Here is the news I want to tell you: today while volunteering at McKenna's school with my kids, ZimDee jumps up from his chair and runs into the bathroom at the school and says "pee-dee in the toilet!" Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he announced in public his intention to pee, and then did so in the school restroom. Hallelujah!
I had brought a dry change of pants just in case there was an acci-dent, but there was no need for such trivial things. (But you know if I hadn't have brought them, I would have needed them.)
Then when we got home I told him to go pee-dee in the toilet. He did, and I told him to go poo-dee too. (This withholding phenomenon had me worried). Well, he didn't poo-dee, but he did toot, so at least I know that he knows the correct terminology and plumbing parts to use.
When the Count got home from work he came downstairs and I said "Guess what ZimDee did today?" and he said "Poo-died in the toilet?" so of course that took the wind out of my sails that the boy only let out a puff of air. In the course of our conversation, this very clever little boy escapes to another floor of the house before his parents were even aware that he had done so. If there was ever a time for a complete poop-a-ganza, complete with confetti and the like, now would be the time. The Count and I raced up the stairs and found the bathroom door closed. Bathroom=good, but no guarantee. Many's the time I have scrubbed poo-dee doo-dee from any and all facets of that room. But *angels singing* ZimDee was sitting on the toilet, doo-deein'. Very nonchalantly. My heart rejoiced. The boy has figured it out. This is a very, very good thing. And now I'm going to do a bit of shameless patting myself on the back for a job well done.
I do truly hope that this weekend's trip doesn't screw up everything I've worked so hard to accomplish all week. You all know that if I had my way, there is no WAY we would be going; #1 because I hate to go there anyway and #2 because I don't want to take any sort of chance that anything could jeopardize this hard-won victory. But marriage is a compromise, and it's my turn to give. Then, boy you better believe, it will be HIS turn next. The only thing that could make this trip any worse for me now (and there is a distinct possibility of this) would be that my mother-in-law would decide to come back home with us and stay for a couple weeks. Now, don't get me wrong, I do truly love my mother-in-law, our relationship is also a hard-won victory. But it is very hard to have her in my house day-in and day-out when she looks solely to me for her entertainment. She doesn't drive, so when she wants to go somewhere I have to pack up all the kids and follow her around from store to store until she finally finds the right chuck roast after hours of pondering. By then my kids are cranky and starving and she still wants to go to five more places and is making comments about how come my kids are cranky, and why is Sprout so skinny. Then we finally get home and I'll make the kids something fast to eat like pb&j so they don't pass out, and she wants to know how come all my kids eat is pb& j (false) and how come Sprout is so skinny. Then I'll sit down to nurse Sproutie and turn on the TV to keep my mind off of wanting to run far far away, and she'll say she wishes she had time to watch TV all day, and how come Sprout is so skinny.
But I have discovered something wonderful about my mother-in-law, something I nurture and enable every chance I get: she is obsessed with knitting. That alone gives her points in my book and allows me to overlook many of her thoughtless comments. Because I choose to believe that she doesn't really mean half of the things she says. If you know differently, please don't correct me. This particular la-la land is serving me well. No, she is not a snobby knitter. She will work with any pointed stick and $1.25 per skein yarn that you throw her way. With gusto. And I love her for that. But please, ma, please could you visit some other time? My sanity is only so-so right now. (Actually, I'm not sure that it ever reaches 100%, but hey.)
But for now I'm not going to borrow trouble. I'm going to bask in the glow of my parenting skills and celebrate the victory of a potty-trained little unit. And I hope that when Sproutie's time comes I will remember that yes, even ZimDee took to the toilet eventually.
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5 comments:
Hooray for potty training. My own little man will "usually" keep his big boy pants dry, but he saves his poop for his diaper at bedtime. I've tried forgoing the nightime diaper, but then he just pees the bed and doesn't poop for days. I just keep reminding myself that no one goes to kindergarden in diapers. You deserve a big pat on the back for surviving potty training, and some new yarn.
hahaha, I like the way you think. I DID see some yarn that caught my eye the other night in knitting group--possible I could consider it my reward?
I totally laughed through your entire post Unka Shaina! I'm very proud of ZimDee! Does it really matter their age though? I mean just as long as they START goin' in the toilet, right? Hows McKenna and her school? And exactly how old is Sprout now? Sheech I lose track with babies, I don't know why... YAY ZimDee! :-) :-) :-)
TRUE LIES
I cant beleive nobody said anything yet.
Thisis the scene when the terrorists (the actor who played the lead terrorist in fact, was one of James Bond's allies in The Living Daylights) are gatthered around listining to a speech by the lead terorist, and Arnie is translatong the speech to his wife.
I can even tell you why you like this line so much. In honor of visiting you in-laws, the count may be witnessed using the "blah blah blah" technique when translating vietnamese.
Oh it is good to be me.
Ah the old poo for wallpaper technique. You'll have to ask my mother, but I think I heard a story of either my or my siblings (possible it was all of the above) tried redecorating our room in this fashion. I may be tinking of something else though.
Tim, you are correct! Extra points for setting the scene, and for remembering why I like it so much. Doesn't the Count act just like Ahnold in that movie? It scares me sometimes.
And yes, it was you and your brother who tried to become novice poo decorators. It's never been established whose idea it was, because your mother came upon the scene after the craziness started. To add insult to injury, she was pregnant with your sister and already nauseated without your assistance. I will bet you money right now that your child will do the same. Bravo to you. What would you like for your prize?
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