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Wednesday, March 7th, 2012
Okay, so I tackled the Diaper Rash update. Now onto Fia’s poop. Ever since her first one a few days ago, it’s gotten harder and harder for her to want to go. She hasn’t peed yet in the potty either. The last thing I want to do is pressure her, but I also don’t think we should give up at this point.
What’s happening is she wants to go, but is scared to go. She says, “I have to poop.” We tear off the diaper, put her on the potty, and after 10 seconds, she says, “All Done.” Okay, we say. And let her put her diaper and pants back on–only to have the same scenario repeated over and over. It can go on for 30 minutes, at which point she gets upset with herself (I think), and starts to tantrum and cry about it. I tell her I don’t care if she poops in the potty. I tell her to put her diaper back on and forget about it. But I think she’s a little overachiever and doesn’t want to disappoint herself. So she cries even more. And then the whole thing gets stretched out for hours.
Eventually she does poop (after exhausting all of us) and we cheer, give her a cookie, etc.
Last night this routine began about 30 minutes before bedtime. Problem is, she never made the poop. We finally put her to bed 45 minutes late. Poopless in LA.
This morning, it started again. Now it’s late afternoon. She still says she has to poop, but hasn’t. She’s going to constipate herself. But more than that, I hate to see her put this pressure on herself. Especially because I don’t give a sh-t. No pun intended. I like diapers. I think they’re cute. I don’t care if she goes in them. But she was giving us the cues that she was ready to start potty training, so here we are. Poopless and frustrated.
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constipate, constipation, diaper, diaper rash, diapers, poop, poopless, potty training, pressure, tantrums, upset | Categories:
A Fi Grows in Brooklyn, Fearless Feisty Mama, Mom Situations, Mom Tricks and Tips, Must Read
Sunday, March 4th, 2012
Fia Looks At Her Poop
I took a picture of poop today. Now that’s a sentence I never imagined writing.
Cleo (my nanny) and I have been working on potty training Fia. Just very gradual and casual. We bought her Pull-Ups and we ask her to tell us before she goes. If she poops in the potty, she gets a cookie. So far she always tells us after the fact. And of course still wants the cookie. Thing is, you can tell when she’s about to go. She stands perfectly erect, lifts up her right heel, and gets this semi-blank look on her normally animated face. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was doing a ballet move. What can I say? She’s a graceful pooper.
“Fia, do you have to poop?” I always ask when I see the stance.
“No!” she always exclaims. Strongly and with passion, I might add.
“But baby, if you poop in the potty, you get a cookie!”
“NO POO-POOS,” she shouts.
Then one of us grabs her and runs her to the potty, knowing it’s probably too late. And usually it is.
However, yesterday we were eating lunch outside together and she had “the look.” We brought out the potty, stripped off her pants and Pull-Ups, and let her run around naked. We kept reminding her the potty was there. Cleo says not to put pressure on her or make a big deal about it until after mission is accomplished. I follow her lead. As she likes to say with everything from tantrums to teething: “It’s the same movie. I watch it over and over and over again.” Bless her. She’s like the mother I never had. And an amazing teacher.
But back to the poop: Fia would run around the yard, come back and sit on the potty, then get up and run again. We didn’t say anything. Finally on about her 6th time, she sat longer and made pushing sounds. We still didn’t say anything, as we didn’t want to make her self-conscious (hmmm…what’s there to be self conscious about? Pooping in public? With an audience? I can’t imagine…).
She stood up and announced, “I POOPED.” Oh did she ever. Without getting too graphic (I really like this blogging job) it was like a horse or a cow’s poo. Wow.
Cleo ordered me to go get the camera and take a picture. Huh? Whhaaattt? But I do as I’m told. (BTW–do you guys take a pic of the first poop? I’ve never heard of such a thing). I then took another one of Fia looking at her poop. Which is the picture I did post.
We all celebrated. Fia and I danced in the yard and she got 2 cookies. This morning as I was breastfeeding Em, she got “the look.” I told her to pull down her pj’s and sit on the potty. I couldn’t help her, as my hands were full. Instead, she pooped in her Pull-Ups and yelled, “NO POO-POOS!” And so it goes….
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Wednesday, December 14th, 2011
Author’s Note: Join me every Tuesday or Wednesday for “Moving Mid Pregnancy,” to read about my ongoing search for a new “everything” (from nannies to mom friends to health providers) while pregnant and living in a new city.
Since we now have a house, a yard and nice weather (to run around diaper-free) I was debating the whole potty training thing again. Ideally, before Baby Leroy (working title) comes onto the scene January 25th.
I’m all for a condensed method and a friend told me about the 3-day potty training. Who out there has tried this? With sleep training, it took less than 3 nights. I can be a stickler. And Fia catches on fast (she’s a girl, after all!). However, I don’t want to set myself–or more so Fia–up for failure.
My new pediatrician said you really have to gauge if the child is *ready*. Fia’s first sentence was “I pooped.” But that doesn’t mean she’s ready, does it? She says, “I pooped” all the time and 9 times out of 10, she hasn’t. I correct her, “No baby, you peed.” Her typical reply is either to stick to her story, ie: “I pooped” …or “I farted.” Silly girl.
She watches me go the bathroom and her little potty is there too, but so far it’s not like she’s taken much interest. I’m just not sure when to push and when to hold back. Any advice or insight? Is there a way to peak her interest in potty training first, then go in for the 3-day military-like method?
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3-day potty training, bathroom, diapers, moving mid pregnancy, pee, potty training, pregnancy, pregnant, sleep training | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Moving Mid Pregnancy, Moving to Los Angeles
Thursday, August 25th, 2011
BOY. Working titles: Little Leroy. Wayne Sanchez Junior. Baby Oops. Found out at 11 weeks when we got the CVS results back.
Fia Gets a Brother
I knew from the moment I got pregnant that it was an XY. I am usually not one of those people with a second sense for this sort of thing. But somehow I just knew.
When the genetic counselor called to tell us that the chromosomes looked normal (whew), she asked if we wanted to know the sex. Yes! I had rehearsed this moment for the past 2 days. I know she is going to say boy, but maybe just maybe, she’ll say girl.
Nope. My instincts were right. Boy. Oh boy.
If I’m being honest, there was a moment of disappointment, of mourning. Maybe it’s because I think we have a better chance of another great baby if it’s the same sex as Fia. Maybe it’s because I wanted her to have a sister. And maybe it’s because I am already so familiar with her. Change is scary.
There’s also a nagging fear with a boy: the most modern of medicine still can’t test for Autism and the rates are so much higher with boys. My husband’s nephew is severely autistic, which I know adds to my worry. But I know there is nothing I can do about it, so just like this “unexpected” pregnancy, I am going with it. I have to. I’m grateful for the tests we could do. And if something is wrong, we’ll deal.
In the weeks since the CVS I have wrapped my head around “boy” much more. Boys love their mammas. They are big snugglers. And puberty will probably be easier to deal with.
But in the meantime, do I really have to look forward to a penis peeing on me when I change his diapers? That doesn’t sound like very much fun.
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autism, baby, baby brother, baby sister, boy, brother, chromosomes, cvs, diapers, genes, genetic disorders, genetic testing, girl, pee, penis, pregnancy, same sex, sex, sister, testing, tests, Wayne Sanchez | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Mom Situations
Wednesday, June 22nd, 2011
I was a bit surprised by the firestorm my blog set off. I was pondering it with my girlfriends Tuesday morning at the playground when a very strange thing happened.
A woman I had never seen came running up to us. She was almost in tears.
“Have you seen a blue baby blanket?” she asked frantically. (Her name is Julie.)
We shook our heads no.
“My sitter took it out with my son today and lost it!! It is his special blanket that was made from yarn we got in Australia. I let them take it because his father had to fly to Australia today and my son wanted to hold it. I even told her to be careful with it,” she said, clearly distraught.
My gals and I looked at each other, mouths hanging open.
“You gotta talk to HER!” my friend Stephanie said, pointing at me. It was like the universe sent Julie to me. Divine intervention reinforcing the point of my blog.
She went on to say, “You know the most ridiculous thing about this? I am paying my sitter to watch my son while I go searching for it.” I nodded. Been there too. It’s on my mom-crutch post.
Now before conclusions are drawn, let’s step back and think for a second what this argument is really about.
It’s about what we moms define as important. And what our expectations are. And it’s okay to agree to disagree. But I think it goes deeper than that. There was an underlying tone and theme in many of the comments. It speaks to the judgment we cast on each other, particularly the Stay At Home Moms versus the Working Moms.
And so begins Part 2 and 3 of my Sitter Chronicles.
Let’s first answer the question– how do things get lost? Sometimes it boils down to an accident. A mistake. And in that case, yes, get over it. But a lot of times it’s because tots fling things out of the stroller, or throw something in the playground. I know the few times I have lost stuff it’s due to texting while strolling (not something I’m proud of). Or not paying enough attention to what Fia is doing. I accept that my behavior is unacceptable. And I make a conscious decision to be better. So are sitters beyond reproach on that? I don’t think so. Because at the top of their job list is to pay attention to their biggest responsibility: The Child. Not their phone or their sitter friends. I believe that is exactly how Julie’s baby blanket got lost. And Fia’s things.
Dear lord. Diapers are a shit storm—literally and figuratively. I heard you all loud and clear on not checking the diaper bag: guilty as charged. Last Saturday was the first time it happened. And it bit me—and Fia—in the butt. It won’t happen again.
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accidents, baby blanket, babysitters, diaper bag, diapers, expectations, judgmental, judgmental moms, lose, lost, lost baby blanket, mistakes, mom, moms, playground, professionals, raising a child, responsibility, sahm, sensible, sippy cups, sitter, sitter responsibilities, sitters, stay at home moms, stroller, texting, texting and strolling, toy stroller, wipes, working moms | Categories:
Fearless Feisty Mama, Mom Situations, Must Read