How to be a Human Trash Receptacle

“Here you go.”

Evee’s first sentence.  Short, sweet and to the point; enunciated with perfect clarity.  It was also said while she handed me a wrapper she’d found on the floor. 

Despite my happiness at hearing her language skills development, I couldn’t help but think: Isn’t it a little early for this?  I knew previously that children have a propensity to hand their mothers garbage of all kinds, but I always assumed that this came later—like when they’re in their first little league.  Heaven knows I’m still trying to talk Sarah into using a trash receptacle of any kind.

This has become a favorite past time of Evee’s, though.  She likes to rip paper into tiny pieces, then collect them all and hand them to me.  She collects garbage on the street and park as well.  There is an upside to her passing the trash off to me, because I’ve found what doesn’t end up in my hand ends up in her mouth.  Gross! Gross! Gross!!

How to go on a Date With Your Honey

I have to admit, I’m still working on this one.  The actual dating my husband part is fine – we love going out together and having that special one on one time.  Being able to eat a nice meal, without being harangued throughout the prep and cooking time by toddlers, is fantastic – especially considering I don’t have to do the dishes afterward.  I really, really hate doing dishes.  And having a real conversation without being interrupted, pulled on, or whined at is truly priceless.  

No, the part I have trouble with is leaving my children behind somewhere.  There are the really nice moms out in the world who have this problem because they just love their children so much and can’t bear the three hour separation.  I do not have this problem.  Mine is that I feel so terribly for the person we left them behind with.  Because of this my husband and I have hired a babysitter maybe once or twice since we had Sarah three and a half years ago; we don’t feel like we have the money to pay someone enough to cover the experience.  This doesn’t mean we don’t go out, it just means we leave our kids with family, who have to love us and our kids anyways, no matter what.  So far, at least. 

When we drop the two girls off at the beloved grandparent’s house, the first thing Sarah does is bypass any and all affection from her aged relations to take a direct and speedy route to the toy bins.  Within a few seconds these have been dumped all over the living room and beyond and Sarah is transfixed in noisy, violent play.  While this is happening, Evee, who is one and a half, is sucking up all the love she can get from grandma (it doesn’t matter which side of the family, her grandma’s are her favorite people in the world).  Once she feels loved on enough she’ll scramble out of their arms and begin her search of the nearest source of peril: stairs, LEGOs, small change, chemicals, glassware, tabletops, etc, etc, etc.

Jack and I watch the beloved grandparents leap after the children for a few minutes before beating a hasty retreat out the front door.  It’s kind of nice to watch someone else be in charge of the walking horror shows which are my children.  I feel relieved and a little smug as we shut the door and walk to our car, but as soon as we drive off that little knot of guilt settles in my stomach—what have I just done?  My poor parents.  After everything they’ve done for me, I unleashed that on their house and then just walked away.

I know the kids are fine.  They couldn’t care less that mom and dad are gone, and the beloved grandparents spoil them rotten.  I know they are in good hands and that they’re safe, but I think a small part of me is always worrying we’ll come back from the movies and the beloved grandparents will have had enough.  “Didn’t you mention something about moving oversees someday?”  They’ll ask.  “Are you leaving anytime soon?  We’d love to help you pack.”

The threat of continental expulsion from your parents (or worse, in-laws) can make dating somewhat stressful, but it’s still important to do.  And if this worst case scenario ever does come to fruition, you can always take solace in the knowledge that no one in your new country knows your darling children, and you can hire babysitters there for at least a while before they catch on and start charging you double.

How to Potty Train a Toddler

Cute new potty chair?  Check.  Cute new princess panties?  Check.  Sugary incentives?  Check.  Books on peeing in the potty?  Check.  Movies on peeing in the potty?  Check.  Toddler actually using the potty?  Nada.

It was one month until the beginning of preschool, and Sarah had yet to show even the slightest interest in saying “sayonara” to diapers.  This was problematic because per state regulations, a three year old must be toilet trained to be able to attend preschool.  We had waited and waited for her to show interest, as the parenting books promise all children will eventually, but my child had not and she was out of time.  

But what about incentives, you say?  Surely a three year old child would do anything for a piece of candy?  Surely not.  M&M’s and Reece’s Peanut Butter cups held no sway; we even had her on a sugar restricted diet at the time.  It was the only candy in the house, and the only time she could get some of it was when she used the potty.  If memory serves it worked all of once or twice until she realized what this potty training exercise was leading up to. 

This is not where it ended.  We tried everything we could find online or in magazines, we pestered every parent we knew for advice, but not a bit of it worked.  Sarah was on to our tricks and come Hell or high water she was keeping those diapers.

So what did we do?  We took them away anyways.  Just like that.  We had a near naked toddler running around our house for a month at least.  You can imagine the mess this induced –everywhere.  This method is not for the faint of heart. 

To my immense relief she learned how to poo in the potty rather quickly.  The princess panties had caught on and she didn’t like getting them dirty, especially since when that kind of an accident occurred I would cut them off her and throw them in the trash.  Panties aren’t expensive enough to make me deal with that mess.  My devil-may-care attitude about her beloved panties saved us from big disasters most of the time, but it did nothing to stop the torrential currents of urination.  I didn’t even think she drank that much.

We borrowed my mother’s carpet cleaner and used it probably a good ten times a day in the beginning (Sarah would get to help in these cleaning projects).  After a week we were pulling out our hair in frustration, but somewhere in the second week Sarah got tired of having to mop up her own pee and used the potty on her own without any promptings from us.  Woo hoo!  We praised her and gave her candy and hugged her and kissed her and we sang and danced as we flushed the nasty down the toilet. 

No more than fifteen minutes later I was dragging the carpet cleaner back to her room to fix the newest mess.

So, would I recommend this method?  Absolutely not… unless you have to, or if you have a backyard you can keep them in until they figure it out.  Did it work for us?  In the end, yes.  It took about two full months to become completely accident free, but she never peed in the middle of a store or in the car, so I’m counting my blessings.

How to Take Your Kids on a Car Trip

The only thing less fun than trying to plan a fun, family vacation is actually taking the fun, family vacation.  All the screaming and fighting, cajoling, whining, pestering, and complaining, and that’s before the car’s even packed.

There are a few steps you can take to make this a slightly less terrible experience. 

First, pack while they’re sleeping.  While you’re doing the laundry in the week beforehand, put aside any clothes you want to take with you – and when I say put aside, I really mean hide them somewhere where the children won’t be able to find them, unfold everything, and then dump chocolate milk on half of the pile.

The night before you leave you can pull out your stash, stuff it all in a suitcase and straight into the car without the children every knowing there were awesome, exciting things for them to terrorize.

This theory holds true for your second step, which is trying your hardest to find enough things to distract them with during the trip, and then hiding those goodies until liftoff.  Movies, toys, games… mostly movies.  New things will hold their attention longer, but never expect your extensive preparations to completely succeed.  There is no fail safe way to stop the whining, crying, and complaining, which leads me to step three:

Invest in some quality ear plugs.  Or even not quality ear plugs.  Anything will work, really.  They sell small bags of foam ear plugs at most drug stores, and they will most definitely take the edge of the shrieking.  And speaking of drugs, buy some.  There is nothing like a drug-induced coma in the backseat to bring you the best road trip experience ever.  Not that I actually do… ahem… sure.*  Moving right along...

Step four is somewhat tricky, but can totally pay off: invite a favorite relative along.  Our personal favorites are the beloved Aunts and Uncles of our children.  They can sit in the backseat and play games and make faces for hours on end, it turns out; even when they’re exhausted and tell you they can’t take anymore.  Just hand them a pair of ear plugs and tell them to get back to work.  If you really play your cards right, you can make it seem like you’re actually being really nice by letting them come along and talk them into paying their own way.  And if you’re super clever you can drop off the kids at their hotel room one night while you and your honey go out on a kid-free date in a new and exciting place.  Huzzah!

 Step five is to bring more snacks than you ever dreamed you’d need.  A fair amount of whining and crying really can be stopped with a cookie.  Is it healthy?  No way, but that’s what vacations are all about—keeping everyone happy.   Strike that—keeping everyone quiet.  You can throw away any leftover junk and start feeding them carrots again as soon as you get home.  Step 5.1 is to plan enough money into your trip budget to get the car detailed when you get home.  It’s gonna need it.

Traveling with the children will be difficult and harrowing, but it is worth it.  Your kids will gain so much, and whether it seems like it at the time or not, you will grow closer as a family for it.  After all, the family that moves together grooves together.  Or something… 

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* I’m pretty sure the FDA frowns upon drug-induced comas for the children.  Oh, and there’s something or other about it being completely irresponsible and highly not recommended.  Don’t drug your children.  But you’re more than welcome to imagine it all you want.  It could release happy endorphins, making it so you don’t have to drug yourself either.

Introduction

Its 6:45PM, and little Sarah has poked her head out the door once again.  I pause my show and walk over to her.  I’m not angry or upset – I am a robot, mute and unperturbedable.  My face remains an emotionless mask as I take her by her small hand and lead her quietly to bed, tucking her in with just the right amount of tenderness, but not too much.  Then I tip toe out of her room, shut the door, and return to my Tivo. 

For the first week of two of Sarah learning to sleep through the night we had a few ‘incidences’ like the one above every evening, but then one day –like magic!—she just stayed put all night long.  It was a miracle!  We’ve never had a problem since, but if we did we would know just how to handle it.  My husband and I really are the best parents in the world.

Please, please, don’t stop reading here.  I probably would if I were you, but if you give me just another paragraph or two I can explain.

The above is what I thought child-rearing was supposed to be like. It’s what I learned in the stacks of parenting books I read, and what the SuperNanny taught me in late-night re-runs.  There are simple, tried and true methods that will work for any child… as long, of course, the parents have the fortitude and gumption to stick with it.  With the right parenting your child will take a direct route from mommy and me swimming lessons right to their graduation with a doctorate from an Ivy League university.  It’s easy!

I suppose I should give credit to those few parenting books who admit that not every method will work for every child.  In most cases this is a single line or two of “oops, sorry, it seems Heaven bequeathed you some really cute monsters.  Good luck.”

I happen to own one or two of those children.  The eldest, Sarah, is currently three and a half.  When she is happy she is elated, ecstatic, almost past the point of reason.  Her verbage becomes high pitched and consists mainly of incoherent shrieks of glee.   On the other end of the spectrum are grumpy fits of torrential anger, completely untouched by the feared and time-honored “time outs.”  She screams and tears and destroys and spits and sulks like, I thought, only teenagers were capable.  The middle ground of this teeter-totter of behavior is less often seen.  I’ve seen toddlers sit quietly next to their mothers for five or ten minutes at a time, but have yet to ever few such behavior in my own little Sarah Sunshine.

Evee started out calm and peaceful, but she’s been learning lessons at Sarah’s feet on how to push mom’s buttons and destroy all in her path.  She is a good little padawan.

Thankfully, they love as fiercely as they fight, making the good moments that much better.  

Given this background information, I’m sure you’ve surmised by now that the little story at the top of the page is none other than a big, fat lie.  Do Sarah and Evee go to bed by seven?  Most nights.  Is it pretty?  Not on your life. 

This is a short compilation of how I deal with my little monsters.  It probably won’t be of any use to you if you have one too since they all have their own unique way of terrorizing/terrifying/horrifying their parents, but here it is anyways.