Potty Party Time

So, I think Solly is house trained. Meaning, he's potty trained decently well in the house, while naked or in undies. But I'm not convinced he can hold it for more than the 5 seconds it takes to rush him to the potty after he says he has to go. So, I'm not convinced we can actually take him anywhere without a diaper. But for right now, I'll take my small victory.

We'd been giving him a couple minutes to play on my iPad as a reward after successfully producing something on the toilet. Which worked in many regards because I really didn't want to use a food reward, but he dislikes stickers, and I couldn't think of another reward that he'd consistently care about (though I wish I would've done something movement-based like when we help him jump really high, or spin around in circles, or something like that, which anyone can do anywhere without any props). Anyway, this presented a slight problem, because we won't always have the iPad around when we're out and about, and obviously he won't have it at daycare. It also often creates the problem of trying to take it away at some point before he has to pee again. I can often distract him with something else and sneak the iPad away, but it has caused more than one tantrum when I have to take it away. So yesterday and today I started to try to mix up the reward system while simultaneously weaning. So, the expectation is that something good will happen, but it's not necessarily always the same thing. So that makes life easier (for me). I'm also trying to delay the time he gets the reward (after he pulls up his undies, after I clean the potty, and after I try to distract him with another toy instead), and if he doesn't ask for something, I certainly don't offer (which happened twice today).

The reward variability has, however, lurked us over into food territory. Which I really, really didn't want to do. But it all started with Trader Joes. My trunk door kept hitting one of my grocery bags as we were trying to pack up and leave, so I ended up taking out my container of chocolate covered raisins which was falling out and being troublesome. I put it on the roof of the car so that I could close the door, and started putting Solomon in the car. He kept talking about how he wanted beans, and I'm looking all over for bees, something big, or anything he might be talking about before I realize he's calling my raisins 'beans.'

So, then we got started with giving a bean for poop on the potty. Sigh. But it's half fruit. So it's healthy. Right? Right?

I know, I know...

It's been a super long time. Sorry.

So what's new? Something weird happened and I started really liking my job again. What happened was that I went on an interview. And I really really loved the clinical director- she would have been a great boss. She was raving about the parts of my personality (namely, my honesty) that have been criticized at my current job. Unfortunately, the job wasn't for me. Although it'd be close to home, the building was much more run-down than my current facility, and the therapy rooms were small, dark and shabby (but not shabby-chic). And... all the the therapists shared one office. I wrote her the next day and turned down the position, siting the longer hours and reduced pay from my current set-up as the reason (which was certainly a large portion of my reason). But even when she dropped my hours and increased my pay rate to more than what I'm making now, I still just didn't think it was the right move for me. Yes, I have issues with my boss, and yes I really really hate my commute. But, damn would I have to have a really awesome opportunity to give up my own office. I have a nice office. Large. Huge window with a view. Privacy to do what I want when I'm not seeing clients: be it eat, take a quick cat nap (shhhh), do yoga, talk to Gerard, play on Facebook, etc. I'm realizing 1) it would take a lot to give that up, and 2)there apparently aren't that many places that give you your own nice large office with a view. Another major consideration is my ability to set my own schedule. While scheduling clients myself is often a huuuge pain, and greatly increases the emails and phone calls to and from parents that I otherwise have to deal with, I've come to rely on it as a deal-breaker for being an almost-single (what we wives of men who work long hours and who are the obligatory go-to parents call ourselves), FT working mom. So, if my 9oclock cancels for next week, then I can schedule a doctor's appointment for that time, and not have to worry about it being filled without my knowledge or consent. Or if I want to go look at a preschool I just reschedule my morning clients and go do it. If my 4 oclock client cancels then I go home. I don't have to get anyone's approval or permission. No one really knows when I'm at work or not, and no one really cares. As long as I bill enough people at the end of the month, when I come to work, and when I cancel or reschedule people is entirely my business. And that's kind of freaking awesome. That would be really, really hard to give up. Basically the only way I'd give that up at this point is if I found a place really close to home that paid well enough to allow me to work significantly reduced hours to the point where I didn't have as many conflicts needing to come in late or leave early, because I'd have short work days. Unfortunately most job postings don't advertise salary or flexibility, and it can be so variable in this field, so if I have any hope of finding something, I have to keep going on interviews. I have another this week; we'll see how it goes.

Sh*t

Have I mentioned I taught Solomon how to say shit?? It's my go-to cuss word when I drop something, stub my toe, etc. Sometimes I hear him say it when he drops something, but I like to pretend he's saying 'shoot' or even some meaningless babble that coincidently sounds like shit. But last night, approximately 3 minutes before company came over to dinner, Solomon and I ran to take out a smelly bag of trash, and came back to find the Kota had eaten or licked or dropped not just one but both pizzas I had just lovingly made (and smelled delicious, PS), it was really beyond my control to yell out sssssshhhhhhiiiiiiiitttttttttttt as loud as possible. Which, of course, prompted little Solomon to yell back 'Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!' non stop until the doorbell rang and he forgot about cussing in favor of flirting with two girls.

Awesome parenting skills at work, I know.

But, lesson learned. If there's a word you really want to teach your toddler, just yell it out in apparent anger. Surely he will pick up on it, too.

Planning

So, I feel like I swimming with my head above water again (is that the right analogy?) and able to look at life more than one day at a time, which is how I feel like I've been surviving for a while now. Gerard and I have been trying, and I feel in a good emotional spot about the actual TTC aspect of everything (that's Trying To Conceive for you non-infertile people). Basically I have granted myself that label because I have met one criterion: I'm not constantly obsessing over it and taking pregnancy tests multiple times a day half a week before my period is even due. So that's pretty good, right? I don't know how mentally prepared I am to actually be pregnant, however. I'm still terrified of freaking out Solomon and ruining a fairly decent family balance we've settled into; I'm freaking out about the cost of childcare for two kids; Mostly I'm freaking out about having another miscarriage, or worse- late-term stillborn. I feel like every time I turn around I hear about someone else losing a baby in their second or third trimester. The thought makes me nauseous. I feel like even if/when I get pregnant again and even if it's a healthy pregnancy, I'll never again experience a happy, relatively carefree and enjoyable pregnancy like I did with Solomon. I'm afraid I'll be next to crippled with fear, and have anxiety over it's health the whole 9 months. I'm not sure how to move past it.

Anyway, I've decided I need to move along with my life instead of constantly being in a state of 'well what if I'm pregnant in 3 months?' etc, when it comes to planning... anything. I'm afraid to train for a race, to change jobs, to enroll Solomon in a FT daycare... I'm afraid to do anything because I don't know how much will change if I do get pregnant/ have a baby, etc. But now I'm resolute to planning the foreseeable future as a regular, non-pregnant person with one child. So that means that one child should go to preschool in the fall (we're going to what I hope will be an awesome preschool's orientation on Tuesday) here in San Jose, and that means I should change jobs and be closer to home and not be so wrapped up into trying to make sure I have maternity benefits by working at a place for more than a year (I also have an interview on Tuesday), and that means I'm signing up for a 5 mile race with Ben this summer- and maybe I'll even up the ante and find a ten miler or something, and that means I have to continue to work out consistently (I think I'm going to coordinate workouts with my old high school running buddy who lives next door). So, yes. Instead of constantly peeing on sticks, and planning what my due date will be if I conceive on this particular day, and how pregnant I may be at one particular event... I'm going to focus my efforts on planning real life events for the real life people in my family. And if we have to make room for someone else in the near future, fantastic.

My third musing

Aha! As soon as I hit 'Publish Post' I remembered my last musing!

Today I left the office for lunch, and our security guard opened the door for me and said goodbye. He's not our everyday security guard, mind you, he's like our sub when our regular guy is out. Point being I don't see him every day, and he doesn't know my name let alone my family situation. Anyway, so he had said bye, and have a good day... and then called out 'Oh and have a happy Mother's Day!'

Sooooo, how am I supposed to interpret this? I'm doing good to say happy mother's day to my own mom, let alone a practical stranger. I guess I'd say it if it happened to cross my mind to a friend who I knew for certain was a mother. But never in a million years would I say this to a random person I didn't know.

Is this something people do? Say happy Mother's Day to anyone and everyone, because presumably everyone has a mother to celebrate? Was I supposed to say 'you too?' Or do people only say it to people who are mothers? In that case, am I supposed to be offended something about my appearance screams 'Mom'??

Those 3 seemingly innocuous words just gave me that annoying and confusing 'I'm probably not supposed to be offended but I kinda am anyway, which probably says more about my own faults and neuroses than anything' feeling. It's one of my least favorite emotions.

2 Random Musings...

1- Ever notice how when you're in the South or East, everyone calls California 'Out West'

But in California everyone (everyone) says 'Back East.' Are you as intrigued by this as I am?

2-Damn. I know I had a second musing, but I've totally lost it. This wasn't it, but I will say that we finally broke down and bought crocs for Solly after one too many fights upon daycare pickup, when he has to release his pair (meaning the extra pair of crocs another family brought in for Solly to wear at daycare to minimize the flights Solly picks with their son as my child tries to steal his shoes... off his feet). He wears them so much at daycare that Aston- the boy who the crocs actually belong to- will go and get them for Solomon to put on when it's time to go, if for some reason he hadn't already been wearing them. So, I begrudgingly ordered a pair that came in the mail yesterday. I pulled them out of the box and Solly's whole face lit up. 'Shoooooesssss!' He was so happy. It made the purchase worthwhile for about 30 seconds, until he reached up for the box on the counter saying 'More!? I want more!' Sigh.

Dissecting the toddler brain

You're nervous already, aren't you? So am I.

So, before giving up and letting Solomon wear his pajama top to daycare this morning, I spent approximately 45 minutes chasing him down to change him, pinning him down to take off his beloved helicopter pajama pants, holding his feet still to put on clean pants while he frantically tried to put his helicopter pants back on, and then listening to him tantrum mercilessly afterwards. His tantrum could have gone on much, much longer (he was inconsolable until I finally wrestled the octopus into a mesh bag so they say by strapping him in his carseat-- the second we started driving he was magically happy again), and I'm still in awe of how only 45 minutes passed on the clock, because I'm pretty sure I aged at least 7 years during this ordeal.

Regardless of his random, spontaneous obsession with his helicopter pajamas, and regardless even his hoarding of about 10 objects he must have in his crib with him, and maybe 5 that must travel with him in the car, there is the one toddler act that drives me the most batty. It's the 'I want shoe! I want shoe! I want shoe!' But when I try to put on his shoes, 'Nooooooo,' when I try to hand him his shoes 'Nooooooooo,' but when I put down his shoes it's 'I want shoe! I want shoe! I want shoe!' So far this morning he's done that with: mama, up, shoe, keys, bottle, teddy, blankie and play doh. It really legitimately drives me bananas. Way more so that any other form of tantrum. At least with your normal, run-of-the-mill tantrums, you have an out. It'll make you a bad mom and susceptible to scorn and ridicule, but you know any second you want to you can make it stop by just giving in and giving him whatever he wants. So you have some little inkling of power or control you feel inside you, even if no one looking on might agree with you on that. But this.... is indefinite. You don't know what he actually wants, so never are you sure in your stance of giving into him, or holding out. Seemingly no one has the power or control, no one is happy, and there is no end in sight to the cyclical trauma of wanting something you don't want the second it is offered but wanting it soooooooooooooo bad when no one will give it to you. Ooof.

So, my question is: why?? Why on earth do toddlers do this? Surely Solomon is not the only guilty party. Please God tell me other kids do this too (really I want to hear that other moms somehow survive this... phase. Yes, that's the key, tell me it's a very short-lived phase.)