Sit. Stay. Potty??

If someone had given me a list of things I wouldn't be prepared for during the course of childbirth/child rearing there are things that with common sense I would have graciously accepted and acknowledged as an occupational hazard.  Of course, as anyone who has experienced the pleasure (cough) of parenting, you know that the longer list are things that you would have never in a million sleep deprived years guessed to be truth....rather just a hazing scare from the BTDT's much akin to the quintessential "fish stories" you hear during the course of your life.  Such examples include (but are not limited to):

- yes, a newborn baby really can nurse for 24 solid hours a day without stopping.  The wonderful lactation consultants breastfeeding nazis call this cluster feeding, and assure you it is perfectly normal.  I called it medieval torture, and there is nothing normal about it at all.

- the above activity will, in fact, cause your nipples to crack and bleed.  My lactation BFF's are not concerned by this in the least.  Actually, they encourage insist force you to continue letting your wee piranha nurse through this horrifying situation by casting doubt on you suitability as a mother if you cannot carry out said task. 

- Your new baby will lull you into a false sense of security by spending most of the first week sleeping like.....well, like a baby.  Shortly after this blissful week where you actually feel like you might be getting a handle on this whole parenting thing, your baby will never sleep again until the age of two.

- You will go out in public in a state that you thought was only reserved for the severely mentally ill (which due to the lack of sleep surprise! - you've now joined).  Baby vomit will become a staple of your now less than fashionable wardrobe.  Suddenly, second day hair is squeaky clean and fourth day hair becomes the questionable limit.  Oh, and clean clothes - while your precious little one is in his third clean outfit of the day before noon, your shirt has debatedly passed the sniff test off the bedroom floor.....besides who's really looking at you?

- You will never experience privacy again.  Ever.  In any situation.  Most notably, you will never use the bathroom alone again for at least the next three years....longer is you foolishly decided in your sleep deprived stupor to enjoy this experience for a second (or third) time around.

In fact, as your wee one gets older, not only will you never experience privacy in the bathroom again, you will find as the dreaded "P" word becomes part of your vocabulary, that not only do you encourage company to your trips to the bathroom, but you also take on the most hardcore exhibitionist approach to what used to be a highly personal activity.  Besides, the ability to experience humiliation disappears in direct correlation to sleep deprivation which at this stage in life should be around....well let's say none.....

Potty Training.  Other than 'Natural Childbirth', I'm not sure there are two more frightening words in the English language.  Of course, I'm imagining there are exceptions to every rule....for anyone who hasn't struggled with, been shamed by, wanted to rip their hair out, or all around felt like a poor excuse for a human being as they once again scrubbed stuff that shouldn't be in their carpet out of it.....please share your secret....but for me and so many others....this is rough stuff.  I have felt, as the Princess approaches three years of age and steadfastly refuses to use the potty, that I would in fact be sending her to her first day of school in diapers (my shred of hope I was holding on to as attempt after attempt failed miserably)....however, in the last two days my optimism has been cautiously restored and as we march forward in our adventure I can once again see a tiny light of accomplishment at the end of the tunnel....well, either it's that or a crack in my psyche but it's still premature to make a determination on that one.

Ok, Mommy confession time.  As an accomplished dog trainer (with awards and stuff to prove it), I have taken many chapters of child rearing from my knowledge of all things dog related.  Potty training a puppy?  No problem!  And really, babies are babies right? (yes....I now see the error - okay, gaping flaw, in my logic)....but really, should it be this hard?  I thought I had done everything right.  Purchased and read (well, skimmed, but enough to get the gist) book after book about potty training.  I bought an adorable Dora potty seat for our toilet, and another small pink potty adorns my living room....we've tried cute underwear, pull ups with the somewhat frightening technology that makes urine feel cold upon contact, and finally just letting her go 'au natural'.....all of the above are noted tried and true methods of potty training which have all failed me.  We can spend countless hours admiring Dora and Boots....counting the flowers and butterflies on the seat.....using as much toilet paper as Mommy will allow to "wipe" (obviously my exhibitionist tactics didn't go totally unnoticed) and approximately four minutes after getting off the potty gleefully show Mommy the puddle of pee on the kitchen floor.  And please don't get me started on the reward based methods.  I am now convinced that it would be easier (and far less painful) to explain Quantum Physics to my child rather than why she can't have one of the Smarties in the bag until she's put a pee pee in the potty.....I'm just holding on to the fact that at least I have enough sense to abandon these flawed approaches before causing serious damage to either one of us.

So, like so many other things in the life of a parent, I've made the conscious commitment to stop worrying about my child's lack of progress and take on the 'she'll do it when she's ready' approach...aka: "The last trick I had up my sleeve just got shot down like Ol' Yeller.....".  To solidify my dedication I just purchased another big box of diapers for Princess, and a value pack of paper towel for me. And as I try to separate teaching this important right of passage from my worth as a human being, I rest somewhat assured that as of yet, science has not yet found a link between age of potty training and test scores on SAT's.

And I thank God for hardwood floors.

It's good to have a friend.....

The Princess and Arson Summer 2011

This is one of my favourite pictures of all time.  Here is the Princess, in toddler glory, sharing her very prized possession with her bestie Arson.

I don't have a funny story for you all today......blame the weather, or the lack of sleep (thank you Caveman), or the hormones.....whatever it is, I've just been thinking about friends and how lucky we are to have such incredible gifts in our lives.

I have been blessed with the most amazing friends....each of them holds a very special place in my heart, and each of them have made my journey that much more survivable.  We've laughed, cried, eaten, and drank our troubles away with copious amount of coffee (or booze) depending on who you are ;) .....we've shared our darkest secrets, our wildest dreams, our worst moments, our biggest fears, and our greatest triumphs.

We speak everyday, or we don't speak for months, but whatever the case we can pick up again exactly where we left off without missing a beat.....the sign of a true kinship.

This morning I've got a particularly special friend on my mind.  Someone who has been there for me recently and given me more than they might realize.  To that friend, as you read this you know who you are, thank you.....you are truly a gift.

Princess and Arson Winter 2011

The Battle Cry of the Two Year Old.

Mark Twain said, "The only two certainties in life are death and taxes." *

For those of us with our own little people, we know this statement to be untrue.  No offence Mark, but there are actually three certainties in life; death, taxes, and the undeniable independence our children seek.....thus giving birth to what I now affectionately refer to as the 'Battle-Cry-of-the-Two-Year-Old'....a.k.a - "I.  DO. IT."

Some say (incorrectly I might add) that the words "I Love You" are the most powerful words in the English language.  I would put my money any day of the week on the fact that those words would be effortlessly defeated by an even half-hearted attempt by any toddler worth his salt who is leveraging that all important independence in his life.  I tell you, there is nothing more powerful, focused, un-ignorable, or determined as a little person who has decided "I do it".

I don't have a lot of clear memories of the first few months of the Princess' life.....a wicked case of PPD and of course the all consuming lack of sleep have left me with what I would now consider a romantic haze of memories (similar to the very flattering 'soft lighting' effect professional photographers so geniusly use) which is probably entirely responsible for the Caveman's mere existence.  I do however have a few very vivid memories still intact.  One took place late one night while rocking the Princess in the rocker that was my permanent home for those first few months. I was looking longing down the hallway (dreaming of my bed which I was seriously neglecting my relationship with) and it dawned on me that one day, this tiny baby I was cradling in my arms, would toddle her way down that hallway into my arms - I know, chalk another one up to the romantic haze of a new mother - what I should have imagined was a whirling dervish tearing down the hall, leaving a trail of toilet water from the latest find of a new hand washing destination.....but again, then we most likely wouldn't have gained our Caveman.  Anyhow....as every new mother experiences, I was in too big a hurry for my little one to grow up.  Waiting desperately for the first smile, the first laugh, the first roll over, the first step, and finally the first words.  Obsessively consulting milestone charts to ensure our Princess was keeping up, comparing her constantly to every other baby we had access to, and like everything else to do with parenting - worry, worry, worry.  At the time, I'm not sure what I was more proud of, my university degree or the fact that my kid was able to sit up unassisted prior to the average developmental timeline.

Somewhere in the new mother haze, I remember my mother (a BTDT of the highest calibre) gently pointing out that I was in such a hurry for the Princess to walk and talk, but there would come a day when I would long for her to sit down and shut up.  Perish the thought!!  How could anyone be so insensitive to the incredible world of growth and discovery that I was about to experience.  Just imagine all the life altering experiences my child was about to embark on, with me, her ever patient mother gently guiding and opening doors of endless learning opportunities for her to gain that all valuable insight into her rapidly expanding world.  I really think I also had a vision of us in flowing white dressing running through fields of wildflowers hand in had as well, something akin to a Timotei commercial of the 80's but again, I blame the haze.....

Hmm....suddenly the ever patient mommy who was meant to be guiding her impressionable charge gently through a life lesson had to get to a doctor's appointment on time... the fifteen minutes necessary to thoroughly examine the minute speck of dirt we discovered on the way to the car wasn't in our time budget.....nor was the endless round of questioning 'why' the day the Princess discovered the Christmas lights had gone up outside or the time required to meticulously examine each bulb and identify it's color when mommy had to get to work on time.....but nothing, nothing, could prepare me for the impending time and emotional challenge that would come with the first utterance of the phrase "I do it."

Being a less than patient person by nature (I know, I just expected that you kind of got these skills after the birth of your children....clearly someone really needed to smack some sense into me at some point) I found, and still do find, the challenge of this developmental state.....um......okay.....well, let me just say there are days that I would rather squirt Purell directly into my eyes than face one more round.  Suddenly, it was as if every single moment of our day required an additional eight hours to accomplish.  Getting dressed in the morning?  Most days results in the Princess stomping her feet and screaming as she tries to get her head into every nook and cranny of her shirt other than the head hole....as gently as possible I quip in the equivalent of verbal tiptoeing, "should mommy help you?"

"NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.  I DO IT!!!!!!!"

Right.  Of course.  How could Mommy be so stupid?   Obviously you can do it.

There isn't a corner of our lives this new found independence hasn't touched.  Breakfast in the morning?  Of course Princess can take the foil off the yogurt herself (which conveniently is the only food she will entertain consuming in the morning, other than chocolate)  By the time the foil has been shredded off the yogurt, the Priness remains undaunted that most of it is now on the table, floor, and toddler resulting is more much appreciated cleaning for mommy and another round of I-can-dress-myself.  Brushing our teeth?  You guessed it - faucet, toothpaste, and actual brushing all fall into the scope of I can do it.  Bring on some more cleaning for mommy, questionable dental hygiene for Princess, and the realization that if mommy had half a brain left after two babies I would be strongly encouraging my toddler to become a Nudist.  Then the emotional bracing begins for the battle over the carseat....and yes, Mommy takes the tantrum on that one.....and secretly longs for the offering of a bottle of Purell by a complete stranger willing to step in and trade me......

Of course, at the very end of the day when Princess is snoring softly in her crib and the chaos of the day has subsided, and mommy has at least one glass of wine under her belt the guilt of mommyhood inevitably creeps it's way into my thoughts as I reflect on the million ways I could have been a more supportive, gentler Mommy who fostered better learning and provided more opportunities for the Princess to 'do it'......and as I pick the last remnants of the dried toothpaste out of my hair I commit to facing tomorrow with a new resolve of patience and understanding......

Well, at least until I hear "I do it".....then all bets are off......


*This quote is most often attributed to Mark Twain, but there is some uncertainty to it's actual origin.  Some Historians feel this quote may have originated in a 1789 letter from Benjamin Franklin to Jean-Baptiste Leroy.  And you are very welcome for your useless trivia of the day.

Life Lessons......

Since the Princess graced us with her presence, my view on the world has changed.  Dear God has it changed.

Things that I once wouldn't have given a second thought to, now have become paramount beacons of worry.....every single milestone in her life has become a reminder that my little girl, once a baby, is heading rapidly into a world where her mommy won't be there to protect her....a world where there are bullies, drugs, and crying in the bathroom after losing her virginity (I know, a passage of womanhood she'll have to experience).....but I'm trying to arm her with as much life savvy as I can to make this journey as survivable for both of us as possible. 

Now, being the type of parent that I am (confident in my totally unproven abilities and comfortable with winging my way through my lack of education on most parental subjects) I look for all sorts of opportunities to bestow my pearls of wisdom upon my toddler - who is clearly ready to learn these all important life lessons.

Today, we were driving down to Victoria to visit Grandma and Grandpa.  After finding an old CD that I burned ages ago (Dana's Mega Mix, labelled in Sharpie.....I know, try not to be jealous, being this cool just comes easy....) we were rocking in out to Feist, Mika, and PJ Harvey.  By about Mill Bay, Amy Winehouse came on.....

The Princess is head bopping in the back and shouting "No, No, No" because she's two and what word is more revered in the toddler-dom than that?  As I glance in the rearview mirror it hits me that this could be one of those golden learning opportunities....

Mommy: "Hey Princess.....It's kind of ironic that she's singing about not going to rehab because she really did need rehab.  She had lots of trouble in life, she did drugs, and she died.  It's really bad to do drugs, they make you die"  (See what I mean about confident in my unproven parenting skills?)

Princess: "Huh?"

Mommy: "Say 'Pardon Me' Sweetheart - saying 'Huh' is rude..... and Mommy said, drugs are bad.  They make you die"

Princess: "No, No, NO, NO, NO!!!!!"  (This is becoming gleeful)

Mommy (still undaunted): "Yes Princess.....promise Mommy you will never do drugs.  Dye your hair, get tattoos, wear weird clothes.....just promise Mommy you won't do drugs.  Drugs make you die."  (Ok, I admit at this stage I may be belabouring the point.....)

Princess: "Okay Mommy!"

Mommy FTW!!!!  On my accomplishment high, because clearly an 'Okay Mommy' from a two year old has secured me a daughter free of future drug use, I decided to tackle one more issue....

Mommy: "You know who else did drugs and died?"

Princess: "Daddy?"

Mommy: "No Baby, not Daddy.  Caillou.  Caillou did drugs and he died.  That means we can't watch him anymore."

For anyone who has actually had to suffer through any exposure to Caillou, you are all secretly admiring my chutzpah on this one.

Princess: "Caillou?"

Mommy: "Yes Baby, Caillou."

Princess: "Gilbert died too?"

Crap.  Didn't see this one coming.  Now totally winging it. 

Mommy: "Well Baby, Gilbert is a kitty....and kitties don't do drugs."  Secretly crossing my fingers this will subdue the unexpected line of questioning.

Princess: "Rosie?"

Alright Mommy.....time to regroup here.....we still have Mommy, Daddy, Grandma, Grandpa, Leo, Clementine, Jeremy and Jeffery.....well, you get the picture.  I need to kibosh this before I scar my kid for life with what has the potential to turn into a very macabre conversation.....and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit of Mommy guilt is creeping into my thought train here as I'm killing off an entire family.  Mind you, the thought did also cross my mind that Mommy, after having to look at Daddy in his hideous red turtleneck, green sweater, blue pant combo every frickin' day might not mind if an unforeseen heroin overdose allowed her to move onto a better choice....but I digress.....

Mommy: "You know what Baby, just because we can't watch Caillou anymore doesn't mean that other shows you like aren't still on.....we can watch those....."  Please, please, please please, please......

Princess: "MAX AND RUBY!!!!!!"

Awesome. Second only to Caillou in annoyance factor.  I'm done.  I have no more moves.  I've just killed a bald four year old....I can't sacrifice the bunnies too. 

Princess FTW.

Fast forward a few hours, and I'm telling the story while the Princess laughs adorably at the antics of quite possibly the most annoying orphaned bunnies on the face of the earth.  After I'm done here, I'll be starting on my speech for my Mother-of-the-year-Award.  Clearly, after the incredibly impressive parenting that took place this afternoon, it's not too far away in my future.....