I WILL win the war....

I have documented the epic battle my daughter and I are engaged in over pottytraining.

I'm losing.

But all hope is not lost. I may have lost some battles, but I have until September to win the war.

September is when she starts PreK.

And she simply HAS to be pottytrained.

And then... it happened.

Today, after I pulled on her pull up, she looked up at me with her big green/blue/gray/brown eyes (they are in the process of changing), and said,

"Momma, I'm going peepee RIGHT NOW!"

She didn't want to sit on the potty. She didn't want me to change her. She didn't want to do anything but tell me.

Still, I wanted to do a happy dance. Because the fact that she told me at all is a step in the right direction, right?

Only 144 more days left to fight the war... and I'm finally making head way.

Bye bye Bink

~
We did it. No more binky. Last night was rough, but after getting to lie in bed with Momma for a few hours, my daughter finally stopped whining and crying for her binky and fell asleep.

I tucked her into bed, kissed her sweet, tear stained cheek, and went into the bathroom and cried for about an hour.

She's a big girl.

The think is, I eagerly looked forward to all of the milestones - walking, talking, playing, eating. I worried when they didn't come fast enough, bragged when she did hit them, and charted them carefully in her baby book.

It never dawned on me that I would be sad when the No-More-Binky Milestone came.

I think this is because it is not like the other milestones. The other ones, we were opening doors for her, so that she could gain her independence.

This one? I feel like I'm shutting a door.

I'm shutting the door on her babyhood, and looking at a full grown toddler, who is quickly becoming a preschooler. And I know this is life, and the way things are supposed to be.

It sucks.

How is it, that when you are a parent, the days can seem like years, but the years seem like minutes?

Binky Love

The day has finally come.

My daughter is giving up the binky.

Since there are not 12 Step Binky Anonymous programs, my husband and I had to come up with a plan that we thought would work without being completely traumatizing.

For about a week now, we have been talking about how sad Sleeping Beauty is that she has to take a nap without a binky. Last night, we asked our daughter if she would mind letting Sleeping Beauty borrow her bink for a little bit.

My daughter was all for it. And not just for Sleeping Beauty. She wanted Cinderella, Princess Tiana, Snow White, Belle, the Beast, and Prince Phillip to get to use it too. So we addressed an envelope to "The Princesses at the Castle," dropped the binky into it, and I "mailed" it this morning.

My daughter seemed fine with this. Sure, tonight will be hard, but I have it on good authority that the Princesses are going to mail her a thank you card, so I am hoping that will help smooth out any problems.

Maybe she is ready for this?

I'm not. I was the one who didn't want her to give it up. I was the one who let her have it. And I know that it is past time she gave it up. I didn't want her to have it to keep her quiet or so I wouldn't have to deal with the tantrum. I wanted her to have it because this is the last attachment she has to her babyhood.

If she lets go of the binky, that is the final step towards her growing up.

It will be official.

She will be a big girl.

Like I said, I'm not ready.

Can of worms

~

I let some people know that I will not be able to return to work next year; and instead of trying to find a new job right away, I'm going to be home with my children during the day. Most people have been supportive. And then I got this:

"Wow. Really? Wow... I just... I just don't know what to say. Hmm... aren't you worried about what kind of message you will send to your daughter by leaving your career and to stay home and take care of kids? After all, you got your MA and other certifications."

My response?

"Wow. Really. Wow. I don't know what to say to that. Actually, I do. Let's cover this step by step, shall we?

First of all, I'm not staying home to take care of kids, I'm staying home to take care of my children. Mine. So I hope she will know that I love her and her brother.

Secondly, it's my MA. My certifications. I put in the time for them, the sweat, the blood, so to speak. I gave up my nights and weekends and money to earn them. So it is my choice what I do with them. And I hope my children, not just my daughter, know that I got educated so I could have choices with my life.

Thirdly, I'm assuming that your well meaning, if idiotic concern, is the message I am sending my daughter about being a SAHM instead of having a career? That I am sending a negative message by not working, keeping a perfect house, and raising my children?

See, I'm not quitting work all together. I'm going to work from home, and tutor on nights and weekends. So I hope the message that she learns from my choice is that it is my choice. Mine. A choice that I am finally fortunate enough to be able to make because of my education. A choice that I can finally make with a light heart because my education is giving my family a greater financial freedom. That while things may be difficult financially at first, at least she will have me home with her and her brother. That she and her brother and my family are the most important things to me.

Do you have any other 'concerns'?"

That was my response.

Definition of "Mommy"

~
My soon to be 3 year old daughter just informed her Daddy that I am not a "Shannon," I am a "Mommy."

For laughs, I asked her what a "Mommy" is.

Her reply?

"Mommy is the rules."

When I asked her what she meant, she said: "Mommy is the rules. Mommy says: No, you can't take your binky out of your room. Peepee goes in the potty. Don't hit Bubba. Share with Bubba. Have a happy day. Baby Girl, stop whining. No bouncing on the bed. Shhh... no talking during nap! Eat your dinner. No juice, you had enough juice. We don't pick our nose. I love you Baby Girl. Those is the rules!"

My husband is still laughing.

As Christopher Titus said, "Living with a child is like living with a witness for the prosecution."

Do Not Mess With Me Today

~
Some of you know that I had to run out of work on Friday to take care of my boyo whom my husband had to rush to the hospital for some tests. So I haven't slept well since Friday and I was sick to my stomach until yesterday, waiting to hear the results. Thankfully, the boyo is going to be fine.

STILL....

On Friday, I told the school Registrar I had a family emergency. She told me she would get the substitute for my last class of the day and not to worry about it.

Know what the substitute said?

"I wish I had a family so I could have emergencies and leave."

I am thinking unkind thoughts now....

Still Bitter....

~
Yeah, I'm still angry and upset.

You know how they say that time will dull your pain? Ease old wounds? Not this one.

I mentioned how much a I hate going to the doctor in an older post. I'm still thinking about it. I'm still frustrated at how the doctor treated my son and I. I'm still bitter that she wouldn't answer my questions. And I'm really pissed off that my son got 4 shots when I wanted him to have 2.

Maybe it's the rash my son developed at the injection site because he got too many shots. Okay, I'm not a doctor, so maybe he didn't get a rash because of the shots. Perhaps there is another reason. But my Mom-dar is screaming: "The doctor should have listened to you! The doctor should have listened to you." After all, the doctor spends, at minimum 30 minutes with my son every 3 months. She may know the medicine, but I know my boy.

Or maybe it's because a week after we saw her, he developed a high fever and cough, and when we took him to his normal, nice doctor, she sent us to CHOC immediately (her stress, not mine), for a chest xray and culture, and is also pushing us to get a heart echo.

I am never going to see that first, evil doctor again.

Next Year

~
It's official.

I'm going to be a middle mom next year. Home with my kids, but working either from home or on nights/weekends.

But I'm not 100% certain that it was my decision... somehow, the conversation my boss and I were having got away from me. I wasn't ready to tell her that I would be staying home. I had too many questions to answer before I could say with 100% certainty that I would be able to stay home. Will my family live in poverty if I stay home? What if we can't make our mortgage or buy groceries to feed our children? What if I don't make enough tutoring? What if I lose my mind, being home with my kids all the time? How are we going to pay for catholic schools for the kids if I'm not working (which is nonnegotiable)? Will my staying home hurt or help my relationship with my husband? Will we be able to afford more children? What if my husband has to take a pay cut? So many questions.... and it's killing me that I don't know the answers.

But that isn't the worst part of the conversation with my employer. While we were talking, she kept telling me how worried she was for me. Because she knows I'm a great teacher, and she is sure I'm a wonderful mother. But then, she said, that means that I must be suffering as a person.

Huh?

And why?

Why can't I balance it all? Sure, some days suck. Some days I let the house work slide. Or my errands. Or the yard work. Or my time with my dog. Or (I hate to admit it, but I'm being honest here) my time with my husband. But I NEVER EVER let my time with my children, my work with my students, or time for myself slide. So why does she think I do?

Apparently, I am stressed, overwrought, and high strung. Her words, not mine. I didn't think I was those things, so I was surprised that she thought that way. That was the recurring theme of our meeting... her concern about my health.

I had no idea I was so sick.

What to do, what to do....

~
Well, the time has come. I have to make a decision. Can't put it off anymore.

I'm meeting with my boss tomorrow to discuss my contract for next year.

I've been struggling with the idea of being a SAHM vs. Working Mommy since September. And it's been so easy to say one thing or another because that is all I was doing -- talking about it. But now I have to make a decision. A hard and fast, no going back from it decision about what I'm going to do.

My mind is 90% made up... but that 10% doubt is a real b$!&#.

As I stand at the crossroads, I can't help but think right now about Edward Teller's quote: "Faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: Either you will be given something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly." Last time I checked, I didn't have wings. And I am worried that there is nothing solid to stand on. So the question is: do I want to be safe and unhappy or scared and happier?

I was discussing my bone wrenching, stomach churning fear with my friend about my upcoming decision, and she gave me 4 words of comfort: "God will always provide." I sure hope so.

Ronald McDonald Walk For Kids

Today my son and I participated in the Ronald McDonald House Walk for Kids. This is a cause that is near and dear to my heart because when my beautiful baby boy was in the hospital a little over a year ago, the Ronald McDonald House Room in the PICU at CHOC saved me. I was terrified for my baby, but there was a room I could go to 50 feet away from his bedside that was beautifully decorated, with a bed, shower, computer access, and wonderful voluteers who always greeted me with a cheerful, sympathetic smile.

When I wasn't in my son's PICU room, I was in the Ronald McDonald room, crying, catching my breathe, or visiting with my daughter, who was not allowed anywhere near my son.

And today, my son and I were able to give something back. We raised $180 and walked the 5K with 6 of our terrific friends - I consider myself so fortunate to know them. And even though it was chilly today, and boy-o didn't get a full breakfast, he was a trooper. We may have to make this a yearly fundraising activity for he and I.

Doctor Visits

I hate going to the doctor. But when you have kids, it feels like you are there every month. (Or, if you have my kids, you are there every week. No lie. Last month I was at the doctor's office once a week for four weeks straight.)

And going to the doctor's office with kids is the absolute worst. They get bored. They get into things they shouldn't. And, of course, the big G that you have worry about: GERMS. I spend the entire time we are there on repeat: "Don't touch that. Come here, let Mommy wipe your hands. No, we are not eating here. I said don't touch that. No, we will eat outside. Where it is clean...."

Still, it's my spring break from work, so I got my son into both doctors that he needs to see, one for his asthma and the other for his well baby visit. And it's always the same:

Check in 15 minutes early. Wait for 30 minutes past your appointment time until you are called. Get angry and frustrated that you are waiting. Swear you won't come early next time but know that you will next time because you have hope that just once the doctor will be on time.

Finally get called back. The nurse makes the required comment about how big my boy is. I get it. He's large. Lets move on.

Strip my son naked for weighing, measuring, and temp, while he screams in my ear, of course.

Wrestle my son back in his clothes while the nurse asks the bazillion questions necessary to determine if he is developing on track:

"Does he like to stack blocks?" (No, he wants to knock them down)
"Can he feed himself?" (With his hands)
"Can he feed himself with a spoon?" (On a good day)
"Can he feed himself with a fork?" (Are you kidding?)
"Can he use a knife?" (Why in the name of God would I give my 16 month old son a weapon?)
"Can he say 7-20 words?" (Define words)
"Can he speak French?" (okay, maybe I made that one up. But my point is that they really need to reevaluate their development questions)

Then the nurse leaves with a cheery "The doctor will be right in!" And we proceed to wait for another 30 minutes.

Doctor shows up, and my son starts screaming. The doctor has forgotten my son's unholy fear of lab coats, and has to step outside to take it off.

Doctor comes back with the nurse. She proceeds to do the exam while my son screams his head off and I anxiously have to hold him onto the table. The doctor proceeds to say things over her shoulder for the nurse to scribble down, things like "Bilateral cracking. Second and third formulation." What the hell is she talking about?

The exam is over, and the doctor proceeds to give me The Look. "Do you know your son is overweight?" she asks disapprovingly. No kidding. My back and I had no idea. "No more fruit or juice for him," she tells me.

"But we don't give him --" I start to say.

"--Any other questions?" she interrupts.

I've been through this before. After all, my boyo is my second. So I shake my head no, and the doctor walks out the door.

Then I grab the nurse and grill her with my 20 questions.

After all, her answers are reasonable.

New Diet

I'll be the first to admit, I need to lose some weight. About 20 pounds. Probably closer to 30, but I'll stick with 20 for now. The problem is that I'm not consistent when it comes to exercising and I hate dieting. Absolutely hate it. I know, I know, you're thinking - who loves it? No one loves dieting. But I'm not sure anyone hates it as much as I do.

Be that as it may, I am trying a new diet. One that you are not going to find in any diet book. It's a simple, one step process.

Ready?

I sit next to my son at dinner time.

Why?

Whenever I load my fork/spoon, he grabs my arm and pulls the fork over to his mouth instead of mine. And he's strong too.

So, if I'm not eating as much, I'm dieting, right?

Right?

Potty Training

This is getting ridiculous.

My daughter is almost 3 - she turns 3 in June. And she is not pottytrained.

Don't get me wrong, she is well aware of the process. And she recognizes pee and poop, and recognizes when her body is making it. And - here's the kicker - she is partially potty trained at school!!!

We've tried potty training at home. We've tried bribes - stickers, pennies, and (I'm loathe to admit) M & M's. We've tried potty training dolls, an Elmo potty DVD, sitting on the potty until she goes, naked time, charts... You name it, we've tried it. I've read 5 books on the subject (The fact that I could find 5 books on the subject slightly bothers me). I took her to Walmart and we sat on all of the potties there, to find the perfect one. (We finally settled on a Princess Potty Seat, if you are curious). I bought her Disney Princess and Mickey Mouse panties. She has worn the panties over the pull ups, under the pull ups, or without pull ups.

Still nothing.

Then my sister in law gave me an idea - one that worked with her oldest son, who apparantly gave his mom potty training fits too. She simply told him that he was potty trained. And it worked.

So this morning, we got up and I told my daughter: "You are potty trained now. No more pull ups. You are a big girl."

"Okay Momma," she said. "I go peepee in the toilet."

At the end of the day, final count: My daughter - 5. Potty - 0.

I need to go do laundry.

Happy Easter

Easter Sunday was yesterday.

In a fit of insanity, I decided to host Easter.

For 20 people.

In my house.

Which is a shoebox.

Still, it went well. I was only a little frantic. I didn't sleep Saturday night because I was cooking and prepping and my son was screaming....but I was jazzed so it didn't matter. (Well, not a lot)

My daughter helped me make 20 mini bundt cakes, my husband helped me by grilling up some bacon, and my son helped me by breaking eggs into the bowl... and himself. And the floor. Which helped me mop the floor.

We set up tables outside (thank you, Lord, for no rain) and moved people smoothly through the living room to the kitchen to the patio.

My children woke up Easter morning and we talked about how Easter was when Jesus won a great victory. Then we went to see what the Easter Bunny brought -- my children think that the Easter Bunny helped Jesus win his victory and brings presents to celebrate. I don't know how much of that they get, but I'm trying to lay the foundation.

The Easter Bunny brought my munchkins clothes, toy gardening tools, bubbles, and a DVD each - the Princess and the Frog and the much loved/loathed Elmo. We had an Easter Egg Hunt where my son went and sat in his toy car and my daughter found all of the eggs but one.

My daughter wore both outfits the Easter Bunny brought her because she couldn't decide which one and my son decided he didn't want to visit with anyone and promptly fell asleep at 11, when everyone was due over at the house. He slept through the entire brunch.

By 2, everyone had left. My children were asleep. My husband and I cleaned up and collapsed on the couch.

Happy Easter Everyone!