37 posts tagged “toddler”

He did it! He did it! He did it he did it he DID it!!!

In case you missed the big announcement on Facebook yesterday (as many of you may well have, since I'm not FB friends with many of my Vox neighbors):

THE BOY SAT ON - AND PEED IN - THE POTTY!!!

(Pause for Happy Dance.)

It happened at school, so now we need to witness it at home. And, given the option, he's prefer to wear diapers over training pants, but that's okay. My baby peed in the potty! It's such a HUGE deal!!!

That concludes this major announcement. We now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

It seems like just last week I was mulling over the idea of switching, at least part-time, to cloth diapers. In reality, it's been closer to 14 months since I actually broke down and bought a few BumGenius 3.0 diapers to test. After being so incredibly pleased with the three that I initially ordered, I bought another 12, and we've been using them ever since. I have to admit there are times I wish I had put him in a disposable diaper (gigantic poops and toddler tummy among them), but for the most part, I'm actually used to using them. We've already recouped the cost in savings (including any fluctuations in utilities - which have all gone down over the previous year) and are doing our part to save the planet. Moreover, I really like them!

But diapers (thankfully) are only needed for so long, and The Boy is now at a stage where I really ought to have the option of training pants available to him. Oh, sure, I bought him some Thomas the Tank Engine underpants a few weeks ago, but he's not remotely interested in them - nor should he be because, well, he's not even interested in sitting on the potty! But I've seen him in the mornings, when he's anxious to get into the shower, tugging at the waistband of his diapers, almost in a vain attempt to remove them. (He has also voiced displeasure at having his pants or shorts removed unless he decides it's time for a wardrobe change.)

I spoke to his teacher this morning about pull-up training pants to see what she found to be the easiest to use. (The morning drop-offs got a little bit easier each day, but we'll see what happens on Monday.) Much to my surprise (and to show you how little attention I've paid to disposable training pants), there's a very big difference between Pampers Easy-Ups and Huggies Pull-Ups. While both are equally easy for kids to put on and take off, only Huggies has the easy-off velcro sides to make it easy to clean up accidents (especially the poopy variety). I'm very glad I asked, or else I would have invested a small fortune in the wrong disposable training pants!

Now, in a perfect world, The Boy would train himself in a day and I would only need to buy one package of disposable training pants before he moved on to his Big Boy underpants. Just as ideally, he wouldn't need training pants at all at home and would never need to get up in the middle of the night to use the facilities. However, I am all too well aware that we don't live in that perfect world (I don't, anyway) and, as bright as The Boy is, he's not going to potty train himself overnight. Moreover, he's still likely to have accidents at night once he is trained during the day.

I just don't want to give Kimberly Clark or Proctor & Gamble all my money! (They each get plenty as it is.)

Enter Antsy Pants. Have you heard of them? These are the coolest-looking training pants! They're stuffable, so I can use my existing BumGenius inserts at night (multi-tasking is a must). They have snaps on the sides for easy accident clean up. The sides are elastic garters, just like the disposable kind, so he can step into them like regular underpants. And though they are absorbent, they also leave just enough of a wet feeling so that The Boy will know when he's just peed. (I think he already knows this to some degree.)

Anyway, I just sent in my order for six (they call that a one-day supply, but since I only want to use it at home, it should be plenty, right?) and should receive it sometime next week. I'll write a comprehensive review after we've used them for a while. My initial plan is to give The Boy options - does he want to wear a diaper or Big Boy pants? - and go with whatever he says. I still need to make it clear, of course, that he can only wear his Big Boy pants if he agrees to sit on the potty, but if he doesn't, that's okay, too.

He's showing a little more interest in the potty, but he doesn't seem ready just yet. I'm hoping with some options, though, it will help him feel a little more comfortable about the idea of sitting on the potty with a bare bum.

The Boy is officially in the 2-year-old classroom now. Dropping him off was absolutely awful this morning.

A big part of the problem is that I still haven't met the teachers, and it doesn't help that the classroom where I drop him off in the mornings isn't the one where he will spend most of his time. So, his cubby isn't in that room, his artwork (once he makes some) isn't in that room, and his teachers aren't in that room. And it didn't help this morning that he doesn't know any of the kids, either.

After I signed him in, I briefly looked around the room and pointed out all the cool things in the classroom that aren't in the Toddler room. They have bathroom stalls - short enough for me to peer into, but tall enough to give kids privacy when they use the facilities. There's a little sink where he can wash his hands without needing to use a step stool. The tables and chairs are a little taller than the ones in the Toddler room (though still shorter than the set at home), and there are Legos and art supplies and all kinds of fun toys that we have at home but weren't in the Toddler room. After all, he's a big(ger) kid now!

I did my best to talk about everything excitedly, to get him to take me on a tour of the classroom, but he would have none of it. He begged in earnest between sobs for me to take him outside ("Out! Mama! Peas! Mama! Out! Peas! Peas!"), and he clung to my leg for dear life as I wrote on the sign-in sheet. Finally, the teacher there (still don't know her name) took him from me so that I could escape. As soon as the door shut behind me, I ran to his old Toddler classroom and sobbed.

As if that weren't enough, I still needed to run diapers to his new classroom (not the temporary one). I wrote his name on the package in the Toddler room, steeled my nerves, then ran (literally) past the room where I left him and down the hall to his classroom. Once I was there, I looked around a bit, just to see where my little boy would be spending most of his days for the next year. It's an adorable facility, really - perfectly sized for him, and I can totally see him fostering more independence in the coming year. I carefully made my way back once I heard one of the Directors being paged to the classroom where I left him and saw him standing by the door, tears streaming down his little cheeks, wringing his hands and stomping his feet as he cried, "Mamaaa! Mamaaaaaa! Mamaaaaaaaaaa!"

It absolutely broke my heart. Thankfully, he was looking the other way and didn't see me through the window (I would have died if he did), but it was horrible. I felt terrible!

I'm sure he will give Chris a full report this afternoon when Chris picks him up. And I know he's fine and is probably enjoying himself as I write.

It doesn't ease the Mommy Guilt, though.

The lady at the cleaners loves The Boy.

Before he was born, my husband would drop off his shirts or pick them up, and he would tell me that she wasn't very nice. Yet, whenever I went to the cleaners, she was always very nice to me. "Maybe it's because I'm not Asian," my husband would say half jokingly.

Several months after The Boy was born and Chris established an afternoon routine with him, he would take The Boy, still in his carrier, into the cleaners to fetch his shirts. The lady at the cleaners would coo at him and tell Chris how cute the baby was. As he grew and began interacting with his surroundings, he began to interact with her. First it was a smile, then a wave, which no doubt tickled her to no end. Every now and then, if I left work early or was at home with The Boy, Chris would go to the cleaners by himself, and she would ask where the baby was. Chris says she's much nicer now than when we first moved to the neighborhood, but she's even nicer to him when The Boy accompanies him.

Yesterday, when I came home from work, Chris and The Boy had just sat down for dinner. Chris told me that they picked up his shirts from the cleaners before going to Publix, and that the lady at the cleaners gave The Boy a bag of Sun Chips. "She always tries to give him gum," he said, puzzled. I figured that she wanted to give The Boy something, and that gum was the only thing she had handy. But that day, she went to the back and presented The Boy with his very own snack-sized bag of Sun Chips.

The Boy was very proud of his chips, and very possessive. Chris said he clutched his little bag while they were in Publix, and only gave it to Chris when they got to the car after being promised that he could eat them with dinner.

I don't go to the cleaners very often anymore, so I don't get to see the lady at the cleaners. I wish I knew a little more about her, though, even her name, and thank her for the kindness she bestows on my little boy.

Maybe it's time to bring that coat in for drycleaning...

The Boy is starting to transition to the 2-year-old classroom today. Each day, he'll spend a little more time with the bigger kids so that, come Monday, he'll be comfortable going to the 2-year-old wing.

I need to prepare myself for meltdowns next week.

He's teething like crazy. Even after a half dose of Tylenol this morning, he was still holding his mouth when I left him at school. I don't think I need to express how relieved I will be when these molars come in. At least I know I'll have a slight reprieve before the next molars come in - and by then, he'll be able to better express himself verbally to let me know what he needs.

I bought him some Big Boy Underpants this weekend. He hasn't been asking for them or anything, but I know he'll see some kids in his new class wearing Big Kid underpants and want to have those handy as a potty training incentive. He's not showing a lot of interest in the potty. He knows what it is and that you sit on it; beyond that, he hasn't quite grasped the concept. Tommy Bear sits on the potty more than The Boy does. Meanwhile, Chris and I ask him every day if he wants to sit on it, and we're careful not to push it on him. After all, he'll get there one of these days. And if he's the only kid in his class still wearing diapers, so be it.

He'll pick up on that really quickly.

Overheard tonight from The Boy's bedroom:

"No, don't take Tommy Bear's shirt off.... Socks? Tommy Bear needs socks? Okay, let's find some socks for him.... There. Now he has socks.... What?... Tommy Bear has socks.... Oh, Cow needs socks? Okay..."

This continued on for a while. It ended with my husband telling him that he had no more socks, that Mommy needed to wash them.

And then I was summoned.

"Mo more sock!" he informed me.

I went into the closet and found socks he had since outgrown, then dutifully put them on his Yo Gabba Gabba! friends. Once he was certain everyone's feet would be sufficiently warm, he decided that his footed sleeper wasn't adequate and wanted, not just socks, but entirely different pajamas to wear to bed.

Then Tommy Bear needed a new shirt. He can't have a new shirt? Well, then he needs shoes. He can't wear shoes? Well, then can I wear shoes? If I can't wear shoes, then Mama has to hold me.

I'm not certan how I managed it, but I finally got him to lie down in his crib. I tucked him in, whispered my "good nights", and hurriedly left the room, leaving the door open (because God forbid we should close the door and do anything without him). He called out for me once more (I did not respond), then was silent. He's now been asleep fr about 20 minutes.

In the meantime, he does have clean socks, just removed from the dryer before I sat down to write. But if we're now going to clothe all of his toys, I may need to stock up on more.

Our typical Sunday morning paper routine involves removing the ads from the news, then putting the news in the recycling bin and combing through the ads. Normally, The Boy has very little interest in any portion of the Sunday paper, but there was a Toys 'R' Us ad this past Sunday.

Several times on Sunday, I caught him intently studying the ad. He'd hone in on one item, then stare at it, analyzing every part of it. Of course, the ad was full of things he loves: a 7-piece drum set (out of our price range right now), several backyard sets (no room on our lot), various Thomas the Tank Engine toys... Each item was carefully scrutinized, and it was as though he weighed all the choices on the page before calling out, "Mama! Da-ee! Dis!" and pointing to his item of choice.

Yesterday morning, he spread open the ad on the couch, then stood before it, staring at each of the pictures. He propped one arm on the ottoman and leaned into it, adjusting his stance from time to time. I watched him from the kitchen as I dried and put away dishes, careful not to disturb him with my presence. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (but was really only about five minutes), he looked up, caught my eye, and beamed. "Mama! Mama! Mama!" he said, running to me, the ad flapping beside him, clutched in his tiny fist.

He threw his arms around my leg, then motioned for me to sit down. "Down!" he commanded. When I obliged, he turned around and backed into my lap, spreading open the ad for me to see. "There!" he said excitedly, pointing to the Thomas the Tank Engine table (currently on sale but both out of our price range and too big to store anywhere in our house).

"Yes, I see! That's a very nice table!"

"Thomas," he said, correcting me. "Mama! Thomas!"

I wouldn't dare ask him if he wanted it. I know full well what the answer would be. Instead, I smiled, nodded, and said, "Yes, Baby, that's a very nice table where Thomas can play!"

He seemed content enough with that response. He handed me the ad, jumped out of my lap, and turned his attention to his Yo Gabba Gabba! friends.

I caught him looking at the ad again this morning. Thankfully, it was a different page, but it was with the same intense concentration.

This behavior is eerily similar to mine in the weeks leading up to Christmas or my birthday. And with The Boy's second birthday only days away, it's almost like he knows!

Those are the words that have propelled me out of bed in the mornings lately. He repeats himself, a little louder each time, and isn't above yanking the covers off my previously sleeping body. Some mornings, he even finds my glasses and thrusts them into my hands.

"Mama! This! On!" he commands.

Though I often wish he would let me be and find his own breakfast, I have to remind myself how precious are these moments - how fleeting is this stage of his. I drag my tired body out of bed and follow him out of my bedroom, pausing only long enough for him to turn off the television.

"S'dark!" he announces as he makes his way to the kitchen. "Mama! S'dark!"

"Yes, Baby," I reply, reaching for the light switch. "And do you know why it's dark? It's dark because the rest of the world is still sleeping."

He scowls at me, then walks in his special Toddler Waddle/Walk to his table. "Poon!" he shouts. I help him climb into the chair, then quickly fetch his spoon. His eyes light up, and he licks his lips eagerly with anticipation. I get something from the refrigerator and bring it to him. "Go-yer!" he exclaims happily, almost shrieking. I barely have a chance to remove the lid before he thrusts his spoon into the yogurt.

It really is a joy to watch him eat. He grips the spoon forcefully in his right hand, carefully cradling the yogurt cup with his left. He inserts the spoon, pulls it out, puts it into his mouth, and continues to eat. Sometimes it drips on him ("Uh-oh! Mama! Uh-oh!"), which requires my immediate attention, and he has difficulty scraping out the last bits of yogurt. But, inevitably, he will point to the empty cup and ask, quite pointedly, "More?"

He knows there is more. He knows where to find more. Sometimes he's content with my explanation that he is only allowed to eat one yogurt for breakfast. Other times, he jumps down from his chair and runs to the refrigerator himself, struggling in vain to open the heavy doors.

When he wants to eat cereal, he'll bring you the box, but beware: you can't provide him with enough. When he wants to eat fruit, he'll tell you ("Each!" "Ban!" "Pum!" "Air!"), and a meltdown may ensue because the fruit isn't large enough to appease his appetite.

And yet, I can't imagine another way to start my day. With a few simple commands, he's able to get me (or my husband) up and moving about - and any thoughts of returning to my warm bed after breakfast are immediately banished, no matter the time.

The Boy is turning two in less than four weeks. With a new number comes a new class, new teachers, and new benchmarks to hit. At this time last year, I was starting to get a little stressed because he wasn't walking and wasn't consistent with using his sippy cup. Now that he happily runs around the house (sometimes literally) and clearly gets enough fluids drinking from his sippy cups, I realize that my anxiety wasn't completely necessary. All the same, the proactive steps I took did ease him into the next classroom, so I spoke with a teacher today from the two-year-old class to identify what skillsets The Boy ought to have before he transitions.

And this is when I learned the big thing in the two-year-old class is potty training.

[sigh]

About five months ago, when The Boy was 18 months old, his teachers asked if I wanted to get him started on potty training. I declined, reasoning that if he wasn't remotely interested in undressing himself, he clearly wasn't interested in using the potty. Fast forward a few months and he's starting to show some interest in removing his clothing, but only when the bathtub is filling or I've dressed him in a shirt or pants that he doesn't want to wear. All the same, as much as he likes playing with toilet paper and flushing the toilet (not simultaneously, thank goodness), he hasn't shown a whole lot of interest in really, um, interacting with it.

So I asked Chris today to swing by Target and pick up a little potty chair. I brought home the seat that fits onto the big toilet, but The Boy seems overwhelmed by the idea of sitting on the big commode. I can't blame him, really. I'm a little leery of things that are three-quarters my height, too.

I'm elated that his teachers at school are going to be working with him on potty training during the day, which will make the whole process go so much faster, especially when The Boy see his classmates going into the bathroom and using the toilet instead of pooping and peeing in their diapers. After all, peer pressure can be a good thing. I just don't know that he's ready, and I really don't want him to get so anxious that it becomes a prolonged (translation: year-long) process.

Of course, he could very well be ready and I just don't recognize any of the signs. Either way, it appears potty training is coming to my house sooner than I expected.

Wish me luck. I think I'm going to need it.

I was thinking the other day how generally easy-going The Boy is. We give him options on what he will wear, we let him decide what he wants to play with, we (try to) listen to him intently (sometimes without understanding a single word), and we take him very seriously.

That last part likely explains why "No!" isn't something we often hear.

Last night at dinner, he said "no" quite a bit. "Do you want to eat?" we would ask. A stern shake of his head indicated the answer, and that was that. A few minutes later, we'd ask again, only to get the same response. We put him in his chair in front of his chicken nuggets, only to have him leap up and run back to his toys. Finally, I posited the winning question: "Do you want yogurt?" His eyes lit up, and he came running.

I read somewhere that the best way to keep a toddler's use of "No!" at a minimum is to take his statement very seriously. In our case last night, he wasn't really indicating that he didn't want to eat, just that he didn't want to eat chicken nuggets.

This finally registered this morning when I was dressing him. He awoke with remnants of a nosebleed and wet pajamas (through both of which he slept soundly for 11 hours, despite only having yogurt for dinner), so I quickly changed his diaper and dressed him in a t-shirt. After breakfast, I offered a couple of options for bottoms, and when neither met his approval, I chose a pair of shorts for him. Once dressed (complete with socks and shoes), he looked down at his shorts, grunted and tugged at them, then pointed to the beach pants he had previously scoffed. "Would you rather wear pants today?" I asked. "Ess," he replied with a nod, then promptly sat down so that I could take off his shorts and dress him in pants.

It completely amazes me, this easy-going nature. I don't dare claim that he's a perfect child and never throws a tantrum. Quite the contrary - he refused five times to have his picture taken at school on Monday and is often adamant about wanting certain playthings (drumsticks and Thomas the Tank Engine, to be specific). But when he talks to us and we actually stop, get down to his level, and really listen, it's like communicating with a little man.

A little man with a limited vocabulary and difficulty with pronunciation, sure, but a little man nonetheless.