One of Those Days

Have you ever had one of Those Days?

I know you know what I'm talking about.

Those Days where you wish you could rewind the clock. Do it over again. And yet there's a part of

you that would rather a fast-forward button to get it all over with and end the evening with a large chocolate milkshake, a movie and a pedicure.

Yeah, in my dreams.

Well, today was one of Those Days.

It's not like I didn't have a few clues. Warning signs to say, "Stop! Turn around! You're headed into dangerous water!" I did. And yet, I didn't listen.

Today I took the kids to the zoo with my cousin. The first clue that this might have been a bad idea was when Jack insisted on seeing the “seebas,” or zebras. Like NOW. And he was insistent. It wasn’t a huge deal to change our course, though it did seem to mess with our rhythm. We go to the zoo about once a week. We’ve got a route that we follow. And our normal route doesn’t necessarily go by the zebras. But I figured, “Hey, why not?” And so we did. Now I’m sorta wishing I hadn’t.

The second clue was when another mom had to tell me that my son (Jack) had climbed to the other side of the rhinoceros fence. You know, no big deal. Not that my son was in danger of falling down the 20-foot drop that separated him from one of the largest vegetarians at the zoo or anything. That was my second clue. And I missed it.

The third clue involved a sandwich with pickles and the mulch on a playground. Use your imagination.

But the point where I realized I had come too far was when we passed a sprinkler, watering the flowers. The boys insisted on going into it. I refused. They cried. They made a scene. I threatened them. They cried some more. I kept walking, Ben pulled on the stroller. Screaming as if I had been pulling out his toenails, one at a time. People are watching – appalled, I’m sure – wondering how this woman had been allowed to breed. I kept my eyes down and my mind focused on my new goal: leaving.

But even after the decision has been made to make as swift of an exit as possible, this is not an immediate thing. If I had a transporter, this would have been the time to use it. We still had a ten-minute walk out of the zoo and that doesn’t even count for the street we have to cross in order to get to our van. Ben, at this point, was screaming uncontrollably, pulling on my stroller, and demanding me to wait for him. Into oncoming walking traffic. So what did I do? I just kept walking. As much as I could. With him in one arm, the baby on my chest and pushing the stroller ahead of me. I just had to keep on walking until we got to a spot where I could sit down and see what was the matter.

Well, he calmed down eventually. But it took a while. Much longer than I would care to admit. I teased with my cousin, it’s a good thing my kids look like me – at least a little – or else people would think I was kidnapping these kids! Or even better, torturing them!

I was so grateful when we made it to the car and I was able to harness the boys into their car seats. But not until Jack fell and spilled his water on the sidewalk; yup, that was a minor catastrophe. With the promise of getting more water at home, though, we trudged on. Naps were difficult, but at least they happened.

So, yeah. I had warning signs. Clues that this was not going to be our best day in public. In the heat. Too close to naptime. While trying to visit with someone else. Nope, not our best day. And yet, I’m hoping they take a long enough nap to shake it all off because we’re going to a birthday party tonight!

I guess I’ve always been a glutton for punishment.

Modern-Day Miracle

Sometimes, we're so involved in our own little worlds that we can get overconfident. Cocky. Thinking that we are the ones in control and making good things happen.

Wrong.

This afternoon, I witnessed a miracle. A full-fledged, modern-day miracle.

I took all three sleeping kids from the van and successfully transferred them into their sleeping arrangements when we got home. And they all stayed asleep. Or went back to sleep, rather.

I may not move mountains. But my God sure does! Wooohoo!

They've Got Big Shoes to Fill

Oh, So True

Three Little Loves

Ben, Jack and Megan - my new favorite picture

A Reason to Bake

I think I broke up at least three fights today. At least. And one of them was while I was nursing. And by breaking up, I mean physically pulling two toddlers off of eachother to keep their skin in tact and us out of the emergency room.

And the hardest part? It can come out of nowhere.

Jack and Ben will be playing nicely together, hitting the ball back and forth, even taking turns. Then one of them decides it's their turn, but their brother doesn't agree. The first brother then launches an all-out attack against his sibling, running him over, tackling him to the ground and reaching for any skin to scratch or bite.

And it's not one brother over another. They take turns. Multiple times a day.

We pull them apart, talk to them about how else to handle the problem, how important it is to use our words... but we still find ourselves settling these disputes more than we ever did before.

It's difficult to tell whether or not this is a direct result of the baby. Things have been in a constant state of transition since Megan arrived, and as much as we've tried to keep things consistent, they know things are different now that we've added another member to our family.

Andy and I talk aaaaaallll the time about new strategies to give the boys the structure they so desperately need. We stress over whether or not we're doing the right thing, if we're allowing them too much freedom or how to give them more responsibility. We question our routine and whether the boys need more variety. We wonder if we're being too rough or too easy. We praise their positive efforts generously and try very hard to see that we're treating them as inviduals and not as much as a "set."

Yeah, we talk a lot.

And amongst it all, we easily get discouraged. It's hard work, this whole parenting gig! Add a newborn to the equation as well as a mom who's nursing (for the first time, really) and not getting a whole lot of sleep, is recovering from major abdominal surgery and whose emotions were always a big rollercoaster ride even before the baby arrived and you've got a recipe for discouragement!

And yet, life goes on.

After dinner tonight, I asked the boys if they wanted to help me make cookies. We had sort of run out of inside activities for the boys to do and since I KNEW they would be excited about helping me in the kitchen (and I was craving white chocolate chip macademia nut cookies!) I felt like it was a win-win.

They helped (and I use the word "help" veeeery loosely) me scoop the ingredients into the bowl and mix everything together. "DAD!" they yelled from the kitchen, "we makin' you tookies!" After they rolled the dough into balls and put them on the cookie sheet, I suggested we wash our hands again to get all of the dough off. I poured some water into the sink and squeezed a dollop of soap into each of their hands. Supervising the amount of splashing, I tried not to get discouraged about the fact that they both wanted to do it at the same time... that almost always leads to fights. I noticed Jack's hands go on top of Ben's, but before I had a chance to separate them, I realized that Ben wasn't upset by it. I decided to wait and see.

Jack was helping Ben. He was running his hands down Ben's, washing all of the dough off and into the sink. That's exactly what I do when I help them wash their hands after finger-painting (or more appropriately, HAND-painting.) I almost broke out in tears. Watching how gently Jack was helping his brother, especially after such a difficult day, was so encouraging. Once it was obvious that Ben's hands were clean, I suggested they finish up and dry their hands. "No, I'm keeping him warm," Jack told me. That boy is the best at coming up with new ways to stall, but it was so sweet I couldn't argue. A few seconds later, Ben said, "Okay, Jack, that 'nuff," and he obeyed.

I'm sure there are things we could be doing differently. Better. Gosh, there will ALWAYS be things for us to improve. But little incidences like this one tonight help remind me of one simple fact: I have boys. Two of them, in fact. And they happen to be the same age. They're not even three years old yet - in many ways, they're still babies! They fight. They play. They forgive, they forget, they love. We will continue to do what we can, but I'm going to have to keep reminding myself of these facts when we get discouraged. They're brothers.

It will take us years to perfect this whole parenting thing. Honestly, we may never get it even 75% right. But we will still try. In the meantime, I'm thinking we're going to be making a whole lotta cookies.

Two Weeks Old

Changing My Expectations

I am so grateful for how smoothly we have settled into being a family of five. My mom and my husband have been a huge support, taking turns spending time with the boys so I could care for Megan. Visiting me in the hospital and responding to my every need. And since I can't drive for a few weeks, it's nice to know that I always have a handful of willing chauffers available to take me to the appointments I need to make. I am so so grateful.

It was a great birth experience, ten times better than with the boys. With our first c-section, my body wanted to throw up while they were stitching me back up and I shook for hours. It was horribly uncomfortable. They ripped off the bandage from my incision without telling me beforehand and it felt like forever before I was able to get up and walk around. But this time around, there was no nasuea, no shaking and I had a much better idea of what to expect. Recovery is still relatively slow, but I have to keep reminding myself that this was major abdominal surgery; the healing process will take some time.

I gained 42 pounds overall with the boys and 30 pounds this time around. I remember how quickly my body seemed to shrink back into its original form...well, not original form, but sorta close...shortly after the boys were born. But that could have been because of the fact that I had little appetite (due to major surgery) and therefore, had a difficult time allowing my milk to come in. This time, I pushed myself to eat right away. Even though I didn't necessarily feel hungry or full, I made myself eat so my baby could have a steady milk supply as quickly as possible. And let me tell you, my milk is definitely IN! Holy Cow. Literally.

I went to my OB yesterday to get my staples out. (Another thing I dreaded the first time around, but quickly learned this was not as painful as it sounded!) Andy came with me and we brought the baby as well. The secretaries were excited to share our joy and meet the little one we had been expecting for the past nine months! The nurse put her stuff down in the room and asked me to join her at the scale. I stepped on and felt like I was having another pregnancy moment. Wait a minute. What did that say? How much did I weigh?

One week after I had Megan, I was FOUR POUNDS lighter than what I weighed a week before she was born.

How is that even possible? Aren't you supposed to LOSE weight when you have a baby?

I shared my surprise with the nurse, who wasn't sure how to respond. Same with my husband. I mean, honestly, there are only so many things you can say to a hormonal mother who already feels like a cow. But I was sincerely shocked.

"Were you hoping to be less?" Andy asked in the car on our way home.

"No, I wasn't hoping it would be a lot less. I was expecting it!"

I tried not to get too bent out of shape, because honestly, it is what it is. There is little I can do about my bulky body right now as its primary function right now is healing and producing milk. I didn't want my husband to worry that he'd have to talk me off a ledge, so I tried not to dwell on it. But I was sincerely stunned.

I brought it up with him again last night, expressing my shock. "I just thought it would have been less. A lot less. I mean, I birthed an eight pound baby and a ton of liquid. Shouldn't I have lost more?"

Again, my supportive husband didn't know what to say to console me. Instead, he returned to his iPad after saying, "You still look great, Min." Sweet. He still loved me? End of story. I can live with it.

He emerged from his iPad a few minutes later to reveal what he had just learned. He had been searching for stories of other women who had experienced the same thing. So so sweet. And he found that we were not alone in our experience. Many women after c-sections find themselves to be at the same weight, if not heavier, than after their baby was born. Not only am I not maintaining an active lifestyle - I'm laying on the couch, healing and feeding, for most of the day - while also trying to eat and drink whenever I can to maintain my milk supply, but I had a c-section. For the first 24 hours or so, I was being pumped with liquids through an IV. These liquids take a long time to make it through my system, adding to the extra weight I'm carrying around.

Well, that explains it!

Some of the first photos Andy took of me with the baby are beautiful. I still look relatively trim and alert.

A few minutes later, however, they wheeled me into my room and stuck a whole bunch of needles in me. An IV would be connected to me for the next 24 hours or so, which would be pumping a constant supply of liquids to keep me hydrated. Notice a difference in my face alone? And that's not even mentioning the pain killers they put me on to help numb the pain from the incision; those just made me look drunk!

So, please don't worry. I'm not going to starve myself in order to lose this thirty pounds I seem to have put on in a matter of minutes. I'm just fine. But I am grateful to know WHY that scale didn't seem to move after such a large and beautiful package was removed from my uterus! :)

Sometimes, a girl's just gotta know.

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter!

Love, Ben, Jack and Megan

Another Day Down

I did it!

Well, technically, I've still got three hours to go before I can proclaim myself successful. But I'm feeling pretty confident, so I'm going to just proclaim it now. I DID IT!

No, I haven't had the baby yet. But that's what I did... I didn't have the baby today!

I know it would be a mother's dream to pick out the date and the circumstances that her child could be born in. I do not have that novelty. But ever since we found out that we were due April 4th, my first thought was, "Aww, I hope I don't have the baby on March 30th!"

Why, you ask?

Today was my sister-in-law's birthday. I really didn't want to have the baby on her birthday. I would have hated my sister-in-law to share! She's already a twin and will never have her own 'real' day, but I didn't want to add to it by making her share with someone else.

So, I did it.

Baby Girl, you can come anytime now. No problem.

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Well... if I could just be bold enough to ask for one more favor... would you mind waiting until after this Sunday?

It's April 1st. April Fool's Day. I know it's not a real holiday or anything, but I'm not sure I could get anyone to believe that I WAS going into labor that day. Just another two more days. That's it. I'm honestly not asking for too much. Am I?

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If our little one doesn't come on her own beforehand, we're planning a c-section to go and get her on Wednesday, April 4th. I'm embarrassed to admit that that is my aunt and uncle's anniversary. Their 25th anniversary. But I had very little to do with organizing the date for the c-section let alone setting my due date! April 3rd is my grandpa's 96th birthday, so I won't be able to do much with stepping on someone's toes. We'll see! Jack and Ben were born on our 2nd wedding anniversary, which also happens to be my good friend's birthday as well as my husband's uncle's birthday. Seems that we don't plan these things very well.

One day at a time!

I'm actually doing pretty well, as far as the final days of a pregnancy goes. I haven't had a ton of sciatic or hip pain in the past three days, which is a pure miracle, compared to the past few weeks. I had a little bit of energy to do some cleaning around the house this morning, but I stopped before I knew it was too much. I do get tired quickly and I don't even try and bend down anymore - it's just not worth the effort. Baby Girl is pretty cramped in there and lets me know how tight things are pretty frequently. Everyone is still maintaining status quo, hoping that even if the baby does give me signs that she's ready for her debut, we would all have enough time to get the boys to Nana's house and get me to the hospital. Bags are packed, plans are set and we're all just waiting to see if she'll show signs of being sick of her dark surroundings. I haven't noticed anything too major yet, so I'm hoping that means she'll be comfy in there for a bit longer...

or at least until AFTER Sunday night :)

Waiting on the Lord

At 38 weeks and 4 days pregnant, I am struck by an odd feeling. A feeling I haven't had in... well, I can't even remember. It's a strange feeling. One that I'm not entirely comfortable with. And I have no idea what to do.

I can't think of anything that needs to be done.

You laugh, I'm sure. But this is really odd for a former teacher, mother of twins and pregnant mommy!

For the past few months - since the day we found out we were pregnant - there has been a HUGE list of things to do. To prepare for. Organize the house, get ready for the baby, gather materials, brush up on information, buy/make birthday/wedding/baby shower presents through the month of June, the list has literally never ended. But trust me, I've really gotten a LOT done. My apartment has NEVER been as organized as it is in this moment. That was probably due to the fact that we found out we were pregnant on the day we moved in and I had absolutely NO energy to devote to organizing our new space, but even still, the fact that things are pretty organized is impressive.

Okay, now that I'm thinking of it, there are things I could do. Clean off my kitchen countertops. Scrub the toilet (because you know, you can never do that enough.) Back up the files from my harddrive onto my external drive. But instead, I'd rather think about everything being done. This is also not taking into account the fact that my husband has been the one cleaning and doing dishes; I am only trying to do the minimal lately since my energy level is so low after care for two toddlers during the day. Trust me. There are things I could do. I'm just choosing not to :)

My bags are packed. A bag is packed for my boys to stay with Nana and Papa when the baby arrives. Our plan is set in place and everyone knows what's 'supposed' to happen in case of a, b, or c. The baby's room is finished and her dressers are full. The boys' Easter baskets are stuffed, their outfits purchased and simple meals are planned for the next few weeks. Now, all I have to do is wait.

I've never been particularly good at waiting. I am a "dooer." A worker. I enjoy getting things done and have always taken pride in my work. Even if it's folding laundry, I get an immense feeling of satisfaction knowing it was completed successfully. And I joke with my husband that I used to consider myself a patient person... until I had kids. Then I found out I was really only patient with OTHER people's kids. HA!

Waiting is a difficult place to be. I remember wondering if I would ever get married. At the ripe old age of 24, I felt like I was destined to be an old spinster. I mean, really, most of my friends were married or at least had a steady boyfriend then. I had neither! Is it me or is this feeling exaggerated in Christian circles? Looking back, I am sooo grateful for that period of waiting because it helped get me ready for what was to come. I think I even appreciated it more because I didn't get it right when I wanted it. But in the moment, the waiting was so difficult.

That's where I am right now. I'm taking comfort in a verse that brought me peace when I was waiting for my husband to find me.

"Wait on the Lord; be strong and take heart, and wait on the Lord." Psalm 27:14

I'm humbled that the Psalmist thought this idea important enough for him to mention it twice. Oh, how soon we forget. God is in control. He is strategically putting pieces in the correct order. Waiting for the perfect time. So that in the end, we will be richly blessed.

There are parts of me that feel ready. But the bigger part of me is not. I am confident that the Lord wants to use how many more days we might have until our new little one arrives to prepare my heart, my family and my home to accept this new gift.

So I guess I DO have something to do: be strong, take heart and wait on the Lord!

**I've been blogging namely to my family blog lately because I didn't think you were all interested in hearing every little thought that pops into this pregnant lady's head. If you're interested, you're welcome to view my thoughts there: http://andymindysauer.blogspot.com. Thanks!

19 Days and Counting

Nursery is pretty much ready.

Hospital bag is pretty much packed.

House is pretty much ready for our baby girl.

And yet, I don't know that it's fully hit us that we'll be having another baby in less than three weeks. Nineteen days or less, actually.

The other night, I was browsing online for information about how much our little one is growing at 37 weeks. They tell me she's full-term and full developed. Now, she's just putting on weight. That my uterus may start to drop in the next few days/weeks and since this isn't my first pregnancy, there's a good chance she'll come early. The site suggested packing your hospital bag and making sure you were preregistered at the hospital.

Say what?

Why did no one tell me about preregistering? Or at least remind me?

It hasn't even been three years since our boys were born and already, I've forgotten relatively important information! So after yesterday morning, I can now add and check off "Finished preregistering at the hospital" from my list.

As good as it feels to get this stuff done, realizations like the one I had last night about preregistering make me nervous about what else I might be forgetting. If I forget to bring something to the hospital with me, not a big deal. Andy or my mom can always get it. But what if I forget something big, like what the heck I'm supposed to do!

Going through our little one's (very very pink) laundry, I'm struck by how small everything is. How am I supposed to hold a newborn again? How are you supposed to change those diapers when they are just so incredibly small? Will she latch on? What if I don't eat/drink/sleep enough and my milk doesn't come in when she needs it most? What if...? What if...?

Gosh, I sound like a first-time parent, don't I? I'm not, but I kinda feel like I am. These are obviously silly things to think about much less worry about. And I would be lying if I said these questions fill up my mind all day long. They honestly don't. Just in those few quiet moments of the day when I think about bringing our little one home. Into our home. Our lives. And I just wonder how it will go. Our family will be forever changed.

One thing I'm confident of, though. Well, two things actually. We are not the first ones to go through this. And second, we WILL emerge triumphant (albeit, not without our own little struggles, stories and learning experiences throughout the way.)

One step at a time, right?

Doing What I Know

Time is ticking away. I just can't believe we'll have our little one on this side of the womb in about three weeks. Or less.

Baby belly at 36 weeks, 5 days (taken March 11th)

Our Baby Girl at 36 weeks in 4D. Isn't technology amazing?

Can I tell you what I've been up to? Well, you know, other than growing another human while also caring for two active toddlers? Going to weekly OB appointments and trying to maintain my house?

I've purchased and made ALL birthday gifts, baby shower gifts, bridal shower gifts through the month of June. And a few for July. For someone who enjoy putting gifts together by hand, this is quite an accomplishment. My cousin and my brother are getting married. Two of Andy's cousins are pregnant with their first child, as well as two of my friends. There's just too many good things going on to use the excuse, "Oh, I couldn't do what I normally do for you. This is just a busy season for me." It feels really good.

We're also almost done with our Things to Do Before Baby Arrives List. We've put the room table, washed the clothes we were so generously given and have diapers waiting for her arrival. We made headboards for the boys' room (well, more like 'bed bumpers' - I'll post a picture soon!) and hung up some more decorations on their wall. We utilized a wardrobe in our bedroom to put much of the clutter in that was lining our floor. And I did a huuuuge big sweep of the boys' toys and our stuff in the basement to give away at our last MOPS meeting. All in an attempt to be ready for our little one. In many ways, I feel like our house is finally feeling like our home. We're finally getting it to where we've wanted it to be.

I was telling some of my friends at playgroup how much I was working to finish before our little one arrived, and they just laughed. "You're going to need some downtime," they told me. "You're going to wish you had an excuse to get to the store to buy a birthday present." I suppose they're right. But here's where our thinking differs. I had twins.

When the boys were born, I didn't get a break. Oh, I had help. I don't know how I would have gotten through those first ten weeks without the support of my mom and my husband. And a great many people that made us meals. But namely, I'm the mommy. And the ultimate responsibility fell on me. I had to feed them, burp, clean, then pump. If I had extra time in the day, I would take a nap. Or perhaps I would make myself something to eat and then take a nap. If I had a whole hour, I might have been able to add a SHOWER to that list. Now THAT was luxury. I was working to care for two newborns at once. You fed one, fed the other, changed one, changed the other. And after I got them both to sleep, I'd set my alarm to do it all over again in a half hour.

So when people say, "One newborn is going to be a breeze for you!" they may be right. But I honestly don't know. I only know what it's like to care for two at once and let me tell you, that's no joke. I can only do what I know. And for right now, that means doing everything I can to clear my schedule so I can exclusively care for my little one. And my two toddlers. And my husband. And my house. And myself, of course.

With everything that's been done, there's only ONE thing left to do. And it's driving my mom CRAZY that I haven't done it yet. Pack my hospital bag.

I'll get right on that.

Less Than One Month

It's happened every week since we found out we were pregnant. I get dreamy, thoughtful, grateful and extremely humble.

Calculations tell us that the baby ages another week on Wednesdays, according to my menstral cycle. So on Tuesday nights, I lay awake in bed, thinking about the baby and how she will age another week the very next day. Eight weeks becomes nine weeks, eleven weeks becomes twelve weeks. Sometimes, 40 weeks feels like forever. Especially when we were only six weeks along, I was sick as a dog and we couldn't say why. But now at the cusp of 36 weeks, 40 weeks just doesn't seem long enough.

With the boys, each week was a blessing. We had no idea how long my body would be able to rent space for two little ones, so my doctor was extra cautious. He took me out of the classroom by 20 weeks and I had the rest of the time to... well, rest. I didn't have any other kids and my husband still went to work every day, so it was just me and the boys. In utero. Eating, sleeping, and growing. I remember hoping they stayed inside until I had my next doctor's appointment. And then I'd start looking forward to other growth milestones... 24 weeks... 30 weeks... 34 weeks... 37 weeks. Each time, I'd be grateful they were still cooking inside and wondered how much longer I could handle my new tenants. They were born at 38 weeks. And don't you know, I had reached each of the milestones I was hoping for! (I even made it to the month of May, which I was really hoping to do!) We didn't spend any time in the NICU and I got to take them home just three days after my OB snatched them out from inside of me. That was God's mercy, for sure. It's not uncommon for many mothers of multiples to have to evict their little ones from utero much sooner for many different reasons out of their control. I've often thought it fitting that the Lord would use your child's birth as the very first time you realized how little control you really had over that little one! 

Tomorrow, we will be 36 weeks along. My computer tells me that in four days, the baby will be considered full-term. How can that even be possible? Didn't we just find out we were pregnant? This pregnancy has been so different than how it was with the boys. I was sick this time around and have had minimal sonograms and appointments for my "normal pregnancy" versus the High Risk pregnancy with the boys. I feel like the baby is breech because of how she moves, whereas the boys were always head-down and constantly getting at my ribs. There's only one baby in there and she has sooo much more room to move around than the boys ever did! And perhaps the biggest factor: I have two other toddlers. I'm not reading books about breast-feeding or taking classes at the hospital. I'm researching opinions on potty training, strong-willed children and introducing a new sibling to the family! My days are filled with paint, PlayDoh and playdates. Sooo different than the first time around.

So as I lay in bed tonight, my mind wanders to the next milestone: 36 weeks. Woah. She'll be here in less.than.one.month. I'd love to make it to the month of April (our due date is April 5th) but of course, my body wouldn't mind if she wanted to come sooner! We've come so far in a relatively short amount of time. We'll get to meet our little one very soon and I'll forget what life was like before she joined our family.

In less than one month.

Men 101

Another blog contribution by my co-author, my dad.

While in a bookstore recently, I noticed a middle aged man walk in alone and begin browsing for some CDs. It was then that I came to the conclusion that most men are lone wolves. They protect themselves from risk and consider themselves successful in life if they never embarrass themselves, are able to stay alive, and stay out of jail. These protective mechanisms usually form in the Junior High years. The personalities that develop as a result of learning to interact with girls, the terrors of Gym class and the various physical changes that occur, remain with most men for the rest of their lives.

Heaven help the young man who is too short or too tall or who is different in any way than what the wolf pack (other boys) or the Supreme Court (the cheerleaders) deem normal. Life is turbulent for him. He quickly learns his place in the pack and develops his survival personality. Is it any wonder that when a boy starts Jr. High that his conversations at home morph into one word answers or grunts? When this young man grows up, we may see glimpses of who he really is, such as when he falls in love or does a brave act. But for the most part, he remains hidden.

What does it take to draw him out to be the man God intended him to be? Think for a moment about stories or movies you have seen that portrayed a man who felt called to a great task but was afraid that he wasn’t up to it. Somewhere along the line, a woman came to encourage and inspire him. She awakened the little boy inside. The little boy that was brave, honorable and justifiably idealistic before the crucible of his Jr. High School experience.

Already on thin ice, I would like to take a risk and go just a little further to offer some practical suggestions that I believe can awaken a man’s desire to serve his wife and family:

• When you put your hand on his arm, stop a moment, look impressed and ask him if he has been working out. (Donna got a new patio for this one.)
• Thank him every once in a while for going to work each day and providing for your family (It’s like saying, “sick-em” to a dog.)
• Acknowledge his acts of higher character such as good manners, a selfless work or a moment of tenderness with you or your children. (This alone, could get you a Disney vacation.)

When a man is respected, he responds. A friend told me recently, that when everything is good at home (and I think he meant with his wife), that he could face anything. A man is always aware of his wife’s level of respect for him. And even if she starts with the small things, she’ll find that it will serve him right.

Never Too Old to Learn

I'm not sure if I've complained about it too much here, but we've reeeeeeally been struggling with sleeptimes lately.

I feel like things've gotten progressively worse, but it came to a head for me last night when my parents watched the boys so I could take Andy out for his birthday. The boys pulled all the same stunts they have for the past few weeks and it took my parents an hour and a half to get them down. Yup, sounds about right.

So I wrote to my good friend from college who has five-year-old twin boys as well as a three-year-old son. She always has such good insight when it comes to parenting these little monsters and I really respect her ideas. Then I did some searches online. I wondered if I should give up their naps entirely; it just seemed like too much work for such a little reward. At the same time, though, my boys don't do very well without a few hours rest in the afternoon. Should I separate them? They seem to be keeping eachother up with their shennanigans. They like to jump on the beds. Should I put them back in their cribs and get crib tents? I know I'm exhausted being 34+ weeks pregnant; do they just know that I don't have the energy to fight? What was I doing wrong and how could I make it better?

The best article I found was here. In it, were practically ideas about soothing kids to sleep and what things I might be doing (or not doing) during the day to prepare them for a restful nap. It was all obvious stuff, but details that I hadn't thought of.

After reading the article, my husband and I talked about some small changes I could make to my day in order to help get the boys ready for a good nap:

• Limit our television-watching to two videos a day, one in the morning and another when they wake up from their nap. For a mom who never watches television herself or even introduced TV to her kids until they were two years old, we're certainly making up for lost time. Ever since I was pregnant, it hasn't been uncommon for us to have the television on most of the day, even if we're not actively watching it. Allowing my boys to unplug from the big screen was supposed to help stimulate their brains less. Gosh, I could do that.
• Limit the amount of sugars the boys are drinking and eating. When we started potty training, they encouraged us to have the boys drink as much juice as possible, as it would encourage them to go on the potty and increase the speed of the process. So we bought tons of juice boxes and flavored waters, many of which the boys still ask for. Out of laziness, I've been giving in, letting them have as much as they wanted. But I never thought about the ramifications. Between juice and the treats they still want at times after they use on the potty, their blood is constantly flowing with sugar. No wonder they're jumping off the walls! I'm embarrassed that I hadn't identified this one on my own. It was obvious this needed to change. Now, they can have a juice box with their breakfast and their lunch, then it's water for the rest of the day. They weren't thrilled about this change today, but they're slowly giving in. It's worth it.
• Take down the rails from their twin beds. I bought two guardrails to put on the long side of the beds so they wouldn't fall out during the night. But as the boys play, these seemed more like hazards. I took them down this morning and feel a lot better about them staying safe. They both sleep near the wall-side anyway.
• Do quiet activities about a half-hour before sleeptime and stay away from roudy activities. By encouraging activities such as painting, snuggling, reading and PlayDoh, I increase my changes of the boys being more relaxed than if we went straight from wrestling...which, you know...we do a lot.
• Try for 20 minutes of active play between each sleeptime. This is one my friend added. She said that her boys sleep better in the afternoon if they've played (wrestled, tickled!) for at least twenty minutes. Same for in the evening. Makes sense, doesn't it? How can I put my boys down if they're not exhausted? As a pregnant mom, I've been extremely guilty of this. Today I made a point of letting my boys play outside - which today, meant in the mud - and the boys were thrilled. I had bought rain boots last week and they were thrilled to get them completely filthy.
• Decrease the amount of sleep I allow them to have in the afternoon, making sure they're awake by 3pm. Half the time, I fall asleep and don't want to wake up. Especially when it took so much energy to get them down. But since the boys went down so much easier this afternoon, I felt good about letting them sleep just longer than an hour and a half, as opposed to two hours plus. They definitely wanted to sleep more, but it did guarantee them to be sleepy again when it came time for bedtime.

See what I mean? Kinda obvious stuff, but I suppose I had to be ready to hear it all. The other thing they said was that moms are the obvious pushover. Every kid knows that. Or at least perceives it to be that way. Dads are obvious no-nonsense. Just knowing it wasn't ME made me feel a little better. It's not me...or it is me...but at least I'm not alone.

Just goes to show you: the more you learn, the more you realize you don't know. Motherhood is a very humbling job. One day, you're on top of the world because things seem to be going so well. And then the very next day, you're in tears because you realize you have absolutely no idea what you're doing. Humbling, to say the least.

Still, onward and upward! I'm grateful for the small amount of success we experienced today and looking forward to watching these small changes make a difference in our overall happiness in the Sauer household! One thing's for sure: sleep.changes.everything.

B-E-N

Ben did something that made my teacher heart sooo happy tonight: he wrote his name.

Well, not technically. He typed it. But it was so beautiful, you would have thought he scribbled it with his own hands, from his mommy's reaction.

Ben loves letters. He points them out at a store, while we're driving, on the cereal box, and in books. He even finds them in the scribbles circles and lines he colors. And I absolutely love it. We can rarely read a book until he's identified each of the letters in the title. He's not 100% profficient and he can only really identify capital letters, but for a mom of an almost three-year-old, I'm thrilled. (Jack is quite good as well, but Ben gets an added thrill out of it!)

After the normal after-dinner wrestling, Daddy usually suggests some quiet time in front of his iPad. My boys LOVE this time. All three of them :) It's a nice way to unwind from the day, letting the boys play with puzzles, paint and animals. We use a timer to help them take turns, but tonight I thought I'd offer my laptop as the 'other option' so the boys would be occupied while they were waiting for their other turn. It was funny teaching them how to use a touch pad on the laptop versus a smart board... definitely took some getting used to for my boys in the age of the Smart Phone. We experimented with a few games on FisherPrice.com, but then I asked Ben if he wanted to write some letters. I opened Microsoft Word and pressed "caps lock."

I let him have fun with the keypad and then after a few minutes, I asked if he wanted to write his name. He knows how to spell it and does frequently. It's not uncommon for him to spell his name when you ask him to tell you what his name is :) He was definitely anxious for this project. I excitedly pointed out each letter and he thoughtfully pressed it and waited for me to help him find the next one. When we finished, he looked at his masterpiece and then up at me. He opened his eyes wide and fixed his mouth into a big "O." Oooh, he was proud.

He typed his name. Gosh, I wish I had my camera handy to take a picture of that face.

We typed it a few more times and then I helped him spell his last name, at his request. He just loved it.

Next, he asked to spell Daddy's name. But this time, he didn't want me to point out the letters for him. His first attempt looked more like "D-A-A-A-A-A-D" because he pressed the "A" too many times. But let me tell you, it was beautiful.

My boys can spell. Well, perhaps not literally... but you know what I mean.

Thank God for Technology

In the past few days, we've discovered a new tool: a TIMER!

We started using it to help the boys share games on Daddy's iPad. You know, that piece of technology I swore they would never know existed? Yeah, it's their favorite thing to play with now. Especially since he downloaded a ton of fun ABC games, puzzles and painting activities on there :) It's a good thing he takes it to work everyday or I'd never have a reason to keep it away from them! Anyway, we set it to go off after a minute and then they gladly hand it over to their brother for a turn. It's a lot better than us just saying "Okay, time's up!" With the timer, it's an external third-party telling them exactly when it's time to share. It's been working like a charm.

The thought occured to me the other day to apply this to bedtime, too. I had remembered reading it as a strategy in Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, for kids who want to be held in the middle of the night. Dr. Marc Weissbluth suggested placing a timer under their pillow to go off after the allotted time so they would come to understand when time was up. Makes sense!

My boys ask us to sit in their doorway for "one minute," but that minute always turns into five...or ten...or twenty minutes. There'll be days that I'll (uncomfortably) sit there until they fall asleep, just so I won't have the hassle of having to sit back down again just to get them to go to sleep. And I've gotta be honest, at 33 weeks pregnant, it's just not comfortable to sit Indian-style on the floor simply waiting for two toddlers to nod off. But I do it because I'm just that desperate for a nap myself.

So tonight, I brought my cell phone with me. Yes, I've (lazily) been using the timer on my Droid. I told the boys I would hold them for one minute on the bed. They excitedly watched the timer click down, second by second, as they sat in my arms. And then they jumped down into their own beds when the alarm went off. Go figure. They jumped a little on their beds, but then I said I would sit in the doorway for two minutes after they laid down. Once they were convinced of my intentions, I set the alarm for two minutes and waited. "Two minutes up?" they incessantly asked. When it rang, Ben said, "Night, Mommy!" and I got up. I ignored Jack's cries (that lasted for about ten minutes) insisting on one more minute. I was grateful he didn't get out of bed, though. Even with the cries, it was progress!

A cell phone timer is helping my kids go to bed easier and stay there. Who wouldda thunk it?

In other news, last night was the fifth night in the row both boys woke up with dry underwear. The only reason they go through more than one pair a day is because they decide to change the character as their mood changes. I'll put a stop to that soon, but for now, this mommy is just grateful they care enough about underwear to keep it on!

Hurry, Ben Comes!

I'd just like to take a moment and brag on my husband for a bit. He is such a great friend to me and such a fantastic daddy to our boys. We are very grateful for such a wonderful provider and support to our family.

Something that means to the most to this exhausted pregnant mommy is how energetic he is after a long day's work. Every day, he comes home from a physically demanding job, and wrestles with the boys. He opens the door slowly, knowing that the boys would be hiding after hearing him press the keys to the automatic lock, and he asks where they are. The boys are not very imaginative at this point. They hide in exactly the same spots: Ben under the couch pillows and Jack behind the small couch, in the bookshelf. But still, their daddy searches throughout the room - amidst the giggling - until he uncovers their dimply faces and shrieks of delight.

Almost immediately, they want to play. Especially Jack. And his first request is always the same. "Hurry, Ben comes! Hurry, Ben comes!"

We've come to know this as a game. A game of chase. Andy scoops up Jack in his arms and runs across the room. Ben knows to follow, running after the pair as if his life depended on it. They run from one side of the room to the other, to the bedroom and through the kitchen. He jumps over Ben, dodges away from his grabs and screams as if they were this close to touching him. After about a minute (or whenever Andy decides Jack's turn is over,) he lets Ben 'get them' and he switches toddlers. Then the game becomes, "Hurry, Jack comes!" After a few rounds, Daddy is always sweating while the boys are still begging for me. It is the cutest thing to watch. My heart swells with pride that a grown man would love his two-year-olds enough to entertain their repetetive games.

Jack dancing while Daddy sings into the microphone. You can just see the admiration in his eyes.

We were out to dinner tonight and I was helping the boys catch up Daddy on our day. Jack asked if we could go home and it made me smile. If given the choice, that boy will always choose to stay home rather than go out. "Do you like being home?" I asked him. He, of course, answered affirmatively. "What do you like to do when you're at home?" I asked again.

His answer? It wasn't painting... or reading books... or shooting his Nerf gun... or playing with his brother... all of which are some of his favorite activities. You guessed it.

He responded with a quick smile. "Hurry, Ben comes!"

Sleep Training, Revisited

I continue to be amazed at the boys' potty training progress! We're coming to a close of Week Three and we're working toward 100% progress during the day and about 65% at night. I told Andy tonight, "The boys have drier pajamas now wearing underwear than they did a month ago in diapers!"

They actually LIKE going in the potty. They like being dry. They like holding it. They like when their "tummy feels better." They like "making mommy and daddy so happy!" They like waking up in dry pajamas and with dry blankets. We only woke them up in the middle of the night to use the potty during the first week; if they have to go now, they usually wake us up to go and then go right back down. They've had a few occasions where they'd start going in their underwear and then realize what they were doing before waking us up and finishing in the toilet - that's progress! I really am amazed that they have come sooo far in such a relatively short amount of time.

Our routine has been adjusted. I carry one of their toilets in the van at all times for those moments when a public restroom is just not within reach. I've even been known to carry it INTO church and playgroup to be sure they've got a familiar piece of plastic to work with when the time comes! I carry a foldable/portable potty seat (like this one, except ours is red and has Cars on it.) And I always carry at least four pairs of extra underwear and a whole extra outfit on each outing. It feels like a little more work at times, but then I remember the hassle of having to buy and dispose of diapers, finding clean areas to lay them down and the frustration of bathrooms with no changing tables... and then I feel extremely proud.

So, now that we've got potty training to a comfortable working level, we can work on our next challenge: sleeping.

Again.

Sound familiar? Yeah, I'm thinking that sleeping is going to be a constantly evolving challenge in our house. As the boys grow, they become more independent, more confident, more aware of how they effect their surroundings. The last two weeks have been horrendous sleeping weeks. It takes forever to get them down... they want to go to the potty... then they want to wash their hands... get a treat... then their brother wakes up... and they want me to hold them, sit on their bed, stand/sit at the door for "just a minute"... then it's an all-out mad house! We weren't confident enough to tell them they couldn't use the bathroom after they were in their beds - after all, they did go almost every single time - but now, we're at a new breaking point.

A few nights ago, we cut them off from getting a treat after peeing before bed. The new rule is "no treats after we brush our teeth." That was a struggle at first, but now, they've bought it. Then, we told them that they could only go potty ONE TIME before bed. And that was it. Don't get me wrong, they get plenty of opportunities to use the potty before the "last time" comes. And they'll still come out fifteen minutes later if they have to go potty, but we make it a habit not to talk to them and just shuffle them back to bed when they're done. That's been working pretty well. They definitely understand that they should not be using the potty as an excuse to get out of bed and walk around (which Jack was extremely guilty of!)

Now I've just to apply all of these things during naptime!

The boys know that mommy is extremely tired once naptime rolls around and I look forward to taking a nap just as much as I know they need one. But I've gotten extremely lazy. Now I've got to step up my game especially if I want them to be sleeping in the weeks before Baby Girl arrives... and hopefully afterward, too!

So here's my plan. Tomorrow, I'll be making four new posters with the boys. One is a checklist of things to do before sleeptime and then the other is a revised Sleep Rules poster with the rules added to it about using the potty (one for each of them.) And just like last time, I'm hoping these posters will help remind them of the process we all go through to help get us ready for sleep!

Here's hoping anyway. I wonder what my boys will do when they realize their mommy has absolutely no idea what she's doing. Hopefully, that won't be until they're the daddys struggling with how they're going to deal with their kids!

The Essence of a Mom

I know this will sound obvious to seasoned moms. Moms who've been there. Who've gone through all of this before. But sometimes, I'm just amazed at the amount of energy it takes to raise kids.

Potty training is going well. Some nights are dry, some nights are wet. Sometimes they go when we're out in public. Sometimes they demand to hold it until we get home. Sometimes they refuse to go until they wake up in the middle of the night a few hours later. Perhaps they'll make it to the toilet. Perhaps they won't.

And yet, the morning comes. And life goes on. Boys cling to their mommy. Shriek with excitement at their successes and get frustrated when they fail. But they expect Mommy to remain the same. Undaunted by the lack of sleep (even though Daddy is the one getting up for most of the nighttime bathroom breaks) or the fact that the majority of my energy is being devoted to that of another life. I am their mom. That's all they know.

I took this picture the other night of the boys before bed. They were especially huggy with eachother, grabbing at his brother's neck and giggling like crazy. It was a frustrating night. The boys were constantly wrestling, pushing and touching eachother, much to their brother's frustration. But when Andy and I saw how cute they were, I asked him to get the camera. Sometimes you just have to give in. So glad I did.

This morning was another frustrating morning. They didn't get a lot of sleep because we were out late for a birthday party. They wouldn't leave eachother alone, knowing perfectly well what would drive them crazy. They gave me a hard time about going down for a nap and I had a lot to get done. I wrote my husband a text after they finally went down and asked if we could trade them in for another set. Glad he knew I was kidding... but he did come home early ;)

And then I look at this picture. Look at those eyes. Those dimples. Those smiles. I can hear their laughs. Sense their spirits. And my heart swells with love. How could two little boys bring me so much frustration and yet so much joy?

That, my friends, is the very essence of being a mom.

And I know you understand exactly what I mean.

And the Journey Continues

I feel a little weird giving these daily updates on the boys' potty training process. I DO realize there are other important things going on in the world. But in my world, this is my world.

The boys woke up with dry underwear for the second day in a row. We couldn't have been more pleased! And Ben pooped on the potty this afternoon - and NOT in his underwear! It's only the second time he's done that so far! He's averaging one poop every other day, which I'm wondering will be the new normal. He's only seemed uncomfortable just a few hours before he goes. I'm really hoping that continues!

We went to storytime at Barnes & Noble yesterday and then I got some stuff at Babies R Us before we headed home. I brought one of their potties with us and they used it between stops, then held everything else in until we made it home. Success!

My husband made a purchase last night that we were extremely pleased with today: a new toilet seat! This is it: http://www.bemisseats.com/nextstep/. It's a magnetic kids' potty seat that goes down when they use it and then magnetically sticks to the lid when an adult needs to use it. Genius! It was $40 at Home Depot. The boys were thrilled with this purchase when they woke up this morning. They may actually be motivated to use the "big toilet" now!

The best part? Mommy may only need to clean ONE toilet, rather than three!

We weren't sure how we would make the transition from their little potties to the Big Toilet, so I asked Andy to buy this seat my friend had told me about a few months ago. Such a great idea. Ben preferred to poop in his own potty this afternoon, but the rest of their potty trips were made on top of this new piece of plastic. It's very sturdy since it's part of the toilet seat and the hole is the perfect size for their little booties. I am so pleased!

Sleeptimes still aren't a slam dunk, but they're getting better. Andy suggested I make a new rules poster to help cover our new routine (only going potty once after we read books before they go to bed, etc.) and I think that's a great idea. Perhaps we'll do that this weekend.

I'm hesitant to say that the boys are officially potty trained. But even still, in less than two weeks, I could have never imagined this kind of progress. Praise God!

Ramblings of a Mom with Toddlers

Potty Training Highlights:

Jack woke up this morning with dry underwear. It was his second time. Ben was dry the morning before last and naps have been consistently dry (with the exception of Ben on the afternoon of Day Five!) Ben didn't go poop at all yesterday, so I was very pleased when he went this morning before playgroup; his attitude seems to be improving as it concerns going Number Two! I've been out publicly with the boys twice in the past two days and both times, they asked to use the potty and we came home dry! This is definitely progress. Still hoping for more progress as Ben gets more accustomed to going more consistently.

Here's the other struggle we're having: since we've been encouraging the boys to have more control over their lives in the bathroom, they've been pushing for more independence. For a two-and-a-half year old, this translates to rebellion. Pushing the boundaries. Testing the waters. And it screamed loudest today.

Ben seemed to be the one pushing today. We were leaving for playgroup and so I let the boys play outside for one minute while I loaded the van. This is not unusual; since our van is parked outside on the driveway, the boys will commonly play with sticks on our small patch of grass while I get things situated. Ben started running down the sidewalk. He went past the sidewalk line the boys understand to be "out of bounds" and looked back to see my reaction. I reminded him that he had passed the line and to come back before he got a spanking. He kept running. He ran another ten feet and turned around. He knows I won't play this game. If I run after him, he keeps on running. Plus, I'm eight months pregnant. There was NO way I was going to engage his rebellion. But Jack was.

Jack started running after him so Ben kept on running, giggling the whole time. I yelled again and realized he was just going too far. At this point, he was about 10/12 houses down the street! I didn't know what to do! I grabbed Jack, quickly buckled him into his car seat and drove down the road to where he was floundering on the sidewalk. Ben had gotten disorientated and was starting to cry, wondering where his mommy had gone. Two cars had stopped along the road at this point, wondering who the crying toddler belonged to. I felt horrible. What a bad, unfit mother they must have thought I was.

I waved to the guy in the red car and gave him a nod so he understood that this roaming toddler was mine. He gave me a look that said, "Gosh, what are you thinking, letting this boy out all alone?" and I just kept running to Ben. He ran into my arms; I could tell that he was scared. Rather than give him a spanking, I tried to console him and remind him why he should listen to mommy. We talked about the incident on the way to playgroup and he kept saying, "I listen, I stay safe." It could have been worse. He didn't go on the road, he wasn't hit or taken and I didn't go into labor. I suppose it could have been much worse.

But that's just one example of him testing the boundaries. The other has come with sleeptimes.

The boys enjoy the new freedom of being able to use the bathroom whenever the need arises, so they've been exercising this right just as they get into their beds. This might not be such a big deal if they were singletons, or if they had their own room. But neither of those is the case. When one gets out of bed, so does the other. If not just to keep up with the excitement. Then, after both boys have exhausted the possibility of being able to squeeze out just one more drop, they're both bouncing all over the room. I can't even tell you how frustrating this is. We're not supposed to force them to go potty, but we give them more than three opportunities before 'light's out.' If they don't take advantage of those, how can I deprive them of when they DO admit they need to go?

So we're coming back to basics. We're going back to what we learned from our Marc Weissbluth education. Thank God, my husband is willing to play the heavy again. This pregnant mommy just doesn't have the energy to keep putting them back in their beds when they get out, more than once a day.

The other areas we're having issues is in hearing a direction, knowing the consequences and knowingly choosing the wrong thing. Over and over. I had to take two separate toys away from Ben today because he just wouldn't listen. They're not usually that beligerant.

So here's hoping. We're making progress. We're still trying. We're not there yet, but we're getting better. And I guess there's nothing more we could do!

Except take long walks at Target after they go down, buying a hundred dollars of merchandise I probably don't need and then coming home to blog all about it. Yeah, I guess there IS something more I could do: sleep.

Never Pray for Patience

Jack woke me up at 3:15am and said he had to go potty. He was dry. He went pee in the potty. Then he went back to bed. When I asked if he wanted me to sit on his bed for a minute (which is usually protocol,) he said, "No, you leave now, Mom." (In retrospect, I should have woken up Ben to go on the potty at this point, too.)

Ben was the first to wake up in the morning and came to our room, soaking wet. It was obvious that he didn't have to use the potty right away because the entire contents of his bladder was all over his pajamas and his bed. On the bright side, he did seem very annoyed by the fact that he was wet, so that's good.

Jack got out of bed and went to the potty again. He was still dry. The boys are making fantastic strides, but the fact that Jack woke up to use the potty and then still woke up DRY is absolutely amazing to me. He's got it. He really seems to get it!!!!!

Ben did go poop twice today - both in the afternoon and both were started in his underwear. We're still working on his timing. He's soooo resistant to let go of his feces that he starts walking too late and too slow to the bathroom. I have to let it fall into the toilet so he can feel like he's finishing it in there. We go crazy with praise, exciting phone calls and of course, a present. He's getting better. A little faster each time. Other than that, there haven't been any accidents. It occured to me today that the boys have BOTH woken up DRY from their naps since Day One, with the exception of Ben on Day Five. Can I get an amen?

Patience is a scary thing to pray for. Admittedly, I wouldn't recommend it. Because only then will God provide opportunities for your patience to be tested... err, I mean... strengthened. No, I never pray for patience. Instead, I pray for diligence. Consistency. Grace. Wisdom. And boy, do I need a lot of that lately.

The restraint needed from forcing your kids to sit on the potty, reprimanding them for wetting their bed or to let go of Mommy long enough for her to get a glass of water is overwhelming. Even still, I've been trying to make a conscious effort of letting the boys know that they are in control of their bowel movements. They get to decide when to release it. To be patient until they're ready to sit on the potty. They have the control. This makes a big difference in our day... and also makes me MORE than excited when Andy comes through the door.

So, yeah. Don't pray for patience. Unless you really do relish opportunities to let your head explode from the stress of it all!

Our First Outing

We had a rough night so we decided to let the boys sleep in and not go to church. And it ended up being a wonderfully relaxing family day.

The first few hours, I could tell that Ben had to go poop, but determined to stick with the plan, I did not force anything. At around 11am, his potty dance became more frequent and urgent. Still, I remained calm and encouraging, telling him that he didn't have to go poopy if he didn't want to. Finally, Ben grabbed my hand and made a mad dash for the bathroom, very pleased to produce a very fine specimen in his potty. "I've never been so happy to see a poop," Andy said.

He did it.

I knew he had more, but grateful for at least some progress, we went nuts with praise. A few minutes later, he went more in his underwear, but I dumped it into the potty as I took off his underwear and he was pleased with that. So at least it's moving in the right direction!

The rest of the afternoon, I had my boys back. Ben was himself again. Happy, playful and running around with Jack and his daddy. It was so fulfilling. It's been a long few days as he decided what he was going to do, so even though I know he's still holding out on us, he's headed in the right direction! Meanwhile, Jack will go whenever he can so he can get a "present." Yeah. I hadn't meant for those to be for every poop, but as long as they're buying, I'll keep selling it!

Still, we were a little worried about tonight. We were going to a friend's house for the superbowl and would need to take the boys out of the house in underwear. For the first time in a week. Grateful that Ben had begun to relieve himself, we felt a little more confident than we would have last night, but we still weren't sure.

We woke them up from their nap and changed their clothes. But neither of them wanted to use the potty. Alllllrighty then. No pressure, Mom. No pressure. The whole 20-minute drive, we were reminding them to tell us if they had to go potty. (Andy had put one of our potties in the trunk, just in case they weren't willing to use our friend's son's potty!) "Mommy, my underwear dry," they kept telling me, as if encouraging me to lay off. We were at the party for about an hour before Ben said he had to go. Andy dashed to the car to get the potty and both boys followed him to the bathroom, successfully peeing in their Big Boy Potties.

They did it.

We left without any incident, even though I could tell that Ben had to go poopy a few minutes before we left. But he didn't want to go there and didn't want to go when we got home. Even still, I am very pleased with how well they're doing. Not even a full week and we ventured out WITHOUT diapers!

The strangest thing was seeing how small their little booties were without diapers :) I'll be honest. They didn't get that from me.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

I'm a little discouraged tonight. Ben won't poop. And it's been a while. A few days. It wouldn't be such a big deal if I didn't KNOW that he had to go. Bad. His dance has gotten more frequent. His clinginess more clingy. His cries more frustrated.

And still, he won't let go.

Perhaps what makes it so tough is the fact that Jack is pooping like a champ. That kid found out that I would give him a present when I was really pleased with their success and poops every chance he gets. He's gone about seven times and 'gets it.' He likes the prizes. Go figure. In the last post, I was confident that he didn't need prizes. My boys keep switching on me! Again, frustrating.

But what's even more frustrating is the fact that I pushed Ben tonight. I made him sit on the potty, even when he didn't want to. He forced him to try and go on the potty. He was visibly uncomfortable. I just wanted to see him relieved of his pain. But as you can imagine, it only made it worse. He got more resilient. More defiant. And absolutely petrified of that little potty.

I feel like such a failure.

After they went down, I read through the 'program' again. I did several things wrong. I shared them with my husband. I cried. I am determined to do things differently tomorrow. It's a new day.

And still, there is HOPE.

A few minutes ago, as I was writing this post, I heard a little "Mommy, I go peepee," from the boys' room. I went in there to see Jack standing in the doorway. He went in front of his potty, dropped his pants and I heard faint dribbles in the toilet.

He did it.

Jack had started going in his underwear and then woke up, wanting to finish in the potty. That's exactly what we've been trying to enforce! And he did it. It's the night of Day Six and he did it all on his own. I changed his clothes (because my boys do not like to be wet) and he sleepily walked back into his bed. Not even his sheets were wet!

So, yes. There is hope. They are progressing. It's difficult to see progress when it's happening so slowly, right before your eyes. And we are aspiring to train TWO toddlers at the same time. Two toddlers - different boys - who happened to be born within one minute apart from the same mommy and daddy. I keep trying to put them together as a pair, as if they should achieve each milestone at the exact same time. But they are not the same person. They are not the same person. They are not the same person. Perhaps I oughta keep remind myself of that.

I just heard another sound from the boys' room. This time, it was Ben. He was soaked and wanted dry clothes. I was much more understanding with him as I changed him, asked if he wanted to use the potty (he didn't) and then held him for a minute before sending him back to his bed. Thankfully, Andy had used that time to change his sheets. He was asleep again just three minutes later. It's progress.

We are not running a sprint race here. This is a marathon. And I'm in it for the long run.