Big Transitions: Potties and Rooms

Last week I started two different posts, and never finished them. I thought about another five more...and didn't write them.

BUT...now I have a few different things to write about Kiddo because this past week ended up being a major one...like a whole MASSIVE Kiddo C-change.

Namely, we got Kiddo a potty and transitioned him to his own room and bed.

*GASP*

Yes, folks, it was CRAZINESS. And while there were a number of other things that happened, I'll save that for next week. These I think, are more than enough for one blog post. Frankly...I'm going crazy now.

Potty Time

On a whim this past Friday we bought a potty. It was the cheapest multi-stage potty I've seen ($13 for a stool, potty, transition seat situation) and so I snagged it. We've been discussing potties for a while, what happens when people go, how to go etc. We've talked about underwear. We read a few library books about potties....but this was the first major step in the direction of potty training.

Honestly, I think my parents were more excited about it that I was, mostly because it will save everyone a lot of money. A few months back we switched over to sposies entirely because:

1. Kiddo no longer fit in his cloth covers.
2. The cloth diapers no longer had enough asorbancy.
3. I would have to upgrade my entire stash to make things work.
4. And you know, we kind of have the WORST DROUGHT EVER. I couldn't stomach washing his dipes daily with double rinses etc.

With sposies on all the time, while it is convenient, I feel guilty every time I put them in the garbage. Also, I hate how expensive they are, knowing what I know about cloth stashes. It's a bit of a Catch 22, lose-lose situation.

SO the POTTY is really attractive for those reasons as well. That and there is the possibility of really exciting underwear for Kiddo (which if I can get motorcycles, sports, or Sesame Street characters, it will DEFINITELY be an incentive.).

Thus far, Kiddo sits on the potty with the lid up but not with his pants down. He decorated it with stickers, but he's not interested in actually using it. He does comment about when he's going. Sometimes he even requests potty time, but we still haven't made any kind of effort at getting him to actually fill it. Still, his love of his potty is encouraging. We may yet be potty trained this summer, and that would be VERY exciting.

Big Boy Bed

The transition to Kiddo's own room and bed has been a mixed bag. The first night he took twice as long to get to sleep because he was looking around the room, at his night-light, playing with his giraffe, etc. In the middle of the night he woke up, wailed, and only went back to sleep when I went in to nurse him. About 4 hours later he woke up wailing wanting to nurse again.

Needless to say, that night I did not get very much sleep.

The second night however, went better. He fell asleep faster and there was less wailing (even though I did end up going in twice). He seems to like the idea it is his bed and his room. Kiddo got very excited when he realized his clothes were in the closet and dresser.

2nd night with his motorcycle pillow, dolly, and kitty.

So we'll continue along this path with the bed and room. Hopefully we'll get to a place where he no longer needs me in the middle of the night. I hope that is in the near future, but I'll settle for a few months down the road (Am I too optimistic?).

Other Transitions

Beyond the potty and his own room, Kiddo is clearly becoming a child. There is no trace of infant in him. He asks questions and uses full sentences. He requests things, tells stories which are increasingly understandable, and follows two part instructions.

There are parts of me that see this and mourn the loss of the baby he used to be. Still, I celebrate as he progresses, knowing as he moves through life, things like good story-telling and full sentences are not only helpful, but necessary.

Smiling to Wailing and Back Again

Ugh.

That is how I would describe the past five days.

Just...ugh.

This kid is driving me up a wall. Sometimes he cries because he's frustrated: the blocks won't stack. The stacking rings don't lock in place. Grover doesn't sit astride the Ducati Diavel.

Other times, he just...cries.

And I have no frickin' clue what the hell is going on. Really. None. It's not that he's hungry, or tired, or even teething. It's not that he hasn't gotten to play or read or whatever. Every concievable need is met, and yet... crying. Total meltdown.

Oh sure. Sometimes he willfully does things he is not supposed to do and he suffers the consequences of such actions, like not being able to play outside. But really, the crying is just...dumb. And annoying when redirecting doesn't work any more.

I've heard about this phase. I've read moms talking about it on forums and in articles on parenting sites, but really guys, being in it is a LOT worse than reading about it. And the advice...does NOT work. Yeah. Pretty sure we're in the lovely toddler wonder week thing.

They should have medication for parents specifically for this time. I mean, besides wine and ibuprofen.

I jest. I know it is temporary. I know it will end. And I know he will be graduating from college when I blink. So I'll cling to the moment of discovery and joy - the dimpled smiles, giggling, counting to 5 for the first time, stacking 8 blocks without them falling, telling understandable stories about toys and activities. I'll hold those in my mind and grit my teeth until he goes to sleep on the rough days.

Yeah.

And drink a beer.

A Geek Parent with a Jock Kid

I always said if I had a kid, it wouldn't matter what they wanted to do I would support them. If, for example, they wanted to be a ribbon dancer, I would help them to be the best damn ribbon dancer ever. And this is still true.

I just never thought I, a creative geek, would end up with a super athlete kid. Not really. I mean, I thought it would be funny....but...I didn't think it would ACTUALLY happen.

My husband jokes that he is the least athletic in his family. This is true, however when we say the least athletic, this needs perspective. This is a man who taught himself how to spear fish, who has strung marines up by a single ankle and shook them, who chopped off the heads of baby rattle snakes with a hatchet at the age of 11. He is, in my estimation, a sort of Paul Bunyon type. This is my picture of my husband.

So then, I can tell you about his sisters. His sisters, one of whom had a full ride scholarship to play soccer. Another tried out for the basketball team without never having played, and was placed on varsity as a sophomore, without EVER HAVING PLAYED.

Oh, and did I mention his dad? Kiddo's grandfather? who STILL holds track and field records at his high school? STILL!

Sigh.

So my son, my darling boy, has this in his blood. He watches an inning of baseball and starts trying to pitch. He hits balls off the tee, with a bat that is as big as he is. He dribbles soccer balls without trying. He runs EVERYWHERE. This is the kind of boy I have. An athlete. And I don't even know all the rules to these games. I don't know all the stances. But you can be sure I'm going to learn.

Kiddo will stay still to watch sports. Golf. Baseball. Basketball. Football. Soccer (actually, he doesn't sit still for soccer - he runs around kicking the ball like the players because he thinks it's super fun).

Oh, and then there are motorcycles. He LOVES motorcycles. And bicycles. Pretty much anything with wheels. He likes how they work - another inherited trait from his father's side.

However, he also loves music. And fabric. And animals. And colors. And telling stories. And walking around looking at nature. So at least we have that to bond over.

It is funny that I ended up with an athlete. The irony was too good for it NOT to happen. And that's fine. Even though I don't know much about these sports, I will support Kiddo as he pursues them. He has his uncles and aunts who played all manner of things and will enjoy sharing that with him. And I will go to the games and I will take him to camps or whatever he finds enjoyable. I am committed to that, because that is where his interest lies. That's part of what it means to be a parent.

And he is still extremely young. He could end up being really into writing too. That could happen. Or he could go in a completely different direction. Who knows? Life takes all kinds of twists and turns. However, I'm pretty sure, whatever direction it goes for Kiddo, there will be sports somewhere in the mix. He loves them too much for it not to be the case.

In the mean time, I have to figure out ways to weather all the sports related events. And the other sporty parents - you know, the ones who were into sports themselves and have nothing in common with me except the fact their kid plays on the same team as mine.

Tips would be welcome. I'm going to store them up in preparation. Until then, I'll play ball with my limited skills, hoping I've got at least a few years before Kiddo outstrips me. And then I'll start outsourcing the play time to more competent family members. In a few years. I hope...

Remembering Gifts

We were walking around the neighborhood, holding hands. Kiddo had been telling me stories in toddler gibberish, which slowly trailed off. It was quiet. No one was around. The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees.

"Do you see the pretty flowers?" He looks. "And hear the wind through the leaves? How wonderful is that?!"
Then, he looks up at me, and gives me a beaming smile of such delight in that moment, my heart completely melts. Just thinking about it makes my eyes water.

Kiddo is a gift. This is the thing I have to remember always.

In some ways, my time that I've had as a stay-at-home parent has been stressful. It has been stressful to not contribute to our family coffers directly. It has been stressful to be isolated, both by being a SAHM, as well as through my writing. Neither one of these occupations screams "social." It has been stressful to try to manage those two occupations, which frequently conflict with one another.

How many times has Kiddo come to my arm, as I'm sitting at the computer, and pulled on my sleeve? How many times have I had to shrug him off because I had to get something done that day in order to feel like I was progressing?

I can't count. I don't know. It's too much. It's too many. It makes me feel a little ashamed to admit it in this public way.

Because there are warring priorities. And there is only one resource. Time. There is never enough time. There is only so much time. How is one considered wealthy? By their use of time.

I made a promise to myself. I would write - or at least, work on whatever it was that needed work that day - in the morning. And this work continues through nap time. After nap time, I try to devote my afternoon to Kiddo. Completely.

And sometimes that is hard. Sometimes it is really hard. I get bored doing toddler things (although that is growing less so) and will often catch myself flicking through something on my phone. Sometimes I get really irritated - truly stuck on a bit of formatting or marketing. Eventually I recognize it would be better for everyone if I paid exclusive attention to Kiddo, and I come around. And that is good. Everyone ends up happier.

And I love being a writer. I do. I love doing it and focusing on it completely. And I love being a mom. I do. I love doing it and focusing on Kiddo completely. Trying to do both at once however, is an abysmal failure.

So I try to separate them. This allows me to spend time doing the thing I feel called to do, the thing I must to stay sane, as well as spend time with the little boy I love, my son. It's the closest to a win-win I can get.

And times like this, make me think about how I allocate my precious resource. They make me wonder about what I am willing to give up, and what I cannot live without. They make me question what kind of memories I want to have. When I look back at my life, what story will be there? What will I have accomplished? What relationships will I have built? What kind of a person will I have been?

Part of the answer is my writing. But a bigger part of that answer is the relationship I want with Kiddo. I want to experience him fully. I'm still not sure I want a second kid, and I will only have one chance with Kiddo. He is one person - my precious little boy. The child who makes emotional and abstract connections constantly, who sings and dances, and whose smile lights up even my darkest moments, that is a person I always want with me. That is a person I want to make and share memories with, always. And every single moment - the wild energy bursts, the silly expressions, and the intense tantrums - all of that is a gift I have been given.

There are not words to express my gratitude for my time with Kiddo. Parents understand this feeling - it is unique to the parenting experience. I have never felt it to this depth as I do with Kiddo. Of course, I am grateful for all the wonderful people I've had the pleasure to meet, who have been in my life at one time or another. Of course I love my close friends, my parents, my husband. Of course. And they are each gifts.

But they are not Kiddo.

Earlier in the day, Kiddo was taking a nap. I was exhausted. I was cranky. He fell asleep in the car, and I couldn't move him because moving him wakes him. So I stayed in the car, and dozed myself. When he woke up, I carried up the stairs into a sitting area and we nursed. Of course, the couch was in the sun. Of course, he fell asleep on my lap. Of course I was extraordinarily thirsty.

I got so irritated, I set him down. I couldn't handle the heat any more. I got a glass of water. He woke up. He sat up. He said a few gibberish words.

I sat down.

Then, for some reason, I look across the room and our eyes meet. Kiddo's face cracks into a huge smile - that beaming perfect smile that reflects all his joy and love and light in a single look, and I remember.