'I get beanbeans?'

So, we're potty training. Again.

This is one of my least favorite tasks in child rearing. It involves brainwashing a small, strong-willed person that the way they've been doing things for years is now unacceptable, and that sitting on a large (to them) suction device is the way to go. Literally.

It bites.

Our first put us through 18 months of battling, screaming, pleading hell. I still have nightmares about potty training that child.

The second was a breeze. I took away his diapers about two weeks into changing two kids' diapers, and never looked back. He bought into the whole concept within a weekend. I marvel at how easy that was.

The last one is somewhere between the two. For weeks, we've heard "I cawn't doooooo it!" plaintively said while perched on the big potty. So we hauled out the training potty seat. I was hoping to avoid this, because, honestly, cleaning out the sucker is gross. And a pain. So much easier to do it directly where you want it, kwim?

So, the potty seat's been a hit. I plop her on it, put on SpongeBob, and wait. Unfortunately, this child has better bladder control than anyone I've ever seen.

Thus, I give you the following play, "Extortion by Two-Year-Old, in One Act":




SCENE: Living room. Toys are scattered everywhere. TV is blaring Winnie the Pooh, Classic Version.
Child sitting on potty seat, watching TV. Mother collapsed on couch, arm over eyes, trying to rest.

CHILD, who stands up, happy: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"

Mom gets up, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. After weeks of no output, decides this is probably worth praising, and shrugs, then . . .

MOM: "Good job! High five!" (Child high-fives Mom.) "Okay, let's go get a jellybean! Great job!"

CHILD, who lusts after jellybeans: "I get bean bean?"

MOM: "Yup, great job! You get jellybeans for going potty in the potty! What color?"

CHILD: "Orwange."

Mom gives child jellybean from stash kept on high shelf. Both resume positions held previously, child on potty seat, happily chewing jellybean, mom collapsing on couch to get nap. Silence, held for about two minutes, then five seconds later:

CHILD: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"

Mom, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. Decides to keep up positive reinforcement.

MOM: "Good job! High five!" (Child high-fives Mom.) "Okay, let's go get a jellybean! Great job!"

CHILD: "I get bean bean?"

MOM: "Yup, great job! You get jellybeans for going potty in the potty! What color?"

CHILD: "Bwue."

Mom gives child jellybean from stash kept on high shelf. Both resume positions held previously, child on potty seat, happily chewing jellybean, mom collapsing on couch to get nap. Silence, held for about two minutes, then five seconds later:

CHILD: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"

Mom, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. Starting to sense she is being played, mom says lines in less enthusiasic voice:

MOM: "Good job! High five!" (Child high-fives Mom.) "Okay, let's go get a jellybean! Great job!"

CHILD: "I get bean bean?"

MOM: "Yup, great job! You get jellybeans for going potty in the potty! What color?"

CHILD: "yewwow."

Mom gives child jellybean from stash kept on high shelf. Both resume positions held previously, child on potty seat, happily chewing jellybean, mom collapsing on couch to get nap. Silence, held for about two minutes, then five seconds later:

CHILD: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"

Mom, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. KNOWS she is being played, mom drags herself over to jellybean stash and says:

MOM: "Um, could we do more in the potty next time? You might get more jellybeans."

Child considers, then shakes head:

CHILD: "I cawn't do it."

And scene.

Yup. That's pretty much how it's been going, though we've convinced her that for five jellybeans, she can give up most of the um, product, she's withholding.

Thomas Trains and China

So, my younger two are Thomas the Tank Engine addicts.

We own several hundred dollars worth of table, track, trains, accessories, DVDs. It is insane. But it is one thing my son, and now my youngest daughter, truly loves and plays with, so I buy the darn things almost every holiday and birthday.

Last week's recall really sucked for us.

One television news tease had my husband looking for more details. A visit to the Consumer Product Safety Commission's website confirmed that we owned several of the lead-paint-coated suckers. We spent a few hours comparing a huge bin of trains and other train-related things to the photos on the website.

They've been mailed off for a refund. I'm just annoyed that no one is bothering to do any oversight of the places that they subcontract with. I mean, I can see el cheapo toys not meeting requirements, but Thomas the Tank Engine sets aren't cheap. Those puppies range from $10-$200 each. At those prices, I expect quality and safety. Not some lame answer about how they didn't know.

Back to School

Not the kids.

Me.

As part of my benefits package, I get free tuition. I've never seen how I would have the time, but two summer classes pricked my interest.

If I do two classes, I might as well do the other 10.

So if I blog less, now you know why.

Blame the homework.

Poison Ick

Okay, remember the post below, when I mentioned that I had a few bug bites on my arm that looked awful?

Guess what? Not bug bites.

Poison ivy, poison oak or poison sumac. Not sure which I got into while weeding, but it was one of 'em. And it has been years since I've had poison ivy, so I didn't realize what it was.

Also, the Calamine (tm) lotion we had in the house was left over from when eldest had the chicken pox. In 1997. Apparently that stuff doesn't last 10 years, because it didn't dry up the "bites."

By Saturday, it was bad. I was in St. Louis with the parents, when my dad id'ed the nasty stuff. By Sunday, it was spreading.

By Monday, I called in sick, because I had blisters on both arms, my stomach, and one leg. All up and down all four body parts. I was going through half-a-tube of the new Calamine (tm) lotion at a time.

My doc looked at me, sighed, and decided that at this point, the only thing to do was suppress my immune system. It was attacking everything, not just the original ivy. So I'm on pills to keep my immune system down for a couple of weeks, to let the nasty stuff work its way through my system.

I look like I've bathed in Calamine (tm) lotion. Aveeno baths are my savior. Thank God for Benadryl (tm).

I'll look just fine and dandy for my cousin's wedding. Maybe a pantsuit will hide the worst of it, assuming I can bear to wear it.

It could be worse. This isn't nearly as bad as when I had the chicken pox at 12. Close, but not quite there.

Ahhh. Spaaaaaa.

Today, I cash in my Mother's Day gift: An afternoon at my favorite spa. I can't wait.

I just hope the massage therapist doesn't cringe at my skin. I'm covered in mosquito bites. There was one in the house all week, and it just feasted on my eldest and me. My right arm looks awful.

Maybe I'll bandage that before I go.