Danny's Felt Calendar

I am not the crafty type.  AT. ALL.  I have a blog so that I don't have to create baby albums.  So when I do happen to do something crafty, I get pretty excited.  

And I get even more excited if said crafty project helps my job of being mommy to be easier!  

Last week, Alejandro was gone for five days, working out of town and Grammy came two weekends in a row.  That means that on Sunday Danny had Mama, Papa and Grammy in the house, but by Tuesday morning, there was only Mama.  

I needed some way to help him count down the days.  So on Monday afternoon, off to Walmart's kid-craft section I went in search of felt and a permanent marker and a dowel big long stick.  When I got home, I also went in search of my glue-gun and yarn.  This is what I came up with:  

I glued together 3 full sheets of blue felt to form the back, and glued that to the big long stick.  Then I cut strips and squares to make the days of the week.  Lastly, I cut squares of different colors to be used for the week's events. With my sharpie, I wrote the days of the week in both languages (because we're bilingual around here and we want to pass that on).  Then I jumped on my computer and found pictures that would remind him of his usual weekly activities.  These I glued to the felt squares with the the glue-gun.  (My glue-gun doesn't get super-duper hot, so it didn't damage the paper picture, but you could laminate the pictures if needed.)  I picked a picture of his preschool class with the fire-truck to remind him of preschool.  Yes, that's me sportin' my work-out clothes and a prego-tummy to remind him which days we go to the gym.  I had to actually change and snap that one in my bathroom mirror using my phone.  I don't generally photograph myself in work-out clothes.  Ahem. Our pastor's big ol' grin is up there for church, and then of course, there are pictures of Grammy, Grandpa and Alejandro for the day that they'd all be returning to our house.  I also made one with my face on it, since I occasionally travel as well and I want to be able to use this in the future.

All parts of the calendar are glued except for the squares with the pictures.  Oh, and of course, the star, which we move around as the day changes.  I try to remember to have him change it first thing in the morning or right before he goes to bed, but if not, I move it myself.  It's tacked underneath the hall banister just outside his bedroom.  

This made our week go so much easier!!!  Each time Danny started asking for Papa, we could walk over to the calendar and talk about how many more days between now and when he was home.  Plus, the added bonus of getting to look at his picture helped him feel closer to him.  Plus, then he got to see all the fun he was gonna in the meantime and be reminded that Grammy and Grandpa were coming back!  The total project, including the trip to Walmart, took me about 3 hours.  

If you decide to make one, take a picture and post a link so we can see yours!

Happy crafting!  (Did I just say that??)

Days in Which There is Much Ado About Nothing

Note to Self:

Sometimes there will be days like today.  And weeks like this week.  And you'll just have to sit back and laugh, because if you don't, you'll cry.

There will be days that you will arrive late at preschool and debate whether or not to explain your lateness - for the 5th time in a row - to the teacher, who does not currently live in the reality of three-years-old twenty. four. seven. and who (even if she's lived it) can't possibly understand, because you really only understand for the few years you are living it and then after that you block it out or have too much perspective to remember how utterly impossible and exhausting it feels.  So you opt not to explain.

There will be moments when you'll look at the other preschool mom who also has a three year old but who is approximately 5 months farther along than you are and have to bite your tongue to keep from saying gleefully, "You look so much more uncomfortable than even me!"  Later, your heart will go out to the same woman whose three year old has a meltdown as she picks her up, thankful that all of your child's meltdowns have (so far) happened at home.

There will be those evenings that you will take your little boy to a friends' house for a party and in response to his wails and tears, will saunter up the stairs with a smile, because frankly, you've lost count how many times you've heard it this week.  You'll hug him and ask what happened.  He'll tell you he "bonked his toe" and then when you try to, you won't bat an eyelash when he doesn't let you kiss it and he says, "Don't take my owie away, Mama!!" through irrationality and tears.

You'll chastise him for disobedience when he won't stand up on the foot of said bonked toe, and then you'll balance his dead weight and your growing tummy, while he clings to you, yank at his underwear and jeans to get them up, raise your voice in the bathroom in attempt to convince him to - for the love of his mother - please stand up so that I can pull up your pants! - and then be thankful for the noise of the party outside.  When you finally manage this feat, you'll hoist him up onto the sink and sit him there for a minute.  Yes, I know you thought you'd never balance your child on a high surface, but I promise you.  You will.  Often.  After re-adjusting your disheveled clothes and noticing that any semblance of glamour that existed when you arrived at the party has since long gone, and frazzled and tired have taken its place.

You'll watch your son crawl "like a doggie, Mama!" under the legs of all of the guests and give thanks for the attendance of another family with young children, so that at least, the two entertain each other.  Will you notice that this is not just a make-believe game and that your three-year-old's refusal to leave the spot next to the adorable 6 year old little girl are actually just avoidance of putting any weight at all on that injured toe?  No, you won't.

But you start to take note, when he refuses to walk to the car, which means you get to carry him while you both wear winter coats to the car with all of your belongings - this really should be an Olympic sport.

After finally getting home, you'll oblige him by putting a band-aid on the foot that was not injured and fall gratefully into bed for a good night's rest.

So you think.

Actually this is just the beginning.  There will be those nights at midnight, that you'll wake to his sweet whimpers blubbering cries and you'll drag yourself out of unconsciousness to carry 30 pounds of dead weight back to bed with you.  Then you'll wrestle him calm him down and try to figure out where in tar-nation between his ankle and his toe is the actual injury, because he keeps changing his story and there is not a single bit of swelling or bruising whatsoever.

You'll start to put together the refusal to put weight on it with the apparent throbbing pain he's experiencing and wonder if a trip to the E.R. isn't in order.

At 2 a.m. you'll repeat this process and decide that a visit to the E.R. is indeed in order - at least to rule out a plethora of possibilities. He'll fall back asleep and you'll proceed to get dressed, pack the car, the stroller, toys, the laptop, medical cards, and snacks in preparation.  With brushed teeth, sort of fixed hair, and mostly dressed, you'll lay back down and figure that you should milk any last moments of sleep you can get before he wakes again.

Though he kicks your dressed self all night long, he doesn't actually wake up, so at 8 a.m. you finish the getting-dressed process, pacifying him with videos on your smart phone.

Oh yes.  I know you think you won't pacify him with videos.  And you think you won't hand over your phone.

Bahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

Ahem.

You'll take him to the gym childcare and watch him play with other kids - what better way to see if he forgets about his injury than with the distraction of friends?  He doesn't.  He crawls around for an hour in the playroom, dragging the poor injured foot behind and making not a single attempt to stand up.

You'll be convinced.  Surely, this is more than a bruise or a jammed toe. Off to Urgent Care you go, for a 3 hour adventure farce, by the end of which, all are looking at you and wondering WHY ON EARTH you came in in the first place.

There will be the nurse who condescendingly tells you to "next time give him ibuprofen and ice."  You'll think, "Well I would have, if I'd known where to ice! And since there was NO swelling or bruising, I prefer NOT to needlessly pump drugs through my baby's tiny liver, thankyouverymuch."  But instead you'll smile and nod.

There will be an off-key performance by you of a song about trusting in the Lord when one is afraid of the x-ray machine. There will be more balancing acts in the restroom because kiddo refuses to stand up in. Then the nurse will come in to explain that his foot is "just fine" and that there was a contusion on his outer toe.  "That's just a fancy word for a bruise," she'll say as sweetly as she can muster.  There will be the loud "I WANT MY STICKER!"  that your little cherub will holler at you as you pass the nurses station on your way out the door.  And when given a choice about which sticker?  He'll choose Cinderella, because "she's pretty." And you'll find yourself jealous of Cinderella.

Yes, there will be those days.  And when they come, just be ready to laugh at yourself.  And be ready with chocolate, Tylenol and a movie.

Love,

Christmas in July

Anticipation of Christmas at our house started early this year. As in July.

It was a hot, sweaty, summer day, and Danny and I were up in his room. Suddenly, he came to me and said, “Mama, I wanna krimatree.”

“What do you want?” Being that it was the middle of July, Christmas trees were the furthest thing from my mind.

“A krimatree!”

“A WHAAA???” I said, dumbfounded, trying to figure out my three-year old’s speech.

“I wanna KRIMATREE!!!!”

“Buddy, why don’t you show me what you’re talking about. Can you show me?”

Clearly knowing what he wanted, he took the lead and made a bee-line to his bedroom window. I opened the curtains, and raised the blinds and he pointed across the street at the perfectly formed evergreen in our neighbor’s front yard across the street.

“A Chrima-Tree!!” he said, more clearly.

“OH!! A Christmas Tree!” I said, finally understanding.

“YEEEAAAAAAHHH!!!” he shouted, as if my realization called for a celebration worthy of Christmas day itself.

“Oh, buddy, that’s not ours. That belongs to our friends across the street.”

“I want THAT Chrima Tree in the downstairs,” Danny said, as though he’d had it all planned out in his little mind months before.

“Well, we can’t get THAT one, honey.”

“But I want THAT one!” He was becoming concerned.

“Well…” my wheels were turning. I believe in saying yes, whenever reasonable. The No's come easier that way.  The Christmas box was easy to get to. The mini tree I had from college which became Danny’s as soon as he reached the age of “mine” was right on top, and there was ample time to pull it out. So why not? What child doesn't want to celebrate Christmas for six months?

And there you have the reason why there has been a fully decorated and lighted Christmas tree in Danny’s room since July. He also insisted on bringing said Christmas tree to my physical therapy appointment that afternoon. The staff thought it was a scream.

And secretly I've been thoroughly enjoying every bit of that small glow of Christmas that’s been lighting up his room at night ever since.

I recently learned of a pair of sisters who just couldn't go the whole 12 months without the blessed holiday, so every July, they get together and celebrate Christmas for the weekend. One comes in from out of town and together, they relish in peppermint hot chocolate, Christmas music, movies about boys who’ll “shoot their eye out” and clay reindeer, candy-cane covered pajamas and yes, even presents. They do Christmas in July and they do it well.

I think I may start a new tradition at our house.

Fall is my favorite season. I love the changing colors, the cooler weather, the hot drinks and the sweaters that hide the resulting handlebars that inevitably find their way to my side. But mostly, I love the anticipation of Christmas. I AM that shameless woman who can hardly wait till Thanksgiving to break out the Manheim Steamroller CDs. But July?? I mean, that’s a little early, even for me.

But I got to thinking the other night, as we were driving across the state to a tiny Kansas town for the weekend to spend with friends. What if I anticipated Jesus the way Danny anticipates Christmas Day. I have not the tiniest shred of an idea about when Jesus will return. As far as I’m concerned, it may as well be a lifetime from now. Six months, from July to December, is a lifetime in the mind of a preschooler. But that doesn't seem to stop him from waking each morning, hoping that today will bring snow.

This weekend, the temperature dropped into the 20’s at our house. It was downright frigid last week, and when I attempted to talk Danny into his jacket due to the snow-like weather, he looked at me and about burst, yelling, “It’s CHRIMAS TIME!!!!”

Oh and there goes my bleeding heart, walking away in size 6 Lightning McQueen tennis shoes, teaching my heart to anticipate my Savior with a child-like abandon.

God, you sure do know what you’re doing. I couldn’t have thought it up better myself.

The Rant

There are few things that really make me wanna kick a guy in the shins, but one of them?  When a husband decides to leave his wife and young children.

I'm sorry, (ok, not) but this post is not going to be politically correct or even very nice.  For the second time (and I have the sinking awful feeling it won't be the last) I am watching a friend endure the tearing apart of her family because her husband has decided to quit trying.  I was careful not to express this fury when Sarah and her husband separated, because I know how hard she worked to keep her heart focused on praying for her husband.  We still call Brian and Sarah dear friends, so I kept these thoughts to myself.  My goal was to edify, support, and help her see the best in him and draw it out.  But I'm fairly sure that my friend Jennifer doesn't read my blog, so I think I'm safe to vent.

I am well aware that marriage problems are never one sided.  But when a man decides to walk out on his family and feebly say that he thinks his family is better off without him, it really gives me the strong urge to take a pair of cleats to his toes.  And then his shins, knees and upper thighs.

I've only done the single parent thing once and it was only for two and half months, and it was not the result of my husband withdrawing his love at all.  Rather, he left to work in California for a while, and we decided together that he should do so.  I was not without financial support. I didn't have to move.  I didn't face uncertainty about my future.  I simply had to do the parenting thing with no help.

It blows.  

Even as easy as my situation was, it was awful.  And as hard as it was on me, it was harder on Danny, who didn't understand why his Papa wasn't around anymore.  Even with video chat and phone calls and all the efforts we made to connect, he just didn't get it.  It was rough on him, and it took a while to settle down and feel secure and safe after that.  It was incredibly hard to hear him ask for Papa all the time.  It was even harder, when he quit asking for Papa all the time.  And then when Papa came home, we had to adjust all over again.

When my own parents divorced, I was an adult, on my own and married.  It still ripped my world to shreds and pieces and made me question everything I thought I knew was solid and dependable.  I was an adult, people.

Kids need Dads.  Moms need help.  So to husbands who are even tossing around the idea of leaving their family, I say...

Suck it up.  Figure it out. And work it out.  

Your kids need you. 

No matter how hard whatever it is that you have to deal with right now, 

it doesn't compare to how hard it will be on your kids when you walk away.  

Period.

Just Don't Count

Whenever I consider sharing parenting advice, I immediately hesitate mentally and think that maybe I should file away whatever idea it is I want to share until Danny and the rest of our (not yet existent) children are twenty-something and well-adjusted in the world.  You know, when I'm a parenting expert.

And then I realize that now is when these ideas are fresh on my mind.  Now is when I am living and breathing parenthood of a two-and-a-half year old and figuring out what works and what doesn't and can speak first hand about it.  And you all are well aware that I'm the first-time parent of one and to take all my advice with a grain of salt.

Right?

Right.

Alrighty then.

One of the very best pieces of parenting advice I ever received was from a good friend and mother of five.  Her name is Gwen and her kids are currently between the ages of 12 and 22.  She said, "Just don't ever count."

"Huh?"

"Yeah.  Just don't count.  You know, when parents tell their kids to do something and then they say it again and then they start counting.  One...  Two... ...and wait for their kids to obey.  I hate that.  Don't ever count.  All that teaches your son is that, for three more seconds, he doesn't have to obey what you are telling him to do."

It made perfect sense to me.  So we never did and I can't tell you how much it's paid off.

Toddlers are smart.  Really smart.  We all know it, but it's easy to forget.  We act as though they haven't heard us or they are too distracted to listen or what not.  Then comes the moment when we mention their favorite movie barely above a whisper in the midst of a noisy room while the stereo is on and our child is engrossed in their favorite game with two of his best friends, and yet despite all of that, he hears the utterance of the movie title.  He immediately comes running and explains in the most articulate manner how he'd like to please watch that movie with a side of popcorn and hot cocoa.

It's then that you realize how grossly you've underestimated him.  And that when you say, "go get your shoes," in a quiet room with his full attention and get no response, it's sheer disobedience.

So armed with this knowledge (and three years experience as a preschool teachers' aide seeing this principle play out again and again), we determined not to count.

The principle behind not counting plays out in multiple scenarios, so we also determined not to repeat ourselves.  (Ok, we still do sometimes.  But we try really hard not to.)

We determined not to engage in the verbal banter that only a toddler can expertly suck you into.  You know how it goes.  "I want it."  "No, Danny."  "But I want it."  "No, Danny."  "But I waaaaant it."  "I said no, Danny!"  We decided to answer him once and then ignore the pleading and redirect to a new activity or set of choices.

We decided not to threaten a negative consequence if Danny doesn't "listen and obey right now" more than once or twice at the start of a day.  We decided that we would give a direction once and expect obedience, and that if we didn't get it, the negative consequence would be administered in love and without delay.

We determined to drag ourselves off the couch each and every time it's required, in order to follow through with carrying out the consequences and rewards of listening to and obeying our words.  (We don't spend much time on the couch.)

We also decided to teach Danny the words "yes, Papa" and "yes, Mama" as early as he could pronounce them and lavishly shower him with praise almost every single time he does listen and obey immediately.  After all, we all respond much better to praise and rewards than to negative consequences.

It's definitely paying off.

I hear from more parents than I can count how hard the age of two and three can be, and can I tell you something?  I'm just not experiencing it.  Of course, we are not at all without challenge in our home.  But by and large, parenting Danny has gotten easier and easier over the last twelve months (since he started walking and talking).  Does he express his will?  Oh, yes-sir-ee, he does.  But we spend more of our day celebrating good behavior and engaging in new and fun experiences, than we spend focused on the bad and it is making parenthood of this age the greatest joy.  I am loving two-and-a-half.

And I'm certain I'll love three-and-a-half even more.

So this is just me, the first-time mother of one, sharing one little tid-bit of parenting advice that's working really well for us right now.  So what great successes have YOU ALL had parenting your little ones?  Please share!!

The Highest Form of Flattery

Just a small reminder 

that when I wonder what he's doing

he has probably

been watching

me.

Privileged

This morning, for whatever reason, I'm feeling tired and frazzled, pulled in a million directions.  Chaotic.  Before I even got out of bed, I'd already snapped at my husband and was impatient with my son (who happened to be climbing all over me, dragging me out of a deep sleep).  I was not a happy camper.

In that grace-filled and blessed moment, the Spirit spoke to me and reminded me that I am privileged.

I recently joined a Maximize Your Mornings accountability group.  I have a whole group of 25 new friends who all wake up together and check in with each other, encouraging one another in the Lord.  I joined this group, because I find it difficult to get up early, but on the few occasions that I do, I have much more peaceful, productive days.

Sometimes as stay-at-home-moms, we fall into believing the lie that our life is so hard and children take so much energy and we do so much and on and on and on.  Well, we DO do so much, and it DOES take so much energy.

BUT.

But the thing is that we are privileged to be at home with our children, doing what we do.  There are millions of moms in the world who wake up at the crack of dawn each day, shower and put on a suit, take their children to daycare and kiss them goodbye for eight hours, because they have no choice.  There are millions of moms in the world who wake up before the sun, clean, cook, strap their babies on their backs and head to the field to work.  There are millions of moms in the world who wake up each morning with an ache in their chest because the toddler they thought would be crawling all over them, dragging them out of a deep sleep, has long since gone to heaven ahead of them.

We are blessed.  We are privileged.  We are gifted to wake up each morning to climbing toddler, whines for breakfast, tantrums because there was milk when they wanted juice, and tears and kisses on their owies.

It occurred to me in that moment that it's a little twisted that I have to join an accountability group for help to get up early, when really I should give shouts of joy and thanks for the privilege of getting up early every morning for my little one.  Nevertheless, we all have our own battles, and for this, God gives us one another.

So as I sat there in bed, before my feet hit the floor, and I decided to give thanks.  Ask forgiveness.  Start over.  Choose joy. 

A Post About Potty Training

Ok, first of all, let's be clear.  I am NOT any sort of expert on potty training.  I have one child and it just happened to go very smoothly, very early - much earlier than I expected.  However, so many moms have asked me how we potty trained Danny and how we did it so early that I do want to share worked for us.  I will definitely use the same method with other children in the future.

I read about toilet training on Mckmama's site, and Kingdom Mama's site, and took a lot of guidance from the Toddlerwise book.

I define a child to be potty trained when he stays accident-free for over 48 hours and does not need continual prompting to tell an adult he needs to use the toilet, but rather, will generally do so on his own with only an occasional exception.

I also sort of mentally break the process into three phases.  Pre-potty training, potty training, and trained.

Pre-potty training starts as early as the child is interested in anything that happens in the bathroom and continues until the formal training starts.  I think we pre-trained Danny for around a year.  As soon as Danny was old enough to sit on the toilet and want to mimic us, we bought a child's toilet seat and let him sit on it before baths.  If we happened to catch him at a time when we knew he had to go and he was willing to sit and try, we let him.  This resulted in the occasional success of something landing in the toilet, although we didn't really care if it happened or not.

We also got a child's seat that goes on the big toilet, not a child's training toilet that sits independent of a real toilet and needs to be emptied.  I didn't want to have to train him onto one thing only to have to train him off of it and onto the big one later.

Pre-potty training also included a lot of (ahem) narration of our own happenings in the bathroom.  (Am I really writing this on the world wide web?!  Yes.  Yes, I am.  I do think this contributed to our success quite a bit.)  Whenever Danny was in the bathroom while either one of us was using the toilet (which, when you have a toddler is all the time), we'd excitedly point and explain what was happening.  We also talked about it a lot during diaper changes.  For example, "Danny, do you have a wet diaper?  Oh, look!  You went peepee!  Good job!!"

And yes, there were more than one occasion that I thought, "Oh my goodness, am I really truly excitedly narrating my bowel movement to my son??  Yes. Yes, I am.  Welcome to parent-hood, Renee."  But hey, Danny has never had any fear or qualms about eliminating on the toilet.  Talking about it quelled any fear that might have been.

We do call it peepee, poopoo, and potty.  These are simple words that he can say clearly and everyone knows what he's talking about.  I didn't want him to have to fumble with the word urinate just to tell us what he needed.

Another thing we did that I think really contributed to our success was we waited and put off potty training for quite a while. I think we spent about two months telling each other, "He really is ready.  We just need to pick a weekend and go for it."  I guess I put it off for so long because I wanted to be sure as sure can be that he was ready.  I wanted it to be a one-shot-deal and I did NOT want to have any false starts.  So, I waited until I knew that we'd be successful at it.  I didn't expect him to be ready as early as he was either.  I'm just guessing, but I'd be willing to bet that all the pre-potty training helped him be ready early.

What were the signs?  Well he was waking up dry, both in the morning and after naps.  He would wet his diaper shortly after waking up, especially if he ended up playing in his crib for too long, but the key was that he was holding it until he woke.  He never really stopped or squatted to go in his diaper, but that is often a good sign a child is ready.  He did, however, tell me when he needed a diaper changed, particularly when it was a dirty one.  We do use cloth diapers and it's said that cloth diapers aide in potty training because the child feels more wet than in a disposable.  I have nothing to compare to, so I don't know, but it might well be true.  Lastly, I knew he was ready because the morning we decided he was ready, he woke up dry and I promptly took off his diaper and said, "Let's go to the potty!"  He held it until we got there and when I sat him down, he looked down, intentionally went, and then looked up and told me he was done.  When I considered that and the fact that I had nothing planned that day, I decided it was time to go for it and I left him naked from the waist down for the rest of the day until nap time.

This brings me to the day of potty-training.  Yes, it only really took one day and yes, I do use the let-your-child-run-naked method.  With nothing on, he was very aware of anything that might be going on in the pottying vicinity and this helped a great deal.  Right after the first use of the toilet, we went downstairs (him with only a t-shirt on) and went about breakfast as usual.  I placed a towel for him to sit on top of on his booster seat just for comfort and gave him one of his favorite breakfasts and lots of juice, so he'd eat and drink a lot.

During breakfast I filled a plastic cup with water and several drops of yellow food coloring in it.  I placed the yellow water, several books, the child potty seat and his reward (we used dried cranberries - they are sweet and make you thirsty, which makes him drink, which in turn makes him urinate more often) in the bathroom on our main level.  We spent that whole day playing downstairs, where there are linoleum floors instead of carpet, or on the back deck just in case.  Right after breakfast, I said, "ok, let's go potty!"  Off we went.  Danny sat, but did nothing.  Then I sat and urinated.  The rule for potty training day is that when anyone goes potty, everyone gets a treat.  So after I went, I got a treat and of course so did he.  His stuffed bear also got a treat (which of course Danny got to eat) so Danny was excited about that.

Then we played for a while.  I made sure I did not try to multi-task that day, but rather played with him all day.  It was a very special day for him and he got LOTS of quality time with Mama.  This also helped me pay close attention to him and his behavior.  After a bit, we tried again, this time with success!  Also this time, his stuffed bear "went potty."  I gave the bear a pretend drink of water.  Then I said, "Bear has to go potty!"  We took the bear into the bathroom, I held him over the toilet, and as I made a "ssss" sound, I poured a little bit of yellow water into the toilet.  Then I said, "All done!"  I cheered and pointed to the color in the toilet.  Danny's eyes were as big as saucers!  It was SO cute!  He was really excited when all three of us (Danny, the bear and I) got a treat because the bear went potty.  After that, Danny sat down and went and so did I, all with the rewards to follow.  By this time, Danny definitely understood and we just repeated the process for the rest of the day.

I made sure he went right before his nap - I actually delayed his nap a bit so he would do so - and then put him in a diaper to sleep in.  I paid close attention when he woke up so he wouldn't have to wait in his crib and accidentally wet in his diaper. I think he did a little but then went on the toilet afterwards anyway.

I realized that part of the point of having a potty training day was to train me.  I needed to learn how he behaves when he has to go, and since he had always been in a diaper, I never really paid much attention.  It also helped me realize when he has to go.  Most of us have fairly regular elimination patterns and this includes kids.  One of the reasons I love the Babywise method is because it provides regular eating and sleeping patterns for kids.  This causes regular elimination habits as well and then potty training is pretty easy.

Danny did go a second day without bottoms on.  When I put bottoms back on, I only put shorts (no underwear or training pants).  This actually was just by accident - because Danny is so tiny we had to order them from the internet - but it worked perfectly.  Danny had clothes on, but it still felt very different from having a diaper on.  It wasn't until 4 or 5 days later that we actually put underwear on him and by then he had the whole potty thing down so it didn't matter what he was wearing.

Eventually (after two or three days) the treats ran out or we forgot to have them with us and it didn't seem to matter.  Actually I think Danny forgot or got tired of the treats before I did, which was nice.  I guess the novelty just wore off.  Maybe this is because we used a dried fruit instead of something as sweet as candy.  The key is to find something he loves, something you don't care if he eats a TON of,j and something that will make him thirsty.

So here's the timeline: We started pre-training Danny when he was somewhere between 12 and 15 months. Potty training day was a Monday after he turned 25 months.  Monday he was accident free.  Between Tuesday and Friday he had 3 accidents that didn't happen at night or at nap time (I don't count those).  Friday he had his last daytime accident.  By the following Monday I quit asking him if he had to go, for the most part.  Just to avoid a potential mess, we have been putting a diaper cover over his underwear to sleep in, but tonight (2 or 3 weeks after training day) he is sleeping without a diaper cover on for the first time.

A couple of other side notes:

I never ever scolded for an accident.  I just said, "Oh look!  You made a poopoo on the kitchen floor!  We'd better put it in the potty now."  Then I'd pick it up, put it in the toilet, allow Danny to sit and have the opportunity to finish and then let him flush.  I think I even gave him a treat for that.  The point was that it ended up in the toilet.  How it got there was irrelevant.  Danny was already embarrassed and upset that it landed on the floor in the first place.  I believe in praising him to success and focusing on what he does wrong only if absolutely necessary.

We didn't have much trouble transitioning to public toilets or toilets without the potty seat.  He still uses the child's toilet seat at home - he's just so small and it's more comfortable for him.  In public, however, it's simply not around.  Usually by the time we get there, he has to go so bad that as long as I'm holding him tightly as he sits and he feels secure, he'll go without hesitation.  I did take him more often than necessary to "try" the first time or two we were out and about, though.  That "practice" probably helped.

Well, there you have it!  Potty training in a nut-shell in the Chinchilla Porras household.  Did I miss anything?  Do you have questions?  If so, leave them in the comments section, email me, or ask me on Twitter or Facebook.  I'll try to re-post the questions here for all to read.

Ya'll have a great night and happy pottying!

Question

I kid you not. Danny just looked at me and asked, "What's that?"

"Conditioner," I said, after recovering from the shock that my almost-two-year-old just articulated his first question.

"It's for my hair," I added.

Then he asked me again. "What's that?"

"Acondicionador," I responded in Spanish. (Try saying that five times fast.)

"What's that?"

"Conditioner, honey.  It's for my hair."

Jibberish back to me that I didn't understand.

"Oh," I said.

Silence for a moment.

"What's that?"

He asked me at least five times. Apparently, the stage of QUESTIONS has begun.

Mother's Me Day

Mother's Day at our house should probably be re-named, "Me Day," since really it's just an entire day in which I can do WHATEVER. I. WANT.  

It's fabulous.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  

This year on Me Day, it was a beautiful Spring sunny day...  Walking down stairs to sunny and green out my front window is another one of my favorite things.

The boys busied themselves in the kitchen (Alejandro did actually help Danny) and made breakfast...

...and then we spent the majority of the day half naked.  Oh wait, that was the boys who were half naked.  I was in my pajama shorts and a t-shirt.

This is what I did.

All

afternoon.

Yup.  Fabulous.  

That hammock, by the way, was a gift from my mother-in-love from Costa Rica, so in addition to lounging in a hammock all day, I also got to smell the scents of Costa Rica in the fabric that cradled me.  

Told ya'.  Fabulous.

I enjoyed the Spring sights of our front yard.  There was this critter.

Wait, let me zoom in for you.

This is one of the two lovey-dovey squirrels that live in our tree.  Here you can see the squirrel nest.

I enjoyed Spring flowers.

Oh, and this critter too...

This picture cracks me up!  Just in case any of you were wondering if Danny Boy ever gives us attitude...  Now you know.  It looks like something out of Little Rascals...  wait, here it is in sepia so it really looks like it's from Little Rascals. 

Ale says he looks just like me in this picture.  Thanks, honey.  

Hammock.  Danny Boy.  Nature.  A book to read.  Costa Rica scents.  Pajamas all day.  

A perfect Me Day.

A Few Mommy Memories

Mothers' Day has become one of my favorite days of the year.  My husband does a pretty awesome job at spoiling me rotten.  Before I hit the hay for the night, I thought I'd share a few of my most favorite Mommy Memories...

Photo credit:  Matt Frank

Photo credit: Sarah Valente

Photo credit: Sarah Valente

And now to wish a very Happy Mommy's Day to my Mom...  Here are some memories she and I will both hold dear for a long time to come...

I love you, Mom! 

Thanks for being the very best Mom and the very best Grammy there is!  

Danny says, "Wuv Woo!"  

Yep, he actually said it today!  

How's that for a Mother's Day gift!  

Walk In Your Strengths

My husband is outrageously creative.  It is quite an amazing thing that I'm discovering this in the 8th year of our marriage, as our son's creativity blossoms and Alejandro's re-blooms with it.  The two boys surprise me daily with some incredibly fun activity they have discovered with nothing more than a box.

Legos are not just Legos.  They become the Taj Mahal.  Or a chair that you can actually sit in.

Or a flexible (literally) wall.

Play dough does not get made into pancakes, but rather sculpted into masterpieces.

Sidewalk chalk is not used to make random scratches on our driveway that make it look like a war happened.  It's used to recreate scenes of Costa Rica.

Toddler-sized pants make nice ears on my husband's head during diaper changes. Car washes become a great adventure in helping Papa.  I won't even start in on bath time.  It's truly amazing.

I am nowhere near as creative, or fun.  I am, however, fiercely competitive.

Sigh.  

And lately, I have found myself full of painful jealousy at my husband's uncanny ability to delight and enthrall our toddler.  Ok, AND because he's the favorite.  If the two of us are around, you can bet money on who Danny wants to be with.  I'll admit it.  It hurts.

But I'm learning.  And since I think out loud on paper, I'm learning here.

I'm learning to walk in my strengths and to give thanks for Alejandro's.

My strengths do not include genius creativity, but as a former teacher, I know that I am really good at mentoring, guiding, shaping and developing a child's undirected energy so that he develops focus, self-discipline, good communication, strategy and academic learning.  Those things are NOT as much fun.  But they ARE really important.

Slowly.... very very, every-so-painfully, slowly I am learning that I don't need to be the fun one.  I can walk in my strengths.  I can laugh and join in when my husband's creativity takes us for unexpected energy-expending and very fun turns without wishing I had thought of that, and I can find peace that my strengths lay foundations for stability, trust and self-sufficiency in our home.

I don't have to be the favorite.  He still does holler, "Mama!!!!!!" from the other room for me to come see the Egyptian Pyramid he and Papa built in the other room.  And someday soon when he learns to enjoy stories...  watch out.  I can read a mean bedtime story.  ;)

On Being a Single Mom and the Last 48 Hours

The last 48 hours have been all about recuperation, rest, settling down, and getting better.

Half an hour after Alejandro and our dog, Toby, pulled into our driveway Saturday afternoon, we loaded ourselves into the car with snacks, blankets and pj's, prepared for a long evening and headed to Memorial Urgent Care. Danny had a persisting medium grade fever and was more lethargic than I've ever seen him. Kiddo's pretty high energy and all he wanted to do was sleep and cuddle.

At urgent care we ruled out RSV and strep, so now we're just waiting this thing out. Since we were there, I went ahead and checked in, too, to see if they could diagnose a sinus infection. They couldn't. At least not definitively. They did, however, send me home with a prescription for antibiotics, which should help, whether it turns out to be sinus or dental or both. Anyhow, Danny woke up yesterday without a fever, and I declared on Twitter that he was fine and that it must've been teething, but then yesterday afternoon, the fever came back and along with it, a nasty case of diarrhea.

So, our first full day together? Pajamas, church livestreamed online, movies, pedialyte, a few intermingled errands, and diapers. Lots and lots of diapers.

Alejandro and I did manage to get some quality time together after Danny went to bed, though. ;) And although having a sick one is no fun, it was sweet to be together. Now, Alejandro's outside working in the garage, Danny's asleep in my arms and I sit writing to you all from my phone.

The last 48 hours have been a mix of sweet and struggle, but it's getting better by the minute.

As I now attempt to undo everything I changed and adjusted in order to survive and thrive while Alejandro was away, I've been thinking about how I made it through two and a half months without him and how I did  pretty well (if I do say so myself). I want to share a few pieces of advice for women who suddenly find themselves as a single mom, either temporarily or permanently.

Before I share, though, I want to say this: I offer this advice with the utmost humility. I am certainly not any kind of expert. These are just a few things that made a big difference for me. Also, I had the unique opportunity to figure this stuff out WITHOUT the emotional trauma that most women who are suddenly single moms experience. I did not have to grieve the death of my husband. He did not remove his love from my life. I was not facing divorce or financial ruin. I wasn't worried about his injury or death on the battle lines. We got to visit several times while he was away and we were able to chat via phone or skype daily. I got to do this growing experience in the most ideal circumstances.

That said, here are six things that really helped me make it through, because despite all of that, it was NOT always easy.  Come to think of it, it would do me well to keep doing these six things, even now that he is home.  Anyhow, it's not by any means an exhaustive list, but I hope it helps.

1. Accept help.

I suck at accepting help. It took a total fall apart moment an hour and a half of crying and a stern lecture from my good friend Melissa before I quit resisting help.  All of the strongest godly leaders I know really struggle to ask for help.  Why is that?  For whatever reason, it seems to be true.  In any case, once I allowed the body of Christ to do what it's meant to do in my life, and step in and a lend hand, I struggled much less.  Amazing how that works.

2. Have a "Me day."

With all the things to do daily, taking time out for myself seemed lowest on the totem pole of priorities, but the truth is that if I went too long without some time to get away and have some time to myself, I was a worse mom anyway. You can't pour out from an empty bucket and a car can't drive with an empty tank of gas.  It's important to fill your own bucket and make sure your gas tank doesn't get to empty.

3. Get an Ergo.

Or whatever your favorite baby-carrier of choice is.  Mine is my Ergo.  I can't even tell you how many times this has saved me.  When Danny was sick and wouldn't let me put him down, I put him on my back and he hung out there while I worked in the kitchen.  When grocery shopping was only half done but Danny was DONE sitting in the shopping cart, I put him in the Ergo.  A good baby carrier is worth its weight in gold.

4.  Have a schedule and stop working when the schedule says to.

Moms and Mary Kay beauty consultants have no end to the amount of work they can get done, so it doesn't matter how early you start or how late you go, there will always be more to do.  So make a schedule.  A reasonable one.  Then follow it.  And STOP at the end of the day, and go to bed when it says to.  Simple enough, but doing this made a world of a difference in my ability to carry on the pace for long periods of time.  This is a marathon, not a sprint.  Pace yourself.

5.  As you figure this thing out, let some stuff go.

Something's gotta give, so once you figure out what is on the bottom of the totem pole, let it go and don't sweat it.  I'm not so great at this either.  (That's the understatement of the year.) For me, this time it was my diet and exercise.  There are just only so many things I can do well.  This time the diet and exercise was not one of them.  There will come a time when you'll be able to tackle whatever that thing is for you, but for now, cut yourself some slack and just let it go.

6.  Have a sanctuary.

And go to it.  Often.