My Current Definition Of Happiness

Derek: Well, your son's lucky to have a mom that chose him over her career. I wasn't so lucky.
Haley: Yeah, I'm sorry. We all make different choices and we need different things. I think eventually we learn to define happiness for ourselves on our own terms in spite of the pain other people have caused us. You know?
-Even Fairy Tale Characters Would Be Jealous, One Tree Hill

If I haven’t mentioned it before, I am a One Tree Hill junky. The show sometimes makes me angry with bad storylines, but the quotes that I get from it are heavenly. I sometimes think that my life has been a mix of Peyton Sawyer’s and Brook Davis’ lives from the show – Only because I’ve actually experienced a lot of what they have. It’s weird to watch a storyline on a television show and think – I’ve lived that. Now if only one of them could experience being a step mom – although Brook is currently a foster mom so I guess that’s kind of close enough. Anyway, last week’s episode had the above snippet. It made me feel rather content.

I think my definition of happiness has had quite a makeover. It received the same treatment as The Plan. It was cut here, trimmed here, allowed to grow here and then shaved some more from over there. My definition of happiness has been through quite a lot, and I think that it might be a work in progress.

Reflecting back, I see that at first I thought happiness was landing my dream job. Happiness to me was being the busy, hard working career woman that I was. Around the end of 2007 I began to realize that my career wasn’t happiness. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but I knew that living in an area that I didn’t like breaking my back performing a dream job that wasn’t exactly a dream was not happiness. No way was that true happiness.

And then the boyfriend walked back in. And that was happiness and it wasn’t happiness. It downright reminded me of the line from Shakespeare:

“My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me
That I must love a loathèd enemy.”
-Romeo And Juliet (Act 1, Scene 5)

My love had three boys. And although I have come to dearly love those boys … the situation has brought me great heartache at times. If I stayed in this relationship I wasn’t going to get what I had earlier planned as a happy ending.

And here I am. It has been a little over two months since I’ve moved in. Jumping forward I see that my definition of happiness has a lot of room to grow and change and develop.

But for now happiness is…

• Being with my boyfriend and seeing the smile on his face
• Being able to live with all of my boys, and not have to drive from over 300 miles away to see them
• Having my family with me, and sharing my new family with my family
• Snuggling with my cats on the couch
• Seeing my orchid plant still in bloom (amazingly it is still alive)
• Getting a hug from the boys
• Hearing the boys tell me that they love me
• Hearing the boys tell me they missed me when they come home from Jane's house
• Seeing the confidence on Older Boys face last night when he told me that he won two of the matches at his martial arts lesson.
• Seeing the joy on Middle Boys face when he realized that he can read words on his own
• Seeing the smile on Younger Boys face as he learned how to finger paint yesterday

Happiness is going to be enjoying life, in spite of the frustration that Jane might bring. Happiness is enjoying the small things that make me feel alive and thankful that I have taken on this opportunity. Happiness is whatever I decide it will be, and only if I remember to allow myself to have it.

Letting The Anger Flow Out

I cannot change Jane. This I know as hard cold fact and truth. I wouldn’t dream of trying to change her. As much as I wish I could, I know that it would only be wasted time and effort. I am working on learning not to let her actions bother me, but I’m so rather upset right now that I just cannot sleep.

I just don’t understand, and I’m not going to try to. But just because I’m not going to try to make sense of her actions, just because I’m trying not to let her bother me doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt and make my heart absolutely ache.

Jane watched all three of the boys this weekend while the boyfriend and I went down to Southern California to clear out the rest of my storage unit. We had a little run in the with Orange County fires. Luckily, with my knowledge of the Los Angeles area and his ability to read maps we made it through another route and back to our hotel. Despite our brush with the fires this weekend really was so wonderful, with the exception of two instances.

The first instance happened on our drive down Saturday. It was evening and we were halfway down the long state of California when his phone rang. It was Jane. He put it on speakerphone. She asked where he was, and that alone told me that something was not right with the boys. The worst fears began to run through my mind. Turns out Middle Boy was throwing up – a lot.

It was more the disgusted tone of her voice when she realized that he wasn’t going to come and get him. The words that came out of her mouth about how the boyfriend just expects him to stay there with the other boys reflected something that left a bitter taste on my tongue. I can’t remember the exact words but it just brought anger. What the hell does she think we do when one of them throws up? And I’ve had two of them throwing up. Middle Boy has thrown up all night once. He was prepped college kid style with a garbage can to bring on his way to the bathroom in case he had to throw up and couldn’t wait. But we take care of it. We act like responsible parental figures and care for them. All of them no matter what's going on.

I kept my mouth shut. I closed my eyes. After he hung up a couple of frustrated phrases of disbelief came out, but then I shoved them back in and down to the pit of my soul. The problem was that I put up walls, and I hadn’t realized it. In the very act of trying to keep my temper down, to try and calm down, and not let her actions upset me – I pushed away the very person I loved with all my heart and shut out the rest of the world and drew inward.

I didn’t realize it until a bit later after we had stopped for gas and I had gotten a red bull. Something about that red bull allowed me to calm down. Perhaps it was the association with the taste … past college paper writing days and bar hopping adventures. Whatever it was, I let it all go. The boyfriend mentioned how I opened up and put my walls down. It was quite the transition apparently.

Back on topic, I couldn’t grasp why she couldn’t just be a responsible parent. It angered me that she actually expected the boyfriend to come and pick Middle Boy up after she knew we were heading down to Southern California. She's their mother. If she isn't willing to take care of the three kids she's already have, what the heck did she have another one for?

The second occurrence happened today. The boyfriend picked the boys up while I was grocery shopping. They met me in the check out line. We had a great dinner and then went and finished up our grocery shopping at another store. That’s when I noticed Younger Boy’s eczema was quite inflamed. He had patches all over his neck and arms, and his thumb was so red and cracked. The boyfriend actually pointed his thumb out, and when I took a closer look I felt my blood begin to boil again.

How could she not notice this? Seriously, his thumb was cracked, and red, and raw. He even said it hurt him. After they came home he was put in the bath (to wash off the marker all over his arms and legs) but I was more concerned in getting some lotion on him to help sooth the inflammation. I ended up having to put some stuff on his poor thumb. I felt so horrible because I had to sanitize and clean it, then put on some Neosporin and a band-aid. And I could tell that it hurt him a lot. I tried to comfort him a bit afterward to help sooth the pain. But I was just so angry. Who am I kidding, I’m still so angry.

Does she just not care? Was she seriously too busy to notice? Does she not know how sensitive his skin is? Didn’t she ever take the time to try and figure out how to deal with it? Is she really that self-centered and selfish? Is it possible to be that selfish that you can't see what's happening to your own child?

I figured out just how sensitive his skin was within the first month of moving in with them. I switched him around with different mild body and hair soaps until I found the perfect combination. The poor kid has sensitive skin and a dry scalp. I have to use a specific baby wash for his hair and a whole different one for his skin. And I always put lotion on him afterward because it seems to really help keep his skin from breaking out.

Now, I’ve been trying to calm myself in reminding myself that maybe the occurrence of his eczema is new. Maybe it started to really develop and bloom recently. And since they don’t live with her and she only sees them every other week or so … maybe she just hasn’t noticed it. But still … his sensitive skin will bloom red patches as soon as the wrong soap is applied. Maybe she's stressed from having a baby around. I'm sure no matter how many children a person has had, a baby crying and depending on you all the time can be stressful. But still! She's their mother!

I’m just so enraged…and so angry because I just don’t understand. And I know that I said that I wouldn’t even try to. And I’m still not going to. I guess just seeing him shudder from the pain of what could have been prevented made my temper just rise even more.

If you’ve read this far, I thank you for your patience and understanding. Thank you for letting me vent, because I really hate to have non-productive posts. But I think that this post will help me today. I think I can sleep now (I hope).

3 Year Olds Have Feelings Too

I have been working to be proactive when it comes to Jane’s visits with the boys. And I mean that in the most positive and compassionate way. Before I came she hardly ever saw them – maybe once a month. I arrived and she had her baby, and she started calling more often. I took a weekend to read through the divorce papers so that I could understand legalities a bit better in their situation. They have joint legal custody, but he has sole physical custody.

I’ve had to come and think about things… a lot of things. Is this “sudden want” to see the boys:

• Because she’s on maternity leave and has time to see them (before she had the baby her available days were Thursday because that was her day off.)
• Because I’m here and she feels that she suddenly has competition
• Because perhaps, there’s a chance that she’s actually changed and WANTS to see them because she wants to. (And I say this because the way she’s presented taking them was as if she was doing us a favor by taking them off of our hands.)
  

My concerns with this “sudden want” to see the boys is, “Is it going to last?”

I suggested working trying to set up a schedule, and then the boyfriend brought up the whole maternity time off ending at some point. That terrified me. I don’t want to get the boys hopes up if it’s all going to end. I’ve already seen it happen once. And it broke my heart to have to tell them that they actually weren’t going to be seeing Jane that weekend.

So we’re just playing it week by week, month by month, holiday by holiday. I don’t know if she was going to ask for them for the Thanksgiving holiday. But I asked the boyfriend to find out if she would like them for a couple of days during their week off. And I guess she said yes, so I’m hoping that she won’t change her mind.

Back on topic, I have tried to be proactive about it. I’ve been trying to remind the boyfriend that I need to be made aware of what decisions have been made when it comes to them visiting her. I don’t want to make plans only to find out that plans were already made. [Refer to “And Then I Exploded.”] That is communication between us. However, this post refers to her lack in communication with us. She likes to drop things on us the day of.

Jane was supposed to take the boys this weekend. Come Friday, I find out she only wanted two of them. She said it was because she didn’t have room in her car for all of them to visit her father this weekend. However, after the boyfriend picked them up he said that she was talking about continuing only taking two at a time. Now, she did just have a baby and I understand that, but do the boys?

We chose to keep Younger Boy with us, since she didn’t say which two she preferred to have. We chose to keep him because he’s still potty training and the last time he stayed at her house he allegedly finger painted with his poop. (Which he has never done here, but I’m not going to say she’s a liar.)

All I can say is that it broke my heart when the boyfriend and Middle Boy went to go pick up Older Boy without him. He knew that he was supposed to go to her house. And (while we are working with him on this) Middle Boy isn’t very common sense smart yet when it comes to gloating about getting to do things others don’t/not teasing people about getting to do things others do. They walked out the door and Younger Boy sat there, on the ground with the saddest look on his face. Head looking down, hands clasped in his lap. And one lone tear trickled down his cheek.

It took a lot of strength not to cry myself. I beckoned to him and we sat there. I wiped his tear and told him I loved him. (And I know that I’m not replacing her, I never will and I don’t intend to. I like to hope that we can have a relationship of our own.) He was soon smiling, and that was important to me.

The boyfriend and I decided to make it a fun weekend for Younger Boy. We took him out to Pier 39 to see the sea lions and the big hit with him was the pigeons (the kitcheons). We all had donuts for breakfast in our bed and watched cartoons all morning.

I know that he’s only three, and he may or may not remember it. But I hope that he’ll remember that he is loved, and he is wanted, and that he had a good time with us. He has feelings too, and those feelings can be hurt while us adults are too busy trying to 1) figure life out, 2) thinking about ourselves and 3) make our life work the way we want it to.

Food Frustrations

I’ve been rather sad lately. There are these little things that just bring it all on. I’m hoping it’s a phase that I’ll eventually get past because I can’t stand it.

One of these little things has been meal time. Before I came the boys ate a lot of fast food. I don’t eat fast food, and really refuse to eat it unless we’re on a road trip. It’s been almost two months now and we’ve gone to fast food maybe a total of three times.

Anyway, I love cooking. My dad and neighbor taught me to cook. I’m one of those cooks who will take a recipe and makes it my own. I rarely ever use measuring tools (unless I’m baking…usually). Well, I’ve had to dumb down some of my recipes.

The boys always talk about how I make new foods. My boyfriend jokes (but seriously says) "I'm culturally challenged." I think the are convinced that I’m a food inventor of some kind. Older Boy told me “When I grow up, I want to make new foods like you Crys.” In fact, the boyfriend and Middle Boy had this convo one night:

MB: Crys makes a lot of new foods for us
BF: Have you ever thought that these are foods that we just haven’t tried yet?
MB: *Lost look of confusion followed by shoulder shrug*
Me: I used to eat Pizza Tortillas when I was a little girl. They’re new to you, but not to me.
MB: Oh *smiles*

Anyway, I come from a multi-ethnic household, as well as I learned how to mix and combine foods. I grew up with a lot of foods from my different cultures. I grew up with some great cooks in my family and neighborhood that taught me some tricks and secrets. Actually, I grew up with foods from all kinds of cultures. I love watching the food network. When I visit anywhere my favorite thing to do is to try the food. I can taste a sauce and tell you what I think it needs or what I can taste in it.

I decided to try and introduce some of the foods from my childhood - more specifically some Filipino foods. And man, they were not welcomed well by some of the boys.

It made me sad. Two fits were thrown at the dinner table. One of them was sent to bed early and the other was gently reminded that fits are not allowed in this household.

Basically, the point of this post is that it made me sad. The incident made me feel that I can’t enjoy my favorite foods from my cultures - from any other culture. It made me quite a bit upset that I felt that I can’t enjoy my favorite foods.

Now, I realize that things take time. I need much patience for them to get used to homemade meals and to slowly introduce them to foods from other cultures (so far older boy has been introduced to Hispanic foods, German foods and Thai foods). I realize this. But it doesn’t make me want (crave) these delicious food any less. And it is frustrating to me that I feel like I can’t make/cook/have them.

Positive Things (I’ve been told) that happen at meal time:
The TV gets turned off and we eat as a family at the dinner table
The boys get a more nutritious (as many food groups met) meal
The boys are encouraged to try new foods

And my favorite:
I can slowly start to stop dumbing down my recipes as they slowly learn to enjoy the different herbs, spices and vegetables I like to cook with.

Identifying the Poop Dance

So, Younger Boy indeed has been trained to go potty on the toilet. And the next step, training to go poop on the toilet, has indeed been more challenging.

True Life Poop Experience Story (Detailed – queasy stomachs should not enter)
I work from home, for my company down in Southern California. I do Internet stuff, thus still attend my weekly Internet meetings via the phone. Usually during Internet meetings (or any meetings) Younger Boy is sent into his room to play. During last week’s meeting I glance over into the room and see him, assuming the position of slightly bent leg, leaning against the bunk bed. The phone is on mute:

Me: What are you doing?
YB: I don’t know.
Me: Do you have to go potty?
YB: No
Me: Do you have to go poo poo?
YB: No

I walk in there and am met with the wonderful smell of fresh 3-year-old poop.

Since I have the phone in hand, I am unable to scoop him up and run him to the bathroom. Instead I have to rush him to the bathroom.

Little droplets of brown poo leak every other step onto my poor, poor carpet on the way to the bathroom. (From this alone I know it's going to be a winner.) We get there and I pull down his Thomas underwear to meet the sight of what looked like freshly created liquid and mushy mud.

Spectacular! *My most favorite sarcastic expression for displeasure*

He steps out of it and automatically gets handed the soiled underwear.

Me: Where do you go poo poo?
YB: I don’t know
Me: In the toilet. You go poo poo in the toilet. Put it in the toilet.

He really doesn’t want to touch the underwear. So my free hand and both of his hands have to work together to dump it in there. He then gets placed on the toilet in the chance there’s more to come. There isn’t, but the wonderful liquid and mush dribbled down on the step stool, the side of the toilet and smears onto the seat as he scoots off. He also takes this opportunity to start flicking and waving his hands around to get the liquid off. This spatters on the shower doors and the floor, yet amazingly none on me.

I am on the phone this entire time, listening to the meeting.

He then is placed into the shower. He dislikes showers, but is slowly learning that peeing and pooping on your self results in a shower.

Of course, this is the moment that I am asked, “Crys, do you have anything to report?”

‘Beep’ goes the mute button. “Why yes, I do. The Virtual Dogs blah, blah, blah.” I give my report from the hallway, as I glance down at the shower to Younger Boy motioning with my hands that he ought to be cleaning himself off. He does, at least, copy my motions and manages to get most of it off.

After I’m finished with my report, ‘Beep’ the mute button gets put back on and I resume in the cleaning up of the bathroom. [I'd like to take a moment to pay tribute and be thankful for Clorox wipes.] And then bust out the soap. Since he’s in the process of getting cleaned, he gets his hair shampooed also. The meeting finishes up just as I’m drying him off and handing him new, clean underwear.

I’ve just successfully attended a meeting and cleaned up a poopy 3 year old.
The End

Since then, I have become quite more observant, no matter what I’m doing, of his body language. Any pointed legs, shifted body positions while standing or sudden standing up accompanied by hand going to hold at butt results in this exact conversation.

Me: What are you doing?
YB: I don’t know.
Me: Then why don’t you try going poo poo on the toilet.
YB: *Runs off to the bathroom*

This has been 90% successful. The other 10% has resulted in not having to go. He hasn’t (knock on wood) had a repeat following that Thursday of pooping in his underwear. He has had smears as he takes his underwear off to get on the toilet. I’ll take the smears please.

My mission – Identify the poop dance and try to help him identify that the poop dance means he has to go poop. Hopefully, he’ll put it all together and run by me saying “I have to go poo poo!” and I won’t have to be quite as attentive to if he is dancing his Poop Dance.

Assuming, Instinct & Learning More Lessons

My mother always told me to trust my gut instinct, and there have been times when I trusted it but I denied it thinking “Have some faith, there must be some good in this person.”

Denying it has always proved me a fool. And per a person, I’ve tried not to be a fool more than once … maybe twice.

My mother always told me “Your Grandpa always said that assuming makes and ass out of you and me.” But I still find myself assuming at times. And slowly, but surely, I’m learning that I should trust my instinct and ask instead of assume.

Lately, and often, it’s been assuming along the lines of things with my boyfriend and the boys.

I assumed that they carved pumpkins the way my family did. Every October we’d get pumpkins and my sister and I would scoop out the junk (pumpkin guts) from the insides. Then my dad would carve out the faces and we’d get a couple of minutes to watch with the candles inside. (This is on video every year up until the middle of high school.) I found out this year that the boyfriend does all the dirty work. (I didn’t ask, but I assume the boys either watched or played some where else.) But this year, the boys got to scoop out the pumpkin guts, and they had a grand time doing it. And the boyfriend was glad that he didn’t have to do it.

Other things I assumed was the elementary school knew and had on record that he has sole physical custody of the boys. (One of my greater fears is that I’ll go to pick up one of the boys from school and they won’t be there because they’re mother [Let’s just call her Jane from now on] decided to just pull one of them out, or worse – take off with them.)

We’ll, I had quite a fear installed in me when Older Boy brought home a Parent Conference Sheet with Jane’s name on it. There is no reason, in my mind, why her name should be on it. I consulted with the boyfriend and he had no idea why her name would be on it either. I ended up calling the school to have a chat with the secretary. Turns out when Jane’s mother [we’ll call her Janice] registered the boys, she put Jane’s name down, with her phone number. (For those out of the loop – Jane decided not to have any physical custody of the boys. Pays no child support, takes no responsibility or puts out much effort in raising them, and just had a new baby with her new boyfriend.)

So we changed the information. Luckily, the secretary is compassionate and smart and calls the boyfriend to let him know that they need paperwork on file. So today, the boyfriend will be making copies of custody papers (for the school and for him to carry on himself).

Another thing I assumed was that after the incident where he told Jane that she could have the boys for the weekend (without consulting with me [See “And Then I Exploded] for details) that he would know not to do so. Well, I’ll tell you what, if I had not grown to be a bigger person by now, I would have walked out yesterday.

I had to drive down to Southern California this weekend to pick up some stuff from my storage unit down there. At some point this week (possibly Monday, I can’t remember when) the boyfriend dropped the idea “What if we drop the boys off at Janice’s house on Thursday for a couple of hours?” I kind of looked at him dumb founded. “But we’re carving pumpkins on Thursday, remember?” I answered. “Oh yeah,” he says. And that was that, so I thought.

Yesterday, he drops it again – in front of the boys. The boys, of course, got all excited. How could I be the evil, mean stepmother and say no to that excitement? Instead I kind of stayed quiet and looked at him. He came over:

Me: Did you tell Janice that she could have them, and not consult with me?
BF: *silently looks me in the eyes*
Me: You did, didn’t you.
BF: *more silence*

I am rather proud to say that I controlled the anger that swelled up inside of me. And, as I felt my pillar of trust in him momentarily shake, I held it up and told him that: It’s not ok that he does that.

Me: We’re either in this together or we’re not. And if we’re not then this isn’t going to work.

It would be a lie to say that I didn't feel a bit betrayed ... that my trust in him momentarily wavered like a flag in the wind. But I let it go at some point that evening after I pep talked my way down from being angry.

Now, I assume a lot of things with the boyfriend because I don’t want him to think that I don’t have faith in him. That I think any less of him. But I’m starting to realize that maybe some of the women in my office and my mother were right. Men are essentially jus that, Men. And you have to tell them detailed, exactly what’s going on.

My favorite line is, “I’m not a mind reader, so you’re going to have to tell me what’s wrong.”

Another thing I assumed was that he understood how rather delicate the situation is when it comes to me and Jane. I was rather irritated that Jane had kept some clothes, particularly an outfit I bought Younger Boy. They don’t live there and really, it would be so nice (and convenient) to have more clothes for the boys here. I made mention of it to the boyfriend and asked that he make sure Younger Boy comes back with it. So he says to her: “Would you put Younger Boy in the outfit he came over with last week on Sunday. Crys bought it for him.”

Can I tell you how much I cringed when I heard that last part. “Great” I thought, “That’s surely going to stir the pot.”

Later, after he dropped the boys off at Janice’s, I told him I would really like it if he would refer to “me” as “we” on some occasions. The thought was first installed when the boyfriend’s sister asked how Jane was reacting to me.

Me: She’s been calling for them more often lately.
BFS: Well yeah, she doesn’t want them calling you Mom. She's jealous of you.

I tried to tell myself that it’s because maybe she’s changed. Maybe it’s because she’s on maternity leave. Jane wouldn’t try to make it a competition, would she? I came home from Southern California on Sunday. I had a lot of time to think. And in that time I’d turned my back on my instinct about Jane and convinced myself that she’s not going to be like that. She’s not going to be competitive with me. This is going to be a good relationship.

Well, I got home on Sunday and noticed that the boys had on “obviously just bought, straight from the rack” shirts on. “Hrm” I thought. And after the boys mentioned “Mommy bought me this shirt” it all came painfully, to my stubborn pride, too clear.

I consulted with the boyfriend.

Me: Did she buy them those shirts.
BF: Yeah.
Me: Funny, she buys them nothing new until now.
BF: Is that because what I said to her?
Me: *Nods head* Possibly
BF: And she made sure to send them home in them on Sunday so you could see it?
Me: Every time I give her benefit of the doubt, she always disappoints me. Why does she always have to disappoint me?

Man, was I a fool. A voice of good inside tells me to think “It’s just a coincidence” and another voice inside tells me “Trust your instinct. That Jane is a sneaky, tricky lady. Stay on your toes.”

I’ll tell you what though, I will be trying my best to ask instead of assume from now on. Trying to defuse as many fiery situations before it happens, if I can. I’m not delusional and I know I can’t defuse them all, but I can work on avoiding them from happening if I can, on my side at least.

Instant Mom Adventures In Potty Training

I wanted to share something that I’m proud and excited about. Since I’m working from home I’ve been working with Younger Boy on potty training.

When I first moved in (September 14, 2008) Younger Boy was in diapers. Never indicated when he had to go potty, just went in his diaper. Yet he was showing signs that he could control it.

I wondered if his resistance to go potty had anything to do with the divorce (his last stance to hold on to anything he knew from before), a lack in support and encouragement to go potty in the toilet (my boyfriend was the only one encouraging it, but since he works during the day Younger Boy was with people who weren’t encouraging it) or a combination of the two with a dash of stubborn. (The latter being Highly likely.)

And then I came along.

After about a week of having to work and change diapers I got pretty tired of it. I went out and bought some training diapers on September 22nd. He started to show some progress, but figured out that the training diaper was just a fancy diaper that worked like his big brothers’ underwear.

Well, I will not be outsmarted by a 2 year old.

I went out and bought toddler underwear. And since Thomas & Friends are his favorite things in his 2 year old life right now, I found some Thomas & Friends underwear. And I decided to ask him what he wanted.

Me: Do you want to wear a diaper or Thomas & Friends underwear?
YB: Thomas underwear.

So we started working on wearing underwear. And oh boy, did my poor carpet get some leaks. (It made me kind of chuckle because the apartments charged a pet deposit fee, and I must say that Younger Boy has put more stress on this carpet then both of the cats combined. Maybe they should, instead, charge a Child Deposit Fee.)

I used a potty chart with heart stickers for going potty on the toilet, and a fish sticker for going poop on the toilet. Here’s a picture of the chart and Younger Boy’s progress:



Not too many fish on there, yet. But, he is recognizing when he has to go potty. He’ll actually go running by me on his way to the bathroom announcing “I have to go potty!” and triumphantly comes out saying “I get a heart.”

He also is sleeping in underwear all night, and wearing underwear all day. In fact, I’ve thrown the remaining training diapers up on the closet top shelf (reserved for out of town trips in the near future, but hopefully not distant.)

Achieved:

• Peeing on the toilet
• Wearing underwear full time (out of training diapers)
• Becoming aware that “I have to go potty”
• Acting upon that awareness
• Can put clothes on and pull them off (with some assistance now and then)
• Sleep through the night without wetting the bed
• Sleep through a nap without wetting the bed
• Being able to hold it when someone else is in the bathroom

Next on the list:

• Becoming aware that “I have to go poop”
• Acting upon that awareness
• Pooping in the toilet. (Oh yeah.)

I thought that it was about time to share something exciting from my experience. I don’t require a pat on the back, but it is nice to be able to see that I’ve made a difference. Who knew that seeing the number of those hearts grow on that chart could inspire me that “Yes, I can be an instant mom and, hopefully, do a good job at it.”