So we finally started potty training Rocco last weekend. He's 2 1/2 and seems ready for it so we jumped in. When we potty trained Max, I remember it being a very smooth process. The biggest hang-up was buying him prizes for pooping on the potty. Back then, I would have called it "pooing" but since having lived in a testerone-filled house for the last 8 years, I have adjusted to calling it what it is. Yuck.
To prepare, we bought lots of underwear, set aside 2 days of our lives to focus on this big event, and stocked the house with stickers and Skittles. What we didn't prepare for was Rocco being himself.
We started on Sunday and I haven't sounded so excited about underwear since I worked at Victoria's Secret ("We have the teal hipster in your size! What about the matching thong and bra?!") Rocco settled on some new Thomas the Train undies and away we went, with promises of sugar and stickers for successful potty-attempts. The reward for going potty in this house is 3 Skittles and a sticker.
The first moment I realized that Rocco was gaining the upper hand was when I found him stealing the candy. He was at the kitchen table while I was occupied doing something very wholesome and parentlike, I'm sure, like refilling my coffee cup and popping some Advil. He SAID he just wanted to SEE the Skittles. He must have meant see them in his mouth because when I looked over, he looked like a chipmunk with a mouth full of rainbow-colored sugar nuts. He was giggling as Skittles started to fall out of his mouth, which he caught quickly and shoved back into his mouth, before he ran off. The Skittles were put up and I learned my lesson to NOT TRUST ROCCO AROUND CANDY.
My next downfall was the stickers. I keep the stickers within reach because Rocco has never really cared about stickers before. That is until they were being used to count good behavior. We have a sheet of paper on the door for a potty chart. When Max trained, he dutifully placed a sticker on the chart for each time he went potty. This chart became a source of pride and joy for Max - and one we have saved for his senior graduation party. For Rocco, this chart has become a way of showing that he really is the boss in the house. I found him rapidly adding unearned stickers to his chart - when he saw me, he looked up, started laughing and took off with the sheet of stickers. I explained that stickers were only for when he went potty. This explanation was met with a smirk and an unspoken understanding that Rocco would add stickers whenever he damn well pleased.
The final straw was when Rocco learned why little boys have openings in the front of their underwear. Funny what you can poke through there. "Look Mom!" I heard and when I turned to look, I was visually accosted by Rocco's little buddy. "Oh Rock, you need to put your penis away. He stays in your underwear." But it was a lost cause because Rocky had learned that I had a new button to push. I looked to Peter for manly advice - he is a man after all and has learned to overcome the urge to walk around with his penis hanging out. I figured he was an expert with this. This is what I got:
Peter: "Rocco, put your penis away."
Rocco: "Hey Dad! Look at me!"
Peter: "Just ignore him. He'll stop."
Rocco: "Mom! Mom! Look at me! Look at me!"
Peter: "Rocco, if you don't put that away, the cats will bite it."
At this point I was completely appalled. I turned on Peter and scolded him for 1) being gross and 2) totally making up a story to fix this behavior. Now, the cats do bite Rocco because he pulls their tails and tries to sit on them. But they bite him on the arm - not anywhere more sensitive! Let's reason with Rocco instead because I'm not going to make up some blatent lie just to have him put his little guy away (internally I was panicking I'd get a call from his child care teachers about my new little flasher). At this point Petey-the-Cat (a huge maine coon cat) came walking through the kitchen. Rocco gasped, shouted "NO PETEY!" and grabbed his crotch and ran off.
Once I picked myself off the floor from laughing, I realized one thing. While I never want to make up completely unbelievable lies for my children, at least WE learned one thing - Rocco is listening afterall.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
A Memo to Management
To: Senior Management
From: Jenny, Personal Assistant to Senior Management, aka Mommy
Re: Proposal in regards to recent complaints
Thank you for your recent honest assessment of my job performance. I acknowledge the fact that I have been absent one night a week for a total of two hours and I am sorry that my absence has bothered you. I would like to point out that while you have been unhappy that I have gone to a yoga class these past few Wednesdays, my performance in other aspects has been satisfactory and as such, I would like to propose that I continue taking these classes. I would like to support my position with the following facts:
1. For the last 8 years, I have been on call 24/7. While I embrace the fact that this is a job requirement as Mom, I would like to be able to do something for myself during regular working hours. Most employees would receive a break during the day. Usually I take my personal time between the hours of 4 - 6 a.m.; occasionally I would like to step away for a short amount of time between 6 a.m. - 4 a.m., just once a week.
2. Since having children, I recognize that sleep is a privilege, not a right. Please see point #1 regarding my work schedule. I am on-call all hours of the day and at any moment am prepared to jump out of bed to attend a thirsty-request or clean up your puke (which you forget to mention until I stick my hand in it in the dark.)
3. I know that I am away from the house on a regular basis for "work." My job provides your house, food and transportation, among other amenities. I do consider this part of my responsibilities as Mom and do not count this as "personal time."
4. In my spare time while you are sleeping or playing without me, I plan your birthday parties, sleep overs, schedule your camps, make your meals and buy you new shoes. I do not foresee my one-hour of yoga a week impacting my job duties as Mom.
5. I thoroughly enjoy watching your soccer, football, basketball, scouts, music classes and gym classes. I had hoped that one yoga a class for me would be acceptable in our family schedule.
6. This particular yoga class, while it does take me away from you, reduces my stress-levels to something that resembles human again, which I think we can all agree, is a good thing. As you can see in points 1-5, I have dedicated my life to taking care of you and occasionally need to do something for me, however selfish it may appear. This yoga class also addresses another important issue, my body. We do not usually bring this up, as it is a sensitive subject, but creating you has fucked up my body on record levels. I would do it again in less than a heartbeat, but reality must be faced. I have several pounds to drop and a stomach area that requires serious toning. I can live with the 7 inch c-section scar, simply because I can't do anything about it. But I would like to address the other sub-par areas on my physical being.
I hope you will consider my proposal for just a touch of life balance. I hope we can meet over a quick dinner of chicken nuggets to discuss it in further detail. Thank you for your time and consideration.
From: Jenny, Personal Assistant to Senior Management, aka Mommy
Re: Proposal in regards to recent complaints
Thank you for your recent honest assessment of my job performance. I acknowledge the fact that I have been absent one night a week for a total of two hours and I am sorry that my absence has bothered you. I would like to point out that while you have been unhappy that I have gone to a yoga class these past few Wednesdays, my performance in other aspects has been satisfactory and as such, I would like to propose that I continue taking these classes. I would like to support my position with the following facts:
1. For the last 8 years, I have been on call 24/7. While I embrace the fact that this is a job requirement as Mom, I would like to be able to do something for myself during regular working hours. Most employees would receive a break during the day. Usually I take my personal time between the hours of 4 - 6 a.m.; occasionally I would like to step away for a short amount of time between 6 a.m. - 4 a.m., just once a week.
2. Since having children, I recognize that sleep is a privilege, not a right. Please see point #1 regarding my work schedule. I am on-call all hours of the day and at any moment am prepared to jump out of bed to attend a thirsty-request or clean up your puke (which you forget to mention until I stick my hand in it in the dark.)
3. I know that I am away from the house on a regular basis for "work." My job provides your house, food and transportation, among other amenities. I do consider this part of my responsibilities as Mom and do not count this as "personal time."
4. In my spare time while you are sleeping or playing without me, I plan your birthday parties, sleep overs, schedule your camps, make your meals and buy you new shoes. I do not foresee my one-hour of yoga a week impacting my job duties as Mom.
5. I thoroughly enjoy watching your soccer, football, basketball, scouts, music classes and gym classes. I had hoped that one yoga a class for me would be acceptable in our family schedule.
6. This particular yoga class, while it does take me away from you, reduces my stress-levels to something that resembles human again, which I think we can all agree, is a good thing. As you can see in points 1-5, I have dedicated my life to taking care of you and occasionally need to do something for me, however selfish it may appear. This yoga class also addresses another important issue, my body. We do not usually bring this up, as it is a sensitive subject, but creating you has fucked up my body on record levels. I would do it again in less than a heartbeat, but reality must be faced. I have several pounds to drop and a stomach area that requires serious toning. I can live with the 7 inch c-section scar, simply because I can't do anything about it. But I would like to address the other sub-par areas on my physical being.
I hope you will consider my proposal for just a touch of life balance. I hope we can meet over a quick dinner of chicken nuggets to discuss it in further detail. Thank you for your time and consideration.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
An Ode to May Day (or May-Not Day)
Know this post is coming from a place of love for all moms out there...and an intense sense of envy.
I hate May Day. This is a completely worthless holiday designed to divide SUPER-parents from those of us who struggle to just get through the day with no one losing a shoe. For those of you that say that Valentine's Day is a made-up holiday from the card companies, I counter that May Day is a made-up holiday from Dixie Cups and Jiffy Pop, with Parents Magazine as a sponsor. (Because if anything is going to make you feel inadequate, it is a good parenting magazine.) Maybe you say I just like Valentine's Day and Mother's Day because it means I get presents. And maybe you would be right.
In Iowa at least, it is tradition to make special little cups (May Baskets) with goodies, like popcorn, candy and flowers. You place these May Baskets on your neighbor's porch, ring the bell and run. It's a sweet little tradition that I hate now as a mom. I loved getting May Baskets as a kid. But once I became a parent, it was clear that I was not going to be the parent who is "on top of it." I blew my first May Day when Max was in daycare. He received about 10 May Baskets from the other kids. At least there were 16 kids in his class so I wasn't the only underachiever. Every year May Day rolls around and I forget all about it again. And now that I have TWO kids, the pressure has doubled - and I have doubly failed. Today Rocco even got a May Basket (special allowing for his food allergies even!) with homemade paper flowers. And I hang my head in shame.
The thing is, I'm insanely envious of all of those parents out there that are going above and beyond. Most days my "above and beyond" is serving dinner on real plates and including one serving of a fruit OR vegetable. And I desperately want to be the parent that remembers the little holidays, like May Day or Boxing Day. Instead, just for one little day, I am filled with a crazy amount of jealousy of the moms (and dads) that make May Baskets for the entire class. I especially like it when my friends point out how this date was in their calendars so they could allot the three days necessary to make all 16 individualized May Baskets and determine an appropriate delivery method (Friend, you know who you are).
So another year goes by and no May Baskets from our house. And I have now decided to boycott May Day so at least it seems that I am making the CHOICE of not making May Baskets instead of completely forgetting about them. And if that brings me a little peace, then so be it. But please ring my doorbell and leave a little something for my babies. I promise not to sneak and eat their goodies...because a boycott is a boycott. And I can pop my own popcorn.
I hate May Day. This is a completely worthless holiday designed to divide SUPER-parents from those of us who struggle to just get through the day with no one losing a shoe. For those of you that say that Valentine's Day is a made-up holiday from the card companies, I counter that May Day is a made-up holiday from Dixie Cups and Jiffy Pop, with Parents Magazine as a sponsor. (Because if anything is going to make you feel inadequate, it is a good parenting magazine.) Maybe you say I just like Valentine's Day and Mother's Day because it means I get presents. And maybe you would be right.
In Iowa at least, it is tradition to make special little cups (May Baskets) with goodies, like popcorn, candy and flowers. You place these May Baskets on your neighbor's porch, ring the bell and run. It's a sweet little tradition that I hate now as a mom. I loved getting May Baskets as a kid. But once I became a parent, it was clear that I was not going to be the parent who is "on top of it." I blew my first May Day when Max was in daycare. He received about 10 May Baskets from the other kids. At least there were 16 kids in his class so I wasn't the only underachiever. Every year May Day rolls around and I forget all about it again. And now that I have TWO kids, the pressure has doubled - and I have doubly failed. Today Rocco even got a May Basket (special allowing for his food allergies even!) with homemade paper flowers. And I hang my head in shame.
The thing is, I'm insanely envious of all of those parents out there that are going above and beyond. Most days my "above and beyond" is serving dinner on real plates and including one serving of a fruit OR vegetable. And I desperately want to be the parent that remembers the little holidays, like May Day or Boxing Day. Instead, just for one little day, I am filled with a crazy amount of jealousy of the moms (and dads) that make May Baskets for the entire class. I especially like it when my friends point out how this date was in their calendars so they could allot the three days necessary to make all 16 individualized May Baskets and determine an appropriate delivery method (Friend, you know who you are).
So another year goes by and no May Baskets from our house. And I have now decided to boycott May Day so at least it seems that I am making the CHOICE of not making May Baskets instead of completely forgetting about them. And if that brings me a little peace, then so be it. But please ring my doorbell and leave a little something for my babies. I promise not to sneak and eat their goodies...because a boycott is a boycott. And I can pop my own popcorn.
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