Changing the Diaper Relationship

I am writing out my "tricks" for potty training, not because they are super awesome and work perfectly, but because they're....just a little different, they work pretty well for our family, and they're sort of fun.

You should know, that the earlier you start potty training, the longer it is going to take.  You should also know that some steps in our method will take longer than others, and you should not move on to the next step until the one you are on is completed.  We aim for complete (or nearly complete) training sometime near being 3 years old. 

For our family, we begin the method below at about 15 months.  We go slow and steady.  These ideas really may not work for you, and I'm not suggesting they are perfect.  For our family, it has worked very successfully for our first son, and is working very well for our second, who is 20 months old and just began step 6.



Step One
So, I'll start at the beginning.

The first thing I do, before introducing a pull-up, cotton undies, or a talking, singing potty, is...

I change the diaper relationship.

You know...

When mommy changes diapers, she snuggles the baby and places him gently on the changing table.

She stays close, keeping one hand on the baby.

She looks at him a lot, even while grabbing for the clean diaper and wipes.

She coos, smiles, laughs, talks and sings to him. 

He coos, smiles, laughs, talks and sings back to her.

Diaper chaning time is an enjoyable time of bonding.

Why would a baby want to give that up, to sit on a cold, plastic potty?

So, months before I even introduce the potty, I begin to change the diaper relationship:

I talk and coo less.

I get him in, out, and off of the changing table.

Then.....when we are back in a different room, we can snuggle and bond again.

Diaper changing changes to become all about business.

I do this for a few months, and then......


Step Two
I check to see if the little mister stays dry through the night, if he changes his demeanor when he poops especially (grunting, squating) and maybe even when he pees.  I make sure he can follow simple instructions, even if he can't say very many words.  I make sure he has ways of communicating his wants in other areas of our day: can he tell me that he's any of these: thirsty, hungry, bored, finished, full, or tired?  When he can show me at least one of these,

I bring out the toddler potty.

The toddler potty becomes part of our living room furniture.

I want to make it as non-threatening and even fun as possible.

We let the teddy bears, Bat Mat, and Star Wars figurines all use it.


Step Three
We learn the sign language for potty.





Step Four
We test it out.

I have no expectation of him actually even using it.  I just want him to sit on it.

I am changing what was the fun diaper relationship, to a fun potty relationship.

After meals, and after sleep, we snuggle, and then I put him on the potty.

If he resists, I have him stay on long enough to sing the ABC's to him two times.  My plan was, if he was totally terrified or frustrated with it, to let him try while still in his diaper.  Just, sit on it with the diaper on.  We didn't need to do this, but I thought I'd toss that thought in there. 

What usually happens is, he will have toys at hand or a video on, and he'll enjoy staying on the potty.

We block out some time, a weekend or so, to really kick-start this step.  We let him go totally diaper-less for large chunks of time for a few days.  It's going to be messy, but it lets him get to the potty faster.

When I sit him on the potty, I walk him to it, I don't pick him up and carry him to it.

At first, I might tickle his legs or trickle cold water on his legs to see if that helps him relax to use the potty.

When he finishes his time on the potty, even if he didn't use it (he probably won't for the first several times), I cheer for him, so he'll see that potty time is fun (some people introduce prizes and such at this time).

Meanwhile, I let him know when I have to go potty.  Not every time, just enough to get the point for what it's for.  I tell him, and sign to him, that I have to go.

At first, I let him come in too.  It lets him get familiar with the sounds of the big bathroom--mainly the great big flushing sound, which can be scary. 

When we flush, we wave "bye bye" to the dirty water.  This may sound totally weird, but I do this because it lets him know that using the toilet makes our "mess" go away, instead of staying in the diaper.

We wash our hands together.


Step Five
Our efforts for success pick up a notch. 

We put him on the potty after sleep, after meals, and about every hour or so.  At first, we still aren't aiming for success, just familiarity.

We keep him in cotton undies for large chunks of time.  We use the diaper for leaving the house and for sleep.

We keep an eye for signs of pooping: grunting, squating.  Successful poop is our mission.  Pee can still wait, but we still try for it. 

When he shows signs of pooping, we get him to the potty as quickly as possible (it helps keeping it in a central location for this purpose too, in addition to making him feel more comfortable with it). 

If there is poop in the diaper, I gently drop it into the potty.

I only cheer now if he can actually poop while on the potty, but I don't get mad if he doesn't.

When he is finished, we bring the potty over to the big toilet, and flush and say "bye bye" together.

We wash our hands.


Step Six
We continue to sign "potty" before each use.  We make sure that he's learning how to make the sign, and that we can understand his toddler interpretation of the sign (it won't be perfect).

We continue to "try" to potty before and after sleep, after meals, and about every hour or so.

At this point he has pooped in the potty several times, and has peed at least once or twice.

At this point, if we are away from home for long periods of time, I don't bring the potty, but I do bring a toddler seat cover, and invite him to the bathroom at least once.  I have no expectation of him successfully using it, because public bathrooms are frightening.  I just want him to become familiar with different bathrooms and realize they all have the same function.


Step Seven
At this point, we still try to use the potty very frequently, but begin to look for more and more success in both pooping and peeing. 

We still expect mistakes, and when there is one, we tell him, "Uh, oh, you missed the potty!"

We only cheer for success.

We only let him flush if he succeeded without an accident.

We (um, still) wash our hands.


Step Eight
We work on bringing the potty closer to the actual bathroom.

We begin to introduce using the big toilet, in much the same way we introduced the potty: we let Bat Man use it too.

We still use sign language, cheer for success, and let him flush when he succeeds.

We begin to introduce standing for peeing.

We (um, yes, still) wash our hands.

If this totally overwhelms you, there are other tricks you can do.  The Potty Watch is a great idea for parents who have a difficult time keeping track and getting to the potty consistantly.

Seeing Red, Feeling Blue

One of the experiences I am surprised to discover in the months following my miscarriage, is the actual anger I feel when 28 days go by, and, I see "red" again. 
Why does this make me feel angry?

Because it is a reminder--as if I could forget!!--that my body isn't carrying my baby anymore.

You are not supposed to bleed when you are pregnant.

It makes me angry because I don't want to bleed.  I want to still be pregnant.
And, it makes me angry because it reminds me that I can't blame myself.  I can't blame my body.  My body releases an egg, prepares a cushion of endometrium, and then, releases it all, so that it can try again.  It is what my body is supposed to do. 

My body is working.


My 28 day reunion with red is a personal reminder that my body is physically ready to carry a baby, even if I'm emotionally not.

My body isn't going to sit around and just wait for my emotions to catch up.

It isn't a slave to my feelings.

And, for that, I truly need to praise the Lord.

How deceiving it would be, if I could pretend this experience away.

So, this time, I am going to embrace the emotional challenges of seeing red without giving in to feeling blue. 

Genesis 4:10 tells me that God hears the blood.  He knows the hurt behind it, but he knows the value in it, too.  And, what's more, He knows my heart, and He knows suffering too (Isaiah 53:3).  So, even if this is weird to share with you, it's not weird to share with Him.

Matthew 9:19-21 gives me a biblical example of hope from a woman who bled for years--not just every 28 days:

"If I only touch His clothes, I'll get well" 

This time, I'm going to cling to the instruction, and to the promise, of 2 Corinthians 4:18:

I will fix my eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

I am going to remember that I have a baby, alive and well, in heaven.

I am going to remember I have a Father, who loves me so much that He'd be willing to allow me hurt, willing to allow me suffering, because even through the mystery of this suffering, it is not without meaning (Romans 8:28-29), that my anger should be identified as the "fire" that is testing my faith (1 Peter 1:6-7) because pain reminds me to hope (Romans 5:3-4), and inspires me to continue in my Christian maturation (Philipians 3:12-14), and that, when my work is finished, I will be lacking in nothing (James 1:34).  Lacking in nothing.  And I will be able to share this blessing with others (Philippians 1:12-14).

I am going to face the red with self control, because my eyes are fixed on Jesus.  Amen.

High Stakes/Low Stakes

My seven year old son likes camping, and so, for fun sometimes, we'll set the tent up in the backyard and let him sleep under the stars.  With two younger brothers who are years behind him, it's a nice way to exhibit his "big boyness".

Yesterday afternoon, as my husband was setting up the tent, I was still deep in thought over our recent miscarriage, and the much needed resource that is to be our website.

[If you haven't yet read about our miscarriage project, please visit my doula blog, by clicking HERE]

To be truthful, I wish the site was up already.

I shudder, and my heart breaks, at the thought of a single family continuing to experience miscarriage without it.

As I continue to receive the blessing from mothers who entrust me with their very special, touching, heartbreaking stories, I compile resources and ideas that cover every angle of the experience I can possibly think of.  A lot is stirring in my head, and my heart.

Oh, how I long to "birth" this resource that will very much be "alive"--it will transform the way infant loss is experienced: by families, friends, and medical professionals, of all walks of life, all faiths, all demographics.

It is going to be amazing.

But, it's still gestating.

Still growing.

Developing.

Just like a baby, the very first functioning organ was its heart. 

My heart.  My husband's heart.  Our baby's heart.   

Our passion is the pulse that this project is moving to.

It's a rhythm.

And, it's not stopping.

The muscles of our prayers are stretching out, protecting the vital organs:

The mind: the volunteers who are helping lend their expertise.

The mouth: well, that's my big fat mouth, dontcha know?  It's yours, too.  Getting the word out about the project to anyone and everyone who might be blessed by it.

The intestines: cutting out misinformation we receive.  Separating the meat from the bones, and discarding the waste, once and for all.

The bones stretch tall and strong.  This is our faith.

The entire project is encased in God's love.  We ask Him continually to cover every angle, to protect every aspect, as seamless as skin.

Everything pulls and wraps together around the bones, which give this thing its shape. 

It is by our faith that we can see the shape of this thing...this life...this resource.

So, as our website resource continues to develop, take shape, and prepare for its debut, I need to find calm in the waiting.  Patience.  Stillness.

Sometimes, I get so excited over the newest development, I have to fight the temptation to just throw it up into cyberspace to share with everyone.

But, it's just not ready yet.

I have to wait.

We all have to wait.

The stakes are too high to rush it. 

It needs to be perfected.

It will all be revealed....soon.  When the Lord ordains it.


So, I was thinking about all of this as I watched my man setting up the tent out in the backyard for our son.

First, the material was layed out on top of the grass, the place it would be set up on.

The poles were put in.

This temporary home of a tent has no foundation.  No cement, no structure.

Until the stakes are put in.

Plunged deep into the ground, each one pulls at the tent, stretching it, planting it into the ground.

The stakes are pushed in, all around the tent. 

Each one getting a different angle.

We want our son to learn what it's like to sleep outside.  To listen to the night noises, to feel the cool breezes after a long, hot day in the sun.  We want him to experience that tingling fear of the unknown, so that he can harness it, and knowing if it becomes too much, he is close enough to home, he can retreat in his very safe, very familiar bedroom.  We want him to enjoy his experience out in the "wildnerness" of exploration, but, we also want him to be safe.  The stakes hold his temporary foundation firmly in place.


The time it is taking for our miscarriage website to be open and available is a stake, dug deep into the foundation of God's will.  It is valuable, even though it seems so unworthy.

The different aspects of pregnancy loss we are learning are also stakes.  We are gaining different angles to all sorts of pregnancy loss related issues.

I can't do this alone.

I can't do what needs to be done, I can't offer what needs to be given.  I need your help.

This project needs your prayer.
It needs funding.
If you've miscarried, I need to learn from your experience, if you'd let me.


The stakes are high:
we want this miscarriage website to be all it needs to be.

So,
we plant the stakes low.

Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. -Ecclesiastes 4:12

In My Redneck of the Woods

We're a little bit nerdy...

...sometimes we bathe in a bucket...

...together...

...and we like it...

We wear camo...

...and we share...

We all work hard...

We are all real cowboys...

...and we like it that way...

...and we're off to gitty up and go!

First Fruits

Ahhh....First Fruits is upon us in our little household.

Let me explain.

In the Old Testament, First Fruits was a celebration of discovering the first signs of life in the spring season.  The Israelites would harvest these very first signs of life and offer them as a sacrifice as a testament of faith, as they knew the Lord would continue to provide for them.  Later these crops would continue to flourish and allow for the people to have a bountiful harvest.  The importance of the Old Testament festivals is multifaceted, interesting, and highly relevent. 


However, today's celebration of First Fruits was simple and so very sweet.

The celebration of First Fruits in our home involves the very first picking of dandelions, and running to give them to mama for a gift.  :) 

This year, my second child Virgil has joined in the celebration.  How do kids know how to bless their mama?

Even as they rot on the counter and I secretly toss them under debris in the trash (so the kiddos don't find them), I smile as I know these little weeds were offered as a loving gift of adoration.

Thank you, my sweet little guys, for the flowers.  They're beautiful.

How Much More

After Wednesday night service, I made the usual mad-dash Wednesday night rush:

I bring Silas in first, because he's strapped to a carseat and can't run.

I run out and grab Virgil and bring him in.

I drop the keys, bag, and kiddos, and run to the sink to wash my hands (a bit coodie-phobic).

I change clothes (remember, from Stilettos and Slings, I do the mommy thing best in pajamas).

Silas is wimpering in his carseat, so I pick up speed.....

I dump some frozen lazy-mom bag of food in a skillet, turn it to max so it'll thaw faster...

Change Virgil's pull-up for an overnight diaper...

Fill Virgil's cup with milk, grab his blanket, hit "play" on the CD and place him gently on the couch to snuggle...

Change temperature to simmer and quickly stir the skillet so Lazy-Mom Delight doesn't stick...

Grab Silas out of carseat as I make mad dash to restroom (he's screaming at this point...)

Use the restroom (wash hands again, while juggling a bewildered but at least slightly smiling Silas...)

Change Silas' diaper while making silly talk to buy time for him...

and then, finally (in reality, about 10 minutes after walking in the door)...

I plop on the rocker, pull Virgil up on my lap, and snuggle Silas in on the other side, and the three of us all get to snuggle together, sipping nighttime comfort milk and listening to the soothing sounds of our lullaby CD. 

You know that sound, the soft breathy gulping of a baby satisfied.  Times two.  Simply delightful.

It is the stuff dreams are made of.  Simply, heavenly.

As I sit there and marvel at how the Lord blesses me with strength and creativity to accomplish all I want for my family, I look down at the soft tops of my sweet little ones heads.  I breathe deep the subtle smell of cookie debris in Virgil's hair from lunch and fabric softener from their fresh pajamas.  I know they were frustrated that I couldn't stop everything and give them their milk and blankies as soon as we had come home, but if I had just plopped them down on a blanket, and then continued on with my work, it wouldn't have been the same.  I needed to prepare for the ultimate snuggle time.  It needed to be just right. 

As I heaved out a huge sigh of a day well spent, a family well loved, I was absolutely overtaken, to the point of weeping, by the realization that my relationship with my kiddos reflects my relationship with my heavenly Father.  How often I wimper and cry and say, "Now, Daddy, I want it now!" and how He is accomplishing so much more for me, working, sacrificing, preparing, so that we can have the ultimate "snuggle" time.  If I love my kiddos this much to run around like crazy to provide the best bonding time possible, how much more does God provide this for all of us?

Thank you, Lord, for sometimes delaying my desires.  Your will is greater than mine, and the outcome always serves for my greater good.  I love you!





Stilettos and Slings

I'm a housewife, and a mom. 

I homeschool.  I play.  I clean.  I cook.  I love.

I do these things best in pajamas.

Really.



Some moms like to slap on lipstick to go check the mail.  Myself, I think it's a waste.  I'm not talking trash about these women, though.  I'm actually sort of envious of the women who can manage to perform their daily tasks and do it in a way that their husbands still have reason to be attracted to them at the end of the day.  My man, poor guy, he's just stuck with what works best for the routine.

I want to feel pretty more often.  I need to take more time to paint my nails, mist on some hairspray, and rub on some blush.  I want my man to know that I care about how he sees me (and how others see me).  So, I will try to start working on this better.


In the meantime, I don't ever think I'll get coordinated enough to wear my baby, and heels, at the same time.   This video is hilarious!  :)