Tuesday, October 25th, 2011
Author’s Note: Join me every Monday as I share Fia’s ongoing milestone (mis)adventures–from potty training to talking to everything in between. Mayhem and mischief guaranteed on Milestone Monday!
We have progressed on potty training. Fia has moved from pooping on the floor to pooping in the shower. It happened a few days ago.
We were showering and her training potty was right outside the shower door. She lifted her left heel up, as she so daintily does when she’s about to poop, and out came the turds. On our pristine tile.
I threw the door open and grabbed the potty, pulled it in, and was able to catch a few more turds as she proudly plopped them out of her and into the toilet. Is this progress? I’m not sure. But I cheered anyway. So did the toilet. The music went off and Fia started to wave her arms in a dance. The Happy Poop Dance.
I then screamed for Phil, who came in and cheered too, then helped me clean her and our shower up.
We move next week so this poop party will be put on hold. In the meantime, I must share my friend’s potty training trauma. She may actually need therapy to recover. Here goes:
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A Fi Grows in Brooklyn, Milestone Monday, Mom Situations, Must Read
Monday, October 17th, 2011
Wonder What Elmo Thinks of This??
We haven’t started officially potty training yet. But we did buy the little toilet. Glad I made the purchase, since Fia loves to throw her little Sesame Street figures in it. When Elmo hits the bottom of the bowl, the toilet thinks she pooped. And out comes a tune. The “Pooping Elmo,” I call it. Maybe Hasbro wants to talk to me. I may be onto a great new marketing strategy.
At any rate, I figure with the L.A. move this week, potty training is the last thing we need to deal with. Especially since last night the following, um, “event” occurred:
I sometimes take Fi’s diaper off, close to bedtime, just to let her “air out” a little bit. I call it our “Buns free, watch me pee” time. That’s because at least a few times a week, she stands next to the potty and watches her pee cascade down her leg onto the floor. Last night, she became an overachiever and took it a step further.
As I was heating up her bottle, I heard something rare in our house: silence. When your toddler stops making noise, you know something is going on. I slowly turned around, scared to see what mischief she was up to, only to find her lifting one leg (like a dog), crapping on the floor. I shrieked. She laughed. Then, thinking this was a fun game, she began to step in it. I rushed over and grabbed her, aiming straight for the shower. But she somehow slid her butt down on my pants. So I’m literally covered in chunks of her s—t. (Is that too graphic? Sorry, but it’s the truth of motherhood).
I’m happy to say we both survived the s—t show. And in my true clean freak self, I scrubbed the floors with rubbing alcohol to disinfect the area (and scrubbed us both down as well—with soap, not alcohol. I’m not that bad). But this doesn’t make me particularly excited about potty training. I’m sure this is chapter one of many.
I know you all have your poop and potty-training stories. This was just my entrée into this exciting, smelly world. So let me hear them. We all need to add some humor to our Monday, right?
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Tuesday, November 30th, 2010
December 2, 2010
I’m sitting here surfing websites looking at a desk for myself, a stocking for Fia, where Ulaanbaatar is located…. basically anything to distract me from thinking about what’s coming up.
I’m not an overly sentimental person. The other day I went to toss out some of my husband’s old t-shirts. He stopped me.
“You know those are from when I was a kid.”
“So?” I replied.
“So, I want Fia to wear them someday.”
“You aren’t sentimental about anything,” he said, exasperated.
This same conversation occurred when I threw out some old journals and letters I had written to friends in college (not to date myself, but that was before we had email).
“Don’t you want to keep that stuff?” he said.
“Why would I?” was my reply.
So I find myself in new, unfamiliar, and even frightening territory as the clock ticks towards Thursday, Dec 2.
That’s when Fia turns ONE.
Why is this milestone so hard for me to grasp?
Is it because she gave me the hardest 4 months of my life, followed by the best 8?
Is it because I yearn for her like I’ve never yearned for anything?
Is it because I can’t even remember what life was like before her?
I’m used to being decisive, answering questions, taking action. And now, I find myself completely stumped.
Then there are the cravings. I crave her warm little body. I crave her snorts. Her laughs. Her hugs. Her smile.
I crave her essence and spirit.
It hits in a deep and primal way.
It is both gut wrenching and magical.
And no matter how much she satiates me, I crave her more. I want—and try—to eat her up. Yet I’m never full.
Maybe on this Thursday I stuff myself silly.
I watch how in awe she is of herself when standing on her own two feet. Alone. And how proud she is when taking those first steps. Without my help. It’s a glimpse of what will become and I love it. I’m her biggest cheerleader. And yet, I can’t help but feel, well, sentimental. Sigh. And teary. Double sigh/sob.
Fia stands alone
What troubles me is time seems to slip away so fast and there’s nothing I can do about it. There are no boulders or dams big enough to stop the clock…and why should there be? This is life. The last thing I want to be is indulgent. I know how good I have it. I know how fortunate I am. How blessed. But this is my reality and how I feel. I can’t help myself.
Maybe this Thursday is about acceptance. And embracing what is. That just one year ago this lovely creature was born into my world. When they put her in my arms I whispered, I know you. And now I realize I always have. And always will.
This baby girl—this almost 1-year-old—is showing me the time of my life. Who am I to ask time to stand still when I’m having the time of my life? I gotta buckle up and enjoy the ride. And I do. Small sob. And I will. Smaller sigh. Bigger Smile.
Happy Birthday, Baby.
I asked a couple of my other mom friends whose babies are also turning 1 how they felt about this landmark. Here are their responses. Once again, their words comfort me and let me know I’m not in this journey alone.
To be honest I hate that Gracen is turning 1. I’m feeling very scared that time is moving so quickly; that even when I’m exhausted and need a break she is still the most important thing/person in my world. I keep thinking that when she’s 1 and 2 and older and older I will become less and less able to snuggle her and kiss her and keep her all to myself. What’s that called? Selfish I guess? Turning 1 feels so much bigger than 11 months; it feels like she’s not going to be a baby anymore and that’s hard because whenever I pictured myself with kids I always pictured a baby…so I haven’t written the rest of the story you know? Like what does 1 look like? What should I expect?
I’m happy that she’s made it to this day, I’m just sad that she’ll lose her baby face, her baby ways, her ability to remain perfect and innocent. Now I have to discipline her, worry if she’s learning at the correct rate, get her into a preschool. I think it’s hard because now I have to parent instead of just snuggling and making sure she doesn’t eat the plants. Which of course means as she grows and changes so will our relationship.
People tell me that it keeps getting better, and I don’t doubt that but I’ll miss my baby as a baby and I’m really glad I got to see all of her first moments because time just won’t stop and wait for me to emotionally catch up.
I thought I was handling the milestone very well. Overall, it’s really getting better every day as he gets older and more independent and more fun. I am excited to see him get bigger and start talking and expressing himself. But last night after I put Teddy to bed I started bawling to Brian about how someday Teddy would leave me (like, to go to college in 18 years) and how I could not handle that.
Then I said, “We have to have another one. I’m too obsessed with Teddy, I need to spread it out more,” which of course freaked him out. Clearly I am not as cool about the whole thing as I thought I was and that surprises me.
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