To any of you who have ever taken children shopping, you probably have a story in your repetoire that can stand up to this one. Or maybe your children are so well behaved and spotless in public that you would scoff at my “adventure” this afternoon with disgust. Either way, I hope it provides brief entertainment and a stiff warning:
Do not leave the house when you are potty training a child.
My youngest girl, Genevieve, is 2 ½ years old. She is very bright and verbal. Like most 2 ½ year olds, she is interested in learning the ways of the diaper-less world. So, I, being a very attentive and caring mother, decide that it is indeed time to potty train. Her older (by 15 months) sister, Trinity, has mastered the toilet, so to speak, and Genevieve is eager to follow in her footsteps. This means; no more diapers.
She refuses to wear them. This made my morning interesting, because I was taking her out to the store to buy some brand new “big girl panties.” She, however, refused to wear a diaper, so I gave her a pair of her older sister's panties and this satiated her. “What's the big deal?” I thought. “She's been using the potty and telling me when she has to go anyway.” I was wrong.
As we're standing in the aisle of the store, Genevieve announces that she has to go. “Great” I think. "Of course she needs to go as soon as we get into the store." Well, her timing was a little off, because as I reach to take her hand, I can see that her leg is wet and the inside of her sneaker is soaked. It figures I put a little tennis dress on her too. Why of all days didn't I pick out a pair of jeans?
We grab the package of new undies and go to leave the store when her older sister runs off down the aisle. She is throwing a tantrum about some Disney princess shampoo I refuse to buy and has dug in her heels in between the boys' pajamas and a display of winter coats.
I never do this, but I'm desperately trying to get OUT of that store so I can take Genevieve home and clean her up. I bribe Trinity.
Mom: “If you come now and don't fuss, I'll let you pick out something at the checkout.”
Trinity: 'nnnnnhhhhhhhhh'__________
Mom: “I mean it, Trin, if you come right now, you can pick something.”
Trinity, recognizing this as a once in millennium event, reluctantly follows our caravan while still dragging her heels.
As I catch back up to Genevieve, I see something NO mother wants to see. EVER.
Genevieve looks up at me and announces that she has pooped.
Some of you are thinking – 'so what? Kids poop in their pants all the time.'
Yes, this is true, but the operative words in that phrase would be 'their' and 'pants'.
Genevieve does not have any pants on, she has a little tennis dress that exposes her bottom when she lifts up her arms. Not only that, but the borrowed underwear she has on is now working its way down her thighs because of the recent “addition” to the contents. I'm sure it didn't help that she has taken off her shoes because “they all ret” and she doesn't like the sensation.
I feel stomach hit my throat and try some quick thinking. Wouldn't you expect that as a mother of six I would have a complete arsenal of bathroom products in my Mary Poppins-type purse or even a diaper bag? Oh no, I left the diaper bag in the van and my purse has two pair of toddler socks, some receipts, my keys, wallet and a few maxi pads.
With the ingenuity of MacGuyver, I open one of the maxi pads and tell Genevieve to slip out of her underwear which is almost to her knees at this point. I wrap up the entire contents, underwear and all and seal it in the wrapper. Quickly and nonchalantly, I head over to the restroom to clean up and pay for my daughter's new underwear whilst begging her to stop lifting her arms over her head so as to not expose her now bare bottom. Meanwhile, I am obligated to buy Trinity some candy and now of course Genevieve wants some too. I am willing to do anything to get out of that store as quickly as possible. Both the girls pick the most colorful, sugar-laced novelty they can find. I pay and exit the store with my half naked, barefoot toddler.
All I want to do is crawl into a cave and lock myself away for the rest of the month. Maybe when I emerge, Genevieve will have trained herself.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Parker's Birth
Last year around this time, I was officially 9 months pregnant with our sixth child. It's not a typo. I wrote sixth. My husband and I are anticipating this birth with bated breath - me literally because I can no longer breathe deeply chasing 5 other children around whilst carrying a butterball in my uterus. I estimate that the birth will occur in September despite an early October due date simply because I am desperately trying to will the baby out of me. So the weeks pass and no baby.
Forrest, my husband, wants the baby to come in October. Why? "Because then we'd have consecutive months of birthdays." You see our other 5 children were born in November, December, January and two in February. I should have held the 5th one in until March - I'm sure my husband would've requested it -if it had been less than 48 hours away.
It is NEVER a good idea to request that a woman deliver later than she anticipates. There is never a reason to aggravate a woman who is heavy with child. Yet he thinks it is funny to do so.
At 11:50 pm on September 30th I looked over at my husband and sneered, "I guess you've got your wish. - Hope you're happy." Then with a grin on his face, replied - "Yeah, but he'll probably decide to come on Wednesday night at about 9 o'clock."
Wednesday, October 4th 2006 9pm - the US season premiere of LOST.
For those of you who have never seen "LOST", you will think I am certifiable. For my fellow "Losties", you will completely 'get it'.
"Sssshhhhhh___ he'll hear you!" I hissed at him while covering my fetal girth with my arms trying to shield where I think the baby's ears are.
"The baby needs to come well before Wednesday or labor can start at 10:01pm on Wednesday."
By sheer will, once again, I am determined to control Mother Nature.
Later that week on Wednesday Oct. 4th, at my midwife appointment, I decide to try
a few things to "get the ball rolling" so to speak. It usually takes a few days, so what's the harm? I head home about 5pm, sit in rush hour traffic and go home to have dinner.
My mother in law who was helping out, leaves at 7:30pm and says she'll be "on call" because I was having a few contractions. Anyone who has had children knows that you can contract for days or even weeks before "it's time". I have a history of labor starting and stopping for days on end. But when it's time – IT'S TIME and things go very quickly. There is a tell tale sign that the baby is coming. I throw up. Usually at 8-9 centimeters I get sick and then start to push. This happened in the car with our 4th child, so no one likes to take chances with me. I brush her comment off and settle down for some good TV.
An hour later, Forrest and I are gearing up for the premiere and this is how the conversation went.
Him: "You want a snack?"
Me: "No, I'm not that hungry"
Him: "Are you sure? not even popcorn?"(which is a staple in my diet)
Me: "No, I don't feel like eating anything right now."
Him: "Are you OK?" (obviously this is not normal behavior.)
Me: "I'm OK, just a little crampy."
Him: "Well let me know if you want me to start timing" (contractions)
Me: "It's alright, he can't come now." I look down at my belly, wag my finger at the neonate inside and tell him in my sternest 'mama' voice – "no coming out now!!"
And of course, we know how well that usually works.
So the "LOST" premiere starts and I am really distracted from the oncoming rhythmic cramps I'm having. So much so that I need to stand up to alleviate them. Then I move onto sideways lunges looking like a sumo wrestler ready to pounce on his adversary.
This starts to make my husband nervous.
Him: "How far apart are they coming?"
Me: "I don't know, 2-3 minutes?"
Him: "2-3 Minutes??! Maria, that's close!"
Me: "I know, but they're really not intense or anything, I can barely feel them."
Him: "I'm timing them" he says as he gets up during a commercial break.
Me: "Go ahead – maybe you should, but we can wait till 10pm."
Him: "You're crazy"
At about 9:25pm, Forrest starts to time the contractions himself. He asks me to let him know when one stops and another begins.
After being quiet for a minute, he asks – "is that one over?"
Me: "Yep"
Him: "Did another one start?"
Me: "Yep"
Him: "Maria! That was 90 seconds! We're leaving!!"
Me: "We can wait till 10 – I don't want to miss this!"
Him: "We...can...tape...it" He spoke so deliberately as if he were speaking to an uncooperative child. At the time, that's exactly how I was acting. You have to understand – I love "LOST" I didn't want to be out of the loop for even 24 hours. I knew I'd be home shortly after giving birth, but the demands of a newborn can really interrupt a good TV show.
My husband scrambles for the phone to call his mom who is only down the street and gets my bag.
I am making sure that the cereal is out and the kids lunches are ready for tomorrow morning. I start to whine.
Me: "He's [the baby] just getting back at me because I wanted to name him 'Sawyer' – he's got something against 'LOST'".
Him: "Yeah, hon, I'm sure that's it. Besides, I would not let you name him 'Sawyer'."
Me: "You'll let me do whatever I want after I push his body out of mine!!!
Him: "OK, let's just get in the car, alright?"
The trip to the birth center is at least 30 minutes with no traffic. It's now just about 10pm and we head into town. Thankfully there is no traffic (because everyone else is home watching LOST) and we arrive at 10:25pm. I did ask Forrest to run a few red lights because labor got intense on the car trip in.
I threw up at 10:27pm.
He was a tough one, and wasn't born for an hour later at 11:32pm. Forrest said to me right after he was born "And you wanted to wait till 10 to leave!"
"What? We would of made it...."
Forrest, my husband, wants the baby to come in October. Why? "Because then we'd have consecutive months of birthdays." You see our other 5 children were born in November, December, January and two in February. I should have held the 5th one in until March - I'm sure my husband would've requested it -if it had been less than 48 hours away.
It is NEVER a good idea to request that a woman deliver later than she anticipates. There is never a reason to aggravate a woman who is heavy with child. Yet he thinks it is funny to do so.
At 11:50 pm on September 30th I looked over at my husband and sneered, "I guess you've got your wish. - Hope you're happy." Then with a grin on his face, replied - "Yeah, but he'll probably decide to come on Wednesday night at about 9 o'clock."
Wednesday, October 4th 2006 9pm - the US season premiere of LOST.
For those of you who have never seen "LOST", you will think I am certifiable. For my fellow "Losties", you will completely 'get it'.
"Sssshhhhhh___ he'll hear you!" I hissed at him while covering my fetal girth with my arms trying to shield where I think the baby's ears are.
"The baby needs to come well before Wednesday or labor can start at 10:01pm on Wednesday."
By sheer will, once again, I am determined to control Mother Nature.
Later that week on Wednesday Oct. 4th, at my midwife appointment, I decide to try
a few things to "get the ball rolling" so to speak. It usually takes a few days, so what's the harm? I head home about 5pm, sit in rush hour traffic and go home to have dinner.
My mother in law who was helping out, leaves at 7:30pm and says she'll be "on call" because I was having a few contractions. Anyone who has had children knows that you can contract for days or even weeks before "it's time". I have a history of labor starting and stopping for days on end. But when it's time – IT'S TIME and things go very quickly. There is a tell tale sign that the baby is coming. I throw up. Usually at 8-9 centimeters I get sick and then start to push. This happened in the car with our 4th child, so no one likes to take chances with me. I brush her comment off and settle down for some good TV.
An hour later, Forrest and I are gearing up for the premiere and this is how the conversation went.
Him: "You want a snack?"
Me: "No, I'm not that hungry"
Him: "Are you sure? not even popcorn?"(which is a staple in my diet)
Me: "No, I don't feel like eating anything right now."
Him: "Are you OK?" (obviously this is not normal behavior.)
Me: "I'm OK, just a little crampy."
Him: "Well let me know if you want me to start timing" (contractions)
Me: "It's alright, he can't come now." I look down at my belly, wag my finger at the neonate inside and tell him in my sternest 'mama' voice – "no coming out now!!"
And of course, we know how well that usually works.
So the "LOST" premiere starts and I am really distracted from the oncoming rhythmic cramps I'm having. So much so that I need to stand up to alleviate them. Then I move onto sideways lunges looking like a sumo wrestler ready to pounce on his adversary.
This starts to make my husband nervous.
Him: "How far apart are they coming?"
Me: "I don't know, 2-3 minutes?"
Him: "2-3 Minutes??! Maria, that's close!"
Me: "I know, but they're really not intense or anything, I can barely feel them."
Him: "I'm timing them" he says as he gets up during a commercial break.
Me: "Go ahead – maybe you should, but we can wait till 10pm."
Him: "You're crazy"
At about 9:25pm, Forrest starts to time the contractions himself. He asks me to let him know when one stops and another begins.
After being quiet for a minute, he asks – "is that one over?"
Me: "Yep"
Him: "Did another one start?"
Me: "Yep"
Him: "Maria! That was 90 seconds! We're leaving!!"
Me: "We can wait till 10 – I don't want to miss this!"
Him: "We...can...tape...it" He spoke so deliberately as if he were speaking to an uncooperative child. At the time, that's exactly how I was acting. You have to understand – I love "LOST" I didn't want to be out of the loop for even 24 hours. I knew I'd be home shortly after giving birth, but the demands of a newborn can really interrupt a good TV show.
My husband scrambles for the phone to call his mom who is only down the street and gets my bag.
I am making sure that the cereal is out and the kids lunches are ready for tomorrow morning. I start to whine.
Me: "He's [the baby] just getting back at me because I wanted to name him 'Sawyer' – he's got something against 'LOST'".
Him: "Yeah, hon, I'm sure that's it. Besides, I would not let you name him 'Sawyer'."
Me: "You'll let me do whatever I want after I push his body out of mine!!!
Him: "OK, let's just get in the car, alright?"
The trip to the birth center is at least 30 minutes with no traffic. It's now just about 10pm and we head into town. Thankfully there is no traffic (because everyone else is home watching LOST) and we arrive at 10:25pm. I did ask Forrest to run a few red lights because labor got intense on the car trip in.
I threw up at 10:27pm.
He was a tough one, and wasn't born for an hour later at 11:32pm. Forrest said to me right after he was born "And you wanted to wait till 10 to leave!"
"What? We would of made it...."
Monday, September 10, 2007
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