Michael Jackson lives!

My three year old son has been potty trained for awhile now. It was pretty easy to do actually. I simply told him one day that we were out of diapers and that he had to start going on the potty. Granted we have had a few set backs since then. For a few nights he had to wear a pull up. That was short lived. Then there was a period of a few weeks where he would poop on the bathroom floor. I still have no idea why but I am thankful he stopped doing that.

His newest issue stems from his recent enrollment in preschool. It is policy that an adult accompany the children to the bathroom. I understand this rule more after seeing some of the children in his class. They are bad and look like they would play in the toilet and possibly carve their name on the stall door. Because of this he thinks that I should take him to the bathroom and wait with him. If he was an only child this may be possible. Unfortunately I have three other kids to attend to.

At first I would try to reason with him and explain how it was just nor possible for me to stay with him the whole time. A week went by and he became increasingly whiny about me not being there. Then out of no where he tells me he can not go by himself because Michael Jackson was in the bathroom. What?! I had to play along. So I walked him to the door and asked him to show me. He opens up the bathroom door and walks over to the toilet and points down in the bowl. Michael Jackson was inside the toilet! He insisted that I flush it before he would even go. Now I do not know where he came up with this but I find it strange and funny at the same time. I have yet to witness Michael Jackson in the bathroom or toilet but this fear has lasted a few weeks. Whats next Elvis?

Showers were so much easier before kids.

I usually take showers late at night when the kids are all asleep. I learned that this is way less stressful than taking one when the sun is up. Last night I was way to tired to attempt to stand in the shower. I figured maybe just maybe I could sneak one in before the baby woke up. No such luck. So when she laid down for her nap I saw this as my window of opportunity. My three yr old was content playing in his room. I let him know that I would be right next door in the bathroom. Soon after I stepped in the shower he threw the door open. I guess he was eager to inform me that the baby is now awake and complaining from her play pen. No worries though cause she is not tall enough to escape from it. Being the good big brother that he is he offered to go in and talk to her until I was finished. I agreed and not even a minute later I could hear the two of them screaming. I shut off the water and I as I was wrapping myself in a towel I could hear my son yelling "HELP ME HELP ME!" I envisioned the baby having him in a death grip or choke hold. Yes she is that mean. The room is just steps across the hall. I quickly pushed open the door to find my son straddled on the side of the play pen. He had brought in one of his ride on toys to use as a step stool. He has not quite learned yet that things on wheels are not really the best thing for that. It must have moved and he lost his footing. Poor little guy landed right on his man parts. I hope he does not have permanent damage or trauma.

Its the little things...

I got my son a new pair of shoes today. Not because he needed them for school or anything after all he is only three. I got them cause I loved them. They were the cutest shoes I have come across. Usually boys shoes are not fun. There are no cute sparkles or gems. No pink bows or lace. I have three girls so when I think of cute shoes that is what comes to mind. My son would have no quams with wearing such cute pretty in pink shoes. He loves to have his hair done with hairspray. Just the other day my two daughters were kind enough to do his makeup. He "lobed it" (loved) as he says about most things. Growing up in a house of all girls must be hard for him. Maybe not so much now but definately when he gets older. I take comfort in knowing that he at least has my fiance as a strong male role model. Yet (in no offense to him) he has lacked personal style. Don't get me wrong pirate apparel is hot but in public it does not always fly. LOL. So I have taken it upon myself to choose clothes and accessories for the both of them.

Back to the shoes. Now I said I bought them because I loved them. I never thought for a second what was to follow. After showing my son the shoes he quickly set them on his lap in the cart and began to point out all the familiar faces. After his display of rapid recall he was insistent that we go and pay for them. When I say persistent I mean every three minutes he was yelling PAY! Once the shoes were paid for and safely in a bag he carried his bag to the car. Held the bag on his lap the entire trip home. Carried them up the steps to the house. Where he quickly pulled them from the bag and began insisting that I put them on him. You already know how the insisting thing goes. I cut the tags laced them up and put them on his feet. I am pretty certain they may be one size to big. It does not seem to bother to him in the least. My son has not been outside at all to play yet he has not taken his new shoes off. He is so proud of his shoes he had me take pictures of them and send them to poeple. It is now bedtime and I am having trouble convincing him to take them off. This is a battle I choose to lose. I want my kids to have a happy healthy childhood. If sleeping with your brand new sweet ass shoes that the best mommy in the world bought for you makes you happy. Then by all means that is what he is allowed to do.

Three years have gone by...

Today my son turned three. It seemed like just yesterday that I was being wheeled into the operating room for an emergency C-section. We almost lost him his heart rate dropped dangerously low. He was a little over three weeks premature. Which made him the smallest baby I have given birth to. He weighed 4lbs. 12oz., the doctors at first were almost certain he was well below 4lbs. Once they fluffed him up and dried him off, as they said, he looked bigger. Three days in the hospital, one day under the billy reuben light for jaundice and one car seat test later we were free to go home. Yet I always feared that something was wrong.
My first son died from cancer at 2 1/2 years old. The thought was always in the back of my head that my second son could be taken away just as suddenly. I would watch him sleep to make sure he was breathing. As he got older I would worry about the size of his head. Was it harboring a tumor that no one knew about? It was even more eery to look at him he could have been a fraternal twin to my first son. Not quite identical but close enough to run chills down your back. I catch myself calling him by the wrong name sometimes. I know he is not him but you can not help but wonder. He seems to recognize people he has never met before. While I know he can not replace my first son he has been such a blessing. Everyday he makes me smile. He is one of the most loving and helpful little boys. Quite like his brother was.
We had a scare a few months ago. It was right around the anniversary of my first son's passing. My son started to have these episodes of throwing up in the middle of the night for almost a week. It seemed to only happen during his times of sleep. I made an appointment with the doctor.
The doctor also found it strange. Things like this usually only happen when something is wrong in the brain. She recommended that we wait a few more days and if it did not get better to take him for a ct scan. My heart sank and I felt sick to my stomach. I clung to my son tighter. I could not go through that again. I knew the anxiety of not knowing would be to much to wait a few days. I insisted we go right away. The doctor agreed but said it may not be covered under my insurance if I did not wait. Did she really think that would deter me? So the next morning we found ourselves in the ct scan waiting room. The poor little guy had no idea what was going on. I told him we were going to take his picture. That was sufficient until we actually got back to the room. He would not sit still long enough so we had to strap him down. I wanted to cry he was just screaming and begging for me to let him out. I layed on his chest and rubbed his ears to try and calm him through the process. What took just minutes seemed like hours at that moment. It took five days for the results. That seemed like an eternity. All that was running through my mind was all the what ifs? What if it was a tumor? What if it was nothing? It was so close to the day I lost my first son. What are the odds that I would get such horrible news about my second son. I tried to stay busy and keep my mind off of those types of things. Finally the call came in everything was normal. The news was great yet I still felt like I had not won yet. I felt like I was running a race. Race against fate of some sort I guess. The end of that race was the age of three. I know it sounds weird but I felt like if we could get to that everything would be ok. I could breathe again. Well this morning we made it. My son blew out THREE candles. At that moment just a small weight was lifted from my shoulders. Though he is not here I feel him everyday and see him in the eyes of my other children.

Potty Training 101

My son will be three in just a few days. Yet he had no urge to start potty training. I had to take over and make it a mandatory thing. Buying two different sized diapers gets pretty expensive. It didn't seem like my eight month old had much interest in walking by herself so I just assumed potty training was out of the question for her. I told my son three days ago that he was out of diapers and I was not buying anymore so he had to use the big boy potty. That statement went over better than I had expected. He did not fuss or whine. I was a little less prepared for what was to come in the coming hours. I only owned three pairs of underwear that santa had got him. Glad I wasn't the only looking forward to no more diapers.
The first two hours of training were spent sitting on the little kid potty seat. We continually pumped him full of apple juice. The theory was if he knew what it felt like to pee in the potty he would just get it. After all he is a smart kid. At the two hour mark he finally relaxed and let it loose. We all did the pee pee dance together. He was so proud of himself. I was so excited I texted everyone and posted it on Facebook of course. The celebration was short lived cause ten minutes later he peed a trail around my entire coffee table. Despite my four hundred questions asking if he had to pee. I changed his underwear and started over. Yet a few hours later I found him in the kitchen with a towel next to him soaking up a puddle. For some reason at first it did not click to me what the puddle was from. I searched for a spilled drink or a leaky air conditioner. Once I figured out what was puddled on the floor I felt a little defeated. But I was not ready to give up yet. What else did I have to do that day anyways. Might as well potty train. I am so happy that I did cause it seemed like he was finally getting the swing of things. He told me every time that he had to go potty and my girls and I dropped what we were doing and manned our stations as I called it. The girls watched the babies. Babies meaning mine and my sisters who I was watching for the night. While I ran and threw my son over the baby gate so he could make it to the potty in time. Every drop of pee was a mini celebration. The grand finale was when he actually pooped. The only thing I forgot to teach him was to wipe his butt. Yep you guessed it he just pulled them up which resulted in poop in the underwear. Not enough to make me gag but enough to change them. I was slowly running out of underwear for him. Bed time came just in time. Pull ups it was. That night I didn't sleep good at all I kept getting up to make sure he didn't have to pee. He went pee twice that night and woke up with a dry pull up. Mission acclompished?
The day was going pretty good only one pee accident and thankfully it was not on my couch. Later in the day he went to his room to lay down and fifteen minutes after he went in there I went to check on him. I opened the door and instantly smelled poop. My worse fears were confirmed, he pooped in his big boy underwear. Underwear is not expensive enough for me to wash and save in instances like this. We bagged them up and threw them away. He was sad about it cause they were his new toy story underwear we bought earlier that day. It was part of his prize for doing such a good job the night before. I revoked the best part of his prize (a toy story beach towel) until he could get it together and not poop in his big boys. Day number three and we are doing good. He even attempted to pee outside today with my nephews who have no problem whipping it out and going. It does not matter where they are park, yard, or street they just go. It was cute to see them all lined up around a pine tree. I hope he is completely potty trained by his birthday. That is more of a present to me than him I guess.