I found myself at a point where I wanted to pull my hair out, kick a baby seal, and shoot my neighbor’s inflatable pool with a BB gun. I spent nearly two hours sitting on the bathroom floor asking, pleading, and demanding. I took increasingly deeper breaths and closed my eyes, desperately trying not to rage. Potty training was not going well. As a result, we took a break from it. This was four months ago.

Recently, Sarah and I have been having talks with Tyler about diapers, being a big boy, and where he needs to pee and poop. He’s been very agreeable. He knows he should pee in the potty and not in the diaper. He knows that he needs to tell mommy or daddy when he needs to use the potty. He knows that it will make daddy very, very happy if he would quit soiling his diapers.

“Tyler, where do we pee and poop?”

“In da potty.”

“Yes, and what happens when you need to go pee or poop?”

“Tell mommy daddy, I use a potty.”

“Gooooood job, buddy. Now, Tyler, there’s no pee in your diaper right now. Do you need to use the potty?”

“Hmmm. No fank you. Maybe ‘morrow.”

Listen, you little brat! I know that your diaper has been dry for three hours. I also know that you sucked down a cup of apple juice about an hour ago. Your bladder is roughly the size of a golf ball, at best. Why don’t you do us all a favor a sit your plump little butt on the potty, okay? See, one of my duties as your father is to challenge you. This is how you learn and grow and develop the cajones to try new, and sometimes scary, things. So, pretty please, with sugar on top, piss in the plastic bucket.

But I didn’t say that, did I? Nope. “Well, I think you do need to use the potty. We will sit on the potty in 3 minutes.”

Before starting up again with potty training, Sarah and I came up with a reward system. One sticker for every time we have success on the potty. After three stickers are rewarded, Tyler gets a prize (to be determined). Once the ball gets rolling, we’ll start giving prizes after six stickers, then ten stickers. Then, we start to faze out the rewards and hope the habit is formed.

At the last couple family outings, we used my backpack in lieu of a diaper bag. It’s worked out well, and Tyler has developed an interest in my backpack. At his request, I put the backpack on Tyler. He promptly lost his balance and fell backwards with the weight. I asked Tyler if he would like his very own, special “Tyler backpack,” and boy did he! That is how we decided on his first reward for getting three stickers.

video won’t load?

It’s working! We’re having success! As a matter of fact, he’s already gotten his second reward as well (a total of six stickers)… a pony ride at the zoo.

Progress wasn’t going so well at first. We’d sit Tyler on the potty (crying, most times) and tell him to push. We’d sit on the floor near him and wait, constantly prodding him to push more. It worked a couple times, but we usually ended up sitting there for an inordinate amount of time. Tyler would whine “I all done,” and we’d just give up for that session. It was during one of these “I all done” moments that Sarah grew impatient and walked out of the bathroom, telling Tyler, “You need to make your pee come out. Please tell me when you do.”

Less than three minutes later, in an adorable sing-song voice, Tyler said “I doin’ it.”

And he was.

I wondered if our constant prodding and encouragement was placing too much pressure on Tyler. The last few times we sat him on the potty, we told him to tell us when he was all done and walked out of the room. Much to our delight, this appears to be working. He’s even dropped a couple turd-bombs in there as well.

It’s been three days, and things are going great. He doesn’t tell us that he needs to use the potty yet. When we tell him it’s time to try, though, he sits down and pushes out the yellow delight right away. The next “prize”, which he will be receiving later today after having received four additional stickers, will be to watch a DVD and eat popcorn.

Everyone, keep your fingers crossed for us. For better or worse, we’re jumping on the potty wagon and can’t wait to cruise out of diaper-town… just so we can cruise back in this coming February.

And, to those of you that have been to our house (and who watched the video), did you see that they paved our access road??!?!?! FINALLY!!! So cool.

It’s like giving a death-row inmate the keys to his cell.

It’s like leaving the bank vault open and expecting the money to be there in the morning.

It’s like the boxer putting his guard down and expecting to not get knocked into next week by his opponent.

It’s like two parents, worried that their 20 month old child will soon break his neck if they don’t do something about it.

We had to convert Tyler’s crib into a “transitional bed” a couple days ago. We really had no choice though. Over the course of 3 days, this is what has happened:

Day one.
8:30am. Sarah is downstairs, waiting for Tyler to wake up and call for her. Soon, she hears noises and prepares to go get Tyler as soon as she finishes what she’s currently working on. Moments later, she hears the baby gate. AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS! Tyler, as if this is completely normal, says, “Hi.”

Day two.
Time unknown, but it’s in the morning. Tyler is being a brat, so we put him back in his crib, and tell him that we will get him out when he calms down. Moments later…. BANG, CRASH, SCREAM. Sarah runs in to see Tyler on the floor of his room.

Day three.
8am. I hear Tyler making a noise. It’s my morning to get up with him, so I saunter into his room. As I walk in, I see Tyler holding onto the top of his crib, trying to pull himself up. His feet are against the side, trying to walk vertically like a freaking spelunker.

His mattress was already in it’s second-to-lowest position. The next, and lowest, position is only two inches further than where it currently sat. Two inches. If it made any difference, it would have been rendered moot within a week, at most. As a result, Sarah and I – very reluctantly – made the decision to uncage the beast. Sunday morning, we set to work removing the front of Tyler’s crib and installing panels that simply protect Tyler from rolling out of his new transitional bed. He was ecstatic! The minute we finished, Tyler ran and climbed into his bed. Then he jumped out (and fell on his face). Then he climbed back in, then back out, then back in, and so on.

*sigh*

We’re both wondering how long it will be before he fully grasps this new freedom. He napped fine in his new bed. Last night, he slept just fine in his new bed. When Tyler woke up this morning, Sarah walked into his room to find Tyler still in his bed. She asked how his first night in his new bed went. Tyler sat up, started clapping his hands and said, “yayyyyyyyyy.” But, we’re not stupid. We know he’ll soon be stomping around his room while he’s supposed to be napping. We know the little tyrant will be found at some point, sleeping on his floor after playing there hours after bedtime.

We know…. and we wait with bated breath.

Potty training is not, as they sometimes say, “in full swing,” but we’re working on it. We’re at the point that Tyler knows to run his little ass as far away from us as possible when we see that he’s pooping and ask him about it. When asked, he provides no hesitation in telling us that he does not want to use the potty. So, for better or for worse, right or wrong, we’ve resorted to bribery to get Tyler to plant his butt on the potty. Personally, I don’t agree with using candy as a reward, but, well, that’s what we’re doing. Let’s face it, Joe, it’s not always about what you want. It’s a hard realization, and I’m coming to terms with it. All I know for sure is that if we don’t put on a united front, Tyler will conquer us.

When Tyler tries on the potty (a few minutes, at least. None of this sit-down, stand-up, done that he has attempted to pass off as “trying”), he is rewarded with one M&M candy. If he, um, produces results while on the potty, Tyler gets two M&M candies. If you’ve read my previous post, you already know that Tyler tries to convince us that he gets two candies just for trying.

A couple days ago, I was doing dishes in the kitchen, while Sarah slept upstairs, because it was her morning to sleep in. I looked over to Tyler, who had fallen uncharacteristically silent, and saw the tell-tale face. Bulging eyes… Red cheeks… Slightly opened mouth… Stern concentration…

“ARE YOU POOPING?! Let’s go use the potty!”

“NO!”

Tyler turned and ran from the kitchen, shouting, “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!” He’s a quick little booger, too! I didn’t catch him until he hit the dead-end of the baby gate that led upstairs to the safety of his sleeping mommy.

I picked him up and put his butt to my nose, sniffing. Aww, shit, I thought. I took a moment to both appreciate the irony of that thought, and to wonder when exactly I got to the point of it being second nature to smell my toddler’s butt to check for poop.

I carried Tyler into the bathroom and we talked about where we need to make our pee-pees and poo-poos. He had all the right answers to my inquiries. Upon being asked, he told me he didn’t want to sit on the potty and frankly, I didn’t see the point in making him do so anyway.

“Okay buddy, but you don’t get candy if you don’t try.”

“Ah-ah…. poddy.”

“Do you think Ah-ah needs to use the potty?”

“Yeeeeah.”

We placed Tyler’s monkey on the potty and read a couple books to him. After finishing the second book, Tyler jumped up and yelled, “Candy! Two.” It came out more as “Kaynd! Doo,” but the parental translator that seems to have been implanted in my skull understood perfectly.

I told Tyler that Ah-ah was a good little monkey for making poo-poos in the potty, and would get two M&Ms for doing so.

“Yeeeah,” Tyler yelled while running into the kitchen.

Using slight-of-hand that would never fool the eyes of an adult, I gave Ah-ah two pieces of candy. All the while, Tyler slapped his chest, shouting, “TyTy! TyTy! TyTy! TyTy! TyTy!”

“I’m sorry, Tyler, but you didn’t use the potty. Ah-ah gets candy for using the potty, but not Tyler.”

An immense level of guilt descended and came to rest on my shoulders as I said those words. I’m giving fake candy to a fake monkey for taking a fake dump, and I’m rubbing Tyler’s nose in the fake stink of it.

Recently, I’ve been working with Tyler on faces. He loves making a happy face and a surprised face. Yesterday, we started making a poo-poo face. It’s just as it sounds; we make the face Tyler makes when he’s pooping. a few nights ago, while making poo-poo face for me and Sarah, Tyler peed in the potty! He was so excited (as were we)! Tyler started running in place, clapping his hands and shouting “I DID IT!” and “YAY!”

Then, he suddenly fell silent, looked at Sarah and yelled, “EMM EMM!”

“Yes, Tyler, you get two M&Ms for using the potty!”

All things being said, I’ll call it a success. I still feel guilty about gving Ah-ah candy and shunning Tyler. I’m glad that I didn’t get all hunter/gatherer on Sarah, pound my chest and refuse to hop on the M&M bandwagon with her (yes, I’m eating my words over here. OM NOM NOMNOM). Most of all, I’m hoping this is the last box of diapers we have to buy for Tyler.

Update after writing but before publishing this post:
Tyler has peed in the potty three times, lots of times in his diapers, and twice on the carpet. I don’t know who’s winning, but progress is progress.

We got a coupon for a free kid’s pizza, so guess where we went next?

Note: That cut on his forehead? Well, Tyler decided to pull a bookcase (it was more of a shelving unit) over onto himself. The edge caught him right down the middle of his forehead. He screamed!!! When I asked if he wanted a hug, he stopped crying and said, “Yaaaaaaaa” in the most pathetic tone possible.

June 28, 2008




June 28, 2009

We are blessed to have an extremely well-mannered baby, and have been able to take Tyler with us to dinner quite a few times. It’s a modified FNDN – less about just Sarah and I – but it’s still nice to get out of the house together, even if we do have a third wheel with us. We had a FNDN yesterday. I spent much of the day hanging up a privacy fence (and received a wicked sunburn as a result) and felt like it was deserved. We went to a restaurant called Mad Anthony’s.

Our waitress’ name was Sheila. She is an attractive, punky-looking girl, with a piercing in her lip. At one point, she asked how my drink was. I told her it was quite good and she would have to try it when she turns 21. She looked like a junior in high school, but she informed me that she recently celebrated her 22nd birthday.

A few minutes later, she was waiting on the table next to us. It was occupied by three blue-collar guys who appeared to work at the local factory. Sheila’s back was to us while she took their orders. Tyler turned to look at her stare at her… then proceeded to reach out and grab her butt.

The dudes at the table next to us told Tyler “way to go” and asked for high fives from him. Looking back, I’m surprised that I wasn’t mortified about him grabbing her butt, but I actually thought it was hilarious. Sarah made a comment about Sheila being a cougar at 22. I didn’t say anything aloud, but thought to myself, “That’s my boy.”

The moment we got in the car, Sarah – who didn’t bring her cell phone – said, “Dial Melanie and give me your phone.”

I did as ordered. After a couple seconds, Sarah said, “I have to tell you what Tyler just did.”

After telling the story to her BFF, Sarah turned to me and said “Melanie said ‘he is his father’s son.’”

Indeed.

Although my parents aren’t the most tech savvy people I know, they still managed to burn the video to a DVD and sent it to me via manila envelope. Subsequently, Sarah and I have taken videos of Tyler crawling around the house, which I’ve posted to YouTube. One video was actually sent in to America’s Funniest Videos, so I’m not allowed to post it here, or talk about it, yet. The video of Tyler’s first crawls somehow never made its way online… Until now.

**** Errr… Nope, the video isn’t available. There were some technical difficulties with the disc that the video was recorded to. ****

We went to Canada two weekends ago (the weekend previous to Memorial Day weekend) for the wedding of one of Sarah’s cousins. Driving back from Canada, the GPS had us passing through my hometown of Flint, Michigan. My parents still live there, in my mom’s childhood home, so we stopped by to visit and stretch. Tim, my awesome step-dad, got the camera out to take some pictures. Dead batteries. Tim then got the camcorder out to take some video. Dead batteries. But, that was remedied with a power adapter, and a little bit of a guilt trip from the rest of us.

Tyler eventually made his way to the refrigerator and, more specifically, the magnets on it. Leaning against the side of the fridge were two food trays. You know what I’m talking about, right? They fold open and closed like an ironing board, allowing one to eat food while sitting on a couch. They’re quite handy, unless you’re a ten month old baby and they are standing between you and the magnets you so desperately desire. Tyler stood there, hands on the folded trays, when they did the thing that the ladder did in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. In the movie, Clark Griswold is standing on a ladder and hanging Christmas lights from his house. He inadvertently staples his shirt sleeve to the house and, when he yanks himself free, the ladder upon which he is standing pulls away from the house. It sways to the precarious point where you’re not sure if it’s going to fall backward or safely to its original position against the house. This is what was happening with Tyler.

I watched this happen, knowing that I could, potentially, have a very upset baby, and yet I did nothing. Generally speaking, if it won’t result in a hospital visit or expensive property damages, I let Tyler learn the consequences of his actions. I said something to that effect, and I fear I’m coming across on the video as an uncaring parent. The thing is, I viewed that as a controlled environment. I was there, and I knew that the worst that would happen would be a bump on Tyler’s head. I don’t want him to learn that lesson from pulling on a heavy TV or a dresser or bookcase that isn’t tethered to a wall. Those consequences could be disastrous. And, yes, I am spilling all this here in the hopes that you, dear readers, will validate my thought process.

My mom couldn’t stand by and allow the shenanigans to unfold, so she pulled the trays away. This left Tyler balancing on his own, with nothing to hold onto. This is nothing new, as Tyler stands on his own quite often. But, instead of falling to the ground and crawling to the fridge, like he always does, Tyler WALKED to it!!!! His first real steps were caught on video!

Video not playing? Want to view it larger? Watch it on YouTube by clicking here.

I simply find it amazing that a ten month old baby would make the decision to try to take a step, especially when he knows that it would be easier to just crawl. Parental pride aside, watching a baby think and make decisions and try new things is… well… "amazing" is the only word I can think of.

So, Tyler’s first crawls and his first walks were at my parents’ house. And, the latter probably wouldn’t have happened if my mom hadn’t taken the food trays away. It’s interesting how things work out.

* Waves of deafening applause. *

Something happened last Friday while I was sitting on the couch next to Sarah. She had Tyler in her lap, facing her, and she was eating his neck fat. It’s one of the great things we’ve discovered about parenthood; nibbling on your baby’s neck. The entire neck is quite delectable, but the sweet spot is just under the chin. Whenever he tilts his head back and exposes that area, we dive in like the vampire Lestat on a family he’s been stalking for years. This is one of (air quotes) those things (air quotes) that makes the frustrating aspects of parenthood worth every lost wink.

"Hi, I’m Billy Mays, and I’m here to talk to you about an amazing new product. Baby Neck Fat! Just sprinkle a little on this grape juice stain and watch it disappear! Did your son just knock over a plant, spilling the dirt and water onto your nice floor? Just nibble a little of the Baby Neck Fat and your frustrations are forgotten! If you call and order in the next five minutes, I’ll throw in the bonus Chubby Baby Feet, but that’s not all! I’ll also throw in a Baby Smile that will melt your heart, along with the frustrations caused by any of your baby’s less-than-desirable actions. That’s a sixty dollar value for only $19.95. Call and order now!"

If you’re a parent, you already know the power of baby neck fat. If you’re expecting, you’ll experience it for yourself soon. If you’re neither, you’ll just have to take my word for it.

After a few minutes of watching my wife enjoy the fruits of baby neck fat, I said to Tyler, "Can you say ‘da-da’?"

Tyler immediately and effortlessly replied, "Da-da."

Sarah paused, just long enough for me to know she heard it, then tried to PRETEND THAT IT NEVER HAPPENED! Sarah tried to continue her little routine of drawing Tyler forward by his arms and going "nom nom nom" on his neck. The audacity!

"Don’t you dare pretend that you didn’t just hear him say that!"

I know what she was thinking. Nobody else heard Tyler say it, so she could pretend that it didn’t happen. If I start bragging to my friends and family (and my blog) about it Sarah could, theoretically, say that she heard no such thing.

"Dude, Tyler totally said ‘Da-da’ last week. It was awesome man! Sarah, you heard it, tell him."

Twirling her finger around her ear in the "he’s got a screw loose" gesture, Sarah replies, "The only thing I remember Tyler doing is farting when you said that to him. I think you need more sleep, you’re losing it."

Sarah knows that if she denied it long enough, I’d eventually start to believe the lie myself. I’d doubt my own memory and wonder if I only dreamed the entire thing. But just a few days later, I had a witness to Tyler’s "da-da." Yesterday, we went to see Dr. Nagel to get Tyler adjusted again. He hit Tyler a couple times in the back and in the neck with the Activator (or actuator… he just told me the name of the tool yesterday and I’ve already forgotten what it was), and lay Tyler down to do some manual release on his neck. Tyler did quite well during the appointment and made me quite proud at his mostly passive demeanor. He did grow frustrated after a few minutes of the manual release, because he doesn’t like laying down unless he’s sleeping. Tyler would much rather crawl around, knock things over and just stay active. At the end of all this, I picked Tyler up and held him as Lee talked about ear infections, probiotics, and follow-up. Whispering into Tyler’s ear, I said, "Can you say… da-da?"

"Da-da."

And Lee heard it. I’m surprised there was enough space in the room we were in for Lee, Sarah, Tyler, myself, and my huge ego. Oh, and the green monster of jealousy that was trying to squeeze its way in. If we didn’t already know that Lee was married with children, it would have been made quite apparent to us from what he said next.

"Well, words like da-da and ba-ba are easier for a baby to say than ma-ma."

Picking up on his noble attempt at easing the tension in the room, I added, "Yeah, so when he does say ‘ma-ma’, you’ll know that he’s really trying."

I don’t remember exactly what Sarah said, but her eyes said "whatever." She wasn’t really upset, but we’re like every other parent in that each mommy wants their baby to say "ma-ma" first, and each daddy wants their baby to say "da-da" first. He said "da-da", which means that I win, right? In Sarah’s defense, I couldn’t tell you if Tyler knows that I’m da-da or if he’s just saying it because he can. I suspect he hasn’t associated that word with me yet, but he will soon enough.

Soon enough…

This is going in as my Wordless Wednesday entry.

This picture has nothing to do with the content of this blog. Tyler’s teething, so he makes this face a lot.

Tyler has some pretty cool toys. He has this really awesome ball that’s got a plastic monkey perched on the top of it. It makes noises and music when you roll it, and the monkey somehow manages to always stay on top. He has a turtle that counts to four, says shape names, and sings to the tune of an Italian song. He also has a spinning top type toy with animals on it. It sings, counts, lights up, and makes animal sounds.

They’re great toys and, as a bonus to me, aren’t very expensive. I can see how these toys can help to teach things, like cause and effect, and other cool terms that aren’t coming to my mind right now. And Tyler plays with none of them. I try to engage him, I really do. I giggle like a little girl while I bat the monkey ball around, amazed at the monkey’s ability to balance precariously atop the green and blue ball. My acting ability is top notch. I can fool any child under the age of two into believing that I am genuinely delighted by this marvel of a toy. This is, of course, partly because I am genuinely delighted by this marvel of a toy. I want to take it apart and see how this modern-day version of a Weeble Wobble works.

I hope cardboard isn’t unhealthy

Tyler has no such interest. He looks at it – with just a hint of curiousity – for a moment, then proceeds to chew on my slipper. While it’s on my foot. And I don’t stop him. I’ll have to file this post under the “bad parenting” category.

As much as I’ve been praying that Tyler will develop superpowers, and become a real-life superhero, the one thing I do not want is for him to have any psychic powers. I find myself less-than-amused at his innate ability to find everything that he shouldn’t be playing with. If there are ten toys surrounding Tyler, and one of Delilah’s chewed-up ropes, Tyler will see the rope, and only the rope, and he will commence on chewing said rope. Why he has no desire to play with the toys that we paid good money for is beyond the scope of my knowledge. I’m going to become a millionaire by developing a product that will be guaranteed to get any child interested in any item of your choosing. It’s going to be a sticker that simply says, “Keep out of reach of children”. You put that sticker on his least favorite toy, and he’ll never put it down again.

Until I manufacture and market my idea, Sarah and I have to try to stay one step ahead of Tyler. I have a feeling that we will be playing this “game” for years and years to come. If we so much as blink after setting him on the floor, he’ll have a power cord in his mouth. Tyler must think that “no” is a slang term for “awesome work, my dear boy. Your very survival is solely dependent on your eating cords at any and every opportunity”. Tyler’s has 2 other favorite items in our house. One is either a plant stand, or the ivy plant resting upon it; we haven’t determined yet which of the two he is enamored with. He grabs at it every chance he gets. No amount of “no”, or “bad”, or “ucky” will dissuade him from reaching for it. When he does get his paws on it, he slides it closer to him. The sound of the wooden legs sliding across the hardwood floor is like a Klaxon alarm for us. We immediately have to charge after him and start with the calls of “no”, and “we don’t play with that”.

Tyler’s other, and probably more, favorite household item is Delilah’s water dish. I don’t know how to keep him out of it. So far, all he’s interested in is splashing his hand in it, but I’m petrified of what could happen if left to his own devices long enough. I’ve been unable to come up with a solution that allows Delilah to get to her water, but still keeps Tyler away from it. Maybe I could install one of those wireless fence systems in our house. Anytime Tyler goes near the water dish, which will be just outside of the boundary, he will be delivered a high-voltage reminder of his lapse in judgment via a wireless elastic headband. I’m open to ideas, dear readers. In the meanwhile, I’ve got something else I’d like to talk about.

The library group that Sarah and Tyler attend had Valentine’s Day treats on Tuesday. So, Sarah went to the store Monday night (yes babe, I just called you out for waiting until the last minute) to pick up some ingredients. She made a chocolate covered strawberry concoction, and it was delicious. Sarah is very gifted in the kitchen. It’s win-win for me, because she loves to cook and try new things, and I love to eat. The added perk is that I get to be a taste tester when she makes these delicious desserts. If it weren’t for my insane metabolism, I should easily weigh in at 300 or more pounds.

I’ve jumped off track. While Sarah was at the store, I played on the floor with Tyler. He was having a blast knocking over the towers of blocks that I was building. Unfortunately, our floors aren’t very level, so any stacks higher than 6 or 7 blocks is impressive. As I completed one such stack, I turned to Tyler to let him know I needed his destructive assistance. I found myself unable to form words or even thoughts when I looked at him. When thought did finally return, I had trouble deciding on whether I should yell at Tyler, or grab my camera. I decided to do both.

“Tyler!!!”, I yelled, jumping to my feet. “Don’t move! Where’s my camera?”

Yup, he can pull himself up now.

With the help of some living room furniture, Tyler – all by himself – pulled himself to a stand. I didn’t run fast enough, though. When I returned, he was crawling to the tower o’ blocks to demonstrate his skill at unstacking. Fortunately for my “I have to document this” side, and unfortunately for my “he’s growing up too fast” side, Tyler crawled to the entertainment center and pulled himself up, four more times! One of those times, he turned and looked directly into my eyes, and I swear to you that the expression on his face said, “watch this”. Then he just let go and plopped on his butt, and smiled at me.

I really was excited, really, and I expressed it as much as I could to him, with high pitched wows, and saying stuff like “good job” and “that’s my big boy”. But I’m worried that Tyler saw the fear that swam just below the surface of my visible emotions.

Tyler just let go of the only thing holding him up