the training in your hands on Day 3. After your second accident, I explained it was now up to you to let me know when you had to use the potty.

Crazy, right?

BUT this harebrained idea actually worked. After 9 AM, you had NO more accidents on Day 3. NONE. And leaving the training up to you resulted in way less hours on the bathroom floor. I was able to drink my wine on the couch like the civilized mother I am.

STEP 4: Drink a bottle of wine with your husband to celebrate. Make it an expensive bottle of wine-you no longer have to buy diapers, right ?

Mila- I am so, so proud of you Peanut! You did it! Someday ( a long LONG time from now) I'll look back on the two days I spent locked in a bathroom with you and miss it so much.

...........................................I now return you to your regular blogging schedule already in progress.

Tyson's Last First Day of Preschool

Dear Tyson,

Today is your third first day of preschool. It's hard to believe it's been two years since we first said watched you walk into the doors of Little Angels.  My, how you've changed!

Two years when we dropped you off, you were so, so tiny-standing a full three chain links below the preschool sign. You were timid, shy and nervous. On the first day, you cried and held tight to my leg, so, I cried and held tight to my heart.

 

Your first year of preschool taught you to listen to a teacher.  It taught you to share with your friends and follow the rules. You learned about circle time and walking in a line and a life without Mommy or Daddy there.

Last year, you had grown-your tiny head stood just below the sign. You wore a brave smile and confidently led me to your classroom. I proudly left you there with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face.

Last year in preschool you learned how to be a leader. You met new friends that you invited over for playdates. You brought home art projects and new songs and stories about Jesus. You learned how to cut and perfected writing you name.

Today you stood tall-your head slightly above the sign. You practically ditched me at the door and ran into your classroom. I smiled and waved goodbye. No tears were shed until I sat down to write this note and had time to reflect on the confident, happy and smart little boy I had left behind.

School will be a little different this year-new teachers, new classroom, more friends to play with-but you're ready. You're ready for routine and learning and change and growth. You've got this, buddy.

And, coincidentally,  I've got approximately 365 days to deal with accepting the fact that you will head off to Kindergarten next year.

Best of luck to both of us.

Love you and so, so proud of you,

Momma

Off To The Races

I decided to run my first 5K nine days before the actual race. When I arrived at the starting line, I had only ran 3.1 miles consecutively on three other occasions. I was intimidated and nervous. My running shoes were at least 5 years old, I had no idea where to pin on my racing bib (is it called a bib?), and I planned on running with my iPhone in my hand.

26 minutes and 49 seconds later, I crossed the finish line while simultaneously crossing an item off my bucket list.

Tyson decided to run his first tot trot less than 24 hours before the actual race. He didn't train at all, ran with a shark painted on his cheek, a smile plastered across his face and blue hair spray in his hair.

35 seconds later, he crossed the finish line.

26 minutes and 49 seconds was fast enough to claim 5th place in my age group, 21st place for women, and 66th place overall. While I found these stats brag-worthy, Tyson just wanted to know why I was fast enough to get a medal or a ribbon.

35 seconds was fast enough to claim 1st place in the tot trot. And a ribbon.

Touche.

We are currently considering signing up for our second race at the end of October where I have lofty ambitions to win a ribbon or a medal. Game on, Buddy.

Mimi's First Day of Preschool

My Little Mimi,

Tomorrow morning you start preschool. You are hesitant and scared and I know you will shed body convulsing tears when I leave you behind.

 

Want to know a little secret, Peanut? I'm scared too. And even though you'll only see the reassuring smile I have plastered to my face, I'll be crying as I pull out of the parking lot and leave you behind. Maybe not body convulsing tears, but crying nonetheless.

We need to be brave tomorrow, Mimi. Drop off will be difficult and scary, but it will be worth it, I promise. School will be worth it.

At school you will meet new friends and learn from a new teacher. You will paint and color and play with playdough-all things you love doing at home, but now you'll do them at school. You'll sing songs-some that you already know and others that you will learn. You'll play "Ring Around the Rosie" and dance to new music. You'll play at a new playground-the slides look awesome! You'll gain self confidence. You'll learn how to share. You'll play with new toys, read new books and play new games.

You'll be good, Mimi. School will be good.

Your teachers will love your manners and your humor and your incredibly large for your age vocabulary. Your friends will love the songs that you can make up on the spot, your hugs and your  undying love for babies.

So, tomorrow, lets be scared AND brave. Let's cry body convulsing tears because we'll miss each other, but smile room brightening smiles for all the new things you'll get to see and do and learn

I'm excited for you, baby. Go, learn, be brave, and have fun.

I'll be there waiting to hear all about it when school is done.

Love,

Momma

Mila 2.5

Little Mimi,

Today you are two and a half.

I know! I KNOW! I'd bore you with the details about how it feels like we just brought you home yesterday, but you only sit still for so long these days.

Two and a half is hard, Mimi. For both of us. You are sassy, spunky, strong-willed, determined and every other adjective one can think of to politely say you are deep in the throws of the terrible twos.

A spitfire, I tell ya. And a cute one to boot-the worst combination.

It's hard and some days I feel like pulling my hair out, but just when I think I can't muster up the energy to calmly handle another tantrum I hear you quietly singing in the living room-a made up song with a chorus that repeats, " I love Mommy! I love Mommy! I LOVE YOU MOMMA!"

And my heart melts.

You are, unfailingly, a Mommy's girl at two and a half-it's the redeeming quality that accompanies your terrible twos. It's my name you yell out each morning when you wake. If anyone were to ask you what you dreamt about the night before you will always reply, "Momma." You beg me to "cawwy you" wherever we go, you seek me out in a crowd for reassurance and it's my name you chant as you drift off to sleep.

I hope you are a Mommy's girl at age five, too. And at age fifteen and at age thirty. And so on and so on.

Separation anxiety is currently kicking both of our butts. You are terrified of being left some place without Mommy by your side. We both (barely) survived your first go at summer school.  You're not a fan of strangers talking to you. Or smiling at you. Or, heck, even looking at you. You'll start a pre-preschool program at a local church in a few weeks and I'm sure there will be tears from both of us on drop off day. I'm hoping and praying mine won't fall until I'm safely out of your sight.

You are officially a "girly" girl -you love high heels and dresses and skirts and babies. You adore your brother and have taken to calling Daddy, "DAN!" You are smart-you can count to twenty two, sing the ABCs and spell your name with ease. You like to dance and sing. You have the vocabulary of a six year old. You love to play doctor and school. You are terrified of tubing behind the boat and hand dryers in public restrooms. You beg me to rub your back every night before bed. You love cuddling and Maisy books. You could live on cherry tomatoes and cheese sticks.

 

 

 

You are charming and energetic, fun and a little crazy. You make our lives happier, wilder and fuller. Each morning when you call my name, I am so happy to come in and see your sweet face again.

Happy 2.5, peanut!

Love you,

Momma

Mila Has an Extra Tooth and Tyson Has a Stronger Arm

Last Thursday, we were told that Mila has an extra tooth and Tyson has a stronger arm.  I'm slightly worried we need to lay off the use of pesticides in our garden. Or reduce the chemicals I use to clean the bathtub.

In the morning, we took both kids to the dentist. It was Mila's first trip to the actual dentist chair. Our attempt last winter resulted in lots of screaming and a dentist opinion that she had an extra tooth. She wouldn't confirm her suspicions until we could get x-rays, but did manage to count 9 teeth in a mouth that was only supposed to have 8. I'm not sure we needed an x-ray to confirm that math, but I'm also not a dentist.

After much bribery (including three bouncy balls, a Belle toothbrush, a pink chicken and a promise for ice cream), we obtained the conclusive proof via x-ray-girlfriend has an extra tooth.

Upon further thought, the extra tooth could also be attributed to the liberal amounts of steroid creams I was prescribed to slather on her face repeatedly for two years due to eczema.

We're told the extra baby tooth could be nothing at all. Or it could mean there are also extra adult teeth (yes, plural). Or it could also mean she's missing adult teeth (again with the plural). So really, they have no clue.

At this point, we're in a holding pattern until we can get additional x-rays showing her adult teeth. Or, until the adult teeth come in and we hire a mathematician (but apparently not the dentist) to add up what's in there vs. what should be in there.

Until then, we have this extra toothy grin to admire.

Thursday afternoon, after 17 days in a cast, we took Tyson to the doctor to get it cut off (the cast-not the arm).  According to the doctor, x-rays taken after the cast was removed showed a stronger and harder bone at the fracture site. His doctor said this was pretty common in kid fractures, but Tyson did spend an awful lot of time picking vegetables while in his cast and Daddy did spray an awful lot of pesticides on the Asian beetles invading our garden.

I'm happy (and slightly terrified) to report that Tyson is already busy using his new and improved elbow in ways that could easily lead to a second fracture.  So, don't be surprised if one day he's the strongest kid ever.

Summer School is Over

Summer school ended last week. Coincidentally, so did my quiet Wednesday mornings, my Wednesday afternoons at the pool and the occasional beer with my Wednesday lunch. I think I'll miss summer school more than they will.

Oh who am I kidding? I know I'll miss it more than they will.

That's not to say that Tyson didn't love running wild for 6 hours each week with his friend Drew. Or that Mila didn't like playing my little pony with her friend Leah every Wednesday. I know Tyson loved going to the Monkey House and Chuck E Cheese and seeing the Wizard of Oz play. Mila loved their playground and the gym. Tyson still talks about the puzzles they had there and Mila brought home the most amazing paintings that still adorn our walls.

Oh, yes, despite the crying fits Mila displayed at every.single.dropoff. they both LOVED summer school and they'll both miss it.

But, I'll miss it more.