The Pah-tee, Part Two

I neglected to say that we keep our potties right out in the living room, so everyone can enjoy our training successes.

Aren't they adorable little potties?  Now all who enter can know what we have been up to these days.

Actually, we put them there for two reasons:  it is more convenient to get two mini-bums to sit when the pots are right there; and three little people in the bathroom at the same time (Angel has to go if they do!) is just way too many.  One is on the toilet, one is on the potty, one is checking to see how long the toilet paper is, then someone has to splash in the toilet while it is being sat upon, and of course the cupboards and drawers simply must be explored.  Too much adventure.

We like our chamber pots in miniature to be admired.  Yeah, that's it.

Body Training

It's potty time!  Pah-tee!  Yup, folks, get out your hats and balloons and confetti.  We're having us a pot-tee!  Even better - we're having two potties!  Yes!

Whew.  That many exclamation points makes me tired.  I'm not naturally that perky, so it takes a lot of energy to pretend.  Back to your regularly scheduled programming now...

Before the twins turned two, they started learning about the toilet.  I change their diapers on a pad on the bathroom counter, with one little guy on the pad and the other little guy around my ankles.  Angel often has to join the party, where she remembers that she "gots to go."  The twins ignored her, then watched, then got curious about what she was doing, sitting over there.  Georgie was the first to want to sit on the toilet - and tinkled immediately.  After that I would put him on during a diaper change if he asked and he always tinkled.  Pretty soon Freddie wanted to try, too.

For their second birthday, I bought a matched set of training potties.  I knew it was far too soon to really potty train, but the three of them were starting to fight over who got to sit on the toilet.  Now we have seats for everyone - Angel on the toilet and the twins on their little potties.  Here is a reminder of a really bad potty party picture, for your viewing enjoyment:

We'd go potty for a few days, and then the novelty would wear off.  When my little guys started whining as I put them on the potty, I knew they weren't ready.  I cleaned up the potties and put them in the bathroom cabinet.  After a few weeks, one of the twins would find them, drag them out and demand to go potty.  We'd try again for a few days, then put them away again.

A couple of weeks ago, I thought we'd pull them out again, just to see what would happen.  It's still a bit early to potty-train boys, but they are asking for it, so I guess that means they are getting ready.  Some of my boys have potty-trained easily and quickly (a week or two), while for others it was a long (try over a year!) and arduous process. 

For the first little while, I give treats for the sitting.  Then you have to accomplish something on the pot to get a treat.  The older kids get a treat too, if they help a little one potty successfully.  Now I just remind them to go somewhat often, and they stay mostly dry during the day.  They want me to cheer for them and clap my hands.  Yay!  I'd much rather have little legs sticking out of training pants than change diapers.  

AND they are starting to go when they need to.  AND they are starting to figure out the solids as well.  Yay!

It's worth the effort of using exclamation marks.

And the progress is worth dealing with the accidents.  Like the one this afternoon where Freddie mostly made it to the potty before he pooped.  And the one yesterday where Georgie pooped little pellets all across two rooms.  And the one tonight where three little people were screaming in the bathtub because of the floaters Freddie made,  Good times.

Freddie calls it "body training."  I guess that works.  Happy day.  We're having a potty!

A Move for Angel

We have three hallways in our home.  The upstairs hallway leads back to two bedrooms and a bath.  Ditto the second hallway, only downstairs.  The third hallway is almost an afterthought, squeezing past the furnace room and leading to our second kitchen and the storage room.  The skinny hallway widens at the end, just enough to accommodate a dresser, little shelves, and a toddler bed.  This is our Angel's room.  I have mentioned its itty-bitty-ness here and here.  The hallway begins about two inches from the right of this picture, and the room extends a foot or two to the left, and abut the same behind me as I took this shot.  Cozy, indeed.

The kitchen next to her room has been remodeled (um, we had some carpet installed over the old linoleum, took out the stove and the fridge, but left all the cabinets and the sink).  OK, maybe not remodeled, but sort of changed, a little bit.  Enough to use it as a bedroom, anyway.  Ben started out there, and after the last change-up, Alec has been the possessor of the kitchen-bedroom-that-I-get-all-to-myself.

Now that Alec has moved away to college, Angel gets lonely.  She's the only one in her hallway, and the other bedrooms are very far away, or at least it feels that way.  She doesn't like being by herself in her room.  As a result, she doesn't stay in her bed.  If it were just a struggle t get her to stay in her bed long enough to fall asleep, this would be a much shorter story.  <sorry>

No, she gets up, lonely, and wanders about the house in the middle of the night, as well.  We have found her curled up at the bottom of the stairs, sprawled across the couches upstairs, draped over the arms of the easy chair in front of the fireplace, on the floor next to my bed, on her mattress that she dragged out to the rec room, in her brothers' bedrooms, and anywhere else a little girl might like to sleep.  Except in her bed, in her bedroom.

It is unnerving to get up in the middle of the night, throw your exhausted legs over the edge of the bed... and step on a person.  Just saying.

The thought of Angel's midnight meanders makes me more than a little nervous.  What if she falls?  What if she gets into dangerous things?  What if she gets stuck somewhere?  What if she goes outside?  She is very adept at opening the outside doors and equally sneaky.  This arrangement is not working for The Worrier.

I think our best solution is to move Trent's office downstairs into the old kitchen, and let Angel have a bedroom upstairs.  His current office is the smallest real room in the house, so it would work wonderfully for one little girl.  She would be closer to Mom, Dad, and the twins, and not feel so alone.  AND she would be close enough for Super-Mom Radar to hear when she gets up.  I hope.

A side-benefit would be that Trent's office would be more quiet, and a little further away from the little ones who like to scream and bang on Daddy's door during work hours.  And Trent can get a drink of water whenever he wants one.  Bonus!

Did I just hear someone rolling their eyes about me always having to move everything around?  Come closer, my dear.  We have boxes for you to carry downstairs!

Who Are You Today?

A monkey.  That's what Eddie is today - a monkey.  A couple of years ago, he was a monkey in his class play opera.  Yes, he was a singing monkey.  In front of lot of people.  He did a fantastic job, and he loved it.  I figured that we'd combine the needed costume with Halloween, and I made him a bona fide monkey suit.  Brown sweatpants, a brown sweatshirt with a tail attached to the back hem, and a brown stocking cap with ears stitched on.  It was a great costume - and easy.  Great and cheap and easy is my favorite.  He still wears it.

Unless he's wearing the marching band drum major costume I made nearly ten years ago.  Or the blue tin soldier costume, with its brass buttons.  Or the tunic, belted at the waist with an elvish cape.  Eddie raids the costume boxes on a regular basis, looking for fun things to wear.  It's not unusual to find him all in black, doing ninja escapades.  Or another all-in-black, with his Sunday pants and a large black suit jacket, dark sunglasses and a secret-service-like wire snaking behind his ear into his black shirt.  I love seeing what he has reamed up for the day.

Eddie is so bright and imaginative.  He makes up games and stories with David and Chris - and occasionally still Ben, too.  Every day can be a different adventure, played by a different character, in a different situation. What a fun world to live in!

Every day truly is a new adventure.  And I'm not always the same character with the same personality.  Today I was tired Mom, who likes to sit on the couch and read the news.  And maybe some stories t the little ones.  She drags herself to an upright position only when absolutely necessary, and mumbles incoherent jibberish about needing to get to bed earlier.  A few days ago, I was Mad Mom, and the slightest things would get me fuming.  After that, I was Discouraged Mom.  How about Martyr Mom?  Everyone loves that character!

But shouldn't I be Happy Mom?  And Grateful Mom?  And Loving Mom?  No guilt.  It's not necessary or useful, except in helping me decide to get better.  Then we're done with it.  But  yes!  YES!  I should - and can!  And the Lord will help me when it gets hard, because it does.  And He does.  Because He loves me, and wants me to succeed and be a good mother and bring up these children to be hard-working, thankful, happy, productive adults.  And with His help, I will.

And when I get up in the morning, I will decide which persona I will take on for the day.  Where's my cape?

Today's Lesson

David has not been known for his homework prowess.  He has been very good at complaining about his daily schoolwork, spreading it all over the kitchen counter, and complaining about it.  And taking forever to start.  And then finishing fairly quickly, begrudgingly surprised, that it didn't take the rest of his life.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat.

But this year, I am the one to be surprised.  Every day, he comes right home and gets out his homework.  And then does it!  Without being reminded!  Every day.  He hasn't missed once.  (To be fair, he did forget about one small bit of the homework one day, but he sat right down and worked on the other subjects.)  I know his teacher has high expectations this year.  And I know she has a fun rewards system.  And I can see that David is growing up and learning that he can do it.  He can do things that are hard, and things that are not fun.  And then the chore is done and he can do other, more enjoyable things.  It's a great lesson.

Have I learned my lessons today?

High expectations create high results.
Fun rewards help us complete tasks.
Complaining just makes everything worse.
Just start - it might not be as bad as I thought it was.
I can do hard things.
I can do not-fun chores quickly.
A good attitude makes life more pleasant.
When my work is done, I can play.

Class dismissed.

Castles in the Sky

OK, they weren't actually castles that Chris was building, they were telescopes to put in an observatory.  And it wasn't really in the sky, but it looked like it.  There is my disclaimer.

I peeked over Chris's shoulder the other day, looking to see what he was doing on the computer.  He had been hunched over the keyboard for a long time, absolutely intent on not moving.  I wondered if his eyes were dilated or swirling.  On his computer screen, in the middle of a large blue... blueness, was an observatory.  Maybe the blue was sky.  It's hard to tell.

The observatory was a line drawing done in a computer-aided drawing program.  Chris was working on rounding the top and making the large slit in the roof for the telescopes.  His detailed depiction of the telescope included mirrors and lenses.  I was impressed.

The observatory was a challenge thrown to Chris by Ben.  Ben wondered if Chris could do a structure that intricate.  The answer is a resounding yes.  And we are all impressed at Chris's skill - and patience.

And now I wonder where my sky-castles are.  Am I diligently working on the challenges that have been thrown my way?  Or have I thrown my hands up in defeat as I slump into the easy chair?  At the end of the day, do I have a project, improved from my work of yesterday, and saved for more refining tomorrow?

I think I do.

I think we all have impressive business that we are engaged in.  And I think the biggest challenge of all is to recognize the good works we do, and to see the real importance in them.  We are building castles in the sky, but they often look like Legos on the floor.  Or dinner in the oven.  Or an "I'm sorry."  Or kisses on the scraped knee.  Or a listening ear.  Or a "Glad you're home."  Because that's what Heavenly mansions are made of.

Super Fascinatingly Interesting

I'm staying up late with Ben, talking about his future.  He's a bit frustrated, not knowing what kind of a career to pick.  "I just can't picture myself doing really any kind of job," he bemoans.  It's a bit funny to me because this bright, capable boy thinks there isn't anything to.  He could do anything.  Really!  So I just smile and listen and ask an occasional question.

At one break, I ask, "So what do you like to do?" knowing that he likes lots of things, but hoping to narrow the field somewhat.

"Just about everything.  Stuff I learn about:  math, science, art, music, English, history - everything.  It's interesting, but not super fascinatingly interesting.  I want to fly planes, have a Jeep and a dog and a motorcycle.  And a wife and some kids.  And be rich.  And I want my kids to have something cool to say when the other kids ask what their dad does.  I like being in charge, because I don't like it when stupid people are in charge of me.  But I don't like having to make hard decisions or be the one responsible for a screw-up.

"I'm sweating about it because I have no idea.   I hate jumping into the dark.  I guess I shouldn't look too far ahead right now, and just concentrate on the things that are in front of me.  I like to be prepared, but if I don't know where I want to go, then I can't be ready for it.  I kind of just want to be a scholar and be endorsed by the gods, like in ancient Greece.  I want to keep learning, not learn something and just do it over and over again.  And I want to contribute.  I just don't know how."

This is the boy who pulls straight A's on his report card of mostly honor classes; the one who was bummed that his chemistry class was boring; the one who is shooting for a perfect 36 on the ACT.  This is the boy who really could do anything.

And can't we all, really, do anything?

There are grownup considerations and responsible worries... but we really can do anything good we put our minds and our muscle to.  It's a freeing thought.  And true.  Because even in middle age - or even old age - we still have unlimited potential.  I love my teenagers and the things I learn from them.  Thanks, Ben.  I needed that.