pick your battles (day 1, potty training)

Today was the day. I was going to potty train Babs. We had all the supplies, I was ready to do this, and it completely fell apart within 45 minutes. When I mentioned it was time to sit on the potty the second time, she cried and expressed deep sorrows. She insisted she didn't have to, but eventually sat down when I bribed her. As we approached the third time I realized she'd had an accident, but by this point she was done cooperating. She wouldn't do anything I asked her, and there was no way she could be convinced to sit on the potty a third time. As I wondered what to do next, Kiddo demanded a lot of attention, and I lost my patience with her. Then Babs and Kiddo started fighting, and Babs started crying again. I put a diaper back on her, and sat in the corner to regroup.

After a while, I decided potty training with this much resistence from my already head-strong child was a bad idea, and I would try again another day. But when you plan to potty train, that's all you do, so then I was unsure what to do with my day. And I knew I needed to do something that would allow me to feel that today had not been a complete failure.

A-ha! I would sort through those three boxes of papers from graduate school. And get rid of all of it, because when will I ever touch it again? Should I get back into academia at some distant point in my future (or even tomorrow), I'll need new stuff anyway, because all my articles and information are already ridiculously out of date. So while Babs was napping and Kiddo was watching TV I opened the boxes. And put one article in the recycling box.

I tried to put a second, but found I was unable to do it. As I stared at the articles, I was compelled by the titles, even though I knew they didn't really match my interests, nor did I think they displayed very good scholarship. Notwithstanding, I couldn't throw them away. That felt like closing the door on that phase of my life. "Did you know I have a PhD?" I asked myself, remembering that at one point in my life I did things that are recognized by the big world as being impressive. (I like what I do. I can't imagine not being home with my kids. But that doesn't stop a part of me from missing the praise of the world a little bit.)

So, I picked a smaller task: clean the toys off Babs' floor. You'll be happy to know I succeeded.

LATER...
At 4:30 Babs walked up to me, and asked to put her underwear on. She happily sat on the potty with each timer ring from then on. She has had no actual success of peeing in the potty, but maybe tomorrow? I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. But she seems to think underwear is okay right now. You never know.

insight to Kiddo - obedience

Today's primary lesson was "I can be obedient." Kiddo is generally pretty obedient, but lately we've struggled as she asserts her independence, and comes up with her own opinions of how life should work. But my husband and I try to remember that she wants to be obedient, and she tries. This lesson to me was driven home by part of the lesson I taught her and her classmates.

Every time a story gave the possibility of someone choosing not to be obedient, she would plug her ears and try not to hear the story.

She not only wants to be obedient, she is bothered by stories of disobedience. So she is trying, and I need to remember that.

answering machine

Babs was pressing the on/off button on our answering machine. With each touch a red light would turn on and off, and a voice would declare that "answers are on" or "answers are off." I thought it was the voice that was enthralling her. I told her to stop because it was time to go to dinner. She pressed it one more time, then came quickly.

"I make it pink," she delightedly announced.

July recap

In July, we traveled to Colorado for a family reunion, then continued on to Utah for some more family time. I am grateful for the ways stars align so we can spend significant time with a lot of our extended family, even though we don't live very close to any of them.

Since we returned home, we've had visits to the doctor, a car that wouldn't start, and another week where Babs had a fever. It finally broke last night, and we are grateful to be on the mend.

Next week holds the promise of potty training, and, well, I guess that's enough for one week.

I would like to blog about some or all of this. But at least I've mentioned it, and that is a start for my extended family history.

I leave you with "hippo mouth" (and the pig Babs kissed to the horror of her daddy), a new favorite face around these parts. I can't even remember how it started, but it makes me laugh every time.

what we're watching

We take turns of who gets to choose what we watch on the TV.

Two nights ago Babs had her choice, and wasn't excited that we insisted that it was Daddy's turn to choose.

"Daddy wants to watch Caillou!" she announced hopefully.

why 2 is great

I find consistent joy with Babs. She is so incredibly strong willed and opinionated, but she is also two, and that can be a delightful age. She is incredibly articulate, and as such we always know what it going on in her head. Every day, she makes me laugh.

As she plays with the dollhouse, I often hear things like:
"No mama, I don't want to take a bath!"
"I come play with you soon."
"I don't want to use the potty!"
There is a lot of conflict in that dollhouse.

When my husband reaches out to touch my shoulder, or hold my hand in the car, she will yell from her seat in the back (well, middle, this is a minivan after all) "No touch! That my mama!" She will continue to yell until her prized possession (me) is left alone.

Today she was screaming for the joy of it. Her daddy told her to stop. She walked up to me with complete sincerity and asked "It okay if I scream for a little bit?" "No," I replied, "Daddy said no." "But I just want to scream a little bit," she countered. I can't remember how we resolved it, but she would not give in. (Luckily, her grandma and aunt called later, and she got her screams out with them.)

A lot of her play revolves around baby and grandma. This is true for her dolls in the dollhouse, and the puppets she loves.

The other night, my husband was watching some older kids (read: 8 and 4) so I could go visiting teaching with their mom. Babs got introduced to some adult themes that night, and so we hear her little voice saying "I kill you!" right now. This was horrifying the first time, but bothers me less and less as I realize that whatever it means to her is far cry from the actual meaning. I'm not sure how to get her to stop saying it though...

She loves to color, especially with "my markers" and loves stickers. She doesn't actually like to draw though. When there is drawing to be done, she makes me draw a "princess" and then "the daddy." She likes to refer to herself as a princess.

She used to hit and pull hair, mostly at Kiddo, but sometimes at my husband and me. While she is not completely cured, we've told her no enough times that she has actually changed her behavior. When she gets mad she will stand there screaming with frustration, but is no longer physical. I'm so proud of her for that.

When it is her turn to pick the song for our nightly family prayer, she always chooses "Temple!" ("I love to see the temple") and then sings along. It is one of her enormous repetoire.

My house is filled with small girls singing. Maybe the lady who held out the cart for me at the store, seeing I was packing a two year old was right. She said "I remember that time. I miss it." Maybe I will miss it. Tonight, it seems possible.

pink!