Potty-Wise

Okay, so we've been working on potty training Olivia for over a year. Last fall, we went through a period where she seemed to be completely trained. Well, except for needing help with every element of going pee/poop.

We could take her anywhere, the grocery store, gymnastics class, to a party, anywhere, and she'd hold it and/or tell us when she had to go. We were pretty much out of Pull-Ups except for at night. (At this point, I'm not sure we'll EVER be out of Pull-Ups at night, for either of them, ugh!!)

But then winter and spring we took a major hit and she back slid to the point that she was back in Pull-Ups almost full time. It wasn't pretty.

My mom was getting so frustrated. She understands that this isn't something we can punish Olivia for. We have no idea how her muscles work, how she feels when she has to go, how much is actually in her control.

But since my nephew, who is a full year younger than Olivia has been trained for about six months, my mom was just about tired of Pull-Ups and cleaning a butt that had poop squished in a Pull-Up for even five minutes.

Hey, I get it. I'm tired of it too. It's gross. And Olivia hates it. She despises having to lay down so we can clean her up after an especially big poop has been squished into a Pull-Up and her butt.

Thankfully, I can report that the last couple of months have been good. She's been doing really well at telling us when she has to pee. When she has a Daddy Day (Tom cares for the girls one week-day each week so my mom gets a break from all kids, all the time.) he takes her to the bathroom every half hour on the dot. My mom and I don't like this method so much because we don't want Olivia to rely on the clock. We want her to learn her own body, to know how it feels when she has to go.

Today...she pooped on the potty. She tried to hide under the table and when I saw her under there, I knew what she was doing. She declared that she had to go and I put her on the toilet. Thank goodness I had an outdated Star Magazine for her to peruse while she did her business (she's a toilet reader, I have no idea where she gets it*) and when she was done she called me in to clean her up.

The clean up is just so much better this way. It just is.

We're learning her signs (you'd think, after four and a half years, we'd have them down, but she's good at changing things the minutes we think we have her figured out) and she's learning her body. Last weekend, she TOLD me when she had to poop. She didn't try to hide, she didn't just go off by herself, she came to me and said, "I have to poop."

Wow.

Now that we have a step-stool in the bathroom as well as her Cushy-Tushy on which to sit, she might be well on the way to being independent as far as her bathroom needs go.

Yes, I know that fall and winter are coming and we may hit another road block but we're getting there. And the older she gets, the stronger and more aware she gets. She's getting there and I couldn't be prouder.

I know, it's sort of sick that I'm so proud of poop in the toilet, isn't it? But when doctors tell you that your child might never be completely toilet trained, it's one of the nicer things to prove wrong. Just saying.

*I SO know where she gets this, but I'm not telling.

The Zoo Zee Zoo

Every year since Olivia was about 18 months old, we've gone to the Fort Wayne Childrens' Zoo in August. We get free passes provided by the Lutheran Hospital of Fort Wayne, where Olivia was a 'guest' for eleven days after her birth.

Alyssa looks forward to this zoo trip from the moment we get home from the last one. This is the only time she ever gets to ride horses and she so loves the horses. She rode Chief, a beautiful brown horse, twice today before we dragged her away to see the actual zoo.

Olivia just likes getting out and spending the day with her favorite people. She goes along gamely where ever Alyssa leads us.

This year was special, though. This year, Tom went with us. For those who know us I just want to say, I KNOW, right?

For our past visits to the NICU party/zoo we were joined by my mom. She's as good as sport as Olivia, letting Alyssa lead the way from one attraction/animal to the next.

We debated whether or not to take the stroller this year. Last year, my mom brought my nephew, who was two and a half. With him and Olivia, we knew we'd need a strolelr at some point so we rented one there at the zoo.

This year, we decided to be safe and ended up taking our own. It ended up carrying our snacks and the backpack that held the extra clothes, my purse and my dead phone. Oh yes, did I mention that we didn't get any picture today because my phone battery was dying and so it wouldn't let me take pictures? Bummer, huh?

But back to the stroller, with Tom coming along, he's all about being prepared and he knows that Olivia tends to get tired. He also knows that when she's tired she wants me to carry her. And when I'm hot and tired and my back hurts from carrying her, I get cranky.

So in an effort to avoid crankiness on my part, he suggested we take the stroller.

It wasn't until the very end, after over four hours of keeping up with the rest of us that Olivia asked to be carried.

My girl is getting stronger, is what I'm saying.

Having Tom along was such a novelty for all of us. Alyssa was the tour-guide, talking a mile a minute, saying repeated, "Don't worry, Daddy, I know where we're going. Don't waorry, Daddy, you'll like this next place. Don't worry, Daddy, this next ride is really relaxing."

I enjoyed him being there because it was nice to share the parenting. My mom is great but I always feel like I have to be hyper-vigilant so that she isn't having to 'parent' my girls.

This is two Saturdays in a row that he's spend the entire day with us, not just around the house but actually going somewhere, spending real time, building memories.

This move was absolutely the best thing we've done.

And for the record, Alyssa can't wait for next year's visit to the zoo.

Little Blue People

Obviously, the title is referring to the Smurfs.

I took the girls to see the movie last week. It was adorable. Seriously. There were parts that Alyssa found so funny she was gasping for breath through her laughter.

One thing I lamented often when we lived so far away from here is that the girls and I neverhad time to actually do anything. We weren't a part of any sort of community, not the community in which we lived and certainly not the community where we worked/went to school.

Now? There's often time to burn, except that I still feel like I'm barely keeping up with housework and I never get enough sleep.

But we make time for things like going to the movie, or to the pool. And it's easier now. We're closer to home and we have family and friends here.

Last night we went into town and attended a local pagent for young girls. Alyssa was fascinated because one of her friends from school was actually a contestant. I think that Alyssa wishes she wants to do that sort of thing. If that makes sense. She's an introvert who wishes she were an extrovert.

It was fun. It was also nice that we were all of four miles from home. When it was time to go home, we were practically already there. No time for anyone to fall asleep in the car, or get bored.

I want my girls to look back on their childhood and see that I made time to be with them. That we did fun things and managed to enjoy each other even as we got our work done.

Balance. In the end, it's all about balance, isn't it? Whether it's food and exercise and balancing your intake with your output or making time for the fun stuff while still getting enough of the work done.

I'm trying to show them balance, teach them that life isn't all work but it also can't be all play. Each day, I try to balance it all. Some days are harder than others. But I try to soak in the easier days in hope of getting ahead so that when the bad days hit, I've got a bit in reserve.

Moderation

Questions of the day: Why do the foods that are good for our bodies taste so bland? Why are the ones that are so bad for us so very, very yummy? Why can't tuna taste like peppermint?

I need to learn moderation. If I were able to practice a little moderation, I wouldn't have had to start this latest 'healthy eating plan.'

I wasn't a heavy child. When I started college at 19, I weighed about 125. By the start of my second year of college, I was 135. And so on and so forth. I like what I like and I like LOTS of it.

As I take this one month, one week, one day at a time, I can't help but look foward to the day when I actually reach a weight at which I'm comfortable. At that point, I'm going to have to figure out how to moderate my eatin.

I don't want to be fat. But I also don't want to deprive myself for the rest of my life.

So...a bit of moderation must be learned, right?

I have to learn to eat one cookie instead of the entire package.

I need to have one peppermint pattie instead of four.

I know, I'm worrying about something that is months and months away. But if I don't start figuring it out now, I'll be a mess when the time comes.

So...moderation. Does it come naturally to most people and I missed out on it in the genetic draw of straws?

It can be learned, right? If not, I'm sooo screwed.

Edited to add: For my own records, in case I get to the point that I need some motivation toward moderation, as of today, day four of my 'healthy eating' program, I am down 5 1/2 pounds. Yay. Only about 60 more to go. But we're not thinking that far ahead, are we?

The Bad Guy

One morning this week, I was in the bathroom, finishing up getting ready for work. I was just about to go into the bedroom and wake the girls when I saw Tom go past the bathroom door. I realized he'd come up to wake them.

Seconds later, I heard Olivia yell, "No!"

I headed to the room to see what was happening.

When I got in there, I asked Tom what he did.

He said, "Nothing. I just rubbed her back."

The one in question, upon hearing my voice, was crawling toward the edge of the bed as fast as she could.

Poor guy.

Tom gets that from the girls all the time.

Now...I wonder if it's a remnant of our time as a commuter family, when the girls and I stayed away from home for three or more nights a week. We did this for eight years, all both girls' lives until this past year.

They got so used to coming to me for everything that even after eight months of us all living together the way normal families do, it's hard for them.

Of course, if you asked Tom, he'd say that it isn't so much our past of commuting as it is the fact that he has to be the bad guy. Or at least that's how he sees it.

He thinks I'm too lenient on most things, such as too much television/computer time, not enough reading, writing, math.

He's the milk nazi in our home. I think milk is disgusting and wouldn't make my worst enemy drink it if they didn't want to. He insists that both girls drink a glass with dinner. I don't contradict him on this. I just am not the one to pour the milk into glasses, take it to the table or sit there staring down a teary child as she chokes it down.

I am, however, the bedtime sheriff. I'm the one who makes sure they bathe regularly and that they are dressed in clean clothes (underwear included, thank you very much.) I'm also the one who makes them clean up their toys and take their dirty laundry to the hamper.

I think we're pretty even, to be honest.

He? Thinks that the girls think I'm the good guy and he's the bad guy.

So I'm trying. I'm trying to be more aware of the vegetables they eat and the television they watch.

I try not to contradict him in front of them, supporting his edicts so that they see that we're a united front.

I know that I wouldn't want to be the bad guy. Not all the time. So I try. It's all we can do, right?

Stepping Up the Drama

Tom had been divorced from his first wife for five years when I met him.

I asked him right from the start if he was over her. He declared that he was very much over her. He said that their marriage ended badly and he'd moved beyond that point.

I pressed the issue a bit, asking him if he was still angry with his ex-wife. I wanted to know because I was not going to let him punish me for whatever crimes he believed she'd committed.

Again, he assured me that he was okay with his past.

And so far, he's never once treated me like he'd probably like to treat her.

But...there's always a but in situations like this.

Even now, eight years into our marriage (so 14+ years beyond their divorce) he doesn't like to actually speak to her. He'd rather I be the go-between.

Usually, this is no big deal, because now that J, J and D are grown, we have no real reason to actually speak with their mother.

Except that with Obama-care, we're (I am, since I carry the insurance!) required cover the younger two until their 26 years old. J is 24. D is 23. Now, if I'm perfectly honest, this isn't that big a deal since we're already paying for famlily coverage. I don't have to pay more for two more 'dependents' than I would if I were just covering myself, Tom and the girls.

Where this is an issue, though, is when J gets herself into trouble.

She's very, very good at getting herself into trouble. And she always expects us (me, Tom, her mom and step-dad) to get her out of that trouble.

As the person who carries the insurance that covers her, I get to communicate with her mom a lot.

I have nothing against Tom's ex-wife. I came into his life years after their marriage was over. I don't mind talking to her about her kids and getting them the help they need.

The problem is that she dislikes my husband very, very much. And every single time we speak, she can't resist saying something nasty or negative about him.

And it drives me nuts. I get it. She was married to the man, she divorced him, she doesn't like him. I get that. Heck, some days he drives me nuts too but...I'm still married to him. I still love him. She claims he was not a good father to the three children they had together.

I wasn't there. I don't know. But I do know that he's a good dad now. And that's what counts to me. It counts to my children.

About six years ago, Tom's ex sent me one of the nastiest emails I've ever received. It took my breath away with its venom, the hatred was palpable. I sent it to Tom and then replied to her with a cc to him, saying, "I am done being the go-between. I was not there during your marriage, I wasn't there during your divorce and I do not have to put up with the anger that flows between the two of you. If you have something to say to each other, do so, but leave me out of it."

And I left it at that.

A year later, she apologized to me for that email and things have been cordial since.

But now...with J's latest issues, the anger is rising again on both sides.

J is costing her mother a lot of money and a lot of heartache. She also calls Tom every other day, begging him to send her money. Her mother has asked strenuously that we NOT send her daughter any money. I've shared that sentiment with Tom. He's torn. He wants to help J. He wants her to get the help she needs. But it's hard for him to say no to her. And...it's hard for him to take orders from her mother and this feels like an order to him.

I sent him an email last week that I got from J's mom. In it, she mentioned that I'd told her that J had asked Tom for money.

He started to get angry with me for sharing that information with his ex-wife.

I stopped him. I suggested that if there were things he didn't want her to know that he be the one to communicate with her because not only can I not read his mind, but I am also NOT going to keep secrets from her as she struggles to get her daughter the help she so desperately needs. She's trying to keep her daughter alive, damn it!

I asked him if defying his ex-wife is more important than his daughter's health.

He backtracked quickly, saying he wasn't mad at me or anything.

I snapped, "You better not be, because you have no reason to be."

Again, he tried to placate me. "I just hate to have her know our business."

"This isn't OUR business," I informed him. "This is J's business. And right now, her business is her mother's business. But again, if you don't like what I'm telling her, YOU talk to her."

He let it go.

Tonight, we're having another talk about J. The trouble she's in, the help she needs, is expensive. And it's costing her mother quite a bit. She's asking us to help. Not necessarily go in halves with her, but to help as much as we can.

Yes, we're already helping by providing the health insurance that is getting her the housing she needs and the medication. But she has fines and other expenses and I know this is hard.

So we'll talk. And I'll be the voice of reason should the old anger rise. And if it rises too far too fast, I'll remind him that he's welcome to discuss this with his ex-wife and leave me out of it.

That always works to calm him right down.

I'm tired of drama. I want J well because I want things to calm down and perhaps, at some point, our interaction with her mother will be non-existent. A second wife can dream...

31 Days

I can do anything for 31 days, right?

I can give up caffeine and peppermint patties for 31 days. Right?

Sure I can.

See, I've done this before. Back in 2008, I lost about 50 pounds over a six month or so period. I did it before, I can do it again.

And this time I'm hoping to actually keep it off.

But I'm taking it one month at a time this time. If, come September 1st, I want a peppermint patty, damn it, I'm going to have one.

Knowing that I'm giving myself that permission, I can do this for a month.

On Saturday morning, I told Tom that I was going to be starting some sort of healthy eating plan come Monday morning. I had to tell him because how else am I going to hold myself accountable?

He asked me if I want him to police me.

I told him no. I said that would just make me mad and we don't want that.

I did tell him that he can support me. He can help me take a little time a few days a week to get out and move, either by going for a power walk or by riding the bike. He can support me by keeping the girls while I do these things. Because walking with A and O? Is not power walking. It's strolling. And while strolling can be delightful, it isn't what my body needs right now.

Day one is going well. I'm staying strong. I'm praying it continues. I can do this. I can do anything for 31 days. One that 32nd day? We'll see. I hope that the results I see this month will be so great, to inspiring that I won't want a peppermint patty come September 1st. We'll see.

I want to be healthy. I want to feel good.

Last night Tom and I had one last binge. Ugh! I ate so much I felt awful for hours after. I felt awful when I went to bed and I felt just as gross when I woke up this morning.

The fresh vegetables I've had today have actually been good to my stomach, they've made me feel better. That's a good start. I want the food I eat to make me feel good, not bloated, gassy, groggy.

I'm so glad that last binge is behind me. Let's see how long that feeling lasts.

31 days. I can do this for 31 days.