Potty boot camp redux

So we ran out of Easy-Ups today and put Chloë back in underwear.

So.

Ohmigod this day has gone so much better than I thought it would.

She hated the idea, of course. The last Easy-Up was a dirty one right after she got home from a sleepover at Memaw's, and after that she was eventually persuaded to put on some underwear. She woke up from her nap calling "I have to pee! I need a diaper on!" but we refused, and after a period of wrangling she said "The pee is coming right now!" I pulled off her underwear and transferred her bodily to the potty, over her crying, and held her while she finished peeing. There was a mess on the floor, but she'd gotten some into the potty, and so we celebrated and cleaned up the mess for her and awarded her a sparkly moon sticker, which she was very pleased to get.

She got wiped up and into new clothes and underwear. The next time she needed to pee she said, "I need you to help me," which turned out to mean putting her on the potty and holding her. She was too agitated to go, then and later (which was in the middle of a session with the new arch sprinkler, during which she slid down the slide through the arch and onto a towel I put on the ground to prevent big bumps, to her delight). But after that she again said she needed to go, and I helped her sit on the potty and held her tight, and we were both rewarded by the sound of tinkling.

She finished, and wiped herself, and washed her hands, and grinned ear to ear as we praised and hugged her and got her another sticker and the promise of some gummy bears. She was by no means cured; she refused to sit on the potty to try to pee before bedtime, and chanted after dinner "I don't like underwear I only like Pull-Ups I don't want underwear today or tomorrow or the day after that or the day after that or the day after that or the day after that or the day after that or the day after that," and said plaintively on the way to bath, "I really wish we had more diapers." She's currently asleep in underwear, and we'll see whether she wakes up in the night to pee, as she sometimes does, or if I'll have to deal with a wet bed in the morning. I told her that if she does wake up she needs to go right to the bathroom when she calls me, and I'll meet her there.

But I see hope. It's good to think that maybe my oldest girl will be potty-trained before my youngest.

Shoe-in

Maia got her first pair of shoes today. Her feet were much too small for the smallest shoes we had for Chloë, toddler 6s, so when we went to Stride Rite today to get Chloë some sandals Maia got sized too. She's in 4.5s wides. The first shoes we tried on, white with little flowers on top, were mediums by mistake, so the salesperson went to the back to get the correct size and I removed the shoes from Maia's feet. She wailed. I could just see her thinking: Finally, after weeks of vainly yearning after my sister's shoes, I have my very own! and then, when they were gone: Nooooooo!

But the salesperson came back quickly--with a different style because the other ones didn't come in wide; these were plain white with flower holes cut out, still very cute--and she was reshod. I helped her up and she extended her foot tentatively, a curious look on her face. She took a few steps and tumbled, but she was happy to try again. She wore the shoes out of the store (though she didn't walk across the street in them); I didn't see any need to trifle with her happiness by taking them off her.

In the meantime Chloë got some Teva sandals in size 10. She says her beloved size 8 sparkly shoes (Skechers Twinkle Toes) fit fine, and they seem to, and even her size 7.5 sneakers go on fine...but she measured at 9.5 and these sandals don't seem as huge as all that. Whew. She had Teva sandals last year, broad and sturdy and waterproof, and they were great, so we got the same style this year but blue with green flowers. (Last year's were pink.) The choice was between these and a hot-pink, narrower style with thinner straps. At first Chloë voted for the pink ones, but I gently steered her toward the blue ones. These are her first pair of non-pink shoes. We looked for green but as far as I can tell, kid shoes don't come in that color. (Except for Crocs, but I wanted real shoes for her since she'll be running around all summer in these.)

With two kids in shoes we need to add another level to the back-door shoe rack. Also I'm so glad that Maia will be able to step into Chloë's old shoes in a size and a half because man, those tiny shoes were expensive. Darn Eric's family's wide feet.

Mama's number one

We have achieved word two (or maybe three): Mama! Or at least "mamamama." Maia's been able to point to Mama, Daddy, and Chloe (and slide) for some time, but yesterday she would say "mamama" when I prompted her, and today she said it spontaneously while reaching for me. I win! (This time. Chloë said "dada" first.)

Gerber Grow-Up

Two invitations to the Gerber Grow-Up life insurance plan arrived last week, one for Eric, one for me. Since the envelopes looked different, I thought I'd do a comparison and see if they were different when aimed at the father rather than the mother.

Mine was pink paper with purple accents. The first paragraph ran, "Caring mothers like you know how important it is to start planning for their little one's future. That's why thousands of moms trust Gerber Life to help give their children a valuable head start. Wouldn't it feel good to know that your child is protected with the lasting financial security of a Grow-Up Plan?" Translation: you want to be a good mother and you want to be part of a community, so buy our product.

Eric's was gray paper with blue accents. The first paragraph ran, "You've been personally selected to receive this special offer...Right now, while your baby is young, you have the opportunity to help provide lifelong protection and a financial head start - for just pennies a day!" Translation: you're special and you want to have a good head for money, so buy our product.

Mine offered rates for "as little as $1 as week." Eric's said "Starting at $3.52 a month." The rates inside were the same, with the "$1 a week" actually being a little high. The terms and application inside were the same, but the website to apply to was different. Mine was www.gerberlife.com/baby, and his was www.gerberlife.com/frame. We figured out this was because mine offered--prominenty on the front--a free gift of a "certificate of welcome." His offered, in small type in one of the secondary fliers, a free gift of a "picture holder."

Mine was a lot longer, and included testimonials and a section on "you can trust Gerber Life." Eric's was very short, almost entirely consisting of a list of financial benefits (which was also present on mine, there was just more fluff around it).

Eric says he's insulted by both of them, but really I think that's just because we saw them side by side. Eric's was a pretty decent, short business letter. Mine was a pretty letter. I'm vaguely interested in knowing what actual market research went into the crafting of these and what is just assumptions about mothers versus fathers.

I laughed my head off

Chloë and I went out shopping Monday to get some fruit and other things. We decided to stop at Meijer for "Daddy's special drink" (cans of powdered Gatorade). Chloë needed to pee, so we stood inside the bathroom while she did so and I told her we'd change her in the car if there was a Pull-Up in the diaper bag. We bought the Gatorade (and looked at the fish in the pet section) and went back to the car, where Chloë reminded me hopefully to look for a Pull-Up. We had one, so I had her stand in the front seat to be wiped and changed. "When you're three, you're going to be too big to be changed like this," I muttered as I held the Easy-Up out so she could step into it. "Of course, when you're three you're not going to be changed at all. You'll be in underwear."

Chloë looked worried and I braced myself for a discussion about how she doesn't like using the potty. "But I will still be Chloë," she said.

I laughed and agreed, "You'll still be Chloë," and helped her into her carseat. When I got into my own seat I turned on the air conditioning and said, "Let's blow this popsicle stand!", expecting her to ask "what popsicle" or somesuch. Instead, she sucked in a breath and blew.

Status report: Maia, month 13

Oh my Maia, the walker. In just the past few days she's shifted from mostly crawling to mostly walking. It's still that funny, move-the-whole-leg-as-one-unit walk, but it won't be for long. I told her months ago that I'm allowed to call her a baby until she walks, but I changed my mind. I'm allowed to call her a baby until she can tell me to knock it off. Even if saying it doesn't make it true.

One of her books is Sandra Boynton's Moo, Baa, La La La, and I've noticed she especially likes the little dogs (they go ruff ruff ruff). We read Biscuit the other day and she pointed to Biscuit and panted like a dog. And I was delighted because that's exactly how Chloë used to identify dogs, and then to identify the noise they make. Ask her now and she says, "Dogs say wuff wuff." But Maia has taken up the mantle! I love it!

"Cheese" is definitely her first word. We may be working on "ball," but I'm not positive yet. I've asked her to say "up," but whenever I do she just raises her arms, which is "up," so I can't really argue.

She climbs stairs now--did I mention? She loves climbing the stairs. At first she was off like a shot whenever we forgot to put up the gate, but now she looks and waits for our approval before she climbs. She's much more adventurous than Chloë was at this age (or ever); she rocks the rocking horses hard, stands up on them, climbs up and down and around.

She's also gotten interested in her stuffed animals lately. There are a few in her crib, and the past few nights I've offered one to her. Sometimes she'll shake her head, and sometimes she'll accept it and hug it to her as I lay her down to sleep.

In just the last few days she's gone from a water baby to water-phobic and...probably...back again. She generally can't wait to get in the bath, but the last two baths she cried the entire time she was in the water. I vaguely recall a phase like this with Chloë, in which we got in the bath with her at least a couple of times to make things easier. I tried putting my feet in the water so she could hold onto me while I scrubbed her this last time, but it didn't help. Then, we went over to Nancy and Don's for Memorial Day, and Maia had her first barefoot-in-the-grass experience, and also her first splashing-in-the-water-table experience. Her bath yesterday went just fine. So we'll hope that was a momentary phase.

As mentioned, she didn't get to eat her birthday cake because she was sick; but Mom and Dad sent us an anniversary cake, and she had some of that instead. She enjoyed it. A lot.

On a different occasion we also gave her something chocolate. I forget what. Does it matter? She loved it. Not just a baby, I guess.

(We started her on using a spoon, but haven't been real serious about it. Second baby syndrome, I can see it.)

She likes playing with the diaper pail and in the garbage, though she doesn't like the yelling she gets once we notice. And she LOVES books. Loves them. A lot. With a lot of love. She points to them before, after, and during nursing. She loves to slide down from my lap, point to one, and wait for me to pull it out and hoist her back up. Sometimes I show them to her, as with her stuffed animals, and she'll either shake her head, grinning at her power, or make an interested noise and settle back in my arm, and I'll start to read. She screams when we say "enough" and put her to bed.

She's a funny, happy girl, on the move, and I think falling over that precipice of "good grief how can she learn so much so fast." She's definitely expressing her wants and preferences, and becoming all the time more independent, knowledgeable, dextrous, and capable. And beloved.

Status report: Chloë, Month 34

At just two months to go before her birthday, I sometimes forget that Chloë is still two. "I'm two!" she said the other day, in response to my idle question. "No you're not," I said scornfully, and then remembered that she was, and had to pretend that I'd been joking ("You're seventeen!") to save face. In front of my two-year-old.

But really. She speaks so well, except for Ss, and she remembers things, and makes up songs, and notices things I don't, and can be so eloquent on what she's feeling and thinking and wanting. Oh, the wanting. She's very good at demanding things. Also at saying "You don't tell me what to do." She's funny to listen to sometimes, when we tell her to, for example, put down the Swiffer and come put pajamas on, and she goes into this long explanation that doesn't explain anything: "But I have to. Because I, because I, because I don't, and I need the Swiffer, and I don't want to, I don't want pajamas, I want more naked time, and you don't tell me what to do, and Mama doesn't tell me what to do, and Maia doesn't tell me what. To. Do." 

She's definitely been getting more time-outs this month. I don't think it's an unreasonable amount, just a normal testing of boundaries, but it does take up some time. 

Also, the potty thing. Dude. We switched her to Easy-Ups, to see if getting away from her beloved diapers would help, but it doesn't seem to be the comfort of the diapers specifically that holds her in thrall; it's the not going in the potty. I've been getting her to sit on the potty at night, Easy-Up on, and was able to persuade her to do it bare-bottomed once, though only for a few seconds before she started crying. I swear we didn't tie her to a potty and beat her or anything. Why is this so traumatic for her?

And sleep continues to be our other big trial. She's still taking hours, sometimes, to fall asleep, and feels free to roam around her room as long as I don't catch her (the standing rule is that if she's out of bed, she doesn't get a story the next night). Half the time she ends up sleeping on the floor, like so:

If she's in a really ridiculous position, we'll move her; if not, we've been leaving her. She sometimes ends up in her bed come morning anyway. She doesn't like going down for a nap, either, but she definitely still needs it. Switching her to an afternoon nap may have been part of the problem, but it may also have been merely another symptom. This situation is still developing.

On to happier topics. She had her first real haircut this month, meaning anything other than my straight-across-the-front bang job. The hairstylist was marvelous. I'd been worried since Chloë has hated the head/hair part of baths forever, and consistently screams and wails when any bit of water gets in her face, but the hairstylist managed her perfectly, reassuring her and getting no water whatever in her face, and Chloë was perfectly behaved and even excited about having gotten through it without tears. (Also, the stylist mentioned that normally with the really little kids she doesn't shampoo them, just spritzes their hair with water in the chair. But Chloë didn't take the soft option!) She liked the especially-for-kids cape she got to wear:

She didn't get impatient while her hair was being cut, and kept as still as you could reasonably expect a toddler to do. Such a big girl. She went from this:

to this: 

and is utterly pleased by the seven seconds it now takes to comb her hair on bath night. I've now adopted part of the hairstylist's technique when rinsing Chloë's hair (the key is bringing the showerhead really close to her head), and we're doing a little better on baths now. 

As Eric noted recently, she's turned a corner on eating; now unless the food is meant to be eaten with hands, like pizza, she almost never requires more than a napkin after meals, and can handle her fork and spoon with aplomb. She's slowly learning to cut (we have a knife but have only brought it out once or twice, but she's doing okay with the fork edge) and has been practicing drinking from a big-girl cup at meals and at tooth-brushing, and doing excellently. Normally she doesn't like water, but she gulps it expertly and greedily at bedtime. Otherwise it's mainly her new favorite, mango juice.

She got a Dora compendium when Mom came for Maia's birthday, and we've read very little else with her ever since. "How about a tory from the book that Gwampa gave me," she would say, and we'd groan. Lately she's been willing to hear something else once in a while, but Dora still features heavily, both in bedtime reading and in my nightly oral story, and also shows up in pretend play once in a while. That girl gets around.

She continues to enjoy working in the garden and baking with me (she decided the other day that she wanted peanut butter cake with chocolate frosting for her birthday cake--birthdays are big lately too), and playing with her Duplos and train tracks, and eating Maia's yogurt melts. She delights in sharing food with Maia--especially so when it's a baby treat, such the melts or the "baby trail mix" I make out of Cheerios, puffs, melts, and dried apple bits, but she's also happy to share a bowl of Goldfish crackers or a string cheese. "We're sharing!" she announces, all pleased.

She's still a little skittish about cars and trucks in the road, and will say urgently "Hold my hand!" when we're getting out of the car in a parking lot, though that may just be her general sense of what the rules are. "No talking with your mouth full," she reminds me at dinner occasionally (sometimes when my mouth isn't full), and "No throwing," when I toss a toy off the table. She also enjoys telling her little sister the rules.

The park and bubbles are very big with her right now, as is (sigh) being "a princess," which mainly involves putting on her tiara and some jewelry and then maybe pretending her string of beads is a guitar or a horsey. Her exposure to princesses is mostly in Dora rescuing them (and in one of those stories, becoming one, but only for the purpose of rescuing her friend Boots), but she's obviously picked up that they're desirable things to be. Luckily she also still enjoys being an astronaut and a cowgirl (man, she rocks those horses hard), a bridge-builder and a shark. 

She's gotten through the "I don't like kisses" phase she was in a few weeks ago, which makes us happy. I told her "I love you," as I was hugging her good-night today and she said, "I love you too," matter-of-factly. I suppose it is very matter-of-fact, on both sides, but it's still a wonder and a joy, and so is she, even if she's also a trial sometimes. I'm probably a bit of a trial as a mommy sometimes. But we're getting through all right.