"Parent"dox: When Your Baby Sister is All Grown Up

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #26:  When Your Baby Sister is All Grown Up

Tomorrow is my baby sister's birthday, which makes tonight her "Birthday Eve."  

Tonight, we celebrated her birthday at her house eating pizza, cupcakes and decorating pumpkins.

While we were driving home, it hit me in very strange way...my baby sister is all grown up.  

We were at her house, with her and her husband, with a yummy dinner and fun activities for my kids to do while we there, and her adorable, sweet daughter smiling and being cuddled through all of it.

She is all grown up.  I don't know exactly when it happened, but it happened.  She is all grown up.  And even though my 13-year-old self would never, ever believe I'd ever be saying this, she turned out pretty awesome.  

For her birthday, I'm sharing the speech I gave at her wedding reception just under 3 years ago.  

Happy Birthday, Baby Sis!  I love you!! ****************************************************************************************
What an amazing day for two amazing people!  The reception looks amazing, and the ceremony was beautiful.  Now you know, Katie, Brian has had to listen to you and agree with you a lot during this whole wedding planning process.  So don't worry if Brian doesn't listen to you or agree with you after today...you do realize that you are allowed to have 15 more husbands. I even heard Father Andy say so at the ceremony today. Remember? FOUR better, FOUR worse, FOUR richer, and FOUR poorer!!  (Although I do think he is THE BEST and only ONE you will ever need!

It’s hard to believe my “little sister’s” wedding day is here!  Growing up, I think we disagreed just that one time...or maybe more than once...I don't exactly remember, but I do remember both Mom and Dad telling us "You only have one sister.  You better work it out.  Someday, she will be your best friend!"  I remember rolling my eyes and mumbling lots of things under my breath more than once about that mantra as it was drilled into our heads.  I also remember thinking "I only have one sister....THANK GOD!" on more than one occasion.  

And it started early!  Like when you were born, and came home from the hospital and I asked if you could spend the night at our house…then asked the very next day if Mom and Dad could PLEASE take you back now.  And I thought THANK GOD I only have one sister when we were playing catch in the basement, and instead of catching the ball, you decided to duck, and the softball shattered the window.  And I thought THANK GOD I only have one sister when we attacked each other with markers, covering each other from head to toe, in the battle that came to be know in our house simply as “Marker Wars.” 

And I hate to say it, but this has to be music to Mom and Dad's ears:  You were right.....YES, MOM AND DAD, YOU…WERE…RIGHT, My little sister has indeed become my best friend.  A lot has changed in the 28 years we've spent together, but my thought is still the same...THANK GOD I have one sister.  I THANK GOD for giving me the gift of a sister and best friend.  

Someone who is smart, hilarious, beautiful, both inside and out, who will laugh with me, cry with me, listen to me, tell me the truth, not just what I want to hear, and be there for me for always.  THANK GOD I have a sister who is the one person who has truly gone through life with me, the ups and the downs, and understands things about who I am and why I am a little bit crazy, in a way no one else can.  THANK GOD I have a sister who knows what I am thinking without exchanging words, just exchanging a glance.  THANK GOD I have a sister to call, or who can call me, when no one else understands what's going on.  THANK GOD I have a sister who let me (well, I guess "let me" is a relative term...) boss her around teaching her dances and making her do "shows", a sister who will help wrap a Christmas gift at 2am by throwing it in a box with a blanket and brick, a sister who will create masterpieces out of Triscuits and Easy Cheese.  And now seeing my children begin to play with each other, interact with each other, and love each other, I THANK GOD even more I had a sister and I realize a relationship with a sibling is not one to be taken for granted.

Today, I THANK GOD again, but this time for the amazing man He has chosen as my "little sister's" husband.  Brian, welcome to our crazy family, and good luck. From the time you and Katie started dating...again...I think we have ALL been hoping and praying this day would come! (And it actually arrived a week sooner than we originally thought...even better.)

You are a man of character and integrity, and you get my sister (yup, after today she's all yours....)  No, really, you GET my sister, and it warms my heart to know she is marrying a man who sees her and loves her for who she really is.  She is so happy, and is completely and totally herself, when she is with you.  She has a twinkle in her eye, a bounce in her step, and genuine happiness in her laugh since you came into her life.   I also THANK GOD for the incredible family Katie is joining today.  They are an amazing family, who are caring, hilarious and will keep a good eye on her.  They have been nothing but welcoming to her and our entire family.  It truly feels like today is a union of not just two people, but two families. 

Katie, I haven't told you nearly enough, but I have always looked up to you.  I know I'm the big sister, and I was the one who was supposed to be "teaching you things" but I feel like I have learned far more from you than I ever taught you.  I have always been amazed by your ability to make the best of any situation, your ability to put other people at ease, your ability to go with the flow, and your incredible talent to make people laugh.  You speak your mind and say the things that need to be said, and you do it with humor and grace.  You are so very outgoing, and you have the kind of magnetic personality that people are drawn to.  You never cease to amaze me.  You make me laugh whenever we are together.  

You have been so many things to so many people: daughter, granddaughter, sister, niece, cousin, aunt, sister-in-law, friend, fiancée, manager; and today you take on new roles....bride, wife, daughter-in-law.  You have handled these roles with kindness, commitment and love, and I know as you will continue to do so now as you begin this new chapter of life.  It is an honor to be standing next to you today, and it is an honor to see you marry your best friend in the same dress that I married my best friend in 6 1/2 years ago. 

Katie and Brian, it is simply awesome to around the two of you together.  You demonstrate that "once in a lifetime" kind of love and friendship that is rare and beautiful.  You bring out the best in one another, and support and encourage one another. It is so exciting to think about what your future together holds (hopefully lots of cousins for my kids....I'm just sayin'....) and the many lives you will both continue to touch and uplift.  

There will be tough times, and it won't always be easy, but take a minute and look around this room.  Look at all of the family and friends that are here in this room, and think of those family and friends that are here with you in spirit today, including angel Grandmas and Grandpas.  We are all here for you, in both good times and in bad times, to support you along your journey, and encourage you when times do get tough.  First and foremost, you have God, you have one another, but always remember, you have all of us.  You are never, NEVER alone.  You are both so very, very loved, today and always. 

So if you'll raise your glasses, I think it is fitting to close with this Irish Wedding Blessing:  May God be with you and bless you.  May you see your children's children.  May you be poor in misfortunes and rich in blessings.  May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.

Slainte!

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To my baby sister, You Are a Good Mom.  You Are an Amazing Mom.  You Are an Incredible Mom.  I still THANK GOD that you are my sister, my children's aunt, and my niece's mom.  

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"Parent"dox: When You're Hungry, They're Hungry

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #25:  When You're  Hungry, They're Hungry

This "parent"dox involves traveling back in time for me a few years, but I remember it all so very clearly.

I distinctly remember meal times at our house when both of my children were newborns.  I think the biggest learning curve was with my son, as he was our firstborn, but this "parent"dox rang true with our daughter as well.

Without fail, my sweet, precious, angelic baby would be sleeping away.  They were so adorable, I could lay there and watch them sleep.  Sweet little nose, sweet little fluttering eyelids, sweet little chest rising up and down ever so slightly.  Oh, this is love, without a doubt.

Whether we were preparing a meal at home (read as: heating up something in the microwave or pouring a bowl of cereal.  Come on...these were NEWBORN days, remember?!) or actually eating out as a restaurant, as soon as a plate of food was set in front of me, my baby, without fail, would start stirring.  I would plead Please, please, PLEASE stay asleep!! even thought I knew it was a lost cause.  There was absolute, 100% certainty that baby would be awake by the time I shoveled my 3rd bite of food into my mouth.  By the 5th bite, they would be in an all-out screaming bout, ready to eat.

That sweet, angelic, precious baby was now standing between me and my food.  

Not a good place to be, mind you, not a good place to be.

Words like "sweet," "precious," and "angelic" were no longer coming to mind.

It was like they had super sonic smelling and hearing, and when they so much as smelled a hot meal and heard it hit the table in front of me, it triggered them to wake up.  It didn't matter if they had been asleep for 5 minutes or 2 hours, they were definitely going to wake up at that moment.

I'm pretty sure their baby line of thinking in that moment went something like this:

What?  What's that?  Mom is hungry and ready to eat?  I don't want to miss out on this action.  Surely, surely, that must mean I need to eat now, too.

RIGHT NOW.

Not after the meal is over.  Not in 5 minutes.

NOW.

People say that when you nurse, it also helps you to lose weight.  I'm pretty sure this is only because you never actually have a chance to eat real, hot food.  By the time you're done feeding your tyrannical baby, your once lovely, delicious meal is now cold and doesn't taste nearly as good as you had hoped.  You choke down a few bites, and that's all you can muster.

That, my friends, is really where the weight loss comes in to play.

Although I will say the first time in my life I ever ate cold pizza was after my son was born.  I had never, ever been a fan of cold pizza, even in high school or college.  I just couldn't bring myself to eat it.  But enter New Mom mode, and I was just happy to have food around.  Period.  I didn't even bother sticking it in the microwave...just bit the bullet (or cold pizza, in this case) and went for it.

And knowing how very, very healthy cold pizza is, maybe there is actually something to that whole "nursing helps you lose weight" thing...

Hang in there, Moms of Newborns and Infants!!  There will come a day when you will eat foods -- hot if they're supposed to be hot and cold if they're supposed to be cold -- once again.  

When somehow, miraculously, everyone in your family actually gets fed, You Are a Good Mom.

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"Parent"dox: Because Someone Else Said So

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #24:  Because Someone Else Said So

Remember when you were a kid, and you'd ask your Mom or Dad "Why?" and they'd reply with "Because I said so!" and that was it.  The final, be-all, end-all, don't even think about asking another question or coming back with any other smart alec comment.

Period.

(Remember the first time you heard those words slip out of your own mouth as a parent?  Oh, I can't believe how many of my parents' phrases have slipped out of my own mouth when I least expected it.)

At our house, the statement that would be a better fit in response to that question would be "Because Someone Else said so!"

Let me explain this "parent"dox and what it looks like with our son.

My son is most definitely one of those kids that listens to authority.  His teacher, his doctor, his story time librarian.  If it comes from someone he sees as "authority," it is an indisputable truth and rule to be followed to the letter.

That is, of course, unless the authority is his dad or me.

That's not to say he doesn't listen to us...some of the time.  In general, he is our "rule follower" kid.  Most of the time he is a really good listener, but from time to time he ignores our requests for the mundane, everyday stuff, like getting his pajamas on or picking out a story for bedtime, and every once in a great while, he just flat out battles us on things like picking up his room.  

(Don't worry.  We are not off the hook.  Remember who this kid's little sister is?  We get plenty of battles to keep our skills sharp [read as: remind us parenting is 100% on-the-job training and we really have no idea what we're doing from one second to the next].)

(Apparently, there are going to be lots of sidebar comments in this post tonight.  My apologies.)

Case in Point:  Potty Training
You know how people say "Don't worry.  Kids don't go to kindergarten in diapers."  I was pretty sure my kid was going to be the exception to the rule on that one.  I felt like we were in potty training limbo forever.  

FOREVER.  

We had made attempts, pretty half-heartedly, when he was about 2 1/2-years-old a couple of different times, but didn't push it.  As we were wading through potty training no man's land, I'm pretty sure every single person I knew that had a 2 1/2- year-old, a 2-year-old, or even a 1 1/2-year-old (yes, 1 1/2-year-old...) found it necessary to share miraculous stories of how quickly their kid potty trained or how their kid pretty much potty trained themselves.  

Trained themselves?  Really?

Now, I know you're not supposed to compare your kid to other kids.  I get that.  But I was beyond ready to have my son be done with diapers, and all these jubilant celebrations were like salt in the wound.  

My son turned 3-years-old about one week after the school year ended.  As a teacher, I figured that once summer arrived and I was able to be home all day, everyday with him, we'd be able to focus on potty training and get this thing figured out.  Just me, my kid (well, and his 1-year-old sister who was keeping me plenty busy in the diaper department on her own) and a potty.  I was ready.

We tried everything.  

(All that stuff I was certain I would never do with my own kid before I actually became a parent and had my own real, live kids?  Ha.  Double ha.  Totally happened, and then some.)

We tried the "no pants" method.  We tried a sticker chart.  We tried picking out a special toy as an incentive.  We tried getting "big boy" underpants.  We tried M&Ms.  We tried "target practice" in the potty.  If someone suggested it, we tried it.  

Summer came.  Summer went.  

Nothing.  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch.

Not a single step closer to being potty trained on that first day I was back to work in August than on my last day of work back in June.

Forget kindergarten.  At this point, I was fairly certain my son would be packing a case of diapers with him when he went off to college.

Enter my daughter's well-child 18-month check up in December.  I was in the doctor's office with my daughter, and got all the 1 1/2-year-old info I needed.  My doctor mentioned that she was on the early end of potty training, but if she seemed interested, feel free to follow her lead and go for it.  My response...

"Um, yeah, thanks.  That sounds great.  So about that whole potty training thing...what about my 3 1/2-year-old who is still not potty trained?"

God bless him, our pediatrician didn't act at all like it was a big deal that my now closer to 4 than 3-year-old son wasn't using the potty yet.  (Just reason #427 why we love our pediatrician.)  He just reassured me my son would train when he was ready, but that is was OK to "push it" a little more now as he was getting older.

I was afraid consequences were going to be "taking away his driver's license" at the rate we were going.

I got home from our appointment, and told my son that the doctor (who he adores) said it was time for him to use the potty.

And that was it.

He was potty trained.

It was like magic.

I am not kidding.  That was all it took.  

When people ask me questions about potty training or what we did, I just tell them we used the "Hearing That His Doctor Said He Should Be Using the Potty" Method.

Seriously kid?  Why didn't I just tell you six months ago that your doctor said you should be using the potty?

Exhibit B:  Coloring
My son has never, ever been a colorer.  (I think I may have just invented a new word.)  He just hasn't.  It's not for lack of trying.  Our house is stocked with crayons and colored markers and colored pencils and pens and pencils and coloring books and...well, you get the picture.  It's just never really been his thing, and that's totally fine.  On the off chance he would decide to color, it would be one single color, and usually a few marks here or there and nothing really more than that.

My personal favorite was always picking him up from his Sunday School class, and he'd hand me the usually blank coloring page that went with whatever story they did that week.  He'd look up at me and say "Mom, I'm just gonna do this one at home."  

And then we'd take it home and add it to the stack of other completely blank coloring pages that were collecting dust on the coffee table.  

But lo and behold...we start kindergarten and BAM!!  This starts coming home in his backpack.

And this.

I would be willing to bet real cash money his teacher said something about using different colors, coloring in the entire picture and staying in the lines.

Done, done and done.

I'm pretty sure this is how I'm going to begin the next doctor's appointment and parent-teacher conference:

"(Doctor/Teacher), would you be willing to record these voice prompts for me?  Simply read these words out loud while I record your voice.

Brush your teeth.
Put your shoes on.
Pick up your toys.
It's time to go to bed.

I would so greatly appreciate it."

Oh, getting those words on tape, spoken by those individuals would be gold, PURE GOLD, I tell you!

In our house, it's not "Because I said so!"  It's "Because Someone Else said so!"

    
Even if your kids listen to someone else the first time after you've said the same thing a million times, You Are a Good Mom.

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"Parent"dox: When a Gum Commercial Makes You Cry

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #23:  When a Gum Commercial Makes You Cry

Nothing too earth shaking or ground breaking tonight.  Just this video clip of an Extra Gum commercial.

It does come with a warning, however.

It made me cry.

Yup.  You read that correctly.  A gum commercial.  Made me cry.

Gum is minty and bubbly and happy and in no way a tear-provoking product.  Yet I cried.

"Parent"dox.

So, with that said, enjoy this lovely little video "parent"dox tonight.  

(Spoiler alert...watch the video before you read the rest of the post below if you don't want to have any part of the video, well, spoiled...)

Maybe it's just me.  

Maybe I'm a little over emotional in general (insert husband silently nodding here...).  

Maybe it's because I just sent my own kids to kindergarten and preschool last week and it seems like they're growing up at the speed of light.  

Maybe it's because my own Dad was the one who sent me this video.

Whatever it was, I watched it and it made me happy and sad and all sorts of other crazy emotions all at the same time.  

And it made me cry.

Bottom line, though, it made me so very thankful to be a parent.  Thankful for all of it...for the little moments, the big moments, the fun moments, the hard moments, and everything in between. 

I'm thankful that I get to be there for it with my kids.  

It was a good reminder for me to focus on really being there in the day to day, even if it's with something as seemingly small as a gum wrapper.

[Just as a sidenote, the box falling over and opening at the end totally got me.  I maybe should have put an extra warning about the whole possibility of tears thing for Dads of daughters, and an extra EXTRA warning for anyone who sent their child off to college in the last few weeks.  Sorry about that.]

What were your thoughts on this gum commercial?  Do you have any other commercials that make you cry?  Do you get more emotional about commercials or movies or TV shows since you've become a parent?

    
Even if a gum commercial can make you cry, You Are a Good Mom.

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"Parent"dox: The Marker, The Lobby & The Book

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #22:  The Marker, The Lobby & The Book

This may be one of the most classic "parent"doxes we've had around here in a while.

And it happened in public, so that makes it so much better.

And by better, I mean worse.

The week before school started, I was at the library with my 5-year-old son and my 3-year-old daughter, enjoying the last storytime of the summer.  We sang.  We danced.  We listened to a couple stories.  Life was good.

Once the official storytime was over, we headed over to the children's section of the library to play with the toys, check out some books, and maybe color a picture or two.

This is where things went horribly awry.

My kids were both coloring pictures, when all of the sudden, my daughter realized she absolutely, most definitely, positively needed the yellow marker that was in her brother's hand.  She needed yellow, she needed the one her brother had, and she needed it now.  Nevermind you that there was a tub of 16 yellow markers that were EXACTLY THE SAME as the one in his hot little hand.  No no...she needed that one.

So what's a 3-year-old to do?

Well, reach over and pry it out of her brother's hand while he is using it to color in his picture, obviously.  

Let me tell you how well this went over with my perfectionist, borderline OCD son, when his picture got goofed up at the hand of his little sister.

Lead balloon, people.  Lead.  Balloon.

Amazingly, he pulled himself together and got right back to his coloring pretty quickly.  That miracle falls in the category of "God never gives you more than you can handle" as you can see by what transpired next.

My daughter lost her mind.  Completely lost her mind.  Temper tantrum, fit, meltdown...whatever you want to call it, she was having one, then and there.  You know how sometimes you can tell if a thunderstorm is there to stay or is just going to blow over?  In the same way, sometimes I can tell if my daughter is totally committed to the meltdown or if she can be talked down.  Let me tell you, there was no bringing her back from this one.  The National Weather Service was calling for an emergency evacuation this time.

So evacuate, we did.

I ended up having to pick her up, and carry her out to the lobby of the library, after telling my son to just keep working on his picture and reassuring him that I'd be back soon.  Once away from the toys and the marker and the audience, I thought she would start to calm down.  

For the 4,582,319th time in my parenting career, I guessed wrong.   

While sitting on the bench with her, two -- count 'em -- TWO different librarians very sweetly came over and asked if there was anything they could do to help.  That is basically librarian code for "Please get your kid to SHUT UP.  Quickly.  Please and thank you."

Something else happened while I sat there, holding my daughter, letting her know that when she could calm down and be in control of herself, we'd go back into the library.  Enter my latest "parent"dox moment.  My phone vibrated in my pocket, and taking it as happy distraction from the screaming toddler I was trying to restrain on my lap, I eagerly checked my new message.

It was a text message.  

From the library.

That the book I had put on hold about how to parent a strong-willed child was now on the shelf and ready to be picked up.

I'm not kidding.  I can't make this stuff up.

I'm fairly certain the librarians went back and ran my plates or library card or whatever and looked me up in their system and decided we need to get this woman some help -- now -- and went and got that book for me right then and there.

Oh, "parent"dox, how you keep me on my toes and make me laugh and just in general remind me I will never, ever have this parenting thing totally figured out.

You can rest at ease.  My daughter did calm down, we did go back in the library, my son was still sitting at the table coloring and away, and my daughter very sweetly apologized to him.  

She also had no further interest in the yellow marker.

Needless to say, I have a lot of reading in my near future...

When timing is everything, You Are a Good Mom.

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"Parent"dox: "Mommy, I Slept All Night!"

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #20:  "Mommy, I Slept All Night!"

C--r--e--a--k...  

The slow opening of a toddler's bedroom door.

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

The soft sound of running toddler feet into my bedroom.

Adorable big, blue eyes peek over the edge of my bed.

"Mommy, I slept all night!"

My 3-year-old daughter is nearly bursting with pride, excitement and joy as she proclaims these words.  She wears them as a badge of honor.  

What words could possibly be any better to start my day?

None.  Absolutely none.

The only thing that could make them better would be...well, if they were actually true.

How can I possibly break her little heart and let her know that no, she did not, indeed, sleep all night?  How can I tell her she didn't achieve the goal she thinks she did?  How can I tell her the truth, which is very different than what she perceives it to be?

(Well, considering I got about 43 minutes of sleep the night before, the task seems somehow easier.  I don't do so well on not so much sleep.)

"Nope, you didn't.  Do you remember crying last night?"  (Blank stare.)  "You were crying and yelling last night."  (Blank stare.)  "Did you have a bad dream?"  (Smile creeps across her face.)  "What was your bad dream about?" (Smile gets a little bigger and more mischievous.)

"Monsters!" 

Oh, if it were that easy.  She didn't really dream about monsters.  I think she thinks we're playing some sort of game, and that is the winning answer.  She'll smile and laugh and have no recollection of any monster or any dream or anything from the previous sleepless night.

Here's the thing...she really does think she slept through the night.  She is convinced she did.  She remembers getting her PJs on. She remembers brushing her teeth.  She remembers going to sleep in her bed.  She knows she just woke up in that same bed.  So what gives?

You see, my daughter has night terrors.  I used to think that name -- night "terror" -- was a completely over-dramatic title for a little bad dream.  That was until I lived with a 3-year-old who had them.  Now I think it is the biggest understatement in the history of the world.  "Night terror" does not do these things justice.  There are absolutely, horribly, dreadfully terrible.  

My daughter will cry and scream and thrash around in her bed, in such a way you'd think she's having an appendage ripped off or something.  And here's the kicker...she's not awake.  Not at all.  And if you make an attempt to wake her up (as I did when these first started...back in November...it just gets worse and lasts longer).  Apparently, they are just something my daughter will outgrow.  Someday.  I'm hoping before she goes to college?  She'll go through 13 roommates her first semester otherwise.

But for now, we are just waiting it out.  Most nights, I end up in her room, rubbing her back or singing softly to her or just laying next to her, but out of her reach.  What helps one night, fails miserably the next.  It's hit or miss like that.  It's unbelievably hard to lay there and not be able to help her.  I'll hear my husband from our bedroom:

"Come back to bed.  She doesn't even know you're in there.  Try to get some sleep."

I know he's right, and I know he's trying to help.  But it still breaks my heart.  She doesn't even know I'm there.  But it breaks my heart even more to lay in the other room and listen to her scream and cry.

The only part that is somewhat comforting is that while she doesn't know I'm there, but that means she also has no idea she's having a night terror.  And she'll have no idea when she wakes up in the morning.  Whatever was causing her to cry and scream and thrash in the middle of the night will be erased from her memory by morning.  

She'll open her bedroom door, run over to my bedroom, look over the bed and proudly proclaim:

"Mommy, I slept all night!"

For now, I just keep waiting for the blissful, rested, consistent mornings when those words are true.

When they think they're sleeping, but they're really not...and neither are you...hang in there.  You Are a Good Mom.

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"Parent"dox: "I Have to go Potty!"

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #19:  "I Have to go Potty!"

How is it that kids know the absolute worst time possible to have to immediately use the bathroom?  

Do they teach this in some secret underground toddler group?  Is there a tutorial on YouTube they're all passing around?  Are they born with a sixth sense to know when the absolute most difficult time to request a trip to the bathroom is?

I don't know exactly how they do it, but they do it.  And they do it well.

Now don't get me wrong.  In the days when each of my children were first starting potty training, hearing those words was absolute music to my ears.  I'd do a little celebratory dance when I'd hear "I have to go potty!" as it meant: 1.) they were actually recognizing when they had to go to the bathroom and 2.) they were actually telling me they had to go to the bathroom.  

The dancing was brought on by thoughts such as these:   Oh, the money we'll save now that we won't be buying boxes of diapers that weigh more than either of my children from Costco.  We'll be rich, I tell you, rich! 

However, now when I hear those words, it can potentially be cause for alarm and without a doubt requires immediate action.  You see, now there are no more diapers (yeah!), but also no more diapers (boo).  (The "boo" part being now that there are only underwear and pants, an accident means a much larger, more complicated, mess to deal with).  Still more emphasis on the "yeah!" than the "boo," but you catch my drift.  

I experienced an instance such as this just yesterday, when I embarked on a 4 1/2-hour car trip with my 3-year-old and 5-year-old. (I can hear you all shaking your heads and smacking your foreheads with your palms now.)  About halfway through our trip back home, I had a fail proof plan to stop at an Outlet Mall to break the trip up, grab some lunch and stretch our legs a little bit by walking around the stores.

The first thing we did when we got out of the van and walked in to the restaurant was for all 3 of us to hit the bathroom.  One of the stalls was out-of-order, which caused a little wait, but nothing too major and we all made it in time.  Success.

We sat down, ordered our food, colored on place mats  and slammed glasses of chocolate milk.  Just as our food arrived and I began cutting up slices of pizza for my kids, my son announced he had to go to the bathroom.  Again.  We had just left the bathroom a mere 20 minutes ago, but he had been in the car for 2 1/2 hours, and he had slammed a glass of chocolate milk, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Because I was on my own, I had to grab my purse, grab both kids, head to the bathroom, and pray our server didn't tell her manager to call the police because we skipped out on paying the bill.  

Remember that out-of-order stall from earlier?  Yup.  Still out-of-order.  We waited and waited and waited and thank goodness, so did my son's bladder.  

When we got back to the table, our food was still there and no armed guard was waiting with handcuffs to take me away, so that counted as a victory.  We finished our meal, I gave my debit card to our server, and while she was running my card, my daughter announced she had to go to the bathroom.

Really?  Really?

But, alas, the whole "2 1/2 hour car ride" and "slamming chocolate milk" and "she's 3 years old" and "the mess factor" and all flashed before my eyes, so I grabbed my purse, grabbed my daughter, and hoped the server wouldn't assume we really did skip out this time and I had just left her my debit card as a thank you gift for her to use freely as she saw fit.  

Just for good measure, my son also decided to stage a sit-in in protest, and refused to leave the table and go to the bathroom.  As I was busting out all the negotiation skills I've picked up from watching Flashpoint to use on my son, by the grace of God, the server returned with my card.  I signed the slip and was able to get my son to come with us because I told him we were leaving after the super speedy bathroom stop, and thankfully he conceded.

Third trip to the bathroom in one restaurant trip, for those of you who are counting.

Remember that out-of-order stall from earlier?  Yup.  Still out-of-order.  And the line was now spilling out the bathroom door, into the restaurant.  I figured this was not a good sign in any way, shape or form.  I loaded the 3 of us up in our Minivan, and headed over to the information center of the Outlet Mall in the next building over, as I knew there was bathroom with lots of stalls.  My daughter was a champ, and held out the 2 minutes until we got there.  

Sigh of relief.  We were out of the woods on the whole bathroom thing.  Or so I thought...

We left the information center and drove to the neighboring building at the Outlet Mall and headed into the toy store.  In my Mom Brain, I figured I'd let them take as much time as they wanted to wander around and look and play and pick out one small toy before I strapped them back in their car seats for 2 more hours on the road.  The first 10 minutes in the store went according to plan, and all was right with the world.  Minute 11, however, went something like this...

"Mom, I have to go potty!"

My daughter.  Again.  

Now you may be thinking "Did she really actually go the other 2 times?"  Yes, yes she did.  

Or maybe "Does she have some sort of medical thing going on here?"  No, no she doesn't.

Just a need to teach me about another of life's "parent"doxes:  Kids will always need to go to the bathroom at the absolute worst possible time.  And as parents, there's not a single thing we can do about it.

At this Outlet Mall, there aren't public restrooms in the individual stores.  They are only at certain points and at certain buildings within this particular seven-building Outlet Mall.  Remember how we drove to this other building?  To get back to the information center where the nearest bathroom was, I was going to have to get my kids out of the toy store, walk to the car, strap them both in their car seats, drive back to the other building, unbuckle them both, and run frantically through the information center to the back where the bathrooms were.  With my 3-year-old, there was no telling if we could make it through all that without an accident.  

I wasn't going to chance it.

I tried to get my kids out of the toy store as quickly as possible.  (I'm going to let you picture how that went, especially considering I had already told them they could each pick out a toy before we left.  Two words: Not. Well.)  I carried my daughter and told my son to run as fast as his little legs would take him, and yes, indeed, we made it.  We made it.  For a trickle.  Ladies and gentlemen, a trickle.  

What's worse, though, is that I knew this was the beginning of the end. Based on past experience with my daughter, I knew this particular "I have to go potty!" combined with the look on her face and "the walk" I was seeing in the toy store, it really meant "I'm gonna have to poop...sometime soon, but I'm not exactly sure when...and make no mistake it's going to happen...but it might be awhile...or it might be really soon...your guess is at good as mine...but this is real, so don't ignore it."  

Needless to say, we made this run between these two buildings two more times.  

Two.  More.  Times.  

(I'll spare you the details, but the third and final trip did prove to be successful.)  

For those of you keeping score at home, that was six -- yes, count 'em SIX -- different trips to the bathroom in one 2-hour time period.  

Thankfully, the rest of the trip home was uneventful, and didn't contain a single bathroom stop.  I would be lying if I told you the thought of putting both my kids in diapers the next time I took them on a road trip by myself didn't cross my mind at least once, if not twice, on the ride home.  

But then I decided against it, as I figured the cost of inevitable therapy for them later in life would negate the savings on not buying cases of diapers any more.  

But just barely.

On the days you spend a good portion of your day running back and forth to the bathroom with toddlers in tow, You Are a Good Mom.

(If you're really lucky, maybe someday my husband will tell you the story of my son having an "I have to go potty!" moment during the Kilimanjaro Safari at Disney's Animal Kingdom. All I can tell you is my husband had what can only be described as a moment of pure parenting genius.  Genius, I tell you.  But that story, my friends, is for another day...)  

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"Parent"dox: Sometimes a Pair is Not Enough

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #17:  Sometimes a Pair is Not Enough

As a mom of two young children, I have become accustomed to getting things in pairs.

If I reach in the box to grab a package of fruit snacks, I better be grabbing two packages.  When I get down one bucket to play with during bath time, a second one is soon to follow.  As soon as one kiddo asks for their pillow and blanket while watching a movie, I know I'll be coming back downstairs with two pillows and two blankets.

It's pretty much just become part of life now.  

Like breathing.  

Because, like breathing, the consequences of it not happening are not pretty.

Not.  Pretty.

This is not to say I don't value teaching my kids about sharing, and teaching them you don't always get what you want.  Because I do.  There are many, many chances they have each day to learn these lessons and we talk about them a lot as a family when they come up.

But realistically?  In the trenches of parenthood?  Pairs are so much easier.  Like exponentially, inexplicably easier.  So our house does indeed have a lot of doubles.

With that said, I witnessed yet another "parent"dox today.  I had picked up water squirters for my kids while I was at Dollar Tree.  Fun, cheap, summer fun.  $2 versus $1 to not hear arguing and bickering over a toy?  Sounds like a small price to pay.

Or so I thought...

Within having them home for a half hour, there was already a disagreement at hand.  Mind you, it was a balmy 58 degrees today (yes, it is indeed July 28...you did not travel in a time machine to October) so they were not playing with the squirters in a pool or body of water of any sort.  They were simply playing with them in the living room.

"She has my squirter!  I want to play with it now!"
"But I want this one! I don't want the pink one!"
"I want to see it! Give it back!"

Wait a minute.  That dollar was supposed to prevent situations just like this one.  

But alas, it did not.  Even though each of my kids both had a new toy to play with, and they were identical -- minus the color of the handle -- there was already too much demand and not enough supply.   

The "parent"dox goes something like this:  I have something that is pretty much exactly the same as the something you have, and we should both be grateful for the something we have, but when it comes down to it, I really want the something that you have.  Like the exact something you have.  Meaning literally what you have in your hand, not a duplicate or replicate something.  

Sometimes a pair is not enough.

Here's the other kicker: as soon as one child loses interest in said item, the other child loses interest almost instantaneously.  

Wait, you don't it anymore?  Well that's funny, because neither do I. 

Let's both go want the same exact thing again, that we probably have two of anyway.

Pairs or not, You Are a Good Mom.  Just remember to keep breathing...

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"Parent"dox: When a Place is More than a "Place"

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #16:  When a Place is More than a "Place"

Have you ever been to a Place that became more than just a "place" to you?  

Maybe it was the beauty of the Place itself.  Maybe it was the way you felt when you were in that Place.  Maybe it was the people that filled that Place.  Maybe it was the memories made in that Place.

Whatever the reason, the Place somehow transformed and became more than just a "place" for you.

So Many places, So Few Places
There are literally millions upon millions of places in the world.  

Houses.  Parks.  Streets.  Hiking Trails.  Swing sets.  Restaurants.  Malls.  Beaches.  High School Gymnasiums.  Campgrounds.  Apartments.  Hospitals.  Churches.  Backyards.  Benches.  Treehouses.  Coffee shops.  Libraries.  

There are, however, very few of these places that become Places.  The beauty of Places is they are completely unknown, unseen by the common passerby.  It is hidden in plain sight.  A Place is known only to the person who holds that Place dear; only to the person who has experienced, lived, and breathed that place in such a way that it became a Place to them.  To only them and them alone.  

For me, I've been lucky enough to have just returned from one my Places.  (Oh yes, you can have more than one Place...)  It is a Place I've visited countless times.  It has become a Place to me because of it's beauty, because of the way it makes me feel when I am there, because of the people that have filled it, and most of all, because of the memories that have been made there.

It is the beach cottage my Mom has rented for the past 11 years.  At first glance, it is nothing special, nothing fancy.  It is probably close to 100 years old.  The walls and floors are pretty bare; the furniture is no doubt older than I am.  No one else would know what a treasure it is, that it has become a part of me and I a part of it, in a way I can't really explain.    

It has become my Place.

It has become my Place simply by being there, year after year.  As I think back over the days and nights spent there, I realize that this Place has somehow found a way to capture so many of the important events from the past 11 years of my life.  It has seen me through most of the milestones of my adult life.  

Same Place,  A Million Different Memories
I remember the first year out there, when I went with my Mom that first day of her week there and we looked around to try to figure out how to get into the place.  And then wandered around inside checking out the kitchen and the porch and the bedrooms, not knowing what was around each corner or behind each door.  

I remember a year when I went out and stayed for as many days or nights as I felt like, pretty much making up my mind as I went each day.  I would stay up late, sleep in until noon, and eat whatever I wanted, whenever it sounded good, including ice cream for dinner or breakfast at our favorite local breakfast spot at 1:00pm.

I remember a year when I would schedule the days I would head to the cottage around the days my boyfriend had to work or could come out to visit.  I would try to convince him to head out to the beach as soon as he was done with work, or stay an extra night, even if it meant he had to leave at 5:00am the next morning.  (Yes, that same "boyfriend" later became my fiance, then my husband, then the father of my children...and is still putting up with me all these years later!)

I remember the year I spent many hours on the porch with papers and sticky notes and notecards spread everywhere, as I put the finishing touches on things that needed to be finished for my wedding, which was only a month away.  I searched through family-owned shops downtown for the perfect stationary to write thank you notes to my bridesmaids and spent an afternoon shopping for clothes for myself and my husband-to-be for our honeymoon.

I remember a time when I planned my days at the cottage based on my graduate class schedule.  I would finish a class, drive out to the beach, then spend the afternoon reading and highlighting books for class under a beach umbrella.  I'd squeeze out as many minutes as I could there with family and friends, sometimes even driving back to class still wearing my bathing suit with a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt thrown over it.

I remember the only year out of all 11 years that I didn't stay a single night at the cottage.  I walked up and down the boardwalk and the beach, and saw my sister come to my defense as we waited over an hour to be sat at a restaurant.  I was expecting the arrival of my first child literally any day...as I was past my due date...and my son decided to come the Tuesday of the week that my Mom was at her cottage that year.  We now celebrate his birthday each year we're out there.

I remember the year we made a very unplanned, middle-of-the-night trip to the ER with my 2-year-old son and his 6-week-old old sister in tow.  My mom came to the rescue, as my husband wasn't there because he was working.  I was scared and unsure, especially in a town and a hospital not my own, but we were taken such good care of that I knew we were in good hands.  I will forever appreciate everyone who helped make everything OK that night.

I remember the first year we decided to stay for an entire week, because it was easier to pack up everything we needed for a family of 4, including 2 small children, and just stay put, than to come and go a few nights here and there.  [Although this year, for the first time in 5 years, this Mom didn't have to pack diapers or baby food.  And we still stayed for the entire week.  Two words for you:  Ah.  Mazing.]

I remember my children playing on the porch swing, walking the pier, eating ice cream, serving "food" through the porch window, staying up way too late, laughing until it made me laugh out loud with their friends and cousins, putting together puzzles, swimming until their teeth chattered and yet still refusing they were cold, digging in the sand.  They have come to love the cottage just as much as I have.  

Someday, it may become their Place, too.  

Or maybe they'll find a Place all their own.

Either way, my wish for them is simply that they have at least one place that becomes a Place for them, for reasons that are entirely their own.

I wonder how many more years of memories will accumulate in this Place.  I try to forecast what other life events will be tied to this place.  I think about the friends and family that will continue to be linked to this Place, as they are part of the reason it is so much more than just a "place" now, too

I am thankful this Place has welcomed me and stayed with me for so long.  I know now, it will never, ever leave me.

Your Place
Where is your Place?  Have you found it?  Are you still seeking it?

Maybe it's a place you visit everyday, or maybe it's a place you can never go back to again.  Is it a place you love to be by yourself and enjoy solitude, or a place filled with the beautifully chaotic soundtrack that is lots of family and friends?  Maybe it is a place that holds memories or stories or music or love.  Maybe it is a place that holds possibility or opportunity.  Is it a place from a certain period in your life or a time in your life you felt truly alive?  Maybe it is a place that causes to you to think, to reflect, to dream.  Maybe it is a place that just feels like it's a part of you; that it's always been a part of you, no matter what else has changed.  

If you're willing to share, I'd love to hear about your Place...

Whether you are able to travel there in person or simply through precious memories; whether it is a Place all your own or a Place shared with many; whether you have been there countless times or are still seeking it...You Are a Good Mom when you are in a Good Place.

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