The Champ

This morning when we woke up I convinced my daughter to come pee with me. She wears a diaper at night and usually wakes up dry but often refuses to go to pee first thing and then at some point during breakfast she just goes surreptitiously in her diaper. But I figure if I can get her in the habit of going first thing, then we'll be able to get her out of diapers altogether. Oh happy day.

The background to this story is that for the last six months my son has been going on and on about being the winner. When he finishes dinner first, hes' the winner. He wants to get in the car first so he can be the winner. He wants to get in the house first, get his bowl of cereal first, brush his teeth first. You get the idea. And his happiest moment is proclaiming this small victory. I win. It gets old. Though I think he's picked up that I'm not so much interested in his little competitions. He's started saying stuff like, it doesn't matter who eats fastest as long as we eat all of our vegetables so we can be strong and win at other things.

Where was I? Yes, the bathroom with my daughter. We both sit down on our respective potties and then there's that brief moment of silence and anticipation before anything comes out and we're both smiling at each other, when a faint tinkling sound is heard from the little potty. That's when she whispers to me, I win.

Pissy

I thought it would last a day or two. I was wrong. Several weeks ago (months? I've lost count.) my daughter was suddenly terrified of taking a bath. This is a girl who used to lie down in the tub so that only the tip of her face - like her nose, eyes and pursed lips - was sticking out of the water and bubbles. While my son was whining about getting his head wet she was snorkeling for tub toys. We called her the baby beluga. Then one day, seemingly out of nowhere, she freaked out about going in the bathtub. I put her in and she was literally shrieking to get out. My son was already in so I knew it wasn't too hot. It was the same as any bath day. Same amount of water. Same gnarly bath toys. But she was having none of it and made that clear with blood curdling screams. Step aside Ronald Regan, this girl is the Great Communicator.  All the while she was also ranting about poo poo. So I figured she had to go. I put a diaper on her but she didn't go. And then it occurred to me that maybe she was worried she would have to go. Two days before she had pooped in the tub which really upset her (though you'd think my son would be the one with the hang-up now. Yes doctor, I have a latent fear of floaties). 

Anyway this has been going on for a while and the only way I can get her in the tub is if I go in first which as you can imagine after a day of work and scrambling for dinner and an hour at the park, the last thing I want to do at 7:30 at night is get in a luke warm bath. A spa, sure. A sauna, no problem. As long as I'm alone. In Baden Baden. But the luke warm piss tub is not a fave. Although now she even gets nervous with me in the tub and I see her kind of holding her crotch which says to me that the feel of the water is making her want to pee but she's not comfortable peeing in the tub (she used to just pee right on her brother without a care in the world. Again, we wonder why he's not the one troubled by the bathtub). So here I am telling her, sweetie, it's okay. You can pee in the tub. I've lost my mind.

So how is this going to end? I don't want to force her but she stinks. My son went through a brief bathtub boycott when he was about her age. Younger actually. We came to understand, at least we think, that he was afraid he would go down the drain. So I sat his butt on the drain and he felt a little tickle of suction which made him laugh and maybe he realized that in fact neither his giant tushy nor the rest of him would ever fit down this drain. But his anxiety only lasted a week. This is going on months. I even put her in a  swim diaper (I mean I am pulling out all the stops here). That worked for a few minutes until she likely peed in the diaper. She's going to end up being the stinky kid at school that no one wants to be near. Just pee in the goddamn tub. We all do it. It's your one opportunity to pee standing up. You'll love it. It's liberating. 

No can do.

Perpendiculous

I'm not a cosleeper. I have nothing against co-sleeping except that I think it prevents all parties from actually getting rest. I certainly like the idea of parents being close to their babies and snuggling into sleep together and spooning all night in a giant heap of bonded human flesh and pajamas. It just doesn't work for me. Because my kids sleep perpendicular. It doesn't matter how many times I line them up or tell them to sleep straight or rearrange them in their sleep, they always end up with either their feet or their heads in my back.

I don't get it. My son is actually getting better at staying parallel but my daughter is in some kind of relentless pursuit of right angles. She just can't line up. The very instant I put her in the bed and lay down next to her she does a half roll with a twist and ends up with her spongy butt on my head. And since it usually happens in the wee hours of the morning because she's started shrieking at 5am and I don't want her to wake up her brother, she generally has seven liters of urine in her diaper and the stench that goes with it.

Last night was particularly bad. She woke up at 3:30 am and since she just had her 18 month shots I didn't want to let her cry. So I picked her up and as we were walking toward my room she pointed toward the kitchen and raised her eyebrows. So I made her a bottle. What a sucker I am. Then we went back to "sleep". After half an hour of her wiggling around with her feet on my neck I'd had enough and put her in her crib. She immediately woke up and started screaming again. A minute later my son starts crying for me to take the baby away. What could I do? I went in to get her and told him to go back to sleep. I then put her on the floor next to me in my room on the quilt where my son sometimes sleeps if he has a nightmare. She's happy again. Five minutes later he comes in and wants to sleep with me too so he lays down on the other side. Now I'm sandwiched. Eventually they both fall asleep and I sneak into my bed. Half an hour later my son wants to still sleep with me so he climbs into bed and at this point I can't even form words I'm so exhausted so I just pull the covers over my head and try to find my happy place which is a king size bed in a locked room in a luxury hotel on a deserted island.

Tonight my husband is at a concert with friends and I had big plans to get everyone in their own beds and asleep by 8:00 pm. Foiled again. My son's in our bed, my daughter's in his bed (perpendicular to the wall of course). I guess that leaves the crib for me.

Hygienic Polemic

My son says the same thing every time he goes pee and he'll continue to say it until he gets acknowledgment from me. And I hesitate to even bring it up for fear of judgement but I figure a). many of you have already read about how I dragged him by the armpit through JFK airport after he refused to go to the bathroom before our flight and then peed in his pants in the middle of the terminal and b). this little yarn pales in comparison to that one and c). this one really isn't my fault. I'm pretty sure it's my brother's fault. Where is she going with this...?

Every time (and I mean every single time without fail) my son pees in the toilet (which is like 92% of the time) he slaps his tushy to get the last drop out, he pulls his undies and pants up, and he carefully lowers the toilet seat. What a great kid! Doesn't leave the seat up like most men I know. Then he he leaves the bathroom and finds me to relay this sentence:

"Mommy, I don't have to wash my hands because I only touched the top (of the toilet)."

Now, I could have nipped this behavior in the bud when it first started a few months ago. He always washes after a poop (and I'm the one who wipes him) and he's not averse to hand-washing as he performs it many times a day just to be able to use the soap pump. And I still make him wash his hands in public restrooms. But I just never enforced the policy at home because I can't be bothered. And anyway I don't take responsibility since I'm pretty sure he picked this one up from his cousin who's 14 months older who naturally learned it from his father, my very own brother, who's been peeing standing up for upwards of 36 years so maybe he knows better than I. Or maybe boys can't help being gross. That is just who they are.

So my question goes out to the men who read this blog: a). are there any men who read my blog and b). is this normal? Do men wash after they pee? Seems like you could make the argument that it's not necessary. Although hand-washing several times a day does promote good general health. I'm not sure I can call this one by myself. I'm throwing it out to my extensive fan base though I reserve the right to delete any comments that put into question my parenting skills.

Dramedy of Errors

Last weekend during our camping trip to Point Reyes, friends of ours met us for a day hike near Tomales Bay. We hike with them a lot and their daughter is a week older than our son. The marriage has already been arranged and we have plenty of naked bathtub photos for the slide show during the reception.

It was nearing lunch time and we had decided on a one mile hike which would land us at the beach for a picnic. One mile is perfect for my son. At around two miles he starts to whine that,"this is too long for me..."

We start walking and about ten minutes into our journey, which I believe to be about the half way point, my son bends over to look at a giant caterpillar that is crossing the path. And as he's squatting there admiring the caterpillar, he suddenly looks up and says, "mommy, I'm making pee pee." But instead of jumping up to pull his pants down, I notice the now darkened spot on his jeans near his crotch slowly moving down his leg as he unloads a half gallon of urine all the while looking right at me.

Are you kidding me?

Him: I need to change my pants.
Me: I don't have any other pants with me.
Him: I want to go back to the car and change!
Me: We're already half way to the picnic. I don't want to walk all the way back to the car.

At this point he's starting to cry and I have to make a decision. Do we go back and essentially double our trip which will likely end in a tantrum? Or do I make him hike the next 15+ minutes in his wet pants which will likely turn into a tantrum? My friend offered her daughter's spare pants but my son would have nothing of that. He wanted his own clothes. And honestly, I usually have spares for him because even though he's been potty trained for a year, he still has accidents. But wouldn't you know the one friggin day I leave his spares in the car. And with a new crop of poison oak up to his head, there's no way he's hiking naked.

I decide we're moving forward. At first I try to keep my cool and convince him to wear his friend's pants. They were just a brown pair of pants from Target. He may actually have the same pair of pants. But he refused. And then sat down in the dirt sobbing. So I say I'm leaving and he can walk with Aba. More sobbing. I tell him I don't want to walk with him if he's sobbing. More sobbing. Finally after about twenty minutes of snotty heaving sobbing he finally stops crying. And then we're back to whining. Meanwhile, I'm thinking where the hell is this place? I thought you said a mile!?!?

I come to find out that midway through the journey our friend has taken a different path, a longer path, about two miles longer, to a different beach. So now I am SEETHING. Had I known this I would have made a different decision back when we were only ten minutes from the car. Now we were forty minutes from the car and presumably 15 minutes from the beach. I am almost about to burst into tears myself because now the poor kid probably has a rash between his legs, he's totally humiliated, he's exhausted from all the sobbing, I'm exhausted from hearing the sobbing, I hate our friends (friend, it was really the husband who made the covert trail redirect), I hate my husband for letting all of this happen, I hate myself for forgetting the spares and I hate that the return trip is uphill.

My son is now whimpering that it's too far for him. So I tell him that when we get to the beach he can take off his clothes and they'll get dry in the sun. And as we're walking I'm saying, don't worry honey, we're almost there. You're a really good hiker. You're doing a great job. Over and over, until I realize that I'm actually talking to myself. We're almost there. You can do this. You're a good hiker...

And when we do finally ch the beach, my son takes off his clothes as does his buddy and he is transformed back into a playful, cooperative, potty-trained three year old. After a few hours of relaxing we walked down the beach a short ways and took the original trail back which was, indeed, only one mile. And with pants and tears dried, it was an easy, drama-free trip back to the car.

Slap happy

A few weeks ago I'm sitting in the living room with my son watching Winnie the Pooh's Grand Adventure which, if you haven't seen it, is great entertainment - wholesome, educational, well-animated. I can see why he'd want to watch it seven trillion times. It just doesn't get old. But anyway in the middle he leaves me to go pee. I love when he does that. I don't ask. He doesn't announce. He just goes, pees, flushes, washes, comes back. No production. Just pee where it's supposed to be.

But this time while he's gone I hear a funny slapping noise so I go to investigate and he's in fact facing the toilet with his pants down slapping his own butt.

Me: What are you doing honey?
Him: Aba taught me to do that.
Me: To do what?
Him: To make the last pee pee come out.

I mean if that is not the funniest thing. I can just picture my husband sharing this bit of timeless masculine wisdom with his son. You see kid, you just give yourself a little slap and the last drop goes in the toilet. This is how our people have done it for millennia. Can't you just imagine Abraham saying those same words to Isaac right before he tried to sacrifice him? It's another iconic Torah moment! To my husband's credit, it does work. Parenting a boy is fascinating stuff. I wonder what trade secret I'll uncover next.

Mommy, where's your pee pee?

Scene: Mom gets in the shower for ten minutes of much needed "alone time". Toddler is watching closeby focused mainly at what is at eye level...

Him: Mommy, where's your pee pee?
Me: Honey, mommy doesn't have a pee pee. Mommy has a vagina.
Him: And I have a vagina too?
Me: No, you have a pee pee like Aba.
HIm: And baby too?
Me: No, baby girl has a vagina like mommy.
Him: And grandma?
Me: Yes, Gandma has a vagina because she's a girl like mommy and baby sister.
Him: And Savta?
Me: Yes, Savta has a vagina. Good. He's getting it
Him: And Saba? Maybe not.
Me; No, Saba has a pee pee like Aba. He's a boy like you.
Him: Ya, and I have a pee pee.
Me: That's right.
Him: And mommy has a vagina. And baby sister and Grandma and Savta and Aba and Ami and Aunt Marcia and ME!
Me: No, mommy and savta and grandma and baby sister and Ami and Aunt Marcia all have vaginas.
Him: And I have a pee pee?
Me: Yes.
Him: And Ami has a pee pee?
Me: No, Ami is a girl like mommy. She has a vagina.
Him: Oh.

Him: And do you make poo poo from your vagina?
Me: No, just pee pee.
Him: But not a pee pee.
Me: Yes, mommy makes pee pee from her vagina but she doesn't have a pee pee. Which is actually a penis.
Him: Do I have a penis?
Me: Can you hand me the duckie towel?