Trying to be Mad

Fact: Sometimes parents need a break from their kids.

As evidenced this morning.

Suffice it to say that potty training for Max has been polarizing. Earlier this month, he was clean and dry for a stretch of ten days. This weekend? Not so successful. Flash to Monday morning and the boys headed to the basement to play for a bit before embarking on the journey (across town) to preschool and daycare. They came upstairs to get shoes and jackets on and Max gave me the look.

"Uh oh Max, what's wrong?"

Silence.

Then in one simple confirmation he points at his man-parts. Points.

With the tick tock of the clock in the forefront of my mind, I pulled his pants down and came up with a handful off something else. What I assumed was a wet diaper, was a pretty significant blow out. Poo everywhere. Before I could get him to the tub he had yuck from his bum to his ankle. I got him cleaned up (Jack headed to preschool with Gage) and he stood right in my face, yapping about something while I'm trying to clean up the bathroom, get dirty clothes to the washer and not mess up my own outfit. I was thisclose to losing my cool, but instead found my inner peace and requested, "Max, please go find something quietly to do in your bedroom. Find a book, sing a song, I don't care. I'm upset that you pooped your pants and made a mess, and I need a little break from you."

He said, "Ok!" and because he is Max the (usually) Listener, he charged off into his room. Moments later as I'm on my knees, hitting the bathtub with the Clorox he comes around the corner carrying a Bible, singing about Jesus. Kid you not.

The anger diminished, laughs ensued, I hugged the kiddo, delivered him to daycare and settled into work for a much needed break after the weekend.

Pregnancy, Potty Training, and a Princess

Here I am, on maternity leave.  I promised Kim my creative juices would flow during my 10 weeks at home, so I best follow through.  And what a better way to start than detailing my journey in to maternity leave?

I can’t just jump right to Ember’s birth day, because the story holds much more than that.  So we’ll back up a few days before Ember’s arrival.  As most of you know, I have a 2 ½ year old little man at home.  I had made up my mind many, many months ago to push off potty training until after the arrival of Baby Neu 2.  It just made sense.  I mean really, who wants to deal with potty training when you’re trying to figure out your life with a newborn baby in the house.  Not this mom.  So what lit the fire?  Another mom.  Let’s face it, they always have the best ideas and advice.  Working as a children’s librarian gives me unlimited access to moms that are really awesome (and some that are not, but that’s another post in and of itself).  In chatting with one of these awesome moms, I was introduced to the “Three Day Potty Training” method.  Yes, that’s right, I said three days.  So with my mushy, 38-week pregnant mind I decided this was a fabulous idea.  After all, I had two weeks to get this done.  Let’s do it—now!  I had a long weekend home from work due to the fourth of July holiday and decided to take advantage of it.  (Notice the previous sentence says “I” and not “we.”  David had to work…lucky him, right?)  I stocked the closet with cool underwear, a package of Pull-Ups, candy, stickers, and cheap presents.  Ready, set, go!  In an effort to make this short(er), day one (Saturday) was a disaster.  Day two (Sunday) proved to be some better, and by the morning of day three (Monday) I really thought we were getting somewhere.  And day four (Tuesday--I know, it’s supposed to be three days but just bear with me) brought great excitement when Easton actually told us he had to go potty rather than us telling him he needed to go.  This led to a $40 quad-track tractor and an excited phone call from Daddy to Mommy.  A bit dramatic are we?  Probably.  But I was really sick of doing laundry and hauling my kid to the bathroom.

And then I went in to labor. J

I had an appointment Tuesday afternoon and things were as they should be when you’re 38 weeks pregnant.  The doctor had me schedule my next appointment and said to come with an induction date in mind (she’s not much for surprises).  I wasn’t really keen on picking my child’s birthday and planned to pick the very last day she’d allow.  I wasn’t uncomfortable or in any hurry to rush things along.  My husband and I spent the rest of the afternoon running errands and going out for supper.  I was having contractions, but didn’t feel the need to rush to the hospital.  I’m fairly certain David was aware of this, but I’m not sure he agrees.  We left town and headed to the farm to pick up Easton and made our way home. 

After being home for about an hour and a half my brother called and needed rescuing.  His pickup had stalled at the gas station in front of the pump.  He asked David to come and pull him away from the pump and give him a ride home.  It was about 9:30pm and Easton was just getting out of the tub.  I told David I wasn’t comfortable with him leaving for an hour and a half because my contractions were coming every 15-20 minutes.  His response, “Ride along then.”  So we did.  We threw Easton’s pajamas on and hopped in the car.  This is when David becomes totally oblivious to what’s going on.  He doesn’t see me throw the rest of Easton’s “hospital/overnight” bag together and throw it in the back seat.  He doesn’t see me keeping track of contractions on my cell phone.  In fact, I’m not entirely certain he saw me get in the front seat of the car beside him.  Okay, it wasn’t that bad…but (he claims) I hadn’t clued him to how serious I was about the fact that I may very well be going in to labor.  

The rest of the night/next morning goes something like this:

9:30pm - We leave the house to rescue my brother from the gas station.

10:30pm - We drop my brother and his finance off and I pose David with the “What should we do now”? question.  He is still clueless and responds with “Go home?”  I tell him I’d rather not drive all the way back home because I’m still having contractions and I think I want to go to the hospital.  David asks if we can at least go back and get his glasses.  Really David?!?

10:45pm - We arrive at my mom and dad’s farm (this is the half-way point between our house and the hospital) to decide what to do.  David asks if he can leave Easton and I there and go back home to get his glasses.

11:00pm - I make the final call – to the hospital we go. 

11:45pm - We arrive at the Emergency Room and I tell them I need to check in to labor and delivery.  They look at me as if I’m one of “those” people.  You know, the ones who aren’t really in labor but think they are.

12:00am - Still in the Emergency Room.  David has found the latest issue of the AARP magazine to read.  Eventually somebody comes and retrieves us from the ER and wonders if we’ve been waiting long.

 12:15am - 4-5cm dilated.  We’re not going home.  We’re having a baby.  And David is still really bummed he doesn’t have his glasses.

1:15am - 6cm dilated.  I have an epidural, just for safety purposes. J

1:40am - 6cm dilated.  My doctor arrives and breaks my water.  We’re really having a baby…and David is wondering if my mom and dad can bring his glasses when they come to see said baby.

2:45am - 8cm dilated.

3:16am - Push…

3:28am - WELCOME TO THE WORLD EMBER LEE NEU!
7lbs. 15oz.  21 in. long

 Really that’s it.  That’s how it all went down.   So here we are…3 weeks later-- I’m not pregnant anymore, we have a (mostly) potty trained 2 ½ year old, and a beautiful (really, really beautiful) princess.  Life is amazing, isn’t it?

Potty Training: Ready...Not

At 20 months old, I thought it might be a swell idea to introduce Max to the potty. At 18 months, Gage pooped in the potty for two straight weeks without doing the deed in a diaper. (Then he got pneumonia and we completely started over.) And since every child should be parented exactly the same way, I figured it was high time for Max to get started as well.

Disclaimer: It took me exactly 7 hours to realize that my children would need different parenting techniques. We've been two track parenting ever since. I'll tell you all about it when you're older.

Anyway, this weekend we spent a fair amount of time at home and I tried to take advantage of the golden opportunity to work with Max. Saturday morning I pulled off his diaper and asked if he'd like to sit on the potty for a while.

"NOOOOO!" was the reply.

"Here, let's put your potty in the living room and you can sit on it while you watch Mickey Mouse."

"NOOOOO!" was the reply.

"Just try."

At this point, my sweet little boy picked up the potty, carried it back to its holding cell near the bathroom, and threw it on the floor.

He walked back into the living room and said, "Diaper!" Then walked into his bedroom and returned to the living room with a diaper. He threw it down on the floor, laid down next to it and assumed the position.

Something tells me he isn't ready.

We've also expanded his vocabulary to include "tato" and "chip".