Potty Boot Camp

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Yesterday morning I pulled up my boot straps and strapped them tight. I called the day, and what I imagined would continue on for many thereafter, Potty Boot Camp.  My goal was to get my smart and capable 18-month-old out of diapers.

First adventure of the day was taking care of our morning pee.  We both sit down side by side (as has been the custom for about 6 weeks) and sure enough we both pee.  Maisy praises me (because I finished first), “job!” And gets up to look at my handy work any way she can get a peek.

Maisy:  “Job!” “Job!” “Job!”

Me: (laughing) “Well thank you!”

Maisy:  “Job!” “Job!” etc…

Eventually she sits back down and does pee herself.

Me: “Good job!  You went pee pee in the potty!”

Maisy: “Job!”

Me: (holding my hand out) “High five!”

Maisy: (giving me a high five) “Five!

I then try to give her a short speech about being a big girl and “big girls don’t wear diapers” followed by a demonstration of “throwing the diapers away.”  She threw one in the bag and was done.  Oh well, takes more than that to discourage me!

Soon enough all the day care kids have arrived and it was time for Maisy’s nap.  I set the other girls up with a movie to watch though they are entirely engrossed in playing with all the new Christmas presents Maisy got since the last time they were with us.

Shortly into the nap routine with Maisy my gut sinks with a gross realization, I forgot to leave a potty in the room with the girls.  Sure enough, when I ditch Maisy in her dark room for a moment, I encounter Eleanor trying to get out of the play room.  I move a potty into the room and don’t look back as I’m desperate to get back to my now hysterical little girl.  Upon picking her up I realized she peed all over.  The underwear and wool shorts largely did nothing to contain the inevitable potty training sleep accidents.  I strip everything and throw any soggy stuffed animals in with the rest and get back to work.  After much coaxing she does finally ease into sleep and I head back downstairs.  The playroom wreaks of poop.

Eleanor stands up and I see an empty potty but a poo smeared backside and pull up.  Yup, the reason this potty pro couldn’t hold it is because she had a case of the squirts.  I clean her up with lots of wipes, change out her clothes, and press on.

Maisy wakes up with poop in her underwear. I tidy that mess as best I can without moving her then we cautiously proceed downstairs to take care of the rest.  I set the potty (my receptacle for holding the poo and toilet paper I used to wipe Maisy down)  just outside the bathroom and get to work wiping the poopy mess all off Maisy’s backside, feet included.  I’m feeling pretty good about my handy work until I turn around and see Sam munching on Maisy’s poo.  He had taken care of all the big stuff and was nearly done licking off the toilet paper than was now strewn across the floor.  I take a deep breath, crouch down, and shovel the toilet paper back into the potty to dump it.  Mid task I look up to see Harper looking at me.

Me: “This isn’t going so well is it?”

She smiles wide and nods.

Confidants even lie in children.  Love that girl!

In the end, I threw in the towel on Potty Boot Camp, to be taken up another day.  Not because of this mess though actually!  Potty training with the flu?  No sir.  Yup, came down with it last night.

The Tale of the Mom with the Sleepless Daughter

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  • written November 28, 2015
  • edited December 30, 2015

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Tonight I spent a whopping hour and a half working on getting my daughter to sleep.  Less than half this time was a part of the regular routine (bath, massage, snuggle with blankets and read books, and nurse) the rest was a not so atypical battle to get my kid to go to sleep.  This girl is one of only a few other children I’ve found (through their mother’s stories) that is so highly sleep challenged.  She’s as stubborn as a rock and since she turned 3.5 months old has chosen to fight sleep with a vengeance every day of her life.  Tonight we did the typical routine and she fell asleep on the breast as planned.  I lay her down in bed and she pops awake like a jack-in-the-box.  I start to coax her into what I hope is the magical sleep position for the evening when she asks for more milk.  Sure, I think, a trip to the other breast won’t screw us up.  Again, I nurse her.  Again, she falls asleep.  Again, I lay her down in bed.  Again, she pops awake.  Again, I’m fumbling in the dark rapidly trying to find the magic sleep position.  Again, I fail.  She starts crying and wears me down for 15 minutes before finally falling asleep.  I go for the door, more silent than a mouse, only to get betrayed by the slight click of the latch that has it out to ruin my life and I’m sent flying back in the room to try and salvage the situation before my daughter wakes up all the way.  This time I position and reposition her for 30 minutes before she finally falls asleep and sneak out holding my breath… only for her to wake some 15 minutes later for another final round of positioning and repositioning and coaxing and commanding.

These moments are my worst.  I mean, I end up yelling at a toddler to “go to sleep!”  There’s not one ounce of sense in that.  Except that it seems my daughter is so in love with me that it’s not until I get explosively pissed that sleep starts to look more desirable than hanging out with me.  On the brink of tears tonight I find myself mumbling in my daughter’s direction, like so many other nights, “why do I have to yell at you in order for you to take me seriously?”

I slink my way downstairs to wander heatedly around the living room, aimlessly, and holler my stream of angry thoughts at my husband.

“I just don’t get it, we’ve been at this for 17 months and it’s still a battle.  I’m so tired of fighting the same battle over and over again!”

“She’s so teachable in every other way I just don’t get why she won’t learn how to go to sleep!”

Here’s the thing.  Maisy’s lack of good sleep habits makes me want to hurt things.  I loathe nap time and bed time.  I’m overflowing with stress every time I go to lay my sleeping girl down and only take another breath if I get out of the room with out waking her with a creaky floor board or a squeak of that bedroom door of hers that has it out for me.  I really would much prefer neither of us slept at all so as to avoid the whole battle.  But, alas, we are only humans and tiny ones have a particularly keen temper when under slept.

I feel like a wimp that infant sleep is my biggest problem and that I handle it like a train wreck.  I am so blessed and I know it! So, at the end of my battles, I’m left to guilt myself into thinking I’m nuts for getting pissed about my situation.

Being a mom is the most awesome, most emotional, and most challenging job I’ve ever had.  Every day is different in it’s own wonderful and heart wrenching way.  It stretches me to be a better person and forces me into the worst version of myself at the same time.  Can’t all of us moms just be cheerleaders for each other and stop playing the comparing game?  I would like to feel like a fellow mom could catch me when I’m falling into my pit of fiery anger.  That I would be safe to passionately explode gnarly word vomit all over you (fellow moms) about my struggles.  I don’t want to feel like my problems are any bigger or smaller than any other mother’s even if they are.  I simply want to feel validated and supported by my other mothers.

When Your Heart is Yucky, Pray

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-Written November 14, 2015

-Edited December 16, 2015

Go on a prayer walk every day.  The summer between high school and college I prayed to God that if He would help me get my feet in my running shoes every day I would talk to him the whole time I ran.  I wanted to be on the college soccer team and knew I needed his help to get there because I needed a ball in front of me to run, I loathed running just to run.  He came through for me even on this menial task as I ended up choosing not to join the soccer team because of my grueling and more-important-to-me course work but did choose to keep my prayer runs.  As a result, I was incredibly grounded all around – emotionally, spiritually, physically, you name it.  A few days ago I was reflecting on this when I realized I could make my daily walk a daily prayer walk.  I was scrolling through what to do about an excess of anger in my heart.  So my first prayer walk was almost entirely spent fervently praying that the Lord would pluck any seeds of anger out of my heart and throw them into the fire.  And he did.  And I will keep walking and praying.

Praying before meals.  As long as I can remember my dad has folded his hands, closed his eyes, and bowed his head before meals.  I’ve always admired this and wanted to do the same.  And yet, I’m 27 and I can’t recall a time when I’ve done this if he wasn’t in the room with me asking me to pray with him.  No more.  I want my daughter to see God all around her and this is very definitely a tangible way I help bring God to life for her.  I also want my daycare girls to see God everywhere and what not a better way than to pray with everyone before we dig into lunch together?  Most importantly, I really do want to thank God before meals because we are abundantly blessed with nutritious, wholesome food everyday and that is a gift!

Pray with Maisy before she nurses to sleep.  I recently went to a MOPS meeting and was staggered by some statistics:  the average child spends 28 hours a week in front of the TV, 32.5 hours a week in school, and up to 4 hours a week in church if they go to Sunday school and a Wednesday night kids program.  The moms that were sharing for the evening challenged those of us in the audience to bring God into our kid’s lives at any opportunity.  One of the ways I want to bring God into sight is by praying before meals, another way I want to bring God into sight is by praying with my daughter before she goes to sleep.  Talk about a good time to pray for my sleepless wonder of a child too!  Again, if only I’d thought of this sooner.

Devos before bed.  Some parents choose to get up before their kids to have alone time.  I’m not sure what “early” looks like to those parents but I am not naturally a morning person and getting up with Maisy around 5:00 is plenty early for me.  I am, however, naturally a night person so I am going to curl up in my cozy bed, maybe even with some tea, and do my devos before turning off the light and rolling over to pray myself to sleep.

Praying myself to sleep.  As a mom I have struggled to find time to do devotionals when I could give God all my attention.  With a difficult sleeper for a baby and toddler I couldn’t even rely on nap time or bed time as options; without fail I would just get settled to do my reading and Maisy would pipe in as if objecting to the idea.  So, at the very least, I knew I could pray.  I could pray myself to sleep.  When I first started I fully intended to stay awake until I said, “amen.”  I felt guilty falling asleep in the middle of my conversation with God.  But sleep deprivation and God had different plans.  Turns out praying to sleep is the most soothing way to go.  I feel like I’m being carried into sleep by the ocean waves and I enter an undisturbed rest unlike any other.  I also used to have a tendency to have unpleasant dreams or nightmares almost nightly, not the case anymore!  My dreams are now only lovely if at all.  God is a good God!

I do not share any of this information to sound like I’ve got it all figured out.  I don’t.  These things I’m going to do are because I don’t.  And I will forget them sometimes and start falling fast.  I will likely get lazy.  They say it takes days and/or weeks to form a new habit.  It takes me forming and reforming every time Josh comes home and every time he leaves again.  That’s one of the biggest challenges about our lifestyle with him on and off road.  He will come home and a devotional routine I was solid on plummets because I’m spending that time with him instead.  He will leave and I’m thrown into so much chaos with juggling it all by myself again that all I can think about is getting it all done so I forget to even pray myself to sleep.

I share all this information for a couple reasons.  One, I am committing to these things and I often find it helps to stick to commitments if you declare them before others.  So, here I am, declaring!  Two, I do hope that maybe some of these thoughts and tid bits will act as inspirations to your life.

Dear Gigi

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Dear Gigi,

Today you left us.  I miss you terribly.  I missed you the moment your mind turned inward and our words couldn’t inspire you to speak back to us.  Maisy even learned “Gigi” just in time to tell you when you were in the ER… and then spend the next several days, including today, saying it repeatedly and increasingly.  Your name is her new favorite word.  In the moment when you were lost to fighting to self sooth yourself out of the pain of your blood infection all I wanted to do was hold you in my arms like a baby and wash all your pain away with the sheer force of my love and compassion for you.  In that moment I saw you as I see my baby girl.  I also saw you as beautiful as I’ve ever seen you.  I can’t put my finger on it, but all I could tell you right then is that you looked beautiful and I loved the color of your hair.  But it was so much more than that.  Though you were going through pain I cannot even imagine all I saw was this beautifully, perfectly unkempt mop of grey-white hair.  It glistened like the water glistens when there’s a slight breeze, serene and other-worldly.  Your face wore the innocence of a sleeping child, with your eyes stubbornly clamped shut and all.  You were the most beautiful to me in that moment and that is the last memory of you I want to hold in my heart.

But I also saw you today.  Just after you left us.  I suppose I needed to see you that way.  But it was harder than I expected.  When I walked in and saw your mouth hung awkwardly to one side, drooping farther than humanly possible, I realized I’d never actually seen a dead person before.  I’ve lost a loved one once a year like clock work for 8 years straight and yet I missed this moment with each of them.  It simultaneously made me feel sick to my stomach (like the being in the same room as death just does to a person) and like a bunch of bells were chaotically but somehow pleasantly resounding around in the pit of my chest (like the joyful peace of knowing a loved one is Home and pain free also just does to a person.) Throughout today I’ve been mostly regressing inward into a zombie like state of being and working.  Dried up from tears I simply flipped through my overdue list of editing, picking away picture by picture on autopilot.  Thank heavens for autopilot.  This evening, however, I reflected a little differently.

I remembered the first time I met you.  I went to your lower level apartment in the most quaint, small town I could register in my memories.  We walked in and for the next hour or so I relished in listening to your tales.  I could not remember what stories you told but simply that you painted pictures with your words and that you were the sweetest grandma I’d ever met.

The next time I met you it was my first official gathering with the Calhoun family where I was accepted as “the girlfriend.”  First thing I did when I arrived was knock you over into the bushes.  I don’t remember how it happened, I simply remember feeling mortified and that you simply melted into a fit of laughter as we tried to right you.  I loved your bouncing belly laugh.  You were the first and only person I’ve met that had a true belly laugh.  When you laughed, your belly bounced, laughing with you.  Then I grew a beachball of a belly and would think warm, fuzzy thoughts of you every time I laughed.

My favorite moments in our story were every moment we spent together after I increasingly became your go-to caregiver when Mom and Dad went out of town.  I would stay overnight and wake up, excited to bring you coffee and whatever treat I chose for the day (sorry Mom, I spoiled Gigi with lots of pastries).  I hope with all my heart that you knew I loved our morning coffee dates when I got to stay over to care for you.

These sleepovers became regular enough for me to get to hang out with Gigi every weekend.  I would cart me, the kid, and our little bag of things over there to spend the weekend in a sort of state of joyful bliss.  Sure, I usually took off like a rocket after our coffee date to go photograph some wedding or portrait or another but it was truly the pleasure of your company that made my weekend.  I wrote you many letters over the years, I loved being pen pals, so I hope if I didn’t adequately tell you in person how much I adored my time with you that you knew it either from my letters or simply because you just knew.

You were the perfect grandma to me.  You weren’t a motivated woman, in fact you were quite lazy, but you were very loving and giving.  I’m so thankful for all the moments and I had with you.  I do wish I could give you one more kiss on the cheek, share one more donut with you, hear you tell me one more story, and say “I love you” while you could still hear me with your ears here.  Instead, I’m left to settle for hoping that you understood I treasured every moment with you and held you in my heart as my own flesh and blood.

I realize now that I have a short but important list of regrets.  I regret not kissing you “see you later” on the cheek every single time I left you.  I regret not visiting you at least once more while you were at rehab.  And I very much regret not finding a way to visit you once a day after your last fall that sent you to the ER then to hospice – I wish I would have found a way to make the time to come in and tell you all these things that I’m writing now, to read to you, and to tell you “I love you” 100 more times.  For that, I’m so sorry that I ache inside.  I wish I could go back a few days to have a redo, but I suppose my “once more” would be “once more” no matter what – I’m just a kid asking for 5 more minutes after I’ve already been given five more minutes.

Gigi, I love you and I’m so thankful you are Home and pain free!  I’ll look forward to seeing you again when it’s my turn.

With all my heart,

Kaia

Janesville baby photography // my little blonde beauty at 17-months-old

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Maisy is everything I hoped she would be (ok, except for the sleep challenged and monstrous teether part).  She’s so quirky she laughs at everything and nothing, so sweet she gives me kisses and hugs unprovoked and on a whim, so spunky with her awesome dance moves and favorite games, such a fast learner that she learned to go down the stairs by herself in only two brief lessons the minute she learned to crawl. This nut makes me laugh, makes my heart soar, and makes my mundane exciting.

Josh requested I start taking monthly pictures again.  He says she’s still growing up so fast and he misses getting it on camera.  I decided he’s right.

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