Loosey Goosey

Ada's tooth has been wiggling for over a month. Every day I think this will be the end, it HAS to fall out today. And every day I am wrong.

Tonight:

So, that went well

We had THREE birthday parties this past Saturday. Nine-thirty, one-thirty and three o'clock. In between I picked up a little and hung the bunting I made from various dotted scraps:

Friends came over. We ate, talked and then busted out the cake. Cake that Ellen made, chocolate with raspberry in the middle. It was beautiful, and surrounded by yellow roses.

Ellen brought all but one of the candles. I am not sure how we ended up saving the candle from Ada's first birthday cake, but once Ada found it a couple of years ago she got very attached to it. She had it squirreled away and pulled it out when this cake arrived. She asked if we could put it on the cake. That seemed like a good idea to me.

This has been a hard year for Ada, in the way it is hard for any older sibling when a new baby or two comes along. We have had our rough moments, but for the most part she has done well. She is a great older sister to Mira and Ian. She takes good care of them. She plays with them, looks out for them and helps us do things for them. She is not always happy that our life together is not always about her, but she mostly accommodates these annoyances, at least after a fashion. Being a big sister is good for her, and she is really living up to the role.

And in any case, she knows a good excuse for cake when she sees one. 

When everyone gathered around the table, Ian was excited to see what was coming.

Mira was by far the more enthusiastic cake eater of the pair.

Ian decided that cake was interesting, but maybe
not worth getting completely messy.

Mira had a slightly different perspective.

Elbow, Elbow, Wrist, Wrist, Wrist

For the past week or so every time Mira has bottle she stretches her arm out and mesmerizes herself by waggling her hand back and forth. At first I thought Mira was just developing a deeper understanding that this thing at the end of her arm was hers and could be controlled at will. Last night I realized that something else is going on; she is practicing her parade wave for the Rose Parade.

I don't have the heart to tell her that this is the one year we aren't going to LA for the new year. Maybe next year, kid.

An Unexpected Change

This past weekend Ada and Lila were playing upstairs. Chris and I heard a crashing noise. Chris went up to investigate. As he climbed the stairs he heard Ada say, "Get the grownups!" He found Ada barely holding up her dresser, which was close to completely crashing down on her. (The girls had opened all the drawers at once, so it toppled.) Chris helped Ada to right the dresser, and out of nowhere she told him that she'd peed and pooped in the potty. Chris gave her a high five and then asked about the dresser situation.

Chris related the story to me, and said that SOMEONE had clearly pooped in the potty, he could smell it. (It would be consistent with Ada not to flush. Then again, Lila doesn't always remember either. And I know Lila uses the potty, as it happens routinely at our house. What is it about preschoolers that they like to poop with other people around? I pretty much never go to my friends' houses in order to poop.)

When I went upstairs to put Mira to bed, and Ada told me she'd peed and pooped in the potty. I said "that's great!" and then moved on, figuring from past experience that where Ada is concerned it is not a good idea to over-do on the potty praise. A bit later Ada, Lila and I were drawing at the dining room table. Ada said "I peed and pooped in the potty." I said, "I know!" "how did you know?" "Well, Papa told me, and you told me." We talked about who told whom, tra la la, all very calmly.

Even later, Ada asked to see Chris' ipod, which he'd recently told her she could not play with anymore, until she was a big girl (as evidenced by her peeing and pooping in the potty). He let her play with it.

So what is going on here? How did my non-toilet user turn overnight into a no-problem-I'm-using-it kid? And who STARTS using the potty by pooping in it? Has Ada really turned the corner? I am not proud to admit it, but my first thought was that she is not telling the truth. However, it is not really Ada's M.O. to lie about this (or more specifically, to plot with Lila to pretend that Lila's poop is her own). It goes against the grain of Ada's potty obstinacy, which usually leads her to flatly declare that she is not going to use the potty ("ever", sometimes). And Lila has been talking to her about the potty more of late. (A couple of days before this first toileting, within Ada's earshot, Lila told me that Ada was going to pee and poop in the potty.) So there you go. As shocked as I was, I was forced to admit that we may have had a breakthrough, which may or may not be motivated by Ada's desire to play games on the ipod.

Since this all went down on Sunday, Ada has started to consistently and nonchalantly use the toilet for both urine and bowel movements. On Wednesday morning she declared that she wanted to pee before we left for school, and as I was in the bathroom at the time, she kept up her chatter while doing her business. I had to restrain myself from staring in shock at how nonchalant, how normal Ada was acting about this. She was so comfortable using the toilet that she was talking to me about something completely unrelated, as if she'd been using the toilet like this for years. No biggie, apparently.

Chris and I have been speculating about what caused this change. Besides the ipod, we have a couple of ideas. One is best summed up by a line from a book we recently borrowed from the library: "the princess will use the potty when it pleases the princess." I don't necessarily think that reading this book with Ada caused a change (though she did enjoy the book). But the sentiment, that a kid will use the toilet when (and only when) she wants to, really resonates with our situation. We have endured years of attempts to motivate her potty use, only to find that she'd rather give up all manner of things than get them as rewards for something she was not ready to do.

Then there's the impact of increasing peer pressure. In the past Ada has not really cared that other people know she uses a pull-up. More recently, she has interacted with a new kid who asked about her diaper, and some of her potty-using friends have encouraged her to do so. She seems to care a bit more what other kids think.

And speaking of other kids, we are now on the hook for a big girl party. A couple of months ago Ada went through a several week phase of asking about when she'd be 5. At the time we took the opportunity to offer a half-birthday party. We billed it as something she could do when she was a big girl who peed and pooped in the potty; we would have a party with her friends at which they could watch a movie and eat popcorn and cupcakes. This week Ada asked us about the party. (Another reminder that this kid forgets NOTHING.) So we'll be having a movie, popcorn and cupcake party with Ada and a few of her friends very soon. She's certainly earned it. (speaking of which, for putting up with all this, don't you think I've earned a big girl party with drinks and sushi and my friends?)

So where are we now? Well, at home Ada is peeing and pooping in the potty, with no tricks or bribes, when she feels the need to go. She is comfortable enough with it that if I am around she is happy to have me there, but when I am busy she'll go on her own. She has so far slept without a pull up and stayed dry. (No real shock there, we knew this wasn't a physical issue.) We are working with the teachers at her school to achieve toilet use there as well. (The head teacher is incredibly kind and patient, and I think this made a big impact on Ada's willingness to make a change.) The trick is getting her to feel the same comfort away from home that she feels here. I think that will come, and for now we will continue to use the same hands-off support that we have been using with her. We are not there yet, and I am sure there will be setbacks, but I for one feel a weight has been lifted from my shoulders with such progress on this issue. I also feel really proud of Ada for figuring this one out in her own way. It might not have been my way or on my time line, but she figured it out for herself. 

Stubborn, redux (or rather, reduced)

Ada's swim lessons went from bad to worse over the first week. At first content to sit with the parents and watch, after a few days Ada was crying that she did not want to go to the lesson. A couple of days Chris got her to sit on the side of the pool with her legs in the water, but that was all.

Week 2 started with her screaming to sit in my lap during the lesson. I refused, so that she did not see snuggle time as the alternative to the lesson. I felt like a horrible, unloving parent, but I knew that giving in was not the right tactic. The right tactic was apparently to refuse to take her any more, leaving this job to Chris. On Wednesday Chris bribed Ada with a snack, and she got in but didn't really participate in the lesson beyond following with the other kids on a little trek along the wall to deeper water where the others took turns getting out and jumping back in. Despite her limited participation, Ada returned home very happy with herself. She was proud that she'd gotten in.

Thursday involved another bribe, this time for participation. And the amazing thing is - it worked! After a few minutes of looking back at Chris and hesitating about joining the others, Ada finally decided the teacher could be trusted. She joined the kids in their mid-pool games and jumped into the water when it was her turn. She came home triumphant. My mother, Chris and I rewarded her with lavish praise (and a slice of pie which I'd just happened to purchase for dessert). I know it is probably not a great idea to make food the motivator for things we want her to do (especially when those things are actually fun once she finally decides to try them). However, at this point, she is so resistant to anything we want her to do that I am just thrilled that she let go a bit and participated - and enjoyed herself. Ada was so thrilled with herself, and we were thrilled with her too. Friday was a repeat of Thursday, but if possible it was even better. Ada participated in the the whole class, including the part where the teacher pours water on the kids' heads. While I was putting her to bed I asked Ada if she wanted to take lessons again. Yes, she does.

How nice to have a moment of positive experience and positive reinforcement of that experience. I am savoring it while it lasts.

Happy Birthday Monkey Boy!

One of my favorite kids is five. People are right, time does fly.

Happy birthday kid. We love you. 

Thank You, Mother Nature

Nature is clearly not an entirely benign force, but once in a while we get something so charming that the cruelties can be, if not forgotten, at least momentarily forgiven.

I am not one of those women who revel in infancy. I don't believe all newborns are beautiful. Sure, I love the smell of a baby's head, but give me a soft round 6 month old and I am much more prone to melt than I am when faced with a skinny baby only a month along.

But once in a while... The other night I had one of those moments that stays with you when the memory of infancy's exhaustion and tears fade. Mira was fed and I was rocking her to sleep. She was in that groggy but not quite sleeping state when she suddenly flicked her eyes wide and flashed me a huge grin, complete with a big chortle. It was just a few seconds, but it seemed to last longer than that before her eyes closed and she was really asleep. The moment left me so charmed and elated, even though I knew she was not smiling at me or rewarding me for something I had done. But still, it was a reward, one that at 5 weeks helped tow me into a future where there will be real smiles, not to mention other real joys and challenges. Oh, I do love infancy, as long as it is as truly fleeting as everyone keeps reminding me to remember that it is.

Mira, sleeping during a family walk

A Way of Blessing

I am almost afraid to open the envelope. I am afraid I have remembered it wrong, that it was not that thing I am determined to keep in my heart through the three a.m. feedings and the end-of-my-rope moments. 

But that is silly. What I remember is true, and what I remember is this: a room full of women from many corners of my life sitting on the floor in a circle, talking to me about the challenges and joys of parenting. Ellen organized a blessing way* for me on Saturday. This is the second one she has held for me. Though some of the same women were there for both, this felt very different from the one we held before Ada's arrival. Last time it was a ceremony marking a transition - from pregnancy into labor and delivery, from being childless to becoming a parent. This time almost everyone there was a mother (whether of young children or children long grown) and all the women knew about parenting through experience with their own and other children. This time was less "welcome to the club" than "we understand and are there with you." Each woman spoke honestly about her own challenges and about those she knew I would face in the coming months and years. Each brought me their joy as well, reminding me how amazing it is to be a parent and how important it is to pay attention to that, even as we all struggle with fatigue, boredom, loss of self, and did I mention fatigue?

One woman spoke of having moments in which she could see her children for who they are, and in which she could most clearly know their happiness as she responded to them fully, or see their fear when she showed anger.

Another talked about the touch of her child, and others could not help but agree that their love for their children was so strong and visceral that it caused them to need that child's touch. The women described repeatedly falling in love with their children as they grew and changed every day.

One woman offered her belief that I will be able to manage my new life, even or especially on the days I feel most overwhelmed. Another brought me a painted print of Ada's once tiny hand, one that I can't look at without crying. A writer friend gave me a cherished photograph of her crying child, while another friend made three linked paper hearts. And each woman gave me a bead, which symbolized something she wanted for me, or was something she loved, or was what she could lay her hands on at 10 p.m. last night. All will go on my little shrine, and will join the beads I received before Ada's birth and still keep close.

As each woman spoke, I found myself wishing for a way to change their words into something I could put in a bottle or wrap like a scarf around me. I was so touched by what these women said, and the honesty and emotion with which they said it. Several of the women who cried expressed a surprise that they were so touched by what everyone said. I was not surprised, but I was so happy that this moment meant something to the other participants too. I also knew that as much as the blessingway meant to me in the moment, that I will need the memory of these women's words when I get to the hard places ahead. I have been so afraid of what is next that I have not been very open to the fact that what is coming is assuredly both joy and pain. My heart opened up a bit more this weekend, and I want the cushion of these women's words to protect that openness. I will fill my pockets with their words and remind myself that I can pull them out whenever I need them.






*From my limited experience, each blessingway is unique. For some of the things a blessingway can be, look here.

What do people do all day?

 

Melissa's post on talking to her daughter about work and trying to help her understand what she does (and that she she has a job) reminded me of a conversation I had with Ada the other day. Out of nowhere she declared that she wants to be a mama when she grows up. I'm fine with that as a goal, but maybe not as her only goal. So I suggested: "Lots of people do more than one thing. You can be a mama and have another job too." I reminded her that I have a job, though explaining just exactly what "Senior Policy Analyst" means is not an easy task. Then again, it isn't so easy to explain to a 35 year old, much less to a 3.5 year old.

We talked about Chris, who is a papa and a math teacher. We talked about Ellen (mama and midwife), and Stephanie (mama and math teacher). Our neighbor Mark builds things and is a papa.

After considering what she must have seen as her options, Ada decided that she'd like to be a mama and a math teacher. "Like Stephanie," I said.

"Yes. But I would need my own office. Her office isn't big enough for both of us."

I guess it is good to plan ahead.

Kind of Dark

After reading a few books with me this afternoon, Ada decided she wanted to "read" some on her own. She plowed through three or four before asking me to find her another one.

"How about this one?" I asked, holding up a book.

"It's kind of dark."

"Dark? What do you mean?"

"It is dark. I want something lighter."

"Ok, how about Cars and Trucks and Things that Go?"

"Yes."

First, who knew that Ada classified books as light and dark?

 

Second, who would have guessed that Welcome Home, Big Bird would be considered dark?

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

Chris and I just lied to our daughter.

It started out innocently enough. On Christmas eve we visit Aunt Camille's house for the traditional family dinner and white elephant gift swap. In past years we put Ada to bed at Camille's and then woke her up for the drive home. This year we decide Ada is old enough to stay up, and on this score she is a champ. No tired tantrums, no complaints, just dancing and cheerful present shuttling.

We get home, and it is hours past Ada's usual bedtime. Chris shepherds her though an accelerated bedtime routine. But then he pops back downstairs because Ada's nuk (pacifier) is nowhere to be found. [As an aside, I know that 3.5 is kind of on the old side to be using a pacifier, but (a) she only uses it for sleeping and (b) I sucked my thumb way past when it was considered acceptable and I turned out okay. My teeth did too. I am one of the few people my age who never wore braces.]

When Chris tells me the nuk is missing, I am completely annoyed. We'd had a little temporary nuk crisis before nap and I saw Ada put her nap on the shelf when I got her up that afternoon. At home she is great about leaving the nuk in a little basket between sleep times, but I wonder if being at the grandparents' had confused things a bit.

Chris searches everywhere he can think of, but can not find the nuk. Ada is upset, but also very tired, so she yawns and cries while Chris explains that there is no nuk, but that we'd look for it again in the morning. She goes to bed just fine that night (again - it probably helps that it is two hours past her bedtime). Right after Chris comes back downstairs, I remember that in preparation for the trip to Camille's, I'd packed up bedtime supplies - jammies, a teddy bear, and the nuk - just in case Ada got pooped early in the evening. I had completely forgotten the bag sitting at the bottom of the stairs, and Chris had not known to look for it. He'd just used a different pair of pajamas when he got her dressed.

So ok, we could have put the nuk in her stocking the next morning. We could have "found" it at nap time. We decide to do neither. We decide to do what we did when we did actually lose Ada's nuk a few months ago.

At this point I should mention that not only does Ada use a pacifier, but she is very specific about which pacifier. For the past year or so we had ONE acceptable pacifier, dubbed the "cat and moon" nuk for the picture on the nub. When that one started to break down, I had to talk her into a different brand and style, because the old kind was no longer available.

Right, so: a few months ago we put Ada to bed at Monkey Boy's house, and when we took her home the nuk got left in her carseat. We didn't realize that it was there, and we did not use the car for several days. Ada was sad, but got over the loss fairly well. But then we finally got into the car, and Ada exclaimed: "I found it!" Chris and I groaned, but we went back to our old nuk-napping ways. But now we have a second chance at a nuk-free lifestyle! Everything went smoothly at the grandparents' house. Ada accepted that the nuk was irretrievably missing, and slept just fine without it.

Tonight (back at our house) we move smoothly through our usual routine, until we get to the part where we tuck Ada into bed. She asks for the nuk, and we remind her that we've lost it.

"But what about the green nuk?" (the beloved purple nuk had come in a two pack with a green pacifier)

And this is where we betray our sweet daughter's trust. I say: "I don't know where that one is."

"Is it in the basket? Can you look for it, Papa?" (I love that she calls us Mama and Papa, but in these moments it makes her sound even more innocent and sweet and breaks my heart even that much more.)

Chris makes a perfunctory examination. "Nope, I don't see it."

Sensing this could go either way, I reassure her that she'd done so well without the nuk, that she was such a big girl. So she snuggles into bed, and with a quick negotiation about a water cup on the shelf, she goes to bed.

So the nuk is gone, hopefully for good. I just hope Chris can hide the green nuk from Ada before she goes digging in the basket tomorrow morning.

Maybe she'd settle for ALMOST a grown up?

Walking to school, Ada and I pass a bunch of cob benches. As we came alongside them, Ada pointed and said: "Three benches and three benches."

Me: That's great, Ada. Do you know how many is that all together?

Ada: Six.

Me: That's right! Do you know what you just did?

Ada: What?

Me: Math!

Ada, after thinking about this for a moment: That means I'm a grown up!

looking quite grown up, except for the food on her face

Amusement (Park)

In a previous moment of navel-gazing I mentioned that I am not sure how I well I will share with Ada the amusements that my parents taught me to disdain. Well, maybe their training was not as thorough as I previously imagined, because Ada and I had a fantastic time at Oaks Park, an old-fashioned (in both the good and bad senses) amusement park on the south end of town.

Through this month, Oaks Park offers pre-school aged children two hours of full access to the kiddie (and as they refer to them, "intermediate") rides. For $6 every Tuesday and Wednesday, the kids can ride the carousel, train, "rockin' tug" and other rides.

When Ada rode a carousel 18 months ago, she looked half dazed and half frightened. Both those emotions are gone, replaced by a joy so complete that she almost shakes.

Please note I have sacrificed here, showing not the "best" picture, 

but the one that gives a glimpse of Ada's permanent carousel-grin.

This week's trip to Oaks Park is our second in as many weeks. Last week Ada cried when we got off the carousel the second time, saying "I don't want to get off. I want to STAY." This week she realized that some of the other rides are just as fun as the carousel (if less picturesque). The balloon ride was a big hit - we rode it three times today. The whole frame rises a few stories into the air, and spins the balloons in a circle. Each basket also spins independently, to Ada's great joy.

The balloon ride may be Ada's new favorite.

A purple motorcycle, what could be better?

Last week, 11:30 came too quickly, and we were caught unaware that the end of ride time was upon us. Not anxious to repeat the tantrum that followed the abrupt end, this week I was careful to tell Ada that the rides were ending soon.  For her last ride, Ada chose the Rockin' Tub, a boat that swings and sways and looks like this (image borrowed from the oaks park website, which OP management should not be upset given all the nice things I am saying about the park):

Before climbing up to the boat, Ada told me I should wait outside. What? My cautious child, telling me to hang back while she climbs in to shake and shimmy? I was floored. Since this was the last ride, I convinced Ada to let me on, albeit two rows behind her.

The family in the row between us commented on how brave she was. She looked very proud of herself. I was thrilled for her, but to be honest, I could have used someone holding my hand a bit.

On her third birthday

. . . Ada finally mastered simultaneous tricycle steering and pedaling.

. . . spent a nice long time playing independently with a good friend at a local wading pool.

. . . fell off the play structure, landing flat on her back but unharmed.

. . . fell while running and then clung to me and called mama in a way that was surprisingly charming.

. . . tried to talk me into bringing every one of her favorite toys into her bed at nap time.

. . . asked more "why" questions than I even thought was possible in one day.

. . . pitched a screaming fit when her friend accidentally splashed water on her.

. . . pitched a longer and louder fit when Chris would not agree with her demand that he force me upstairs to help with bath.

Oh, and she really enjoyed her special burrito and cupcake birthday dinner.

I have this feeling that this year is going to be a doozy.

Sit On It (Or Don't)

Okay, I promise this is it for the potty updates for a while.  I appreciate all the supportive comments, even as I know that our misbegotten attempts to get the girl out of diapers are not only failing but hardening her pro-diaper stance.  I realized this weekend that a lot of my fervor for this effort stems from my lack of control over fertility issues.  My control-freak brain tells me I must control something, so I took this on.  Bad idea.  In any case, this is the last of it for a while, as I will be sitting back, licking my wounds and waiting for the girl to dictate the next move.  

On the third morning of project bribery, Ada initiates so many "I'll sit on the potty then get a treat" moments that by 9 am Chris and I tell her that she can only get a candy for sitting on the potty with no pants.  This turns out not to be a problem, because when we tell her she has been running around without pants for 20 minutes and already sat on the potty at least twice during that period.  

Ada eats so many chocolates over the next couple of hours that I start desperately trying to get her to leave the house to burn off some of the sugar before lunch.  Ada is crazy for the m&ms, and bouncing off the walls with sugar-fueled, candy coated joy.  She is very particular, however, and only eats the blue ones.  

What it looks like when you eat a ton of blue m&ms, 

not including the blue streaks on her hands and legs

I ask her what she'll do when she's eaten all the blue ones.  What color will you pick then?Considering the candy-filled glass container, Ada points to a red one.  Great, good to plan ahead.  

The sugar-fest continues until nap time.  After nap I notice a trend - Ada is adamant that she wants her diaper back on after (repeatedly) taking it off to sit on the potty.  I am not initially concerned, and figure we will give her a couple more days of "treat for sitting" before telling her the treat comes only when she sits on the potty for the time it takes to read a book.  (Olivia, not War and Peace)

By Wednesday I notice a change.  Ada initiates many fewer sit-for-treat encounters, and declares a desire for a diaper in a way she was not doing previously.  This takes a little while to become clear, as I am away at work most of the day.  By Friday it is crystal, however.  She has stopped asking to sit, and even when we ask if she wants to she says "no" more than not.  

The bribery only works with a willing bribe-ee, which we apparently no longer have.  Having failed to force her to use the potty or to bribe her into wanting to use it, we are left without much leverage.  At this point I am resigned to waiting her out, or at least waiting for a better plan.  What else can I do?  As far as I can tell, pretty much nothing, so I sit and wait, patting myself on the back for not eating her stash of m&ms and wishing I'd changed the blog's tag line when I had the chance. 

Life in a poopy fog, indeed. 

Stool Pigeon

Day three of the "there are no more diapers here" attempt at potty training Ada, and the start of project bribery:

By Day 3, Ada has dug in. No amount of chocolate bribery will get her to sit on the potty again, much less pee in it. Plus, she is a tantrum-throwing fool over the weekend. She is clearly stressed, and taking it out on us in a way that feels very unpleasant for all of us. Oh, and I am really starting to wonder how long she can go without a bowel movement before we have a problem.

Our morning centers on a child who clearly needed to pee yet refused to get near the potty, followed by a big puddle of pee. Mid-morning, we get a visit from a friend who happens to be a pediatrician. I ask for her advice, and she tells Ada and me the following story:

A long time ago I visited Buchart Gardens. Buchart Gardens has pigeons that ride bicycles. Pigeons on bicycles! Most pigeons do not like to ride bicycles. It is much easier for them to walk around saying "coo, coo". But these pigeons do ride bicycles. I was so amazed I asked the trainer how they got pigeons to ride bicycles. The trainer said that pigeons love corn nuts.

The pigeons get corn nuts when they get close to the bicycles. After a while, they want to be near the bicycles in order to get corn nuts. At this point, the trainer starts to give them corn nuts only when they actually touch a bicycle. When they master that, they only get corn nuts for putting a foot on the bicycle. Then they get rewarded when both feet are on the bicycle.

Once a pigeon has both feet on the bicycle, he might move his foot, causing the bike to move a bit. When this happens, the pigeon gets a corn nut. After this, the pigeon only gets corn nuts when he actually moves the bike around on purpose. And voila! The pigeons ride bicycles! They love riding bicycles, and they love getting corn nuts.

The doctor friend also talked to us about how many kids don't like to use the potty, because it is a lot easier to pee and poop in a diaper. But using the potty is what big kids do, and once kids start doing it they realize it is a lot better than using a diaper. So much less messy, and they can be so grown up by doing things themselves.

Ada listened to the whole talk, squirming a bit at times in a way that I made me wonder how much she understand the story. Was she making any connection between the pigeon and herself? Would she go for this? After our doctor friend left, Chris and I decided to try it out. Why not, right? Our "there are no pants" attempt wasn't getting anywhere except tantrum-land.

We tell Ada that we have found some diapers and she can wear one if she'd like. She's thrilled, and I feel like a jerk for lying about the diapers being gone, but that is part of the fun of parenting, right? We also tell her that she can get a chocolate if she sits her bottom on the potty, even if she has pants or a diaper on. She is intruiged, if skeptical.

Several times that afternoon, we remind her that she can get a chocolate if she sits (however briefly) on the potty. By the evening she understands the trade. We keep up the bribery all the following day. When I get home from work, Ada is more than willing to sit, repeatedly asking if she can sit and get chocolate. Eventually we go upstairs for bath time, and after she gets undressed Ada asks if she can run downstairs to sit on the potty and get a chocolate. Sure! Down we go. Same thing after the bath, when our bare-bottomed girl bounces downstairs to sit and be rewarded.

I put Ada to bed, thinking maybe, just maybe this strategy will work for her. And for us.

The following day Ada is very enthusiastic about the sit for chocolate plan. So enthusiastic that after an hour of chocolate eating no-pants time, we tell her that now she'll only get a chocolate if she sits her bare bottom on the potty. This is fine with her, and even after she puts pants on, Ada readily undresses to sit and be rewarded. She does it so much that I finally decide we need to leave the house before my sugar-fueled child runs paces holes in the floor.

Things are going so well that I am planning how many days we'll stay at this stage. I figure we'll stay 3 more days at this, then transition to giving chocolate only when that shes sit long enough to read a book. Except that by the following day, she's cooled to the process. She is not running over to get rewarded all the time. And by the day after, she barely notices the jar of chocolates on the dining room table.

A few more days of this are in order, I think. As is a recognition that it might not work after all. Even if it does not, doing this has been beneficial. It gave me a way to back off of my previous plan when it was not working and I was dug in. Now I can step back a bit and let things happen. If nothing happens for a while, I can handle that. (for a while, at least) I know she needs to do things on her own schedule, and the more I push the more she wants to resist. A friend recently suggested a parent's role is guide rather than leader, and I will try to take that to heart.

Pee, Pee, Pee, You Belong To Me, Me, Me

7 am
I get up with Ada and immediately take off her diaper. It is DRY, despite the fact that we woke Ada up at 10pm the previous night to take her home from Susie's house.

I suggest potty time, Ada declines.

7:45 - 8:30 am
Ada bounces, dances and generally acts like she has to pee, but refuses to admit it or sit on the potty. She starts to pee while sitting on the couch, so I carry her to the potty in the dining room. While I am getting fabric cleaner for the cushion, Ada floods the dining room (and basement). Chris and I clean it up, while letting Ada know that (a) we are not upset, and (b) the potty would be a better target than the floor.

This is pretty much how our day went. Each attempt to get Ada to sit on the potty are met with: (a) refusals; (b) screaming; (c) tantrums; or (d) a - c, all at once.

1:30 pm
At nap time, Chris tells me that if Ada doesn't start peeing on the potty by Sunday, we should abandon this effort and try again in a couple of months. This surprises me, as I was counting on his support over the next week. I argue that if we go back to diapers we stand to lose a lot. Ada will know that stonewalling and tantrums will get her whatever she wants. Plus, if she is afraid of the potty now, won't more time just make it loom larger?

1:45 pm
I head off to do errands and call Ellen and then Karen from Target. Both support my position, which kind of doesn't help, because after talking to them I am dug in and pissed off at Chris.

3:30 pm
Ada wakes up with dry underpants.

3:30-5:30 pm
Ada roams the neighborhood with Chris. She wears no underwear (or pants, for that matter) but has no accidents. I am starting to worry about her bladder, even as I marvel at its capacity.

Not at our house, apparently

5:30 pm
The three of us head inside for dinner, which sends Ada into a tantrum. (Something about a new friend and watermelon) After a time out, Ada says she does not want dinner. After a bath, a revived Ada agrees to eat.

6:45 pm
In a a hail mary play, I tell Ada she can have chocolate for sitting on the potty while I read her a book. No actual pee needs to come out. She demures. Even more desperate, Chris says he will give her a chocolate before she sits on the potty, plus another after she sits down. Ada takes the first candy, sits for 2 seconds a rolls off into my lap. I glare at Chris for his inability to see that coming. (Yes, I am a jerk. Sue me.)

7:30 pm
After Ada is in bed, I exercise, yet fail to release any of my annoyance at Chris. Childish, but who am I going to be mad at, Ada? I half decide not to talk to him, even though I know this is futile. Chris could win a silence contest with a mute, and giving the silent treatment to someone who does not even notice is bound to be self-destructive. Hungry, I head downstairs to drown my sorrows in take out pad see ew.

This is probably the low point. Things get better, at least a little, tomorrow.

To Pee Or Not To Pee

Highlights from day one of my "there are no diapers here" attempt at potty training Ada:

8 am

Remove overnight diaper and tell Ada "There are no more diapers. You can pee in the potty, but the diapers are gone." Ada says she does not have to pee. I tell her to let me know when she needs to go. I also mention that we are going to the store to get chocolates, and she'll get chocolate as a reward when she pees in the potty.

Ada: Let's sit on the potty!

She sits, we read books and no one pees. (Still, a good start, and I am heartened.)

8 am - 10 am

Ada acts like she wants to pee, but declares she does not need to pee. We discuss whether Thomas belongs in the front or the back of her underwear.

Three notes on the Thomas the Train underwear:

1. Ada requested this underwear. Although Ada doesn't watch Thomas, Monkey Boy has this underwear (reason enough for her to want it).
2. If you click on the link you see that I am totally in the right, the train goes on the back.
3. This begs the question of why you would put the image on the butt, rather than in the front where the child might be able to see it and the parent could avoid arguing that the child was wearing her underwear backwards.
4. Does anyone (child or adult) really use that little flap? As a woman I don't have the option, but I have always thought the flap did not look to functional.

10 am

We walk the two blocks to our local grocery store to get chocolate. Once in the store I remember my friend Heidi's story that her mom potty trained her with potato chips, water and chocolate. Heidi's mom parked her in the bathroom and fed her chips until Heidi asked for water. Lots of water. Her mom waited a bit and then got her to pee. Voila - potty trained in two days.

I head to the chips aisle. I grab chips and seconds later Ada declares "I need to pee!" I drop the chips and rush to the front of the store to get the bathroom key. Ada refuses to pee in the store bathroom (rational, I think), so I pee instead and we head back to the chocolate aisle. Chips and chocolate in hand, we head home.

10:30 am

Ada finally agrees she needs to pee, and after considering the small potty seat on the big toilet, decides to use the potty chair upstairs. I follow with books, ready for another false start, but Ada pees almost immediately upon sitting. She turns to me, horrified and starts to cry. I reassure her and praise her profusely. I also reconsider my strategy, worried that I am scarring Ada in some subtle yet irreversible way. Ada hugging my leg, we head downstairs and I let Ada pick the colors of m&ms she wants. The chocolate works on her, and Ada relaxes considerably.

11:30 am

Risking a trip out of the house, we visit Monkey Boy. I know he's got a potty seat, so I feel pretty safe at his house. Ellen praises Ada for using the potty, and then Monkey Boy and Ada play outside for over an hour. At some point Monkey Boy declares he has to poop, so we all troop inside for a potty run. Ada says she wants to use the potty too, but by the time we get to the bathroom she's changed her mind. She does watch Monkey Boy's toilet technique closely, however.

1 - 1:45 pm

We head home, have lunch and head upstairs for nap. Fully committed to the lie that we have no diapers, at 1:40 I put Ada to bed with underwear on.

3:15 pm

Ada wakes up and I rush upstairs to examine the damage. Pants, underwear and sheets are dry. I take the opportunity to praise Ada for this, despite the fact that I don't think it shows strength of character. I certainly would not have criticized her if she'd been wet. But whatever, I take the victory as it comes.

4:00 - 5:30 pm

I pack up some wipes and an extra pair of underwear and pants, and we head to the park. I risk going to the park because: (1) it is incredibly gorgeous out and will probably be pouring tomorrow, knowing Portland; and (2) Ada wants to go and I am feeling so good about her peeing that I decide to risk it. All goes well until about 5:15, when Ada runs over to tell me she's peed. No problem, I have wipes, etc. We make a quick change and she's off again. Ten minutes later she's peed again (I wish I had video of her bow-legged wet-pants walk). We head home, which I'd wanted to do anyway.

6:15 - bedtime

Ada plays at Susie and Mike's house, with no accidents but no willingness to pee on the potty either. At this point I am hoping she's peed in the tub, because otherwise I might worry about her urinary tract. I start to wonder how many days a child can hold her feces without suffering ill effects. I hope we don't have to find that out from experience.

(Despite this decent start, things went downhill from here. More later)

Once Upon A Time...

A couple of weeks ago, at the end of a stretch that included some intense tantrums and insane toddler demands, Ada offered up her first independently conceived and recited short story:



Once upon a time, there was a pillow.

And she went into the forest. To pick some more pillows from the picking bog.

Then it rolled down the hill. And it cracked open!

And inside was a mother chick and a baby chick.


After a pause, I asked: Is there more? Or is that the end?


That is the end.

** * ** * **

Something in the combination of the words "pillow" and "hill" reminded me of the Robert Louis Stevenson poem The Land of Counterpane. When I googled the poem title, I found an ebook of children's poems and stories called "Project Gutenberg's Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories." This ebook is not only free, but given the copyright status of the material and the Guterberg project, the distribution and free use of the materials is allowed and encouraged. All of which is to say that I happily put that picture in this post, with no guilt whatsoever.

First Joke

During dinner on Saturday, Ada made a request, and her first joke.


Ada: Cous-cous!

Me: How should you ask for that?

Ada: Please Please!