Sunday, August 22, 2010

A Diaper-Free House is on the Horizon

I can see it.

At first it was like a mirage shimmering in the distance.  A house free of diapers.  The expense, the stench, the battle, all gone. One morning about two weeks ago, my 21 month old son dragged the training toilet into the living room where his sister and I were watching an episode of Curious George, and said, "Poop!"  Since I'm a fly by the seat of your pants kind of girl, I thought why not, took off his diaper and sat him down on the toilet.  Of course, nothing happened but the little man sat there for the next twenty minutes watching George, trying his best, until finally he peed.  I was amazed.  He was amazed.  His sister was amazed.  We all did a dance, cheered wildly, and sang a song.

That was two weeks ago.  This morning, after a four day streak of no accidents in underpants, he woke up with a dry diaper.  He immediately asked for the toilet and his Aquaman underpants.  He took a trip to the mall with his dad, played all day, had a nap, and still no accident.  Then this evening, as he played on his new bean-bag chair with his sister, she announced, "I smell poop!"  Figuring the streak of good fortune had been broken, I ran over to what I was sure to be a total disaster, to find exactly the opposite.  My son had taken off his pants and used the training toilet (yes it is just sitting in the play room) all on his own!

The mirage is shimmering less and taking on true form.  Now I can almost reach out and touch it:  a diaper-free home.



Toilet Time

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Another Mother's Dilemma

Bet I could run an entire series of Mother's Dilemmas posts.

My most recent dilemma came about yesterday as I went shopping for underpants for my son who is toilet training. This most likely shouldn't be a difficult task, however my son is quite young to be training (21 months) and he is on the small side (22 lbs). The smallest underpants I could find were 2/3T with the weight range starting at 27 lbs. I started thinking about how I didn't remember having this problem when I trained my daughter at 20 months, so I checked the girls underpants to discover the 2/3T weight range starts at 20 lbs.

The dilemma:

Do I buy my son underpants that fit, but are pink, or do I buy underpants for boys that are too big? How is one supposed to make such difficult decisions??

After much going back and forth, much more than probably should be admitted, I decided to go with the boy pack. He is already on the small side, so the last thing his pride needs is to be caught in girls underpants. And, he will eventually grow into them, right?

Sunday, August 15, 2010

A Mother's Dilemma

A few weeks ago, as I came down the stairs I noticed the the wood below the banister was in much need of a good dusting. So, I made a mental note, and like many mothers of small children, I immediately forgot. Last week on my house cleaning day it dawned on me

Hey, go dust upstairs.

So, I grabbed my dust cloth, ran up stairs fully prepared to eliminate the dust and rid my family of embarrassment, when I discovered my daughter had begun writing her name with her finger in the dust. Quite clearly it reads, "CATH". Now, as summer comes to an end and we prepare for a trip and two weeks of house guests, I am faced with the dilemma: leave the embarrassing dust, or destroy my daughter's endearing mark.

Oh, who am I kidding. This is the age of digital images. Time to take a picture, and clean the dust!

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Saturday mornings are awsome. Catherine has been taking dance class for almost a year now. We have a routine of heading out early to grab bagels before class. This quarter we are we are "practicing for school" which means I drop her off for class after bagels then I leave to go for a run. She has been a bit nervous about my leaving the building, and has found comfort in learning our phone number, getting a flower after each class, and most importantly wearing her tiarra.
While intently watching an episode of Alias, Chase exclaimed, "Uh oh!" immediately following an explosion.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Dinosaurs, Termites, and Exotic Cuisine

One of our favorite places to visit is the Durham Museum of Life and Science.  Catherine is completely obsessed with the butterfly house, and Chase just loves running around the sound exhibit.  On the weekends we go as a family, and since we have a membership, we frequently go during the week whenever we need to break the boredom, even if it just for an hour.  This past week we have been twice, once with our friends Kristen and Patrick, who managed to snap this terrific picture of us about to be eaten by an Albertosaurus on the dinosaur trail.


The second trip was to check out the Butterfly Bash.  We stopped by after dance class, having no idea what the Butterfly Bash actually was, to be completely surprised by all the fun.  Upon entrance, members had a choice of gift between a cute bottle of bubbles with a butterfly on top and a lollipop with a mealworm inside.  After inquiring about the lollipop, and if the worm was real (alive in Catherine speak) and edible, she decided to go with...

drum roll please...

the lollipop!

Yes, she did eat it.

Chase chose a bottle of pink bubbles.  Go figure.

Once inside, we discovered at least a dozen booths set up outside the butterfly house with topics ranging from entomology to face painting.  The first booth we hit, was face painting.


We then sat outside and listened to some live music for a bit.  Well, I sat, the kids danced.



Chase attacked a few times. Fun.

There was booth where people could hold exotic bugs like giant millipedes, tarantulas, and stick bugs.  If you know our kids, then yea, you know we held them all.

Then we hit up the termite booth which I found amazing.  Apparently there is a chemical in many ball point ink pens that is similar enough to the one used by termites to communicate about where to find food, so if you draw a path with one of these pens, the termites will get on it and follow it.  Blew my mind.  Totally amazed I was, so when I asked the entomologist which chemical was responsible, I was taken back when she gave me a look, sighed, and pulled out a piece of paper to which she pointed to a chemical structure, and said, "If you really want to know it is this."



It was the structure for 2-phenoxyethanol.

Perhaps this adorable, young entomologist just couldn't imagine that the woman to whom she was speaking, with the crazy child on her shoulders pointing and grunting loudly at termites walking on the loop-dee-loops his sister just drew, while rubbing her hair into something resembling a rats nest, would actually understand the word 2-phenoxyethanol because in a previous life she used to be an organic chemist.

Honestly, I was.

I have the tax documents to prove it.

Anyway, after some lunch the kids decided the perfect way to end the meal was with, well pardon the pun, some mealworm dessert.  And I'm not talking about the lollipop.  Well just see for yourself, or if you have a weak stomach, please don't look in the cup.


Fortunately they were stir fried in an electric walk in some sesame oil, however she refused all offers of toppings.  Both she and Chase ate them saying, "Mmmm,"
and then to much of my horror,
"Try one, Mommy.  They taste just like fries!"

Honestly I would say they were more like oily styrofoam than fries.

Then there were the crickets, oh the crickets.  They at least accepted the drizzled chocolate topping.  Here she is moments after chowing down her second helping of crickets.


If you look real closely you might just see a leg sticking out between her teeth.  Oh dear, sorry for the imagery.  After dessert we all three got stickers,


and four hours later we left happily exhausted, and full of all sorts of new experiences.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

New Skates and a New Do

As it turns out, both Catherine and I are highly motivated by sticker charts.

Nap time had turned into a battle of wills about six weeks ago, and the hours of 2:00 to 4:00 p.m. turned into an awful time in our home.  Giving up naps was not an alternative, we tried, however the irrational, demanding behavior became too much to bare. To motivate our little diva into taking her much needed nap, a sticker chart was created.  Every day she took a nap, she got a sticker.  Once she accumulated 7 stickers, she got a small prize.  It was amazing how motivating this was.  Anytime she considered fighting a nap, I would say, "This is an opportunity to earn a sticker."  Like magic, she'd go lay down.  Now, I cannot say that a nap occurred every day, but the resistance to napping was no longer an issue.  When a nap is not taken, no sticker is given.  Since then, we have seen a clear pattern relating sleep and behavior.  After two days of no actual sleep, she enters into one of her moods.  At the beginning of this week she filled an entire four week chart with stickers, so we celebrated with a bigger reward:  roller skates.


She has been asking us for skates since winter.  Finally with nice weather, and good behavior it seemed to be the right time.  She is doing pretty well with them, too.  Better than I expected.




Just ignore the screaming child in the background, he was trying to bully me out of my phone.  His narcissistic  obsession with watching videos of himself, cause this reaction every time he sees the phone. 

While shopping for the skates, we saw that there was a salon that cut kids hair for a good price, so Chase got his second, and much needed hair cut. 


He looks so much like his dad I wonder if I was anything more than an incubator. 

Oh and please excuse the dirty shirt, we had been playing outside all day.

And for those of you paying attention to the beginning of this post may be wondering how exactly is it that I, too, am motivated by sticker charts.  Well, I made one for myself to remind me to exercise every day, and placed it on the pantry door.  The motivation from seeing no sticker in the box for the day has done wonders for my exercise goals. 

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Tummy talking

Catherine woke us up this morning to say, "Tummy talking! And the talk is, 'rumble rumble'."

Later this morning, she saw that the home screen of the PS3 had changed to green, and said, "Maybe it's camouflaged."

Thursday, April 08, 2010

Semantics

Catherine: Can Grandma come over right now?
Mom:  No, she can't.
Catherine:  Why?
Mom:  Because she is coming this evening to babysit you and Chase while Mommy and Daddy go out to eat.
Catherine:  Chase and I aren't really babies anymore.  You should say she is coming to kidsit instead.

I really, truly love conversation with three year old kids. 

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Face Painting Fun

On our recent trip up north to visit my parents, my dad and his wife took us to the Newport Aquarium where we had a blast and had many firsts.

We saw piranhas for the first time.  They were not a big hit.

We saw penguins for the first time.  They were a big hit.

We saw jelly fish.  Oh my, they were a huge hit.


 


Catherine  had her face painted for the first time.  Enormous hit.  Can you guess what she chose?



A butterfly. 

Since returning home this week, the request for face paint has been incessant.  Since I am prone to give in to badgering, okay, since it is super fun, we went to the craft store and acquired some face paint.  I got to try my hand at recreating the butterfly, and voilĂ !



Note the butterfly shirt is a necessity, also.
Please excuse us if it is weeks before our daughter is seen again without a butterfly painted face.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Sibling Companionship

For weeks now Catherine has been begging us to let Chase sleep in her room.  It has been a request denied over and over, since little brother still habitually wakes up around 11:00 p.m. every night for a good five minute scream.  Yesterday while I was dressing, Chase was hanging out in his crib and Catherine played in his room.  There was much giggling that rapidly increased in volume and when I went to the room I discovered the source of all the laughter:  Catherine had climbed in his crib.


Since then the request for Chase to sleep in her room has been nonstop.  Badgering might be the best word to describe it.  So this evening we decided to give it a try.  The excitement was high, bed time stories were read, children were tucked in, and then the crying began.  First it was Chase, then it was Catherine.  Oh well, it was worth a try.  Perhaps if the request is made again, we'll give a shot in a few months.  Until then, separate rooms for a good night sleep.


Or as good of a nights sleep as one can get when one sleeps in these positions. 

Sunday, March 07, 2010

Why Don't My Kids Listen to Me?

Why don't my kids listen to me?


This is the question.

This is what all parents want to know. 

Undoubtedly a psychiatrist has answered this in a parenting book somewhere;  however, I am not a psychiatrist, and parenting books make me crazy.  Over the past two weeks there has been a series of events that have brought this question to mind, and I would like to share my thoughts.

To begin, take a look at this photo of my son.

 

What exactly is he doing?

After finishing a set of push ups, while my daughter counted for me, I looked up to see this.  Why, he was doing push ups, too!  When we acknowledged what he was doing, he was so proud.  For the rest of the afternoon he would do this anytime he wanted our attention, then proceed to march round the house clapping.

A few days later, during a chaotic moment, when my hands were full and trying to get out the door to the grocery store, I kept calling for my kids to come get in the car.  It felt like it was taking them forever, and frustration was budding.  After the second time of calling them with no cooperation, I went to physically round them up, to find they were both in my bedroom closet trying to get their purses ready (packed with juice boxes and toys) for the trip.  The frustration vanished, and we had a very merry shopping trip.

Lastly, while tucking my daughter into bed one evening, I asked her which story she would like to hear. 

"Cat Skidoo!"  she replied excitedly. 

"Well where is it?" I asked, because it was not on the bookshelf.

"Right there on my night table.  Just like your favorite book," she answered with an unusually large grin.

Sure enough there it was.  And indeed, it was just like my favorite book, which was sitting on my night table, down to the elastic book mark.  She had improvised with a headband.

So, back to the original question.

Why don't my kids listen to me?

They are simply too busy watching.





Friday, February 26, 2010

A Wagon Ride

 


Today, despite the chilly temperature, we went for a wagon ride.  It has been a week of runny noses, coughs, fevers and all other sort of illness uglies.  The kids were feeling better, the house was scrubbed from top to bottom, and  we were all about to rip each other to shreds when mom had an idea:  a wagon ride.  All bundled up with blankets and lollipops to boot.  It was the perfect solution to the end of a week long of sickness.  The ride was filled with the silliest game of I Spy that has been played to date, songs, and much giggling.





While writing this post  I realized there were so many physical representations of love in the above photo, I couldn't help myself from pointing them out.

We are so fortunate to have so many wonderful friends and family.


Tuesday, February 23, 2010

A Major Breakthrough

I am a stay at home mom. Because of this my family benefits in many ways, one of which is the lack of day-care-facilitated-illness. In our daughters three and a half years of life she has gone to the doctor three times for sick visits.

Let me say that again three sick visits.

Perhaps it is the irregularity of the visits, perhaps it is the memory of vaccination, or what ever other speculation may apply, she hates going to the doctor. It started when we went for her two year wellness visit. At the time I was quite pregnant, and thrilled that she was finally able to walk on her own. While waiting for our turn, we happily played with puzzles and read a few books. The nurse called her name and she proudly walked to the exam room on her own. Then she was asked to take off her clothes.

A perfectly reasonable request.

Well perhaps reasonable if you are not two.

Little did I know that one simple request would open the door for new and unimaginable levels of embarrassment and frustration for me as a mother.

"Catherine please take off your clothes," I said.

"No. I don't want."

"You must take off your clothes so the doctor can check your body."

"No!"

"It's okay. She can leave on her clothes. Lets see how much she weighs, " said the nurse symatheticly as she walked over to the scale.

"I don't want to! I want to go home!" yelled Catherine much louder this time.

"You get to stand on the big girl scale. Just like at home." I was beginning to panic.

"No! Get me out of here! I want to go home!"

Maximum volume had been achieved. For sure my mother in Kentucky was able to hear her.

"Please, Catherine. All you have to do is stand on the scale." Now I was beginning to beg.

"It's okay, Catherine," said the nurse.

Wrong answer. Well meaning people do this to us all the time. Say something meant to be comforting when I have clearly lost control of my child; however, it always plays out the same way. Tears. Huge, crocodile tears, with screaming. Not even words, just screaming.

She began running down the hall towards the exit.

"Get me out of here! I want to leave! I want to go home!"

"Catherine stop this right now!" I was screaming, too. And at a loss.

Let me take a minute to say, this was not the first public tantrum I have been exposed to as a mother. I am a well seasoned veteran. I have a system for such behavior. A good system that gets me back in control. A good system that works. We stop what we are doing immediately, leave the situation until she is calm and cooperative, then return to do what we set out to do in the first place. However what she wanted was to leave.

Give me just a minute to decide what to do. Everyone was looking. All the doctors, nurses, even other patients were poking their heads out exam rooms.

She started stomping her feet.

"Get me out of here! Now! Get me out of here now!"

Okay, I'll just stick with my plan. My good plan. The one that always works.

I swooped her up in my arms, and headed for the car. Arms and legs were swinging, tears were rolling, and words were gone, only blood curling screams remained. And I did mention I was in the third trimester of pregnancy, right? She was strapped into her carseat, still screaming, and I was crying too. I called my husband, he reassured me. Finally, fifteen minutes later she was calm. We went back in.

"Please stand on the scale."

It began again. We skipped the weigh in, and I manually restrained her for as much of the exam as possible. Most of what is supposed to be done was skipped.

This is how every visit has been for the past year and a half. The pediatrician has told me more than once that although this behavior is common at this age, our situation is "extreme" and one of control not fear or anxiety. Lucky me.

Then, a few weeks ago, I worked up the courage to schedule her first dentist appointment. We read books, we looked at Dr. John's webpage to see pictures of everyone who works there, and talked to all of her friends who have already been to the dentist. She was excited. When the big day came, there was no hesitation. We happily sat in the waiting room watching the fish tank, playing with toys, and chatting with the receptionist. The hygienist called her name, it was time to go back, and it started, the moment I was dreading. The moment for which I had saved up my courage.

"I don't want to. I want to leave."

I picked her up, at least I'm not pregnant this time, and carried her to the exam room.

"Get me out of here. I want to leave!"

Dr. John came in immediately.

"Is this how it goes at the doctor?" he asks. I had told them about our "situation" on the new patient form.

"Yes."

"I have a suggestion. Why don't you leave Catherine with me and Michelle, and wait in the waiting room."

I've tried everything, and nothing works. This is something new, why not give it a shot. So I went. She screamed, and screamed. I could still hear her as I made my way through to the waiting room. The door closed behind me and all was silent. Fifteen minuets later Michelle came out.

"Mrs. Weddendorf, we're all done."

I went back, and there she sat, my daughter, perfectly calm in the chair. Exam complete. What was the secret? Mom may come back when you decide to calm down, and we complete the full exam without kicking, hitting, or biting. Total cooperation achieved. The rest of the day she talked about nothing but Dr. John and how she loved going to the dentist.

So Monday morning of this week she woke up coughing, sneezing, fever of 101.8, and then she vomited. Indeed she was sick, and going to the doctor a necessity. As I sat in the waiting room, son in tow for he was sick also, I was thinking, plotting, planning. When the nurse called us back, Catherine took my hand.

I said to her, "You can do this, I know you can. "

We walked back, there it was, the dreaded scale.

"Lets see how much you weigh," said the nurse.

"I want to leave." She took a step towards the door.

I knelt down. I looked in her eyes and said, "Calm your self down and cooperate. If you do not, I will have to wait in the waiting room like at Dr. John's office."

She stood on the scale.

She calmly stood on the scale.

She calmly cooperated through the entire exam. She even chatted with the doctor about the name of the tool that looks in your ear (an otoscope) and the artist of the finger paintings on the wall. She left smiling with a sticker for the first time.

A major breakthrough.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Raspberries Anyone?

Rasberries Anyone?

One morning while we all lazed in bed, Dad taught us how to play the raspberry game on Mom's belly. Now that we got the hang of it, we no longer need Mom to have a good time. On occasion, Chase finds it hilarious to make a kiss noise to Mom, come in for a cheek kiss, and then blow raspberries instead. This is called the bait and switch method of making Mom laugh. For the record, Mom finds this hilarious, too.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Dentist

Say Cheese

Last week Catherine went to the dentist for the first time. To be honest, it is unclear who was more nervous, Catherine or Mom. Going to the doctor is always a production in which Catherine is the star of a rather unpleasant scene, so the thought of the dentist was overwhelming. Fortunately the dentist is well rehearsed for such scenes, and had ample patience. Mom waited in the waiting room, and as seen in the photo above, all went much better than expected. She talks about going to the dentist on a daily basis, and even sings the rhyme they taught her while brushing her teeth. The beloved Wall-e toothbrush has been abandoned for the one from the dentist, and there is hope that next time will be less stressful on us both.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Valentine Fun

Yesterday we had a Valentine party with our friends.

We decorated cupcakes.

Decorating

Cupcakes

We made cards.

Card Decoration

We had much fun!

Additional photos taken by Kimberlee Edwards.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Thursday, February 04, 2010

Bookworms

Book Worms

Lately Catherine and Chase have been playing together in Chase's room unsupervised for short periods of time. Yesterday after a few minutes of silence I poked my head into the room to find them sitting on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, reading a book. It is no longer a mystery why anchoring bookshelves to the wall is suggested.

Bookshelf

Once the photo was snapped and the book finished, everything was returned to its proper place.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Quotes from Children

As of late, most sentences that are spoken by Catherine being with the phrase "I want..." It is tiresome have to constantly correct this, and stressful having such a demanding tone ever present. In hopes of keeping our good humor, Bill and I make jokes to each other, that until recently, flew over the head of our eldest child. This morning our first conversation of the day, while lying in bed, went something like this:

Catherine: I want juice.

Bill (to me): From now on Mommy and Daddy are going to ignore all comments that start with "I want."

Mommy giggles.

Catherine: Oh, I need juice.

Yes, the days of speaking as if she doesn't understand us are quite over.

In other, yet similar news, our youngest is talking up a storm. His vocabulary includes words such as phone, bye-bye, da-da, ma-ma, Bast (our cat, and every cat he sees), bath, na-na (music, don't ask), ball, and shoe. He follows directions quite well, when he wants, so we know he understands much of what we say.

Perhaps the most difficult lesson of parent-hood that I am still trying to learn is how to separate adult conversation and not talk about my children as if they don't understand what is being said.