It's really not that polite to brag about my kid, but sometimes a mother just has to beam.
"Hey Mom, guess what 2 plus 2 plus 1 is?"
"What is it, Tom?"
"You have to guess, but I'll give you a hint. It starts with an F."
Showing posts with label Tommy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tommy. Show all posts
21 February 2010
12 May 2009
Tiny Apartment Video
We're moving! We finally bought a house, and are so excited to have...for the 1st time...a yard!
09 February 2009
1,2,3
Today was one of those days of being a mom that was totally beautiful. If you are a mom, you know that any "totally beautiful" day still has a fair share of poopy diapers and tantrums. Nonetheless, I present three moments:
1-I carried Jimmy down in the morning to find Tom and Lucy snuggled up on the couch. Feeding Jim his bottle, I commented to no one in particular, "Isn't this kid the cutest." "Yeah, he is," Tom replied. "And Elmo, too."
2-Jimmy is on his 2nd day of eating the tiniest tad of banana slice you've ever seen. It's really just a little mushpod on my finger. I put it on his tongue today and his eyes gleened over immediately, as if to say, "Mom, finally. I weep that you finally acknowledged my yearning."
3-Lucy and I took a trip to the mall with Grandpa this morning, and somehow, her beloved Bunny Baby ended up taking a swim in the wishing well. Bunny Baby, a blue and well-worn friend, was in need of dire washing anyway, so Lucy had to make do at bedtime with borrowing Monkey Baby from Tom. When Tom went to bed himself, though, he cried out for Monkey. Moments later, Lucy called out to John. John went into her room and she held out Monkey, "Tommy needs his monkey, Dad." And that was that.
1-I carried Jimmy down in the morning to find Tom and Lucy snuggled up on the couch. Feeding Jim his bottle, I commented to no one in particular, "Isn't this kid the cutest." "Yeah, he is," Tom replied. "And Elmo, too."
2-Jimmy is on his 2nd day of eating the tiniest tad of banana slice you've ever seen. It's really just a little mushpod on my finger. I put it on his tongue today and his eyes gleened over immediately, as if to say, "Mom, finally. I weep that you finally acknowledged my yearning."
3-Lucy and I took a trip to the mall with Grandpa this morning, and somehow, her beloved Bunny Baby ended up taking a swim in the wishing well. Bunny Baby, a blue and well-worn friend, was in need of dire washing anyway, so Lucy had to make do at bedtime with borrowing Monkey Baby from Tom. When Tom went to bed himself, though, he cried out for Monkey. Moments later, Lucy called out to John. John went into her room and she held out Monkey, "Tommy needs his monkey, Dad." And that was that.
23 January 2009
Phobic Tom
I swear I didn't do it to him. Clowns are just weird. The other morning, Tom delivered an unsettling description of a dream he'd had more than once:
The dark clown was baaaaack, Mom!! Not the nice clown, but the dark one. And then, the good clown attacked him and fought him off.
It's alarming that things can creep into your child's life without your permission. I remember that once, as I child, I woke up and wandered into the living room long after everyone had gone to bed. I turned on the TV to check out what was on, and I saw some disturbing shootout involving a skeleton. Or, at least, my young mind perceived it to be a skeleton. And then there was the time I dreamed that my mom was melting into the new armchair....
Imagination is so vivid in childhood. Tommy really believes there are dinosaur-sized monsters lurking outside sometimes, that there are ghosts hiding in our stairwell.
The dark clown was baaaaack, Mom!! Not the nice clown, but the dark one. And then, the good clown attacked him and fought him off.
It's alarming that things can creep into your child's life without your permission. I remember that once, as I child, I woke up and wandered into the living room long after everyone had gone to bed. I turned on the TV to check out what was on, and I saw some disturbing shootout involving a skeleton. Or, at least, my young mind perceived it to be a skeleton. And then there was the time I dreamed that my mom was melting into the new armchair....
Imagination is so vivid in childhood. Tommy really believes there are dinosaur-sized monsters lurking outside sometimes, that there are ghosts hiding in our stairwell.
15 January 2009
Remember That I Said This
Quitting nursing has sent me into some kind of weird, emotional stage. (Or else I'm just going to get my period for like the 4th time in our marriage.) I want to remember each little thing the kids are doing right now---how Tommy so kindly helps Lucy get all the right toys out to set up her babydoll collection, how Lucy's hair is finally long enough to be in little pigtail tufts, how Jimmy rolls over in bassinet in the morning to great me with a huge, drool-y grin.
Yea, I guess I am in love with these bugs.
Yea, I guess I am in love with these bugs.
20 November 2008
Growing Up
The other night, Tommy and I went on our usual adventure to the library. Except it wasn't usual, because the winter had darkened the skies. And we were alone. We are rarely alone in the car, Tommy and I. Usually there's a Jimmy screaming and a snooking Lucy along.
Tommy was nervous about the darkness. "It's nighttime, Mom! The library will be locked." He was surprised when I grabbed his hand and we raced past the dried-up fountain into the warm light of an open library.
We read together, late at night. Tommy snuggled into my lap and chose a book about tigers and another about an umbrella. This second book was written unusually, in broken English, from the perspective of a Japanese immigrant. She wrote about her daughter's first umbrella, something she longed to use. Something she waited for and finally attained.
And then, in the end, the broken English revealed something that clutched at my heart: in using her umbrella the first time, this little girl had her first experience of walking up and down the streets without holding either her mom and dad's hand.
And then I realized that Tommy has already had that experience this fall, without me even consciously planning it.
Where does it go? How do kids make that leap from toddler to kid? He did it when I wasn't looking. He did it by taking screwdrivers to the underside of telephone cradles, to figure out how they worked. He did it by sneaking baking chocolates upstairs, not knowing his stealthy move wouldn't be tasty. He did it by running off to school each morning, unafraid, into Mrs. McDonald's room to learn about God and frogs and sharing.
He's a real boy now.
Tommy was nervous about the darkness. "It's nighttime, Mom! The library will be locked." He was surprised when I grabbed his hand and we raced past the dried-up fountain into the warm light of an open library.
We read together, late at night. Tommy snuggled into my lap and chose a book about tigers and another about an umbrella. This second book was written unusually, in broken English, from the perspective of a Japanese immigrant. She wrote about her daughter's first umbrella, something she longed to use. Something she waited for and finally attained.
And then, in the end, the broken English revealed something that clutched at my heart: in using her umbrella the first time, this little girl had her first experience of walking up and down the streets without holding either her mom and dad's hand.
And then I realized that Tommy has already had that experience this fall, without me even consciously planning it.
Where does it go? How do kids make that leap from toddler to kid? He did it when I wasn't looking. He did it by taking screwdrivers to the underside of telephone cradles, to figure out how they worked. He did it by sneaking baking chocolates upstairs, not knowing his stealthy move wouldn't be tasty. He did it by running off to school each morning, unafraid, into Mrs. McDonald's room to learn about God and frogs and sharing.
He's a real boy now.
08 September 2008
Life in Mc D-O-N-A-L-D-S World
Today marked a new and exciting phase in our eldest's life. Tommy started pre-school! I will post picture later of Tommy proudly sporting his Twins backpack, heading into school looking excited and ready to take on the world. I thought maybe his nerves would get the better of him, but this weekend, he told me, "Mom, Mrs. McDonald will be excited to see me tomorrow!"
This enthusiasm was a change from last week, when before meeting his teacher, he wondered whether she would actually be Ronald McDonald...?
My heart nearly melted to send Tommy away on his new adventure. I don't know who was most excited in the family. John and I were ridiculously proud to note that Tom was the only kid in his class to be able to identify his name on the take-home paper bin and the star name board. Tom was ridiculously proud to unzip his backpack and show us his first art project, a heart proclaiming God's love. Lucy was tickled to have our complete attention for several hours and Jimmy...well, Jimmy actually slept through most of the transition.
As John told me a few weeks ago, once school begins, there's no turning back. I can already hear Tommy telling us, "Oh, this is how Mrs. McDONald says to wash your hands..." or "Miss Amy says we have to wear shoes at the park." No longer are we the only primary influence in Tommy's life. In fact, his teachers' new authority will probably usurp the limited excitement we provide. We'll be replaced.
All this knowledge has whirled through my brain as we've prepared this last week for D-Day. We made the drop-off early, and circled the preschool at 11:15 AM so as not to be too early for the 11:30 pick-up. I needn't have worried too much about being replaced.
It turned out Tommy loved preschool, and also loved sharing his new stage of development with us. He ran into my arms, delighted to chatter with me about the Magic Bean game and the turn-around, turn-around. In his sparkling eyes, I can see that he relives these memories, although he doesn't quite convey the details to me.
Preschool. It's supposed to be a bridge, isn't it? Somehow it seems like he's already crossed over from being our baby.
This enthusiasm was a change from last week, when before meeting his teacher, he wondered whether she would actually be Ronald McDonald...?
My heart nearly melted to send Tommy away on his new adventure. I don't know who was most excited in the family. John and I were ridiculously proud to note that Tom was the only kid in his class to be able to identify his name on the take-home paper bin and the star name board. Tom was ridiculously proud to unzip his backpack and show us his first art project, a heart proclaiming God's love. Lucy was tickled to have our complete attention for several hours and Jimmy...well, Jimmy actually slept through most of the transition.
As John told me a few weeks ago, once school begins, there's no turning back. I can already hear Tommy telling us, "Oh, this is how Mrs. McDONald says to wash your hands..." or "Miss Amy says we have to wear shoes at the park." No longer are we the only primary influence in Tommy's life. In fact, his teachers' new authority will probably usurp the limited excitement we provide. We'll be replaced.
All this knowledge has whirled through my brain as we've prepared this last week for D-Day. We made the drop-off early, and circled the preschool at 11:15 AM so as not to be too early for the 11:30 pick-up. I needn't have worried too much about being replaced.
It turned out Tommy loved preschool, and also loved sharing his new stage of development with us. He ran into my arms, delighted to chatter with me about the Magic Bean game and the turn-around, turn-around. In his sparkling eyes, I can see that he relives these memories, although he doesn't quite convey the details to me.
Preschool. It's supposed to be a bridge, isn't it? Somehow it seems like he's already crossed over from being our baby.
24 June 2008
Can I Handle This?
Life is never quite exciting enough for Tommy. As we piled into the car this morning, planning to hit the gym and then visit the local fire station afterward, Tommy donned his baseball batting helmet and began his usual routine of foolin' around in the car.
Generally, Tommy takes to the back of the car, climbing over seats and grinning at me in evil amusement because he knows A) how mad I am going to get and B) that there is not much chance I can actually catch him, since my pregnant belly will not contort into the shape necessary to get over the car seats and into the back row of the minivan.
This morning, however, Tom took to his more-dangerous habit of playing with switches and buttons in the front of the car. You can probably guess where this is going. He took a good, long look at me and then locked the car. I was annoyed, but one door was open...so no problem. I manually unlocked another car door and proceeded to get Tom strapped into his car seat. Then I shut his door and, in slow motion, heard...the... automatic...locks...re-locking...the...front...door. Didn't know that was a bonus feature.
With both kids strapped and my keys locked up tight, I panicked. It was a hot morning, and while we were in the shade of the garage, I didn't know how fast things would heat up in there. Thankfully, Daddy excused himself from work for an hour to drive out and save the kids. As we waited for him to arrive, I tried unsuccessfully to pry open the front window and stick a homemade hook contraption onto the auto-lock button. Tommy cheered me on and kept urging me to, "Use Daddy's hammer!!...It's right over there in the toooooooool box!!"
Kids are a riot, but sometimes, my Grandpa is right: Don't be in such a hurry to get them on the outside (of your body). They cause less trouble in your stomach.
Generally, Tommy takes to the back of the car, climbing over seats and grinning at me in evil amusement because he knows A) how mad I am going to get and B) that there is not much chance I can actually catch him, since my pregnant belly will not contort into the shape necessary to get over the car seats and into the back row of the minivan.
This morning, however, Tom took to his more-dangerous habit of playing with switches and buttons in the front of the car. You can probably guess where this is going. He took a good, long look at me and then locked the car. I was annoyed, but one door was open...so no problem. I manually unlocked another car door and proceeded to get Tom strapped into his car seat. Then I shut his door and, in slow motion, heard...the... automatic...locks...re-locking...the...front...door. Didn't know that was a bonus feature.
With both kids strapped and my keys locked up tight, I panicked. It was a hot morning, and while we were in the shade of the garage, I didn't know how fast things would heat up in there. Thankfully, Daddy excused himself from work for an hour to drive out and save the kids. As we waited for him to arrive, I tried unsuccessfully to pry open the front window and stick a homemade hook contraption onto the auto-lock button. Tommy cheered me on and kept urging me to, "Use Daddy's hammer!!...It's right over there in the toooooooool box!!"
Kids are a riot, but sometimes, my Grandpa is right: Don't be in such a hurry to get them on the outside (of your body). They cause less trouble in your stomach.
17 June 2008
06 June 2008
This Many [Holding up 3 Fingers]
Dear Tommy,It seems your toddlerhood is slipping (or "swipping") away from us.When I look at the calendar for this month, I can hardly believe your 3rd birthday is just days away.We did have to dash your hopes of having one of those real, working cars, but your other request for birthday strawberries will definitely be fulfilled.
As before the birth of your sister, I find myself strangely sentimental this month, wanting to snuggle you and hold you and just savor the relationship we have right now, before it changes.I don't fear the change, but I do know that things will be somehow different.And aren't they perfect now, with two giggling bugs chasing around our house?You are eager to meet the baby pushing you from inside my tummy, though...you seem unworried.
You are turning into such a smart and considerate boy, Tommy.You bombard me constantly with questions, asking just this morning where bikes were made and and what "suddenly" means.You never seem to forget our answers; instead, you repeat them aloud for several days or months as if committing them to memory is the most important task at hand.(I think this is a compulsion you get from Daddy.) "Frightened means scared!" "Exert means to try harder!" We've been working our way through the alphabet lately, mostly so I could focus on something other than pregnancy.Things are finally wrapping up, and this week, you're learning about the letter U.A picture of Tommy wearing "Underwear" hangs on my left...and rightfully so, as potty-training has consumed so much of our and your energy over these past months.It really did go more smoothly than I expected, but every so often, you hold onto your right to pee or poo where YOU so choose.I can only believe such determination will serve you well in other areas of your life.
One of your favorite things to do, now that the weather is nice, is take off on the Radio Flyer bike that Grandma Linda and Grandpa Eric gave you.We need to get a basket on that thing, because you're awfully fond of collecting rocks along your way, but you're perplexed when they fall off the back of the bike.You are fast as the wind, and can go at least a mile.Yesterday, you rang your little bell and waved at a gaggle of girls as you passed.
You are a wonderful brother most of the time.When Lucy wakes up in the morning, you rush to give her a kiss.You tell me when she wants to eat yogurt or get a drink. You find her special bunny when she's sad.With gentle reminding,you are eager to share with Lucy.You become more happy when she is happy.I hope this lesson is one that sticks with you in life...to complete another's joy brings our own.
I will never forget the feeling of responsibility and joy and relief we experienced the day we drove you home from United Hospital in our little Volvo three brief years ago.I cried in that moment as I realized you were everything life could offer. And you really are.
To be a mother is to know a completeness that often overwhelms, but equally inspires.
I love you, Tommy.Happy Birthday.
Mama
20 May 2008
Unjust
There are so many moments of motherhood for which I'm not proud. This morning was a biggie. It started out when Tommy refused to eat his cereal, changing his mind after several bites and declaring that he wanted toast. On the principle that we don't waste food, I let him be excused from the table instead of eat his cereal. Then I reminded him that he'd get no snacks because he had wasted so much.
A two year old can't go long on an empty stomach, though: several hours later, we were trying to get motivated and head to the gym, when Tommy threw a high tantrum about his inability to pull his pants down to go potty. I know he can pull his pants down; this has just become an issue for Tom to press, an area of control that I usually allow him because I just want him to get the job done. Over the last few weeks, though, I've pressed him to become more self-reliant since I'm getting astronomical and it's hard to do all those little, bending jobs.
Anyway, if you're a Mom, you can probably envision the screaming tantrum that ensued. Tommy hungry, me frustrated. I'm not sure who was louder or more ridiculous. I yelled at the top of my lungs, he wriggled, laying on the bathroom floor and refusing to pull down the sweatpants. Finally, he peed his pants and I just lost it.
Soon into my tirade, I recognized that I was out of control and that my behavior was doing much more damage than good. I dropped to my knees and held Tommy, shaking and crying. I said I was sorry for yelling, and he whimpered, "I don't like yelling, Mom." I feel awful to admit how horrible I could treat Tommy; how little patience and understanding I gave him this morning.
But Tommy forgave me and went back, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, to loving me as if I'd done nothing wrong. So unconditional. So childlike. So inspiring.
Why can't I forgive things so quickly and completely? Why can't I be patient more of the time? Sometimes life seems to rise up and present these completely simple ideas---fairness towards others, for instance---that are so much harder to act out than I'd like to admit.
A two year old can't go long on an empty stomach, though: several hours later, we were trying to get motivated and head to the gym, when Tommy threw a high tantrum about his inability to pull his pants down to go potty. I know he can pull his pants down; this has just become an issue for Tom to press, an area of control that I usually allow him because I just want him to get the job done. Over the last few weeks, though, I've pressed him to become more self-reliant since I'm getting astronomical and it's hard to do all those little, bending jobs.
Anyway, if you're a Mom, you can probably envision the screaming tantrum that ensued. Tommy hungry, me frustrated. I'm not sure who was louder or more ridiculous. I yelled at the top of my lungs, he wriggled, laying on the bathroom floor and refusing to pull down the sweatpants. Finally, he peed his pants and I just lost it.
Soon into my tirade, I recognized that I was out of control and that my behavior was doing much more damage than good. I dropped to my knees and held Tommy, shaking and crying. I said I was sorry for yelling, and he whimpered, "I don't like yelling, Mom." I feel awful to admit how horrible I could treat Tommy; how little patience and understanding I gave him this morning.
But Tommy forgave me and went back, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, to loving me as if I'd done nothing wrong. So unconditional. So childlike. So inspiring.
Why can't I forgive things so quickly and completely? Why can't I be patient more of the time? Sometimes life seems to rise up and present these completely simple ideas---fairness towards others, for instance---that are so much harder to act out than I'd like to admit.
30 April 2008
Just An Ordinary, Momentous Day
As I sit down tonight after a fourteen-plus hour day of full-time mom duty, it strikes me that often the moments of most poignancy in this role are surrounded by moments of utter chaos. Allow me to elaborate.
Today was a big day for Tommy, and for Lucy, too. Just since my last post, Lucy said "Grandpa!" and "baseball!" (both of which I had to discern a bit, but were indeed verified by a secondary adult party.) Tommy entered what I felt to be a new stage when he went over to play at his friends' home this afternoon without me.
I'm not sure why it felt so monumental to send Tommy trotting off to another person's home. I leave him at the gym daycare practically every day, although I guess that's not quite as personal of a setting (and I also am right upstairs). It struck me as a very grown-up toddler thing to do; to eat lunch and play for the afternoon.
When I picked Tommy up from his adventure, he was bursting with stories of all the things he'd done and all the fun he'd had. He wanted to stay, he told me. When I asked him if he'd like to have his friends over to play at our house sometime, he replied, "That'd be cool, Mom."
As Tommy napped off the fun, Lucy and I spent a bit more alone time together. She taught me what the cow says and what the sheep says. She giggled as she fed her baby doll the bottle and gave her a kiss. She backed her little bottom onto my lap and read her favorite chick book again and again. She snuggle with bunny baby, and danced around her sunny yellow room to the I'm a Little Teapot song.
Perhaps I pushed the kids both too much when we left the house tonight to go to my nephew's baseball game. They were tired and ready to wind down, but I thought a 7 o'clock game would be manageable. Indeed not. Tommy chased his cousin Claudia and her girlfriend all over the place, screaming at them, hitting them, throwing sand all over the place, scrambling over other parents who sent me my favorite look...that Oh my God, you're drowning in kids and you're doing this again??
My heart ached for Tommy despite his unruliness, actually: I knew he really just wanted to play with the girls, but sometimes when older kids get together, they push a little cousin aside and tell him he can't play, too. I guess as a youngest child, I understand that innate desire to want to be included. Nonetheless, Tommy's going to have to learn that violence isn't the answer.
Anyway, it was a traumatic end to a big day. There were tears because the baseball game wasn't over yet. There were tears because naughtiness means straight to bed. There were tears because we'll have to talk this all through with Dad, and I know Tommy doesn't want to disappoint anyone.
And then I realized, in the thick of all this discipline, that this is the first day I remember Tommy not having a single accident. He actually took off the clothes tonight that he put on at the beginning of the day. Maybe it's happened before when John was in charge, or when we were visiting at a grandparents' house, but I don't think so. It seems like we've had at least a dribble of pee up to this point.
And so, we're here, dribble-less for a day. I am so proud of Tom for bravely making his own way in the world when sometimes other kids are just scared and hang back. I am so proud of him for telling me when he has to pee! Sometimes my heart is just bursting.
And sometimes my heart is just burning, in the same moment. Could this kid go to bed? My weary bones can't take another moment today.
Today was a big day for Tommy, and for Lucy, too. Just since my last post, Lucy said "Grandpa!" and "baseball!" (both of which I had to discern a bit, but were indeed verified by a secondary adult party.) Tommy entered what I felt to be a new stage when he went over to play at his friends' home this afternoon without me.
I'm not sure why it felt so monumental to send Tommy trotting off to another person's home. I leave him at the gym daycare practically every day, although I guess that's not quite as personal of a setting (and I also am right upstairs). It struck me as a very grown-up toddler thing to do; to eat lunch and play for the afternoon.
When I picked Tommy up from his adventure, he was bursting with stories of all the things he'd done and all the fun he'd had. He wanted to stay, he told me. When I asked him if he'd like to have his friends over to play at our house sometime, he replied, "That'd be cool, Mom."
As Tommy napped off the fun, Lucy and I spent a bit more alone time together. She taught me what the cow says and what the sheep says. She giggled as she fed her baby doll the bottle and gave her a kiss. She backed her little bottom onto my lap and read her favorite chick book again and again. She snuggle with bunny baby, and danced around her sunny yellow room to the I'm a Little Teapot song.
Perhaps I pushed the kids both too much when we left the house tonight to go to my nephew's baseball game. They were tired and ready to wind down, but I thought a 7 o'clock game would be manageable. Indeed not. Tommy chased his cousin Claudia and her girlfriend all over the place, screaming at them, hitting them, throwing sand all over the place, scrambling over other parents who sent me my favorite look...that Oh my God, you're drowning in kids and you're doing this again??
My heart ached for Tommy despite his unruliness, actually: I knew he really just wanted to play with the girls, but sometimes when older kids get together, they push a little cousin aside and tell him he can't play, too. I guess as a youngest child, I understand that innate desire to want to be included. Nonetheless, Tommy's going to have to learn that violence isn't the answer.
Anyway, it was a traumatic end to a big day. There were tears because the baseball game wasn't over yet. There were tears because naughtiness means straight to bed. There were tears because we'll have to talk this all through with Dad, and I know Tommy doesn't want to disappoint anyone.
And then I realized, in the thick of all this discipline, that this is the first day I remember Tommy not having a single accident. He actually took off the clothes tonight that he put on at the beginning of the day. Maybe it's happened before when John was in charge, or when we were visiting at a grandparents' house, but I don't think so. It seems like we've had at least a dribble of pee up to this point.
And so, we're here, dribble-less for a day. I am so proud of Tom for bravely making his own way in the world when sometimes other kids are just scared and hang back. I am so proud of him for telling me when he has to pee! Sometimes my heart is just bursting.
And sometimes my heart is just burning, in the same moment. Could this kid go to bed? My weary bones can't take another moment today.
How Ya Feelin?
Of late, Tom has been excited to create his own words. If there is an adjective to describe hunger, heck, there must be one to describe a yearning for television.
"But Mommmmmmm, I'm feeling TV-y!!"
And later, more better:
"It's not nap time, Mom. I'm still booky."
"But Mommmmmmm, I'm feeling TV-y!!"
And later, more better:
"It's not nap time, Mom. I'm still booky."
13 April 2008
Excerpt from the Car Ride
Tommy: Grader, grader, where are you??
Tommy [as the Grader]: I'm down here! On the floor!
Tommy: I can't reach you!
Tommy [as the Grader]: Really?!
Tommy: Yeah!
Tommy [as the Grader]: I'm down here! On the floor!
Tommy: I can't reach you!
Tommy [as the Grader]: Really?!
Tommy: Yeah!
10 April 2008
Evil, Evil, Evil
Sometimes my sister tells me stories of things her kids have done, and then, as if through ESP, my children absorb and repeat these ordeals. One example of this was last spring: Tommy was just under 2 years old when he made like his cousins and busted out of Sarah's house with a large bottle of hand soap. I found him in the street a few minutes later, playing with the bottle of soap as a car rolled up the street.
A similar cousin-style feisty action began occurring this week. Now that Tommy realizes he can control his urine stream, he stashes away just a tad of pee for each time he is forced to take a nap, say goodnight, or go in timeout. "But I peeeeeeeed!" He cries, pointing to the drop of urine on his pants. For about the first 6 times this happened, John and I played along, exasperatedly changing his outfit and letting him postpone bed and/or punishment.
No longer, kid. We're onto you.
Today, I informed Tommy that poop or pee, he'd be finishing his timeouts no matter what incident occurred in his pants. The look on his face was just priceless.
You can try, Tomster, but you'll never win.
A similar cousin-style feisty action began occurring this week. Now that Tommy realizes he can control his urine stream, he stashes away just a tad of pee for each time he is forced to take a nap, say goodnight, or go in timeout. "But I peeeeeeeed!" He cries, pointing to the drop of urine on his pants. For about the first 6 times this happened, John and I played along, exasperatedly changing his outfit and letting him postpone bed and/or punishment.
No longer, kid. We're onto you.
Today, I informed Tommy that poop or pee, he'd be finishing his timeouts no matter what incident occurred in his pants. The look on his face was just priceless.
You can try, Tomster, but you'll never win.
08 April 2008
02 April 2008
Potty Chronicle: Day 15
The potty training seems to be mostly complete. Most days, we have just one accident. Usually, it's the end of the day, when Tommy's patience is wearing thin. He's getting really good at telling me when he has to go poop, but I still have to make him go pee about every 1.5 hrs. He never says he has to go pee.
In related news, we seem to be mixing our signals around here and confusing many words for potty-related things. This morning, Tommy was invited to a birthday party. "But I don't WANT to go on the potty!!!" He insisted. No, Tommy. Par-ty. Bennett's party. Also, he just told me he wanted a cookie, and I could have sworn he said he had to go poop.
In related news, we seem to be mixing our signals around here and confusing many words for potty-related things. This morning, Tommy was invited to a birthday party. "But I don't WANT to go on the potty!!!" He insisted. No, Tommy. Par-ty. Bennett's party. Also, he just told me he wanted a cookie, and I could have sworn he said he had to go poop.
31 March 2008
A Flick of His Switch
Old Benjamin Bunny must have had a son like ours. Despite Supernanny JoJo's insistence, I swear that Tommy does not always respond to discipline in the form of a Time Out. Lately, Tommy has been really fighting naps and bedtime. He quickly realized that his newfound ability to use the potty granted him special permission to get out of bed again...and again...and again.
Last week was particularly exhausting as Tommy exercised this freedom, since John was out of town. Upon return, though, John got right to the heart of the matter---a slight spanking seemed to be all Tommy needed to know staying in bed was the best option.
This is a difficult issue for us. We'd love for Tommy to truly feel remorse and stay in the corner, but he's just not that kid. I remember a few years ago, my nephew, Jack, would actually put himself in Time Out. He'd just stand there, facing the wall, practically crying because he was so sad to have disobeyed his parents. My children, on the other hand, seem to be Sass Boxes who laugh in the face of rules!
How many other parents out there find that spanking is one of the few discipline tactics that get through to their child?
Let me be clear: John and I are both agreed that spanking is an appropriate discipline form only in certain circumstances. We wait until we are calm, and we explain to Tommy in a collected manner why his actions were wrong. Spanking out of rage sends a different message than we want to convey. I want Tommy to know that I don't like to spank him; instead, it makes me sad to do so!
In our society, spanking is such a taboo. And yet I do wonder, aren't there others out there---like us---who feel it's necessary and effective for certain kids?
27 March 2008
Poop Comes From Your Butt
This has been a week of huge revelations for Tommy. I'm drinking my lemonade, he mutters down the hall. And then the lemonade will turn into pee! Another big shocker for Tom has been the knowledge that pee comes from the penis, while poop comes from the butt.
Yesterday, he experienced this in a new way when He. Went. Poop. On. The. Potty.
Personally, I was so excited with this development that I danced and screamed with joy. Tommy, on the other hand, reacted with fright. He wanted a hug. He didn't really understand what was going on. He said goodbye to the poop, and we flushed it away.
I didn't get my hopes up, thinking two days of this miracle in a row would be too much for any sane (much less insane) mother to expect. But then, just now----I need to poop!! And we ran to the potty together.
Yesterday, he experienced this in a new way when He. Went. Poop. On. The. Potty.
Personally, I was so excited with this development that I danced and screamed with joy. Tommy, on the other hand, reacted with fright. He wanted a hug. He didn't really understand what was going on. He said goodbye to the poop, and we flushed it away.
I didn't get my hopes up, thinking two days of this miracle in a row would be too much for any sane (much less insane) mother to expect. But then, just now----I need to poop!! And we ran to the potty together.
25 March 2008
Breakdown
I am having a fight with Tommy. Right now. You are in the midst of it. Like most kids, Tommy hits a breaking point in the afternoon when he desperately needs a nap, but in his desperation, defiantly struggles against one. That is what he is doing right now.
This tantrum, coupled with the potty training and his recent return to very violent behavior (hitting me, throwing large toys at the wall) is driving me to insanity. I am becoming a mother I hate today. A ferocious, yelling monster.
Sigh.
How am I going to make it through 3 more months of pregnancy? Somebody get me some Valium.
This tantrum, coupled with the potty training and his recent return to very violent behavior (hitting me, throwing large toys at the wall) is driving me to insanity. I am becoming a mother I hate today. A ferocious, yelling monster.
Sigh.
How am I going to make it through 3 more months of pregnancy? Somebody get me some Valium.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
