Well, have I got a treat for you! I'm out of town at the moment for a work retreat, so I'll make this short and sweet.
I talked to The Hubbs yesterday morning. Apparently, when he walked into The Princess's room to check on her while she was playing on Saturday evening, he found a giant poop in her pink froggy potty.
And, it seems he forgot to put her in her overnight Pull-Ups on Friday and Saturday. And she was dry. Both nights.
That is all.
Showing posts with label potty training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label potty training. Show all posts
Monday, October 29, 2012
Monday, October 8, 2012
Loved to Hate It
Every week since she turned three, The Princess has brought home a potty chart in her backpack. This evil little scrap of paper loves to mock all of our efforts, and I love to hate it.
I suppose I should really say, "I loved to hate it."
Why, you may ask? See for yourself.
That's right. A perfect record. It only took two and a half years at school, and - damn it - it was worth every single second of the wait.
I suppose I should really say, "I loved to hate it."
Why, you may ask? See for yourself.
That's right. A perfect record. It only took two and a half years at school, and - damn it - it was worth every single second of the wait.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Potty Training, Picture Day and the Death of a Dishwasher
Buckle up, folks...this post is gonna be a rambler. ;)
Since we talked last week, a lot has happened. We've continued our daily trips to the local state parks, and The Princess continues to love it.
Don't believe me? Here's your proof:
Go ahead...just try to tell me that's not a happy kid.
She is still a major fan of the stroller rides, and I'm so unbelievably proud of her. Are you sitting down? No? Grab a seat. I'll wait.
Not only is our girl rockin' the big girl panties every day, but she's decided to take things up a notch. She now stops what she is doing, gets up, runs to her potty, goes, pulls up her drawers, removes the pee bucket from the pink froggy, and attempts to empty it into the toilet herself. Without being prompted. I mean, like, all by herself.
I know. I almost plotzed the first time it happened. And the second. And the third. I think I'm finally starting to get used to it.
Just shy of five and a half years of wearing diapers every single day...and it was so totally worth the wait. Sure, it took years of grueling potty training, but when this girl gets something, she gets it. There are no words for the pride I feel.
***
Thursday was Fall Picture Day at school. I have a hard time saying that without a snarky little whine creeping into my voice. Autism + Picture Day = Hell On Wheels for everyone involved. At least, that's been my experience over the last couple of years.
Unbelievably, this year seems to have been different. I'll have to reserve my final judgment for after we hear back from her teachers, but it doesn't seem to have thrown her at all.
Five minutes before our alarm was set to go off on Thursday morning, The Princess woke up and started singing. As we walked into our room, I noticed that her hair looked amazing. Yes, my girl, the one whose bedhead is epic and can last for days, woke up with not one single hair out of place.
We cruised through our morning routine with no hiccups, The Princess cooperating every step of the way. She even chose her own outfit for her school picture.
After putting her on the bus with her backpack and an in-case-of-emergency change of pants, The Hubbs and I returned to work.
No phone calls. No emails. No panicked correspondence of any kind. For Picture Day, it was eerily silent.
And then her bus arrived at the end of our driveway. She greeted us with a smile and a song, still wearing the outfit she had chosen that morning and giving no indication that anything remotely out of the ordinary had happened.
We were warned in advance that this year's pictures would be taken in the gym, and that this can often be unbearable for at least some of the kids in the autism program. No kidding. We live with one. Big, cavernous space + lots of antsy kids + waiting in line and being expected to do specific things = the mother of all meltdowns just waiting to happen.
But there was nothing. She was happy. No notes from teachers, aides, therapists. No worried calls from school nurses.
Nothing at all.
I can't wait to see this picture, y'all.
***
And in totally non-Princess-related news, we've been fighting with our dishwasher for some time now. We received it as a hand-me-down about six years ago. and I couldn't have been more thankful. There was no way we could have afforded one at the time, and, hey...it was free.
Over the last five or so years, I've torn that machine apart more times than I can count. My momma didn't raise me to be a needy little girly-girl, so I dive head-first into repairs in my own home the way she always has with hers. Probably a month and a half to two months ago, the dishwasher started acting up again, and I just didn't feel like I had time to check it out. Fast-forward to September, and The Hubbs and I were just totally O-V-E-R the idea of hand-washing everything. All meals in our little yellow house are made from scratch, and we do a lot of crock-potting and baking.
Something needed to be done.
I ripped apart the dishwasher yet again, pulled diagnostic codes from its onboard computer, flipped it on its back, removed and tested all of the electrical components and came to a decision. The capacitor and pressure switch alone would cost over $100 (plus shipping), and I didn't even know if that would fix the problem or not. My first attempt - replacing the heating element - didn't do it, so my usually sunny outlook was gaining more than a little cloud cover. With so many things testing in the bad-to-dead range, I was afraid there was a short somewhere in the machine.
Never one to give up, I called every store in the area that carries dishwashers. I found one for $224 - brand new - and borrowed Momma's truck. A few hours later, our new dishwasher was running the first load of dishes, and it does a great job. In fact, I'm listening to it now.
And, can I just say that I'm feelin' pretty good about myself here? I'm no helpless girly-girl, for sure, but this is the first time I've done this type of project from start to finish completely on my own. Between the mechanical, electrical and plumbing aspects of the job, this has inflated my ego just a smidge.
***
All in all, I'd say it was a good week in our little yellow house. But I can seriously do without any additional appliance weirdness for a while. Here's hopin' the next week is on the quiet side, and we can have lots of uninterrupted family time.
Since we talked last week, a lot has happened. We've continued our daily trips to the local state parks, and The Princess continues to love it.
Don't believe me? Here's your proof:
Go ahead...just try to tell me that's not a happy kid.
She is still a major fan of the stroller rides, and I'm so unbelievably proud of her. Are you sitting down? No? Grab a seat. I'll wait.
Not only is our girl rockin' the big girl panties every day, but she's decided to take things up a notch. She now stops what she is doing, gets up, runs to her potty, goes, pulls up her drawers, removes the pee bucket from the pink froggy, and attempts to empty it into the toilet herself. Without being prompted. I mean, like, all by herself.
I know. I almost plotzed the first time it happened. And the second. And the third. I think I'm finally starting to get used to it.
Just shy of five and a half years of wearing diapers every single day...and it was so totally worth the wait. Sure, it took years of grueling potty training, but when this girl gets something, she gets it. There are no words for the pride I feel.
***
Thursday was Fall Picture Day at school. I have a hard time saying that without a snarky little whine creeping into my voice. Autism + Picture Day = Hell On Wheels for everyone involved. At least, that's been my experience over the last couple of years.
Unbelievably, this year seems to have been different. I'll have to reserve my final judgment for after we hear back from her teachers, but it doesn't seem to have thrown her at all.
Five minutes before our alarm was set to go off on Thursday morning, The Princess woke up and started singing. As we walked into our room, I noticed that her hair looked amazing. Yes, my girl, the one whose bedhead is epic and can last for days, woke up with not one single hair out of place.
We cruised through our morning routine with no hiccups, The Princess cooperating every step of the way. She even chose her own outfit for her school picture.
After putting her on the bus with her backpack and an in-case-of-emergency change of pants, The Hubbs and I returned to work.
No phone calls. No emails. No panicked correspondence of any kind. For Picture Day, it was eerily silent.
And then her bus arrived at the end of our driveway. She greeted us with a smile and a song, still wearing the outfit she had chosen that morning and giving no indication that anything remotely out of the ordinary had happened.
We were warned in advance that this year's pictures would be taken in the gym, and that this can often be unbearable for at least some of the kids in the autism program. No kidding. We live with one. Big, cavernous space + lots of antsy kids + waiting in line and being expected to do specific things = the mother of all meltdowns just waiting to happen.
But there was nothing. She was happy. No notes from teachers, aides, therapists. No worried calls from school nurses.
Nothing at all.
I can't wait to see this picture, y'all.
***
And in totally non-Princess-related news, we've been fighting with our dishwasher for some time now. We received it as a hand-me-down about six years ago. and I couldn't have been more thankful. There was no way we could have afforded one at the time, and, hey...it was free.
Over the last five or so years, I've torn that machine apart more times than I can count. My momma didn't raise me to be a needy little girly-girl, so I dive head-first into repairs in my own home the way she always has with hers. Probably a month and a half to two months ago, the dishwasher started acting up again, and I just didn't feel like I had time to check it out. Fast-forward to September, and The Hubbs and I were just totally O-V-E-R the idea of hand-washing everything. All meals in our little yellow house are made from scratch, and we do a lot of crock-potting and baking.
Something needed to be done.
I ripped apart the dishwasher yet again, pulled diagnostic codes from its onboard computer, flipped it on its back, removed and tested all of the electrical components and came to a decision. The capacitor and pressure switch alone would cost over $100 (plus shipping), and I didn't even know if that would fix the problem or not. My first attempt - replacing the heating element - didn't do it, so my usually sunny outlook was gaining more than a little cloud cover. With so many things testing in the bad-to-dead range, I was afraid there was a short somewhere in the machine.
Never one to give up, I called every store in the area that carries dishwashers. I found one for $224 - brand new - and borrowed Momma's truck. A few hours later, our new dishwasher was running the first load of dishes, and it does a great job. In fact, I'm listening to it now.
And, can I just say that I'm feelin' pretty good about myself here? I'm no helpless girly-girl, for sure, but this is the first time I've done this type of project from start to finish completely on my own. Between the mechanical, electrical and plumbing aspects of the job, this has inflated my ego just a smidge.
***
All in all, I'd say it was a good week in our little yellow house. But I can seriously do without any additional appliance weirdness for a while. Here's hopin' the next week is on the quiet side, and we can have lots of uninterrupted family time.
Monday, September 24, 2012
The Princess and the Pee: Part Two
Whatever you do, don't read this out loud. She'll hear you, and the spell could be broken. I hesitate to even type it.
Remember when I told you about how long The Princess has been using diapers of some kind?
And then when I got all excited about our recent potty training efforts and the leaps and bounds our girl has made?
For the last solid week, The Princess has been prancing around her world sans training pants. Did you hear that? We're only using Pull-Ups at bedtime now.
She's using the potty consistently, and there's a glint in her eye that says she gets it. She's proud.
She even holds it when we're out for a walk at the state park. For two hours.
On Saturday, she had her first pit toilet experience (You know, the ones that are like glorified outhouses? The ones that blow cold air up your butt and look like a 41-lb skinny minny of a thing could fall right in and never make it out? Mm-hmm. One of those.).
She'd been riding in her stroller over some really rough terrain for a couple of miles. We're talking straight up and down, bumpy stuff...yeah, that's right, we took her all-terrain stroller on the most difficult part of the trails. And it was awesome. I can still feel it in my shoulders.
We came up to a potty house, and The Hubbs and I could tell it was going to be pit toilets by the look of it. The Princess, however, hadn't experienced these things before. As I ran with her to the potty, she was getting visibly more excited by the moment. Her bottom was dry, and she was getting antsy.
I opened the door, she took one look around and tried to bolt. Fortunately, I caught her and was able to explain the situation. She very cautiously walked around the toilet on all sides, casting suspicious glances into its fragrant depths before looking up at me with one last plea.
"I can tell you have to go potty, Princess," I told her. "It's either this or have an accident in your pants, because it's going to be a while yet before we get back to the big building where we started."
She thought about this for only a moment before dropping her pants and hoisting her little bottom up onto the tall pot. The look on her face as the cold air hit her bottom was priceless.
It took a few seconds, but she went. And went. And went.
Grinning from ear to ear, she hopped off the pot and pulled up her panties and pants. She then proceeded to do laps around the toilet in an effort to figure out how to flush. I did my best to explain that this kind of toilet doesn't have a flusher, and she listened intently.
Finally, she decided that closing the lid would have to do. Leaving the little outhouse, we skipped back to her daddy, hand in hand, to complete our hike.
If my pride isn't evident through my words, maybe hers will be in this picture.
I am so unbelievably proud of this little girl, and I am once again in awe of how much the little things impact our lives every single day.
After nearly five and a half years of diapers and three to four years of potty training, we've arrived. I can't imagine any other victory that could be this sweet.
Remember when I told you about how long The Princess has been using diapers of some kind?
And then when I got all excited about our recent potty training efforts and the leaps and bounds our girl has made?
For the last solid week, The Princess has been prancing around her world sans training pants. Did you hear that? We're only using Pull-Ups at bedtime now.
She's using the potty consistently, and there's a glint in her eye that says she gets it. She's proud.
She even holds it when we're out for a walk at the state park. For two hours.
On Saturday, she had her first pit toilet experience (You know, the ones that are like glorified outhouses? The ones that blow cold air up your butt and look like a 41-lb skinny minny of a thing could fall right in and never make it out? Mm-hmm. One of those.).
She'd been riding in her stroller over some really rough terrain for a couple of miles. We're talking straight up and down, bumpy stuff...yeah, that's right, we took her all-terrain stroller on the most difficult part of the trails. And it was awesome. I can still feel it in my shoulders.
We came up to a potty house, and The Hubbs and I could tell it was going to be pit toilets by the look of it. The Princess, however, hadn't experienced these things before. As I ran with her to the potty, she was getting visibly more excited by the moment. Her bottom was dry, and she was getting antsy.
I opened the door, she took one look around and tried to bolt. Fortunately, I caught her and was able to explain the situation. She very cautiously walked around the toilet on all sides, casting suspicious glances into its fragrant depths before looking up at me with one last plea.
"I can tell you have to go potty, Princess," I told her. "It's either this or have an accident in your pants, because it's going to be a while yet before we get back to the big building where we started."
She thought about this for only a moment before dropping her pants and hoisting her little bottom up onto the tall pot. The look on her face as the cold air hit her bottom was priceless.
It took a few seconds, but she went. And went. And went.
Grinning from ear to ear, she hopped off the pot and pulled up her panties and pants. She then proceeded to do laps around the toilet in an effort to figure out how to flush. I did my best to explain that this kind of toilet doesn't have a flusher, and she listened intently.
Finally, she decided that closing the lid would have to do. Leaving the little outhouse, we skipped back to her daddy, hand in hand, to complete our hike.
If my pride isn't evident through my words, maybe hers will be in this picture.
I am so unbelievably proud of this little girl, and I am once again in awe of how much the little things impact our lives every single day.
After nearly five and a half years of diapers and three to four years of potty training, we've arrived. I can't imagine any other victory that could be this sweet.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Another Victory
With the exception of a handful of days, we've been swimming every single day this summer. Living a couple of blocks off the lake has turned out to be our saving grace this year. The Princess couldn't be happier than when she's in the water, and The Hubbs and I have come to depend upon it as well.
Our plans for Labor Day weekend included one thing: swimming. We wanted nothing more than to see how many hours we could spend at the lake over these last four days.
And then...
On Friday afternoon, we were at our neighborhood beach for about ten minutes or so before a guy came by on his boat telling us that he had received an email saying that the lake had been closed due to a bloom of blue-green algae that can be harmful to people.
We got out of the lake and went home, showering thoroughly to avoid any adverse effects. Checking the all-knowing Internet, our fears were confirmed: the lake was closed until further notice.
This is how we had planned to spend the long weekend:
Instead, we had to come up with alternatives. There were quite a few hits and quite a few misses along the way, but one alternative afternoon activity just kills me.
On Sunday, our girl was restless. She saw me outside watering my flowers and began to fuss. I called inside to The Hubbs, and we decided it would be a good idea to let her play in the sprinkler. She came out in her favorite ruffle-bottom bathing suit and had an absolute blast.
Our front yard is fenced in, so it's pretty great for our purposes. We let The Princess have her fun where we could keep an eye on her from the living room. Every couple of minutes, we'd see our girl grinning and running through the sprinkler, happily stimmy-fliddling little droplets of water.
And then...
The Hubbs peeked out the front window and exclaimed, "What the...?"
Well, naturally, I had to get up to see what was going on. And, boy, am I glad I did.
Stepping out onto our front stoop, I took in the view. The ruffly bottom of our girl's swim suit was lying discarded near the sprinkler, and she was streaking across the front yard and cackling at the top of her lungs.
Once we wrangled the streaker, we noticed something else was awry.
Mm-hmm.
The only question at that point was: where is it?
I took her inside, plopped her on the pink froggy potty to finish her business, cleaned up her little bottom, and got her set up with a new pair of panties and a Pull-Up. Leaving her with The Hubbs, I took a strip of TP out into the front yard to commence my search.
There it was, not far from where we caught her running, smack in the middle of the front yard. As I bent down to pick it up, this whole situation struck me as the funniest thing I'd ever heard.
I mean, here we are, trying so very hard to potty-train our girl. Each day, we celebrate tiny little victories like thinking to pull our pants down when we have to go.
Really, what was so wrong with this? In the middle of the front yard, in full view of the road and all of our neighbors, our little girl dropped trou and pooped. Because she had to.
It's all in our perception, y'all. This could have been a hugely negative experience for some people, but me...I prefer to see it as another victory.
Oh, and P.S. Her doggies are very proud of her. They've decided she's finally worthy of the title Bulldog In Training.
Our plans for Labor Day weekend included one thing: swimming. We wanted nothing more than to see how many hours we could spend at the lake over these last four days.
And then...
On Friday afternoon, we were at our neighborhood beach for about ten minutes or so before a guy came by on his boat telling us that he had received an email saying that the lake had been closed due to a bloom of blue-green algae that can be harmful to people.
We got out of the lake and went home, showering thoroughly to avoid any adverse effects. Checking the all-knowing Internet, our fears were confirmed: the lake was closed until further notice.
This is how we had planned to spend the long weekend:
Instead, we had to come up with alternatives. There were quite a few hits and quite a few misses along the way, but one alternative afternoon activity just kills me.
On Sunday, our girl was restless. She saw me outside watering my flowers and began to fuss. I called inside to The Hubbs, and we decided it would be a good idea to let her play in the sprinkler. She came out in her favorite ruffle-bottom bathing suit and had an absolute blast.
Our front yard is fenced in, so it's pretty great for our purposes. We let The Princess have her fun where we could keep an eye on her from the living room. Every couple of minutes, we'd see our girl grinning and running through the sprinkler, happily stimmy-fliddling little droplets of water.
And then...
The Hubbs peeked out the front window and exclaimed, "What the...?"
Well, naturally, I had to get up to see what was going on. And, boy, am I glad I did.
Stepping out onto our front stoop, I took in the view. The ruffly bottom of our girl's swim suit was lying discarded near the sprinkler, and she was streaking across the front yard and cackling at the top of her lungs.
Once we wrangled the streaker, we noticed something else was awry.
Mm-hmm.
The only question at that point was: where is it?
I took her inside, plopped her on the pink froggy potty to finish her business, cleaned up her little bottom, and got her set up with a new pair of panties and a Pull-Up. Leaving her with The Hubbs, I took a strip of TP out into the front yard to commence my search.
There it was, not far from where we caught her running, smack in the middle of the front yard. As I bent down to pick it up, this whole situation struck me as the funniest thing I'd ever heard.
I mean, here we are, trying so very hard to potty-train our girl. Each day, we celebrate tiny little victories like thinking to pull our pants down when we have to go.
Really, what was so wrong with this? In the middle of the front yard, in full view of the road and all of our neighbors, our little girl dropped trou and pooped. Because she had to.
It's all in our perception, y'all. This could have been a hugely negative experience for some people, but me...I prefer to see it as another victory.
Oh, and P.S. Her doggies are very proud of her. They've decided she's finally worthy of the title Bulldog In Training.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
The Princess and the Pee
Once upon a time, there was a little girl named The Princess. She was super-sweet and unbelievably adorable, and she was diagnosed with autism at a very young age.
By the age of five, she was nonverbal and still wearing Pull-Ups. Her momma and da knew it would be hard, but they were beginning to burn out on this whole potty training business after starting it when The Princess was about two years old.
And then one day, something clicked. Momma put a pair of panties on under The Princess's Pull-Up, and she finally started to get it. She still had accidents, but not nearly as many as before, and she seemed to be getting better and better as time went on.
This made her momma and da very happy.
Kindergarten started - The Princess's third year in school, if you can believe it - and she kept improving. The Fabulous Mrs. G. didn't send home any wet pants or notes regarding misbehavior in the first two weeks. In fact, the only note that she did send said that The Princess had taken herself to the bathroom twice during the school day, without any modeling, prompting or coaching from any of the staff members in the room.
Things were looking up.
Then, twice in one week, The Princess pooped in her little pink froggy potty.
And everyone lived happily ever after. The end.
By the age of five, she was nonverbal and still wearing Pull-Ups. Her momma and da knew it would be hard, but they were beginning to burn out on this whole potty training business after starting it when The Princess was about two years old.
And then one day, something clicked. Momma put a pair of panties on under The Princess's Pull-Up, and she finally started to get it. She still had accidents, but not nearly as many as before, and she seemed to be getting better and better as time went on.
This made her momma and da very happy.
Kindergarten started - The Princess's third year in school, if you can believe it - and she kept improving. The Fabulous Mrs. G. didn't send home any wet pants or notes regarding misbehavior in the first two weeks. In fact, the only note that she did send said that The Princess had taken herself to the bathroom twice during the school day, without any modeling, prompting or coaching from any of the staff members in the room.
Things were looking up.
Then, twice in one week, The Princess pooped in her little pink froggy potty.
And everyone lived happily ever after. The end.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Who's Counting?
5 years, 3 months, 27 days: this is the current running count of how long we've been using diapers of some sort in this house.
1: this is the number of children in this house.
10: this is about the average number of diaper-type contraptions she's gone through on a daily basis for the last 5 years, 3 months, 27 days.
Some days, it gets so frustrating I could just scream. There are those days when it seems like every time I turn around, she's wet. No matter how many times she sits on her pink froggy potty (with this cute little face that mocks me relentlessly), she just can't seem to make it happen.
And then there are other days. It's like a switch; we're going to have a good day or a bad day. There is no in between. Typically, the stellar days are followed immediately by the rip-your-hair-out fests that leave us all exhausted by dinner time.
We have a budget for Pull-Ups, which we routinely break, but somehow I just can't bring myself to raise that number.
44: the number of generic potty training pants in a package that should last us two weeks in between paychecks.
13: the number of generic potty training pants remaining after less than one full week.
These were the numbers running through my head as The Hubbs and I discussed where the extra "dipe money" was going to come from last week (for those of you who are interested, we raided our gas fund).
Something has got to give. The Fabulous Mrs. G insisted at the end of last school year that our girl had no need for Pull-Ups at school anymore. We didn't understand how. Home has always been different somehow. Home is the land of regression and slipping effortlessly into old habits.
We've tried everything at one point or another. Everything.
Somehow, it seems like we consistently try things too early, and if we have the presence of mind to revisit them at a later date, we're nearly always pleasantly surprised.
And that's the phase I'm in right now: pleasantly surprised.
4: the number of days our girl has been wearing panties (under her generic potty pants)
3: the average number of soiled panties/dipes per day since we started this time
3: the number of dry nights in a row, including last night
I'm aware of the fact that these things ebb and flow (pardon the pun), and that I just need to roll with it. I'm aware of the fact that The Princess is not any of the other kids I know who were potty-trained at lightning speed during any part of almost four years we've been working on this skill in our little yellow house. I'm aware of the possibility that typing this all out loud could very well invite a hair-pulling bad day back in where things have been going so well.
I'm aware of all these things, but I just had to share this with you. Why? Because I really think you'll understand. Because, even though things are going well, sometimes it's easy to dwell on the negative.
Because, without sitting down and putting this into words, I wouldn't be able to see the biggest number clearly.
5 years, 3 months, 27 days: this is the running count of how long I've been a momma, the running count of time since my world changed forever. This is the running count of my new life, of time elapsed at the most important and fulfilling job I'll ever have.
But who's counting?
1: this is the number of children in this house.
10: this is about the average number of diaper-type contraptions she's gone through on a daily basis for the last 5 years, 3 months, 27 days.
Some days, it gets so frustrating I could just scream. There are those days when it seems like every time I turn around, she's wet. No matter how many times she sits on her pink froggy potty (with this cute little face that mocks me relentlessly), she just can't seem to make it happen.
And then there are other days. It's like a switch; we're going to have a good day or a bad day. There is no in between. Typically, the stellar days are followed immediately by the rip-your-hair-out fests that leave us all exhausted by dinner time.
We have a budget for Pull-Ups, which we routinely break, but somehow I just can't bring myself to raise that number.
44: the number of generic potty training pants in a package that should last us two weeks in between paychecks.
13: the number of generic potty training pants remaining after less than one full week.
These were the numbers running through my head as The Hubbs and I discussed where the extra "dipe money" was going to come from last week (for those of you who are interested, we raided our gas fund).
Something has got to give. The Fabulous Mrs. G insisted at the end of last school year that our girl had no need for Pull-Ups at school anymore. We didn't understand how. Home has always been different somehow. Home is the land of regression and slipping effortlessly into old habits.
We've tried everything at one point or another. Everything.
Somehow, it seems like we consistently try things too early, and if we have the presence of mind to revisit them at a later date, we're nearly always pleasantly surprised.
And that's the phase I'm in right now: pleasantly surprised.
4: the number of days our girl has been wearing panties (under her generic potty pants)
3: the average number of soiled panties/dipes per day since we started this time
3: the number of dry nights in a row, including last night
I'm aware of the fact that these things ebb and flow (pardon the pun), and that I just need to roll with it. I'm aware of the fact that The Princess is not any of the other kids I know who were potty-trained at lightning speed during any part of almost four years we've been working on this skill in our little yellow house. I'm aware of the possibility that typing this all out loud could very well invite a hair-pulling bad day back in where things have been going so well.
I'm aware of all these things, but I just had to share this with you. Why? Because I really think you'll understand. Because, even though things are going well, sometimes it's easy to dwell on the negative.
Because, without sitting down and putting this into words, I wouldn't be able to see the biggest number clearly.
5 years, 3 months, 27 days: this is the running count of how long I've been a momma, the running count of time since my world changed forever. This is the running count of my new life, of time elapsed at the most important and fulfilling job I'll ever have.
But who's counting?
Monday, December 12, 2011
3...and the Potty
Three days until graduation.
*
So many things happened this weekend, I don't really even know where to start. I guess I'll just start at the beginning and split into separate posts for each accomplishment.
Really. They're all that big.
Well, here goes.
After work on Friday, I looked at The Princess and asked her if she had to go potty. I wasn't expecting any more of a reaction than simple eye contact. I'm not new here. I know how this goes.
Not only did I receive the expected eye contact, but she also smiled, walked across the room, pulled her pants down, sat on her pink froggy potty, and went.
For those of you who may be missing the magnitude of this event, let me spell it out a little more clearly for you.
My girl followed a verbal request. My girl. Verbal. No coaxing. No leading. No modeling. I asked her something, she immediately understood, and she did it.
Now, going on past experience, I'm well aware of the fact that these breakthroughs can sometimes be a shot in the dark. Some people call them "Elvis sightings," a term with which I am in love. It's the perfect explanation. You never know when or where they're going to happen, but when they do, it's amazing. And you never know if they'll happen again. Like, ever.
Let me just reassure you here: this was no Elvis sighting. By Sunday, she was pulling her pants down and walking to the potty herself when she had to go. Okay, so the sequence is something we have to work on. We don't want her letting the cat out in public to show she has to go potty, but, hey...this is progress.
Baby steps, y'all. Gigantic, wonderful baby steps.
*
So many things happened this weekend, I don't really even know where to start. I guess I'll just start at the beginning and split into separate posts for each accomplishment.
Really. They're all that big.
Well, here goes.
After work on Friday, I looked at The Princess and asked her if she had to go potty. I wasn't expecting any more of a reaction than simple eye contact. I'm not new here. I know how this goes.
Not only did I receive the expected eye contact, but she also smiled, walked across the room, pulled her pants down, sat on her pink froggy potty, and went.
For those of you who may be missing the magnitude of this event, let me spell it out a little more clearly for you.
My girl followed a verbal request. My girl. Verbal. No coaxing. No leading. No modeling. I asked her something, she immediately understood, and she did it.
Now, going on past experience, I'm well aware of the fact that these breakthroughs can sometimes be a shot in the dark. Some people call them "Elvis sightings," a term with which I am in love. It's the perfect explanation. You never know when or where they're going to happen, but when they do, it's amazing. And you never know if they'll happen again. Like, ever.
Let me just reassure you here: this was no Elvis sighting. By Sunday, she was pulling her pants down and walking to the potty herself when she had to go. Okay, so the sequence is something we have to work on. We don't want her letting the cat out in public to show she has to go potty, but, hey...this is progress.
Baby steps, y'all. Gigantic, wonderful baby steps.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Progress
The Princess is four and a half years old.
Every day since she was born, The Hubbs and I have continued pulling diaper duty. Sure, she's been wearing Pull-Ups since we started potty training three years ago (please don't ask how that's going right now), but they're diapers just the same.
Just a rough estimate: 1642 days of changing diapers so far.
And just when I thought changing time could no longer surprise me, for the first time ever, she lifted her butt to help me get her new diaper on.
It was earlier this year, and somehow it managed to go unmentioned.
She has done it every day since.
Progress in my world may not be the same as it is in yours. Here, it's the little things, the ones that so many people take for granted, which bring the most pride and joy.
Every day since she was born, The Hubbs and I have continued pulling diaper duty. Sure, she's been wearing Pull-Ups since we started potty training three years ago (please don't ask how that's going right now), but they're diapers just the same.
Just a rough estimate: 1642 days of changing diapers so far.
And just when I thought changing time could no longer surprise me, for the first time ever, she lifted her butt to help me get her new diaper on.
It was earlier this year, and somehow it managed to go unmentioned.
She has done it every day since.
Progress in my world may not be the same as it is in yours. Here, it's the little things, the ones that so many people take for granted, which bring the most pride and joy.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
She Went
Since July 2009, we've been muddling through the oh-so-fun task of potty training. There have been ups, there have been downs, and there have been countless dollars spent on Pull-Ups. I should have bought stock in Huggies.
The Princess never "got" the potty chair idea in the beginning. It didn't click, so we started her on the Big Girl Potty, you know, the one Momma uses. For nearly two years now, we've been plopping her on it and she's been sitting there looking like someone who is waiting for a bus. You know the look: a vague middle-ground stare that's not quite bored but not quite engaged. Sometimes she goes, but most times she doesn't.
I've often wondered if she understands it at all.
Back in May, The Princess and I went into the Big Bad City with JAK, Nana and Grampy for Walk Now for Autism Speaks. On that trip, I was impressed by the JAK method of road-trip pottying. They bring their little potty chair with them, and when K has to go she tells them. They stop and get out the potty, she goes, and it's taken care of. No foreign toilets, no fruitless search for a rest stop, no waiting in line...and - best of all - no loudly echoing toilets to scare anyone.
After the Walk, K proclaimed her need for the potty before heading home to Nana and Grampy's house in the suburbs. The Princess watched and looked at me.
Why not?
When K was done, The Princess took her turn. And went. I was so proud of her, and we made a big deal out of it. There was much giggling and grinning involved.
Back home, the battle has continued. We think to put her on the potty only after she's gone, or if we happen to catch her with a dry Pull-Up, nothing happens when she's on the throne. Inevitably, we all give up just a smidge too soon, and she ends up going in her Pull-Up mere minutes after sitting on the pot.
And the Pull-Ups aren't the only things getting soiled around here.
She's figured out that she doesn't like the feel of a wet Pull-Up, so she disrobes and goes. In her room. On her bed. Wherever she may be. I'm proud of her for taking that one step in the right direction - pulling off her bottoms - but The Hubbs and I haven't been able to help her understand that she needs to let us know when she has to go. She just does it. There have been days where she's gone through 2-3 sheets on her bed, simply because she's gone when she's had to go. And number two? Don't even get me started on number two. I'm shuddering just thinking about the messes we've had to clean up from that.
Oh, what I wouldn't give for the gift of language.
Recently, The Hubbs and I began talking about getting a new potty chair, similar to the one K had at the Walk. The Princess had used it properly, so maybe if we got one like it, well, it couldn't hurt, right?
Turns out that particular potty chair is a bit out of our price range, but we were able to find one similar. And - bonus - The Grumps offered to get it for her this past weekend. It certainly couldn't hurt to try, right?
On Sunday evening, The Grumps stopped by for dinner (flounder, Spanish rice and broccoli -- pretty stinkin' tasty, if I do say so myself!) and brought this little guy with them:
We put her on it a couple times Sunday night with one teeny-tiny success at the end. Could it be?
Last night after work, I put her back on the pink froggy, and she went again. I made a big deal about how awesome she was, and I let her flush the toilet after dumping the cup from her potty. She was ecstatic.
You think that's cool? Keep readin'.
And then (drumroll, please), while The Hubbs and I were reading on the loveseat, The Princess quietly walked into the living room and began to disrobe. She freed herself of her pants, then her (dry) Pull-Up. She stood there for a minute, seemingly unsure. I told her it was okay and helped her down onto the seat. Where she peed. Full-out peed.
She knew she had to go, so she stopped what she was doing and walked into another room, took off her bottoms, got on the potty and went.
The Princess never "got" the potty chair idea in the beginning. It didn't click, so we started her on the Big Girl Potty, you know, the one Momma uses. For nearly two years now, we've been plopping her on it and she's been sitting there looking like someone who is waiting for a bus. You know the look: a vague middle-ground stare that's not quite bored but not quite engaged. Sometimes she goes, but most times she doesn't.
I've often wondered if she understands it at all.
Back in May, The Princess and I went into the Big Bad City with JAK, Nana and Grampy for Walk Now for Autism Speaks. On that trip, I was impressed by the JAK method of road-trip pottying. They bring their little potty chair with them, and when K has to go she tells them. They stop and get out the potty, she goes, and it's taken care of. No foreign toilets, no fruitless search for a rest stop, no waiting in line...and - best of all - no loudly echoing toilets to scare anyone.
After the Walk, K proclaimed her need for the potty before heading home to Nana and Grampy's house in the suburbs. The Princess watched and looked at me.
Why not?
When K was done, The Princess took her turn. And went. I was so proud of her, and we made a big deal out of it. There was much giggling and grinning involved.
Back home, the battle has continued. We think to put her on the potty only after she's gone, or if we happen to catch her with a dry Pull-Up, nothing happens when she's on the throne. Inevitably, we all give up just a smidge too soon, and she ends up going in her Pull-Up mere minutes after sitting on the pot.
And the Pull-Ups aren't the only things getting soiled around here.
She's figured out that she doesn't like the feel of a wet Pull-Up, so she disrobes and goes. In her room. On her bed. Wherever she may be. I'm proud of her for taking that one step in the right direction - pulling off her bottoms - but The Hubbs and I haven't been able to help her understand that she needs to let us know when she has to go. She just does it. There have been days where she's gone through 2-3 sheets on her bed, simply because she's gone when she's had to go. And number two? Don't even get me started on number two. I'm shuddering just thinking about the messes we've had to clean up from that.
Oh, what I wouldn't give for the gift of language.
Recently, The Hubbs and I began talking about getting a new potty chair, similar to the one K had at the Walk. The Princess had used it properly, so maybe if we got one like it, well, it couldn't hurt, right?
Turns out that particular potty chair is a bit out of our price range, but we were able to find one similar. And - bonus - The Grumps offered to get it for her this past weekend. It certainly couldn't hurt to try, right?
On Sunday evening, The Grumps stopped by for dinner (flounder, Spanish rice and broccoli -- pretty stinkin' tasty, if I do say so myself!) and brought this little guy with them:
We put her on it a couple times Sunday night with one teeny-tiny success at the end. Could it be?
Last night after work, I put her back on the pink froggy, and she went again. I made a big deal about how awesome she was, and I let her flush the toilet after dumping the cup from her potty. She was ecstatic.
You think that's cool? Keep readin'.
And then (drumroll, please), while The Hubbs and I were reading on the loveseat, The Princess quietly walked into the living room and began to disrobe. She freed herself of her pants, then her (dry) Pull-Up. She stood there for a minute, seemingly unsure. I told her it was okay and helped her down onto the seat. Where she peed. Full-out peed.
She knew she had to go, so she stopped what she was doing and walked into another room, took off her bottoms, got on the potty and went.
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