Tinkle, Tinkle Toot!

 

                                           This hedgehog has seen a  lot of crap. Literally.

We have experienced a breakthrough in the battle to potty train.

For the past couple of weeks, every night, after dinner, Sydney would gather up her blanket and her most trusted partner, Henrietta hedgehog (stuffed animal), and disappear into the downstairs bathroom for about 15 minutes. During this time, no one was to disturb her. I tried several times, and I got yelled at and the door slammed in my face.

Somehow, she always emerged with a load of crap in her pants.

She has a regularness that I admire. And she clearly realizes the bathroom is the place to take care of your business. And she doesn’t like to be disturbed, which is the case with most human beings. If you fit in the “other” category – such as the man I once heard conducting business on his cell phone while sitting in the stall next to me at the Philadelphia airport – well, you sir, are disgusting. 

 

Getting her to take the extra step and sit down on the toilet and go to the bathroom seemed impossible. She wouldn’t do it. She’d sit on the toilet for 15 minutes and do nothing, only to get up and two minutes later and soil her pants.

I don’t understand. Who wants to go in their pants when you have an alternative? Who wants to go in their pants at all? Even if I didn’t have an alternative, I’d drop trou and find a bush. Did that once on a Michigan golf course. That is how dire my situation was. Lost a nice golf towel in that debacle.

Brooke’s parents visited for a three-day weekend a few weeks ago. Tired of hearing our potty-training stories, they told us they wanted to give it a shot. I’m sure they thought we were incompetent and they’d be able to step right in and have her trained in a couple of days.

Let’s just say Sydney showed them a thing or two. I think I remember a fit of seismic proportions while locked in the bathroom with grandma.

But we experienced a breakthrough one night last week. Sydney thought it would be funny to, let’s say, “cut the cheese.” However, in the process of grunting and pushing (she learns this stuff from her mama, I swear!), she got a little more than she bargained for and my wife, recognizing this as a teaching moment, rushed her to the potty. She happily did her business and proudly proclaimed that she did “tinkle, tinkle, toot,” just like the potty training book we have been reading.

Of course, this led to loud cheers in our house, like the Cleveland Browns had just won the Super Bowl. (yes, I know the oft quoted joke, if it is Brown (as in Cleveland) flush it down; and I realize the analogy relates Super Bowl to toilet bowl. Just let me dream, people!)

She even got the privilege of flushing it down the toilet and more hoopla with that.

Whatever it takes.

The next day, she proudly announced at child care, “Miss Amber, I did tinkle, tinkle, toot!” And when my wife was on the phone with her parents that night, she had to tell Nana and Papa that she was a big girl and had tinkle, tinkle, tooted.

  

Despite her satisfaction with herself, she has yet to make it regular practice. We’ve had a couple of repeat episodes since then, but mostly a mountain of wet and dirty diapers for daddy to change.

   

Was it easier when we were kids? Or were the methods a little more severe? We all know parenting was tougher back then. No kids seats. Hell, no seatbelts. Smoke blowing in your face during your bottle feedings. A little syringe of whiskey to help the baby sleep through the night.

Things I try to reason with Sydney on were the types of things that earned me a slap on the head when I was a kid and warning that a second offense would garner a trip to Whip City.

Did my dad rub my face in it, like a dog? Understandably, that might speed up the learning process a bit.

I’m open to suggestions if you have any. Otherwise, I’ll stay the course. And stay out of the downstairs bathroom after dinner.

Longing for the Sweet Relief of Narcolepsy

                            If they slept at night, these types of naps would not be necessary.

Life has gotten more complicated in the Gregg household.

If you read this blog, you know Sydney has always been a night owl. She has tormented her mother and I since birth with her inability to sleep through the night. She stays up as long as she can at night and often wakes up crying and screaming a couple or three times during the night.

The other night, we put her in bed at 9 p.m. I fell asleep at 10:30 and she was still awake, sitting in her crib talking to her stuffed animals. Brooke fell asleep a half hour later with Sydney still jabbering away.

I am sincerely glad she does not get us on the other end. While she may stay up as late as her little body will allow, and she is almost always good for a couple “Mommy, I need a drink” or “Mommy, help me’s” in the middle of the night, she is not a kid who wakes up at 6 a.m. in the morning. She’ll sleep as late as 10 on the weekends. This allows us to catch up a tiny fraction.

During the week, we just live like zombies.

Tyson has always been the good sleeper. But, as I said, life is getting more complicated.

Since birth, Tyson has slept in a rock-and-play that sits next to Brooke. Because of his heart issues, we wanted him next to us for monitoring purposes and feeding purposes. At one time, we were feeding him a fortified bottle four times a night. We are now down to three.

We decided a few weeks ago, he needed to transition to his crib in the other room. He’s 10 months old now, and that rock-and-play is too small for him. He no longer likes sleeping on his back, preferring to roll on his side. So, he rarely gets through a night in the rock-and-play without a couple of bouts of crying because he is uncomfortable.

We are trying the crib. He hates it. I think he prefers the snugness of the rock-and-play, or perhaps he just likes having his mom close. Whatever the reason, he pretty much cries as soon as you set him in the crib. Couple that with the fact he is eating more, getting more strength and becoming more rambunctious, and you have another Sydney on your hands. He doesn’t want to go to bed on time, fights you when you put him in the crib and, no matter where he is sleeping, wakes up a couple times each night in a crying fit.

Two kids who think they are rock stars and able to party all night.

Typical night: Sydney jabbers away until 11, Tyson fights us about going to bed after his 10:30 bottle feeding and finally falls asleep at 11-11:30, we wake Tyson at 2:30 to feed him, Sydney wakes up crying about a nightmare or water or whatever at 3- 4 a.m., Tyson wakes up crying about 5 a.m. because he is uncomfortable or unhappy, we wake Tyson at 6: 30 a.m. to feed him and we both get up at that time for work.

And, honestly, there is often at least one more wake up in there somewhere.

The other day, a woman at work said to me, “You always look tired.”

“It is not a look, Jane. I AM always tired.”

My poor wife. She gets the brunt of it. Many times, when the kids wake up, they don’t want me, they want her. Tyson will even refuse his 2:30 a.m. bottle from me, but, if Brooke takes it from me and puts it in his mouth, he will drink it.

Now think about that: these kids are waking up either because they are hungry, terrified by a nightmare or simply as uncomfortable as hell and daddy is still not an option for them.

I am a plague in my own house. Daddies have feelings too, you know.

Mommy may spend more time answering the call than daddy, but she also has the ability to fall asleep any place, any time, in about 30 seconds. She’s still breastfeeding, so it is not uncommon for me to walk out of the shower in the morning to find her pumping and feeding Tyson, with her eyes closed, sleeping while sitting up. It is pretty incredible.

The other night, she had to feed Tyson because he wouldn’t take the bottle from me. I swear, she set that bottle down, placed Tyson in his rock-and-play and was literally snoring within 30 seconds.

There are many nights when, after I feed Tyson or deal with one of Sydney’s outbursts, I lie in bed for another hour and a half just trying to fall asleep. Once I am up, it is very difficult to go back to sleep, no matter how tired I may be. Sometimes I pray for narcolepsy. Or an addiction to sleeping pills.

That’s life in our fast lane. Baby, you can lose your mind.