The Final Round

Tonight was the first night of my very last class. I’m working on a MA in instructional design and technology, and this is my final semester. (There’s also that minor detail called a thesis, but I’m sure they’ll be plenty of neurotic posts on that subject at a later date.) I’m in a class about human development that I think is going to be rather interesting. The professor has a “traditional” style, I’m told, and from what I can tell that consists of her lecturing and us taking notes. And blue book tests. Oh, how I love the blue book tests. That was the standard teaching style back in the olden days when I was in college, and it is a welcomed relief from the “Go outside and observe a tree for eight minutes” nonsense that I dealt with last semester. So anyway, I think it’s going to be a pretty good class.

However, it was when I got home that I remembered just how much fun “class night” is – I guess I blocked it out during the break. It’s after 7:30 by the time I get home from class, which means it’s almost immediately bedtime. I pretty much walk through the door on those nights and put Sam to bed – I hardly get to see him at all. After he’s down, it’s time to start the process with Kate, and most of the time, like tonight, that’s not easy. Because I just got home, she doesn’t want me to leave her room after stories and prayers the way I typically would, which leads to lots of tears and phrases like “Mommy I just miss you” and “Mommy I just want you,” which of course makes me feel quite guilty. Tonight I was extremely exhausted and just wanted to go to bed myself, and I didn’t have a lot of patience, which of course made the guilt even worse.

Jenny often reminds me that she was in kindergarten, like Kate, when her mom earned a master’s degree, and that she was not psychologically damaged and in fact hardly remembers it. I know this will be the case with Kate as well, and though it’s hard to have that perspective when she’s crying because she hasn’t seen me all day, I am trying to keep that in mind. And, it will be over soon, right?

One week down, 15 weeks to go.

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The Potty Stall

(Pun pathetically intended.)

Unlike Emily’s motivated and much younger son, my dearest little Sophie is still really not interested in going to the potty. She’ll sit on the big potty with her potty seat, and she accidentally went poop on the potty on Christmas Eve (is there REALLY a Santa Claus!? It about made me believe.), but she has not. once. in. three. months. gone. PEE. Not once! Because she doesn’t WANT to! And this is something I can’t MAKE her do. Ugh.

And she won’t sit on her “little” potty at all. Only the big toilet with her Elmo seat.

So I think the time has come for me to put her in training pants and just let her start wetting herself. *Sigh*. So much maintenance, so much laziness to combat. It’s time for ME to put my big girl panties on and try to get Sophie excited about wearing hers.

I was hoping, since Joshua was difficult to train, that I’d have it easier with this one.

But over the last couple of months, those hopes have seriously gone down the crapper. Unfortunately none of Sophie’s pee went with them.

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PS my first post is up at the Ohio Moms Blog today! Go read it! Thanks. 🙂

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Scavenger Hunt

I never pictured myself searching my house for a puddle of pee, but that’s exactly what happened tonight.

Sam’s 21 months old now, and he’s very excited about the prospect of going in the potty. Not that he’s actually done it or anything, but it sure looks fun when Elmo does it. We’ve put him on the potty a few times to no avail, but that’s about as far as we’ve gotten.

This afternoon we all went out to play in the snow (I will post pictures of Sam dressed in a blanket sleeper, two pairs of his dad’s socks – his boots won’t fit anymore – and Kate’s old purple jacket and pink hat with pom poms as soon as I get them uploaded. Oh and he also had pink socks on his hands because I couldn’t find his gloves). In any case, when we got back in, he looked at me and said “poopy!” I said “Did you poop?” and he said no, but said yes when I asked him if he needed to. He said “Let’s go!” and off to the potty we ran. Again, nothing happened, but I had the bright idea to leave his diaper off for a while. I put some Baby Legs on him and let him run free.

Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, we tried the potty thing off and on, but he didn’t do anything. He hadn’t had any accidents either, so I thought he would surely have to do something soon. I wanted to give it one last try before putting him to bed, so I sat him on the potty and let him read “Elmo Goes Potty” for a while. As he was enjoying his reading time, I took his Baby Legs off since I was going to put him in his jammies. At that point, I realized the Baby Legs were wet. I had cleaned up (what I thought was) juice he spilled a little bit earlier, and I couldn’t tell if what was on them was juice or pee. (The sniff test was inconclusive, if you can believe that.) So I decided to ask him.

Me: Sammy, what is on your socks?
Sammy: Juice!
Me: Is it juice or pee pee?
Sammy: Pee pee!
Me: Did you pee pee on your socks?
Sammy: No! Juice!
Me: So is this juice or pee pee?
Sammy: Pee pee.
Me: Where is the rest of the pee pee?
Sammy: Socks.
Me: I know this is on your socks, but where is the rest? Where did you pee pee?
Sammy: In Daddy’s room.
Me: You pee peed in Daddy’s room?
Sammy: No. Pee pee in the potty.
Me: No, you didn’t pee pee in the potty. Can you show me where the pee pee is?
Sammy: Daddy’s room!

So we went to Daddy’s room (which incidentally is also my room). I looked at the carpet critically, but didn’t see anything. As I looked around the bathroom floor in our room, it occurred to me that I was searching my house for a pool of pee. Never thought I’d do that, but disturbingly it seemed perfectly normal. I guess I am officially fully entrenched in parenthood.

Eventually I found what I was looking for – on the floor next to Sammy’s chair at the kitchen table. The chair on which he likes to stand. Next to the table on which I had earlier cleaned up “spilled juice.”

Can someone pass the Lysol wipes?

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