Potty Training 103

“It's been said that adults spend the first two years of their children's lives trying to make them walk and talk, and the next sixteen years trying to get them to sit down and shut up.
It's the same way with potty training: Most adults spend the first few years of a child's life cheerfully discussing pee and poopies, and how important it is to learn to put your pee-pee and poo-poo in the potty like big people do.
But once children have mastered the art of toilet training, they are immeadiately forbidden to ever talk about poop, pee, toilets and other bathroom-related subjects again. Such things are now considered rude and vulgar, and are no longer rewarded with praise and cookies and juice boxes.
One day you're a superstar because you pooped in the toilet like a big boy, and the next day you're sitting in the principal's office because you said the word "poopy" in American History class (which, if you ask me, is the perfect place to say that word).”
― Dav Pilkey, Captain Underpants and the Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People

mmhmmm....I did totally take this pic...you know you would want to.

I'm not quite sure what it is with my boys and learning to use the toilet.
Kendall was like, 'lets get this party started!'
This summer the beast will learn to use the potty. He honestly has no interest in this. But he is 3. And sometimes with the male species you just have to make them do it.

With my offspring potty training occurs with some good old fashioned bribery. I have no shame in it.
It's quite simple you get one awesome thing that they want within budget of course. We aren't talking a trip to Disney because you can piss in the pot.

This can take some time to figure out what the ultimate thing might be because they are very flighty. One day it might be Legos. One day it might be a hockey net. The next it will be superheroes. So you really have to hone in on what it might be that has them just salivating to get their hands on. Then you get that item, you show it to them, and then like an awesome mom, you sit it right on top of the fridge out of reach completely.

I have narrowed this down for Jake to be a Razor Scooter. He is still cruising around on his three wheeled scooter, but every chance he gets he swipes one of his siblings and takes off with someone chasing after him. The kids in the hood are all about the scooters this summer.  There is always a pile of them on my front lawn which apparently is their parking garage. I don't know how they tell whose is who's because there isn't much of a color selection, but at the end of the day, they do. You might even catch me racing them down the street. I take no responsibilities for injuries acquired while trying to kick my butt. It's balls to the wall, every man for himself. Listen, a mama has to get her highs somewhere.

Candy treats are restricted while potty training. No one in this house gets any sort of candy until the potty trainee uses the potty. We then we all get a piece and make the biggest deal over a miniature Reese's cup or lollipop like we are getting the best thing in the entire world handed to us just because a certain someone uses the potty.

We take no prisoners here.

I have attempted to take him undies shopping a few times. He has absolutely zero interest. I'm like super excited in the Target aisle, 'Jake!!!!!!! Look these have the Wolverine on them, his whole face on the back!!!! These are so awesome!!!' He looks at me like everyone else in the aisle in that moment like, 'Seriously Lady, its underwear.'

A kid is ready for potty training when they stop mid sentence, let out a sigh with a look of relief on their face and say, 'I just peed,' and that's all there is to it. So I will get excited all over the Target underwear aisle and peace meal pieces of candy. The scooter will be placed on the fridge and the sticker chart will go right under it...we don't get that scooter until all we do is pee in the pot during waking hours and deuce in the toilet 5 times in a row with no accidents, just skid marks.

Mama don't play.

Watch out for puddles on the hardwood when you come to visit...puddles and flip flops can be killers. You've been warned.

I'm thinking about potty training the cat too. Sister can really mess up a litter box in her old age. Something tells me, the cat might win this race.

Hen's Night

I am not a party animal by any means.
O.k. well perhaps I used to be at one point in time. I will admit that there were many times that the kitchen or bathroom tile felt just absolutely heavenly to my then nauseous and room spinning self, from too many lemon drops or way back in the day zimas with jolly ranchers placed in the bottle. Oh. It still makes my stomach churn when I think of those. I think I need to go and find some nice cold tile for a few minutes...be back.

I really find it astonishing that I wasn't concerned in the slightest about the sanitary wrongness of these actions. There are moments I am so not proud of that I would look at my friend who was lying inches from me vowing the same things as I, to never ever drink that much again, and then thanking the nice cold floor for being so healing. The whole thing just ridiculous. Was Dave Matthews really that awesome that we needed to see him 23 billion times in the same place or was that just the haze? The jury is still out.

I will admit, many fun times. None of which my daughter will be having.
Now, there is just no way I would choose to partake in times like these on purpose.
Beyond all the unnecessariness of it, have you woken up with a hang over with children?
Let me just tell you, HERE is the beginning of the day and then end of the day is like in North Dakota and you have to get there while carrying three children on your back, walking, barefoot, with one of them banging Thors Hammer into your head. This is what a hangover feels like now. You cannot just sleep the day away flat out on your back, drool coming out the corner of your mouth. Responsibilities people!!!

So when it comes to Bachelorette Parties you can imagine that all things that a Bachelorette Party were when you are in your mid twenties, kind of becomes a little unnecessary when you get into your thirties. I know. I am fuddy duddy. But going to see male dancers is never as it was in the movie, Magic Mike. It just isn't, and that's why its the movies. POP!! And there, I burst your bubble. I readily admit if you told me that I was going to a party and Channing Tatum was going to be dancing and then, although not in the movie, Ryan Gosling was going to make a special appearance, I could be persuaded to change my mind. But this is not the case and it never will be. I live near the Jersey Shore. This should be enough said.

My baby, baby sister is getting married in just under two weeks. The man she is bringing into the family is probably the best thing around. He's a great cook and a great personal trainer, and you can't ask for more then that. Ok, ok, he does have some pretty awesome qualities as well. You should totally meet him. Ask him to get you in shape and also cook you some pasta. Really, if I knew he was cooking for me at the finish line of some triathlon he trained me for, I would totally do it. Now I'm hungry.

In the wedding party,  there is a wide range of lady status' all from the same family. One is pregnant, one isn't 21 yet and certainly does not drink yet...in college...6 hours away from home...come on, one had 3 children to return to, care for, and over all function for,  and two are probably age appropriate for an over the top bachelorette shin dig. So meeting in the middle was probably pretty necessary.

So my other baby sister, the preggo, took the reigns, and planned the party weekend out of her homebase in Delaware. We had some spa treating in her living room, because why go out when you can drink wine and eat teenie weenies at home while someone else is soaking your feet? Not only that, it was 50 million degrees outside. At one point my mom and aunt decided to take a walk and were back within 10 minutes; heat, wine drinking, and brisk walks are not a good combination, in case you were wondering, cause they apparently were.

So we lazed the afternoon away doing this and answering prompted questions surrounding bachelorette ideas...like worst date ever...thing you noticed first about your future fiance. She totally said his butt, and come on, he totally has to sell his product...who would work out with a trainer who doesn't have a good bum?

We then got all gussied up for a dinner out on the town. My sister had chosen a tapas themed restaurant that I would totally recommend you hit up on your next jaunt to Wilmington, Delaware called Orillias. As previously mentioned, I do not partake in any excess drinking on purpose. I am a little bit strange, in that if the taste of the alcohol is stronger then the taste of the rest of the stuff in the beverage then I am out. So here is where Sangria might come into play. O.k. maybe it did come into play and by the end of the dinner my cousin sitting next to me were totally picking the fruit out of our empty glasses to eat with our fingers. We are that classy, but fruit that has been soaking in that yummy beverage is soooo good after downing like 8 glasses...dude, some of that food was spicy!

 

After plate upon plate upon plate of food, and a conversation in the bathroom about liking subway tile, but not before a brief inspection of teeth by other resident fruit eater of her sister and my other cousin, we headed back to my sisters house for some desserts and go to Bachelorette Party games. By the way...if you are in need of a Penis Pinata for any event, please let me know, my sister ordered one that did not come in time for the party. You know for a Bris, a gender reveal party, something like that. This will go totally fast, get your bid in.

I totally do not remember falling asleep. I am however keenly aware of the headached and dry mouth I had the next morning all while my eye makeup was smeared down my face. Again, classy.

We had some yummy breakfast and a vat of coffee each, and they headed out for yoga. I skipped this part of the event to get home to my children...I totally had a big day ahead of me, being North Dakota is so very far away.

Oh and I am totally not getting paid for this product advertisement. However, after a night of drinking, some spanish food, and 64 ounces of strong coffee with cream you might feel a little rumble. Sticking with the classy theme, I recommend THIS product to have by your commode. No joke. Works fantastically. If you live with a man, it might just be a necessity. Just sayin.

She's having a baby.

When a sister is having a baby and you are pretty sure you done having some of your own you get all sorts of excited. My uterus just yelled, 'PRETTY SURE!?!?! Oh hell no sister, we are done. You think the occasional and unexpected piddle in your pants when you laugh, run, cough, jump, or sneeze is bad...I am going to abuse the urine system so bad Depends are on your weekly shopping trip list!!!!'

The reason is simply just like this; you get to coddle, spoil, smoosh, and love on a little baby with all your might and then when the moment hits be like, 'ok. that was fun, here's your fussy baby back I think it wants YOUR boob.'  O.k. so I totally didn't breast feed my kids. WHAT!?!?!?!? It goes like this....even if my milk had come in fully, even if I hadn't gotten thrush, even if I knew I would get over the razor blades babies have stored under their gums that come out upon sucking, I just don't think I would have stuck with it. You breast feed, awesome. I didn't. As I look out my window upon children racing through the yard screaming at each other I think they are doing alright. Perhaps not genius', but they will be able to obtain employment.

So my sister who was married last year is now officially 'with child.' You go through the waiting period of 12 weeks to announce this to the world because of all the sucky 'what ifs' that some people, like me, go through and then you are like, 'HEY!!!! I'M NOT JUST GETTING FAT FOR FUN PEOPLE!!! NO, I AM NOT TRYING TO ATTEMPT TO LOOK LIKE THE WALKING DEAD!!! I AM PREGNANT!!!'

Then they only tell immediate family, then extended, then facebook, and then your sister can blog about it. It's all about order people.

I will toot my horn and totally say I knew it probably about the same time she found out she was pregnant. Listen...I am like the 'with child' whisperer. No, I am totally not, but I know how a newly pregnant person acts because of course I acted like this as well, and I am totally a people watcher and very nosey. What?!?!?! Come on. Me??? Nosey??? I dare you to try and hide something from me.

So my sister came to one of my child's birthday parties looking like she hadn't slept in approximately 73.5 days, the slightly dark circles under the eyes were just rearing their ugly head. I turned to my other sister and said, 'yo, she's pregnant.' Other sister was like, 'no, I don't think so, didn't she have wine?'  Then I was like, oh yeah, this sister has not had something growing in her uterus attempting to take over your entire body, so her opinion right now isn't very reputable as much as I love her.  As I was sitting next to possibly pregnant sister, her hubs then came up to her and was like, 'hey babe, you need anything? Drink of water, maybe?,'  and then proceeded to lovingly brush her hair back. And all of you that have been with child are like, 'oh yes, of course, that was the icing on the cake.'

Poor fellow. He is a newbie at this. There are code words and statements you do not say aloud around other women unless you of course want them to know you are talking in code. I do agree, this man is a sweetheart and thoughtful, and all that. But asking your wife who looks like she rose from the dead, who has not stated that she is not feeling well, if she needs anything at your inlaws house is code for, she is with child.

The Future Madre y Padre.

 

 



So I just waited it out, and would tell her every so often that she was pregnant just to make her feel awkward. I mean what is a big sister for, really?

So...on to 'Aunt Land,' I go. I am truly truly so very excited. I love me babies and a growing family. I love the way a baby smells. My nose will be afixed to this child's scalp. Totally normal, promise. I can't wait to swaddle that turkey up nice and tight in its blankie and hold it until my arm wants to fall off. This probably sounds like I would want another of my own. I assure you, this is not the case. Besides that, my ovaries just walked out the door with suitcases.

Totally weird though when your sister gets knocked up. I mean not in the, I know what you do behind closed doors, type of thing. Just that this is the person you used to torment endlessly and now they are giving life to a little soul. You try so very hard to keep a tight lip as someone goes through pregnancy. Most especially when you are the oldest sister and typically always have an opinion. Just sayin. So you try to let their experience be their own, and not being all like, 'yes, you see its true, I wasn't exaggerating being pregnant, is in fact miserable.' 

 

Best part is about this picture is that I totally remember this outfit and on most days when recalling my sister in my head this is what she still looks like. And she's going to be a MOTHER!?!?

 



Here are some other fun facts you do not share with pregnant sibling:

1. That pain in your back honey, oh that's just the beginning, wait until that thing rests its ass on your sciatic nerve for 8 weeks because it seems like a really awesome place to nest and grow. That decision will now affect you for life.

2. Oh, you're in the second trimester now? Sleep like your life depends on it. Because in fact, it does. This is it. Once that thing has reached maximum space capacity at about in your uterus and decides to stretch out your skin with all its might until it decides its a good day to make it's appearance up until the age of maybe your youngest leaving home, sleep as you know it now, is gone forever. The second trimester is now your safe place.

3. I am aware that you do not want to know the sex, so don't study closely because hamburger buns are a girl and a bunless hot dog is a boy. Ultrasounds have come a long way. I knew Jake was a boy before the woman even pointed his weens out.

4.  You are really not eating for two. I really hate to break it to you. You will give birth, and a few days later convince yourself that there is another one in there that they forgot to take out. Sadly, this is not true. Do not go home and attempt to put on anything other then the yoga pants your wore until you were the size of a small house. Muffin top takes on a whole new meaning. Its more like, science experiment gone wrong and goo is puddling over the top of your pants.

5. Privacy? I don't even know what the meaning of this word is anymore. There is no privacy after having children. So if you, or your hubs is not o.k. with an audience while using the bathroom or dressing and changing, well you probably should start practicing now or hold everything until they are fast asleep, but even then, this is not a guarantee to privacy. I, however, do not volunteer to be the gopher.

6. Birth.

7. Listen, I don't think I need to mention anything more then that word listed above. My sisters have watched me birth a child. But let me tell you something, although you may now have a good idea about time frame and what to expect with the whole delivering a child thing, nothing, absolutely nothing, not even the best doula in the world, can prepare you for birth. I have done it three times and wouldn't know how to prepare someone fully. All I can sum it up is as, it will hurt like a mother f-----. It will end though. You think you are dying, but it will end...eventually.

8. Along those same lines, epidural. Dude, don't go all She-ra on me. Birth in a pool, birth in a hot tub in your back yard, just make sure the anesthesiologist makes house calls and you have proper extension cords needed for the I.V. Nothing, not even your mom, can coax you through this pain. Take a trip on the modern medicine train, thank Jesus for it, and let them stick that needle in your back. They could have stuck a needle in my eye at that point and told me I would be blind in that eye for life and I still would have been like, 'GIVE ME THE MEDICINE!!!!'

9. Things are just going to start happening to your body that are just really unattractive. They are totally not controllable, so go with it. Case in point, that one day you get in the shower and your breasts are squirting milk out like they are super soakers. Yes, I realize you did not sign up for this. Wait until you go to take your first dump after birth, how about that?  You will now be convinced that there indeed is another child that was left in there, and it got its directions confused. And whatever you do, don't take a mirror to the nether regions. Horror.

10. You are going to do things and say things you never dreamed you would ever do. Like study a child's poo and overly obsess about it. You will look out windows in the dark of night and cry because everyone is sleeping out there but you and this child. You will taste milk that is not from a cow just to make sure it isn't too hot. You will walk around with spit up down your back all day because you didn't know it was there, and everyone else felt so bad for you so they didn't mention it. You will go days without a shower...you say no way, but you will, it will be so long you will sniff your pits and really have to think about when the last time your showered was. You will contemplate securing a pillow over the face of the child's father who just sleeps and snores the night away as if there is not a wide awake child in your arms.

But see, I would never let my sister know all this unless of course she asked. I will just welcome her to the club and give her that reassuring nod that comes with having endured a battle so great, that only the strong survive.

Seriously, thank god I am going to be an aunt.

T minus six months until the little turkey arrives.

Totally a boy. Calling it right now.

The Graduate

Cue Pomp & Circumstance.

(Editor's Note: Thats one of his BFF's in front of him. I know this without looking away from the lens in my camera because hands in pockets and sweet outfits equal swagger and a friend of E's...this is the future Ralph Lauren graduating mind you.)

 



So the middle graduated from Pre K this week.
Kendall finds this highly unfair. Then in normal fashion gets all reminiscent and says,  'I just love my class this year...we are totally going to miss each other this summer. We spend 7 hours a day together, what are we going to do when we don't do that everyday!?!?'
DRAMA.
I don't know. Swim. Go on vacation. Drive me crazy.

As previously mentioned, I had decided to give E one more year until he went to kindergarten.
Best decision. Big high five to myself...a good parenting decision...maybe I can do this.

If you are thinking that perhaps your child is just not right for kindergarten, or someone blatantly points that out to you, give them one more year. You totally don't have to take my advice, they won't take your kid away from you, but your life will be a lot easier.

E is a kid, that in most cases, will not do something until he knows he has it right. This can be extremely frustrating when attempting to know if he at least gets the gist of the alphabet or what number he can count to.

This year things came flowing out of him like I don't know what, I was going to say vomit or pee, but you know, that's just inappropriate.

And he made himself some tight friends.

 

The graduation ceremony was Tuesday night. In the past E has kind of mouthed the words, looked uncomfortable, and was probably sweating bullets. So I prepared for much of the same. Must.Not.Make.Eye.Contact. Flooding him with praises none the less, because we got it and understood Ethan. He would rather run through flames then stand in front of an audience. I was fussing with Jake when the first song began, because I mean why be a three year old if you don't fuss when you aren't supposed to. I began to hear this loud singing voice that sounded like E's start leading the pack. I threw a juice box and some matchbox cars into Jake's lap, and had to look up before the moment passed.

But it didn't.

My Middle Child. Singing. Mouth wide open carrying a tune like this was his job.
They sang a bunch of songs, he didn't once falter or become uncomfortable.
They then played a tune on xylophone.
Apparently this kid has some musical skills.
Who would have known? Not me.
Next he will whip out some Beethoven on the piano.


Listen this kid makes me mush.
To see him be proud of himself melted my heart.
I also cried when I signed him up for kindergarten. I'm not ashamed. Him standing there doing the eye exam looking all grown up.
So of course I was a mess at this graduation.
Look out for high school graduation.
This mom will have banners, megaphones, a 5 piece band. I will be standing on the bleachers....'MY BAAAAABBBBYYYY!!!!'

I pulled him aside when graduation festivities were over. I told him how proud he made me and that I loved him so much. I also then told him to stop playing me...totally onto his game.

E & His Teacher...something tells me this woman is owed a ton of my gratitude.

My Baby

The weasel turned 3 on the 4th.
I still refer to him as the baby.
I think this might be stuck on him for life.

The baby on the Jaguar because that is what Diego has. Alright...so clearly he is not a baby, and perhaps not even the size of a toddler, I really don't care what you think, he's my baby.

'Shhhhh.....the baby is taking a nap!!!!!!!!!' But it's very simple, if you wake Jake from a nap before he has made the decision that he is refreshed and ready to continue on with his day, you will have hell to pay. There is no fury greater in this house then Jake awake before he wants to be. I have been known to leap down flights of stairs when E brings his buddies in here for a refreshment break to silence them before Jake hears them. That's right I will break my bones to keep him asleep, it is that serious.

' I have to give the baby something for his belly or he is going to lose it!!!!' Along the same lines as sleep, if you do not feed Jake, havoc will take place. This child is the biggest child I own, and he requires a ton of nourishment, daily. 'Ma-yee I need sumting to eat.' All.day.long. As previously mentioned, he is my future line backer. Either that or a contestant on the Biggest Loser. In either case he will be financially stable.

He is my baby. Oh and I coddle this thing like nobody's business.

Out of the bunch, at 3, he is probably the one with the most wit and has a memory like an elephant. I really find it astonishing that elephants have such a good memory, but then again, I am also typically astonished with Jake's memory as well. He will remember how to get somewhere after only one drive, he will tell me verbatim what he did while I was at work the night before, this sometimes does not work in his brother and sisters favor. He can remember what happens next on Team Umizoomi after just one run through. This memory comes in handy. 'Jake!!! Where did Mommy sit her keys!?!?!...Where did we park the car!!?!?!....Are we out of milk!!?!?!?...Where did E say he was going!?!?!'

His fave foods right now are:

Cheese Curls.
Dude, do not come between this man and his cheese curls. You buy a whole bag this is his job to finish it.

Popsicles...or opsicles as he calls them.
He has been caught breaking into the freezer and stealing two or three at a time.

Hawaiian Punch...or I-an Unch.
Oh you don't give your kids red 40? You're missing out.

French Fries.
Must have ranch and ketchup for simultaneous dipping.

Ice Cream.
Plain ice cream (vanilla) with chocolate on top.

As you can see his diet is just really awesome and right on track for your normal 3 year old.

He likes to say:

'Yippy Skippy.' This occurs when overly happy about any person, place or thing. I think I am going to start saying this. 'Hey Melissa, we are just calling to remind you of your upcoming appointment here at the gynecologist.'
'Yippy Skippy!!'

He likes to ask when driving anywhere in the car, 'where we going.' And when we arrive there and get back in the car to leave...'where we going now?' When running multiple errands at in one trip this can get a little, I don't know...annoying shall we say.

He is obsessed with burping.
Please, I don't know why.
He can now make himself burp because you see this is quite entertaining to your big brothers friends.
I at times have to threaten him to stop because it is getting to crazy at burp 12 to 15 that I think he is going to throw up.
'What do you say Jake?'
' 'scuse you.'

He likes to:

Play outside. He thinks he is 6 and can play with the big boys, so I often see him in the side yard tackling someone from behind. The unfairness in this is terrible because they know if the tackled him back they could do some damage, so bless their hearts, for now, they don't. Payback is well...you know.

Play sports. He may not be over the top skilled but little dude knows about every sport and the concept of how to play it. His favorite right now is basketball. Consequently, I have more sporting goods in my home then should be allowed by law.

Make funny faces. His is like the king of facial expressions. You can read just what he is thinking by his face. O.k., so maybe I have a tendency to also poesess this quality, its debatable.

Here I am asking him to smile for a picture with his cheese curls...he is thinking the same thing as you...

that is a really stupid idea.

 



Play super heroes. His favorite time to do this is when we are shopping in Target. He will take the size stickers off the clothing and put them down his arms, legs, and across his forehead. O.k. so maybe he also busts out of the middle of the clothing racks and yells in his manly super hero voice, 'I am here to get the bad guys for you Ma-yee.' I don't know why size stickers constitute as super hero attire, you don't ask these questions.

Spike his hair like his big brothers. This of course is not ideal for a hair of longer length, that is wavy, but whatever floats his boat. The fashion maven tries to explain to him that his texture of hair is not the same as him, but he could care less. 'Ma-yee you spike my hair like E's...dat's cool.'

Be bossy. No, this dude can hold his own and more. His demeanor is that of an oldest child. He can boss and bully his siblings into things that have me saying to his older siblings of 3 and 4 years, 'hey, hey hey...he's 3, if you know jumping out of the crib and trying to land on Ethan's bed is wrong then don't do it!! And if he says he is going to pinch you if you don't you come tell me!!!'

Evidence: The suckers. He told them to ride together on the alligator...so they did.

 



He has my heart. Oh his blonde lightly curled hair, big blue eyes and little nose speckled with some freckles get him out of all sorts of trouble. He is my toughy. He is all boy, all the time. He is filthy at the end of the day. Tub water that light shade of brown. He is bound and determined to learn how to walk in flip flops properly.
Ask him who is best friend is: Ma-yee.
Ask him who he loves: Ma-yee
Ask him guess what?: Chicken Butt...Guess Why, chicken thigh.
I love little boys.
He is without a doubt my favorite three year old in all the land.