Milestones don't always come at the most convenient time. For example, the most convenient time for potty training is during a week when you have nothing requiring you to leave the house, rather than during a weekend when your college friends are getting together in a house they rented somewhere, like say New Hampshire. Unfortunately my younger son (YS) either didn't know or didn't care that we had planned to head up to New Hampshire yesterday for just such an event when he decided he was ready to be potty trained. We didn't want to miss out on the trip because of the potty training, but we knew the trip would take a couple of hours particularly with road construction and stops.
The good news is that there weren't any accidents in the car. Unfortunately, the Big Giraffe got to experience what seemed like every gas station bathroom on the way to the house. As a native New Yorker he rarely has kind words for the New Englanders amongst whom we live during baseball season, but he expressed particularly...articulate views about the barbarism of a people whom he claimed had not flushed a toilet in any public bathroom off of I-495, I-93, or I-89. The boys were less concerned and were quite excited to eat lunch, play, and swim when we got to the house.
We were all surprised to hear one of the little girls at the house announce "The baby is peeing!" Our older son (OS) elaborated by saying, "OS is making footprints!" That's right, YS not only peed on the floor, but he became upset and walked right through the puddle. Before any adult could intervene, the attentive little girl accidentally dropped her brand new, electronic barking black lab stuffed animal in the middle of the puddle. All of the kids except OS were crying. What did OS do? He jumped into the puddle to make a splash!
Fortunately, not only did the stuffed animal clean up nicely after going through the wash and dryer, but it still barked perfectly. The boys also cleaned up well, and there weren't anymore accidents. I think I forgot how important it is to keep reminding a potty training child to go. When OS was first in underwear, I kept setting a timer. Of course I no longer remember how much time I scheduled between each potty visit. It's funny how something that was such a big deal at the time, is a very distant memory just a couple years later.
Big Giraffe's Lesson Learned: The toughest part of learning to use the toilet is apparently learning to flush.
I read this to Husband, and he could not stop laughing about OS jumping in the puddle. And Jen, I agree that the NY thruway would not be better. Nor would the Jersey Turnpike.
Today I wrote a post at New England Mamas about a question I struggle with whenever I'm on vacation: "Where are you from?" As I said in my post, my initial inclination is to make a joke and say from "a galaxy far far away." (Yes, Big Giraffe, that is a joke; I am from Earth.) We've been living in our town for over seven years now. At what point am I considered from MA?
10 years ago A few years ago when my husband and I began dating, an email circulated describing characteristics of people from different regions of the US. I read the Midwestern ones and of course agreed with all the positive ones like we're friendly and say please and thank you. I beamed with pride. Then it mentioned that we end our sentences with prepositions. Where did these people get that from? Perhaps I could put together a group of Midwesterners and those writers could come with. The writer is not the only one to notice that. The preposition issue has always been a pet peeve of the Big Giraffe's. "What do you mean when you ask if I want to 'come with'? Come with a friend or two? Come with an open mind? Come with a wallet?"
The list wasn't too kind to New Yorkers either. Suzanne and I love having our husbands say "Hong Kong" and the name of our high school "New Trier" because it cracks us up. They put the emphasis on the second word.
Other than complaints that we don't know how to pronounce Rs (Pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd,) I hadn't heard many stereotypes about MA. Some say that people out East in general aren't as friendly as Midwesterners, and of course there's the whole thing about the lack of fluoride in same areas of MA. I was totally surprised by a comment on my post that made me laugh pretty hard. Apparently, people from MA are known to others as "Massholes." Another commenter said "Oh my gosh, when my hubby finally got his permanent residency card and we made the final move back to the U.S. we came through Boston and the border office says to hubby; 'Now mind yourself of all the *cough* Massholes on the road till ya get up New Hampshire way!'"
I think I'll go back to claiming I'm from Chicago. Then again, according to a stereotype I read about Midwesterners I'm supposed to have a sparkling clean house and scrub my floors with a toothbrush. Now who in their right mind does that? I mean honestly that just seems a little nuts. Hmm..maybe I am a Masshole after all!
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: I am going to hang out with the Massholes. Do you want to come with?
I always thought the midwestern thing about being friendly was probably a legend. Then I went somewhere and went running. When I run, I tend to say "Hello" and "Good morning" to everyone with whom I cross paths. (How do you like that prepositional ending avoidal?) Anyway, the last time I was away from the midwest, people looked at me like I was from a different planet when I said good morning. In fact, most of them didn't even make eye contact or say hi back. It was really strange.
So yeah, while most of us (me not included) are conservative hypocrites (well, I might be a liberal hypocrite), at least we'll say hi back when someone says it to us.
You know what's even funnier about this entire thing is my two year old...her daddy is British and has a very strong accent and she lives in Maine. She now has, by default a Maine accent...at TWO! It's cute and funny and endearing all at once.
She can say "Pahk the cah at Hahvahd Yadh" and sound like she comes from generations of born and breed Down 'Eastahs!
I'm busting a gut over this. It is so true, although I don't think Midwesterners who live in large are friendlier than others in less populous regions. When we ran in the Catskills, people definitely waved and said good morning. When I ran in the suburbs of Chicago, I was just glad people didn't run me over.
Yesterday we went to the book signing for Off the Beaten Subway Track in the New York City Fire Department Museum. The boys had a great time. Of course, before and after we were in the museum, we had a 3 hour car drive. After deciding that I did not want to go through yet another car ride where I a) drove like an insane person by pulling over to the side of the road every two minutes for time outs b) contemplated sticking my head out the window for the entire ride or c) a combination of the two, I invested 8 dollars in coloring books with stickers and crayons and a couple of books from the grocery store. I doled them out sparingly during the ride. Much to my surprise, it actually worked...on the way to New York. I feared that the newness factor would have disappeared by the time we returned to the car, potentially causing them to be transformed into projectiles. Sure enough, they did not use any of their gifts on the way home. They fell asleep almost as soon as the Big Giraffe got the car moving. Phew.
The book signing was like a reunion. I got to talk to people I hadn't seen in years, and of course we exchanged ancient anecdotes. I also heard some stories that were not as old, including one from only a week ago about my kids. While we were in the Catskills, Suzanne's husband helped the Big Giraffe put the boys to bed. The boys had already chosen their two stories, and the Big Giraffe was well into The Cat in the Hat. The boys asked to sit on Suzanne's husband's lap for the rest of the stories. It seemed safe enough. The boys were comfortably settled long before cat left the house and the Big Giraffe moved on to the boys' second selection, Amazing You, which to Suzanne's husband's chagrin proved to be a book to introduce toddlers and preschoolers to private parts, what they do, and how special they are. He later told us he had expected a more standard bedtime story like Good Night Moon. On the up side, he learned all about how important it is to take pride in your private parts. What can I say? We are very open in our family. My Older Son (OS), my Younger Son (YS), and the Big Giraffe each picked a story for the trip, and that was what YS wanted to bring.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Before you cozy up with other people's children during bedtime stories, make sure you know what the stories will be.
I told my family that story because of Husband's reaction to the book as a bedtime read, which I find hilarious. Actually, it was the fact that they sat in his lap while the story was being read that made him squirm.
I hope that you didn't think I was criticizing you, as I think being open is the best way to be about these things and it is great that it does not embarrass you or Big Giraffe to talk about body parts. I wish it had been that way when I was growing up.
This has been a fun week! My friend Suzanne and her husband rented a large an enormous house in the Catskill Mountains for a week and invited many of their friends to join them. The Big Giraffe, little giraffes, and I all packed our bags and headed down to their place. After several attempts to find the tape recording of a preschool class that I was sure was hidden under my seat (because there is just no way my two sweet cherubs could have made all that racket), interspersed with serious contemplation about sticking my head out the window for half hour increments, we made it there in one piece (per person).
The house was fantastic. It had a heated pool as well as a hot tub. During the weekend, all twenty of us lounged around the pool while Suzanne's BIL and friend grilled lunch and dinner for everyone. Lest you get the wrong idea when I say "grilled," I don't just mean burgers and hot dogs. Our dinner on Sunday night was a Mexican fiesta, including chicken and mushroom fajitas, and homemade guacamole. There were a couple of other families in and out during the week, but the boys also reveled in a lot of adult attention. After they were in bed, the evenings were filled with a variety of spontaneous but enjoyable activities, including groups of people playing board games and lengthy chats in the hot tub, including a memorable discussion with an ob/gyn friend about...um...interesting gyn topics.
As the week went on, the population of the house dwindled. The Big Giraffe and Suzanne's husband undertook much of the cooking, concocting grilled shrimp and scallops and roasted pork loin interspersed with the standard burger and hot dog fair and of course veggie burgers. They may not have had the flair of Suzanne's BIL, but the eating remained tasty.
A far smaller group of us passed an evening watching Heathers. When we found that the extras on the DVD included the script for the original "darker" ending, we each took on a role or two and gave it a reading. Yes, original ending really was darker than what they filmed. That is one messed up movie!
Although we did spend the first few days lounging around and in the pool, we enjoyed a variety of outings during the week. We visited a somewhat sketchy but clean zoo where we were allowed to hold some of the small animals, traversed the main street of a couple of quaint little towns, hiked a historic trail to see a famous series of carved rocks, and toured a farm where sheep's milk yogurt and cheese are made. We also saw a sheep in labor.
On the last day we went to what has been rated one of the safest water parks in the country. I believe they earned that rating because there is an enormous amount of space between the turns on the water slides. Seriously, the staff waited until an inner tub was all the way down the slide and out of the water before letting the next person take the plunge. It was nice, but on the other hand it took a long time. Fortunately, the park was was not crowded. The safety of the rides reaped another dividend. My younger son (YS) who just turned two was allowed to go on almost all the rides as long as he sat in my lap. While I was initially taken aback by this, not only did he do well, but he loved it. Just like the zoo, the rules seemed a little more lax but everything ended up being just fine.
The house itself was in a very remote area. We didn't even get cell phone reception much less internet access. Oh the horror! After struggling with a few days of internet detox, Suzanne and I went to the parking lot of a cafe with wi-fi after it closed. We would have gladly paid for the access had there been a way to slip some money under the door. Being ultimate geeks (stop smirking, Big Giraffe), the two of us sat in my dark car and whipped out our computers. In the process we scared away some youth who were also hanging out in this dark parking lot. I'm sure they couldn't figure what the heck we were doing. The Big Giraffe and Suzanne's hubby were convinced we were going to get arrested for suspicious activity. The Big Giraffe said that he was glad we had my car with us instead of his. He did promise to bail me out of jail if needed. Fortunately, our internet experience was uneventful.
Because I have completely lost my mind, my triathlon training buddy and I signed up a while ago for a triathlon for tomorrow. Yes, I just got back yesterday. Being aware of the triathlon kept me from eating as much junk as I normally would have. Thank goodness for veggie burgers! That awareness also forced me to workout while on vacation, which was a good thing because I always felt better after exercising. The heated pool made swimming far more comfortable, and running got easier when the town repaved the street in front of the house during the middle of the week. On the other hand, I don't expect the swim tomorrow to be as comfortable as the pool. It will be my first triathlon in a river. In fact, tomorrow will be my first swim ever in a river. Hopefully there won't be any floaters.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: It is possible to survive and even enjoy a week mostly without internet access.
When I had only one child, my diaper bag was larger than the bookbag I used when carrying 4 college science text books, associated lab materials, and a laptop everywhere with me. I thought I would need a suitcase on wheels once I had a second child. Yet I read somewhere that with each child, your diaper bag gets smaller. I have been very surprised to find this to be true. In fact based on the reduction of diaper bag size from my first child to my second, I would be down to a Ziplock snack size bag for my fourth child. (Don't worry, Big Giraffe. I don't plan on confirming this.)
With my older son I always had "spare" everything. Sadly with my second I've found myself asking other moms for spares a few times. I've noticed that the parents who need a diaper from another parent (because let's face it you can't borrow a diaper unless the giver is deranged because why else would they want it back after it is used?) either have newborns and are still trying to get the whole diaper bag thing under control or they have more than one child. Personally, I've begun counting down the days until YS is done with diapers. Seeing as he just turned two, taking my socks off so I can count on both hands and feet doesn't get me to a high enough number.
The boys and I are heading to the Catskills for the week. Hence, I haven't been commenting on blogs as much and am entrusting Blogger to publish this scheduled post. I think back to what it was like when I traveled first of all by myself. Pause for appreciation. Then I think back to what it was like when I packed for one: enough items to go around the world and back twice. I feel myself breaking out in a light layer of sweat just thinking about it. In all honesty I think it is harder with just one because there is no model driving an only child to move to the next level. A second child sees his brother sitting in a regular chair to eat, sleeping in a regular bed and using other every day tools of living. If he can get by doing for a week, you don't need to pack a booster chair or a Pack and Play. Despite, paring the gear down as part of this minimalist approach towards packing, I'm still left with an enormous pile of "stuff". I'm thinking about being generous and giving each person a regular size Ziplock baggie instead of a snack size and telling them to cram in as many pairs of underwear as they can. That could be it for our luggage. Yeah, not a good idea, but then again, Ziplock baggies hardly take up any space...
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: There can be an inverse relationship between the number of children and the amount of gear.
So true. With kid #2, I just throw a diaper and a pack of wipes in my purse and that's it. Half the time I don't even remember to do that, or I remember, but decide to take my chances and leave them out anyway.
Use a space bag and suck out all the air they will lay really thin and all fit in one bag. I notice with kid 2 that my purse got bigger and left the diaper bag in the car. Sippy cup, wipes, and one diaper fit in my now bigger purse.
my husband can never seem to figure out why it takes me so long to pack. Um... that would be because all HE packs is the clothes and toiletries for himself. I have to do it for me, the child, plus all the extra stuff like cameras and sunscreen and whatnot that we ALL use.
I have a pair of princess undies in my purse and a change of pants in the van. And I'm done! I DO carry a bag around a lot in the summer. Basically, sunscreen, bug spray, camera, etc. It also becomes my pool bag and beach bag, so the towels get rolled up and put into it. But that's about it. I actually USE my purse again!!!
I carry a big ergonomically correct purse with lots of pockets and throw a binki and diaper in there. I'm the mom who bums wipes from mothers who still carry diaper bags. :)
I am so looking forward to when I can retire the diaper bag. Every time I try to downgrade to something smaller, an incident occurs that reminds me I really do need the thing.
It's music to my ears to hear the new math of more children = less stuff. I can barely fathom it with one, makes two seem a little more doable.
I always pack sooo much stuff. My purse is big and heavy full with pens, medication (in case I do get a headache, allergy, whatever), pads, cords, all my make-up, letters,post-its, .......). I do carry to work another backpack with a rainjacket and embrella, some apples, a book to read (for traffic jams), etc etc.... apart from my backpack with my workcomputer and workstuff
gosh...don't make me think of what I'll carry around the day I have a child!
Last week was one of the most stressful weeks I've had as a parent. Two trips to the ER, one case of pink eye, one broken washing machine, and one dog on bed rest seem to have aged me by about twenty years. Alright, maybe that last part is a bit of an exaggeration, but I did feel like I hadn't slept in about a week. I had been looking forward to visiting Suzanne in NYC for the weekend, but after last week, I was counting down the hours.
I arrived late on Friday evening, and Suzanne and I stayed up until 2 AM talking. It was so much fun! I haven't done anything like that in a really long time. The next day I slept late. I also haven't done anything like that in a long time. After going for a 6 mile walk around Central park, we went to a wine and chesse party complete with a sommelier. Did I mention that I felt old? I have to say that it's at times like this that I really feel like a "mom".
I was dressed in a pair of jeans that were actually clean. Shocking, right? No trace of sticky little fingers anywhere! I was wearing one of my nicer sweaters. I arrived at the party feeling pretty good, but once I was inside I felt totally underdressed and completely frumpy. The women were all dressed in trendy clothes. I felt old. At one point Suzanne and I were discussing the pointy heels that many of the women wore. I was careful to be pretty quiet lest someone hear me and point out that I was wearing my LL Bean snow boats. Nice. When did I become so old? Yes, it was a 30th birthday party, but I'm only 32. I was already planning on getting my hair cut this week. Now it's a definite.
Despite feeling like "the mom" at the party, I had a fantastic time. Oh, wait I actually was the only mom at the party! I really enjoyed sampling learning about the wine. I actually found three that I really like. There was also the most amazing cake I have ever seen. Suzanne's husband is going to email me a picture, and then I'll post it. Sunday we finally went running. I was pretty pleased with it. Of course I have to admit, I felt a little stiff later. Now tell me again when I became so old?
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Parenting can age you.
Totally. It totally ages you. But I hear you bounce back when they're like 30, or something...
My best story is when I visited my friend & her boyfriend who live on a mega yacht & cruise around the world... I hadn't seen her in a few years. I was wearing a necklace with a charm of two children. She looked at me and said: "You really ARE a mom!" Uhh yep.
I know what you mean! Somewhere along the line I guess we learn that being comfortable, as in not causing ourselves to need orthopedic surgery on our toes, just happens! :o) It's okay, though. You're infinitely wiser, and at 32, you really AIN'T old! Great post!
Feel ya sister. I started getting gray hairs after my first pregnancy and now I'm afraid to even see my natural color grow out. Also frown lines...dammit why can't we look good with them like men do?
42 started Flashback Friday last week. I thought it sounded like a lot of fun, and a post that Sally HP wrote early this week about finding baby items in a bowl of soup while blindfolded at her baby shower reminded me of my own incident with a blindfold in college. Get your mind out of the gutter! So you'll have to wait until tomorrow to learn why taking my kids to the library anytime in the next ten years would be a really bad idea.
When I went to Wellesley College, I joined a club called the Outing Club. It was one of the clubs that had a combined membership between Wellesley and MIT. My friends and I were very excited to go on a big campout with a bunch of different colleges one spring. By the time we got there, it was starting to get dark, and we were starving. Fortunately the MIT contingent had agreed to bring the food. Unfortunately, they forgot to bring enough for us, and I have a distinctly bad memory of eating someone else's leftover spaghetti. After Suzanne's post (and the comments from various people) about eating food out the trash, I finally feel okay with this.
I hadn't been camping in about 5 years, and none of my friends had ever camped. Fortunately the MIT contingent had agreed to bring the tents. Even more fortunately, they remembered to bring one for us. When they gave it to us, we did what we thought was the reasonable thing and asked where the directions were. They looked at us like we were crazy. Fortunately engineering students don't need instructions to know how to put things together. Unfortunately liberal arts majors do. Fortunately male engineering students lack the patience to watch liberal arts coeds fumble around trying to put together a tent at the pace of a snail while it gets dark. They jumped in, corrected our mistakes and put the tent together in about 2 seconds. Alright, maybe it was 60 seconds, but I swear all I did was turn around and it was assembled. They gave us a weird look, commented on how putting a tent together was really quite easy, and left.
That's why I was shocked the next day when they suggested the following bonding activity for all the colleges: put together a tent while blindfolded. No, I'm not kidding. Not wanting to be bad sports my friends and I participated. Needless to say, the only record we set was for the longest amount of time ever taken to put together a tent. The MIT geniuses contingent seemed genuinely stunned. I remember pointing out to them that we couldn't even get the tent together with our eyes open much less with a blindfold on. We did much better on the task requiring us to run around several trees with water on a spoon without spilling any of it.
As for our tent? I hated to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it was set up on a patch of completely uneven ground so we ended up sleeping outside.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: If you can't do something with your eyes open, there's a good chance you won't be able to do it blindfolded.
Hahaha. Yeah, I'd so be sleeping outside if I had to put a tent together blindfolded. Either that or I'd be wearing an eye patch and not a blindfold from having skewered myself on a tent pole.
Thanks for playing Flashback Friday with me. :D There's a Mr. Linky up on my post for this week if you want to sign in.
Funny! I much prefer the "pop-up" variety that only requires one tug and the whole thing self assembles. (they kind of look like igloos) Actually,...I much prefer the hotel room!
Saturday was my great aunt's funeral. The nicest aspect of the wake and funeral, was that it was exactly what she had wanted. To me, that's all that really matters. While there were parts of both that I was uncomfortable with, I know that the event was about her and not me.
Since I was a pallbearer, we had to be there pretty early. Our older son (OS) came with me to pay respects to Aunt Julie. I was impressed with how well he did. A short while later, the funeral director led everyone in prayers. It was very quick.
The rest of the "white glove club," which consisted of my brother and cousins, and I had our duties to attend to, so the Big Giraffe was solely in charge of the boys. We had agreed ahead of time that if we thought for whatever reason that they wouldn't be comfortable with the funeral, he would leave with them. I wasn't surprised later in the church when I didn't see them. I had heard some laughter at the beginning, but apparently the Big Giraffe took them out the car where they were much happier. Again, the service was really quick, although apparently the Big Giraffe had not felt time was passing quickly enough when he had the boys in the back of the church.
They stayed in the car too when we went to the cemetery. This was actually one part of the event with which I was uncomfortable. I personally didn't want the boys to come in the mausoleum where Aunt Julie was going to be buried. This type of mausoleum has many wings each filled with the remains of different families. The coffins are placed in a drawer, and the drawer is sealed. A plaque with the name and critical dates is placed on the "drawer." I have terrible memories of this place from when I was around OS's age. I remember thinking it was incredibly creepy that people were buried in the walls. Since my great aunt Val had already announced that she wanted everyone to tour the mausoleum, I thought it was better for the boys to avoid the whole situation. I know, I know...just because I was scared of something as a child doesn't mean my sons will be. By the same token, it still wasn't something that the Big Giraffe and I were prepared for our children to experience yet. Frankly I didn't see any benefit to them or to anyone else for having them there. Plus anytime I'm agitated or uncomfortable, the boys unsurprisingly pick up on it. The Big Giraffe had no angst about spending another fifteen minutes in the car with the them.
The festivities ended with a family gathering, lunch at a restaurant called New Warsaw (although my cousin and I swear it used to be Old Warsaw). My family is Polish. This is where we always gathered for family reunions. My cousins and I all dislike it because it gives us really bad gas (and sometimes more than gas) because we're not used to eating authentic Polish food. My parents and aunts and uncles all love it. So does the Big Giraffe. I was just grateful that I didn't have to get on an airplane with him and the boys, who also really enjoyed it, afterwards. I had
I am fairly certain my son will be 20 before he potty trains.