Today Cale pooped on the counter top in the bathroom. I don't know why. Guess that's what I get for being a germa-phobe growing up. He also won't eat anything healthy. Guess that's what I get for being a terribly picky eater growing up.
I knew Cale was in our bathroom 'peeing', as he announced before he headed in. After just a short time, I went in to check on things...you know, make sure the room wasn't covered in pee, as it sometimes is, and to clean the toilet seat off because it's always covered in pee after Cale has graced it with his presence. I heard the flush, so I knew he was done. But, as I walked in the bathroom, I saw him standing on the top of the counter, the fact that he does this is a whole other issue. Even though the 'standing-on-counter-top' thing made me a bit nervous, I have to say it was the least of my worries. My attention was more focused on the big pile of poo lying right beside his feet and much to close for comfort, at least mine, to a toothbrush. Carl's toothbrush, to be exact. I'm not crazy enough to leave mine out on the counter. Not in this household. Cale looked incredibly guilty when I walked in. I asked him why in the world he pooped on the counter. He was a little speechless, but then tried to cleverly divert my attention by reminding me, in a proud cheerful voice, that he had just peed in the potty. Yes son, but your 'Potty Award' just went down the drain when you followed it up with a nasty 'number two' on the counter. He never really gave me an answer as to why he did it. I guess even he knew, "because I wanted to" wouldn't be the best explanation.
In giving him the benefit of the doubt, sometimes when he gets himself on top of counters...(yes, the 'climbing on counters thing'is a fairly common occurrence and you're probably thinking I'm a terrible mom by now)...he has trouble getting down. So, I'm hoping...going out on a limb really...that maybe the urge hit him once he got on top, and then not really being able to get down very successfully or quickly, he thought..."Oh well, what the heck? Mom can clean it up."
Deep down I know he probably just thought it would be really cool to have a pile of poop on the counter. Glad there wasn't a tractor nearby. We already know what he does with tractors and poop.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
10 hours + 2 kids...Need I Say More?
Well, we're back from Florida...and we survived. The last time we went to Florida, Cale was six months old. I remember thinking it was SO hard. He didn't do too well on the drive, he didn't like the beach AT ALL, and he didn't sleep well. Needless to say, we were a little nervous this year with two little ones. And Keaton is a much worse car-rider than Cale was at his age. Our strategy was to leave at 8:00 in the evening, in hopes that Keaton would sleep almost the entire ride. So, last Friday at 8:00, we loaded Keaton up...freshly bathed, fed, and in his jammies...and headed to Destin. We decided to let Cale ride with my parents because they weren't leaving until about 2:00 am and they were also taking his cousin Abree. Plus, Cale does not respond well to Keaton's screaming in the car. Our plan worked out better than I could ever have imagined. Keaton screamed for the first 20 minutes, then fell asleep. He slept for several hours, woke up to eat, and then slept until about 6:00 am when we were almost there! Too easy. Well, maybe not for Carl who did all the driving. I offered to help, but he doesn't trust my driving...especially in the middle of the night.
Cale arrived the next day and our vacation began. The first day, Cale was fearless. To the point of being a little scary. He ran into that water so fast, without ever hesitating. We couldn't believe it. But, he did hate the salt water in his eyes, which I had expected. By the second day, for some reason, Cale was more timid about the water. He would start to get in, but only stay a minute before getting out again. He spent most of his time running around on the sand, pushing his dump truck, and digging holes.
The beach, as I used to know it, has changed. Not so long ago, when I thought of the beach I pictured endless hours of laying out in the sun or under the beach umbrella reading a good book or napping. I thought of spending an hour primping and dressing up for nightly dinners where I actually got to sit and enjoy my food. I thought of going to bed late and sleeping in. Let's just say none of those things happened on this vacation. This vacation consisted of getting up at 6:00 am every day, spending 15 minutes getting the little ones all slathered with sunblock and ready for the beach, toting a two-year old, 5-month old, dump truck, sand bucket and shovel, blown up boat, towels, bottle of milk, and water down to the beach, toting the two-year old all the way back to the condo for bathroom breaks, bathing both kids after getting back from the beach, rushing to get a shower and throwing on some makeup before going out to eat, holding an infant as I clumsily tried to feed myself...you get the picture. Wow, things are much harder now. I'm tired just thinking about it.
But, it was so fun having our little family on vacation. The Kirtley fam is comlete and that's a good feeling. It was fun getting to see Cale's face when he saw the ocean for the first time, or the many air planes that flew overhead dragging banners advertising local attractions, or the parasailors, or helicopters. It was so fun carrying Keaton in a harness on the front of me as we walked through the Destin Commons mall (much similar to the Landing in Branson, but even more magical...especially at night). I loved riding on the train around the mall with Cale, two different times. This dinky little train was probably the highlight of the vacation for him. His face was priceless. I loved seeing Keaton asleep on his belly on a towel out on the beach. Besides his hate for car-riding and his constant need to be held, Keaton is such an adaptable little fella. He loved the ocean, didn't mind the sand, was content to be carried in a harness on the front of me for hours, was fairly easy to get down for naps, and slept pretty well at night in his pack-n-play. If he was being held, he was happy, one-hundred percent.
Cale had a blast at Florida also. He was quite tempermental, the opposite of Keaton. Cale doesn't do well with a lot of change...he likes routine. He started out the trip overtired from not sleeping well in the car, stayed up too late, and woke up too early each morning. So, little sleep was a recipe for a cranky little boy. But, he still had plenty of fun, happy moments. He like the beach, loved the pool, and had a blast playing with his cousins. When they weren't around, he would mope around asking about them. He and his cousin Kenzie spent much of their time playing The Three Little Pigs. One of them would lock themselves in a bedroom, and the other would stand outside beating on the door and saying, "Little pig, little pig, let me in" and then the other would give the proper reply. It was too cute. But, being two and three years old, they also had plenty of little arguments. 'Share' is a word that is not yet in their vocabulary.
A few weeks before we left, we started potty training Cale. We were a little worried that the trip would be hard on him and that he might relapse a little. But, he really did great. He even started going on his own. Like, walk into the bathroom, do his business without telling anybody, and then coming out to announce it to whomever would listen. But, since he's not a good aim yet, this usually resulted in a puddle on the floor and a wet toilet seat. And he refused to use any bathroom but my sister and brother-in-laws. Sorry guys. I had to bleach clean their toilet seat and floor on several occasions. Also, on the first day or two at the beach, we caught Cale trying to drop his swim trunks and relieve himself right there on the sand. Yes son, you do it at home but not here. Luckily we caught him in time.
On day two of the trip, we ate at a restaurant called Fudpuckers. It's a great place to go if you have kids. There is a small park, gift shop, and alligator exhibit for you to look at while you wait for a table. While we waited, Cale and his cousins got in line to hold an alligator. When we walked in the "alligator room" Cale was the first up. The alligator charmer, or whatever he was, asked if he should get a smaller alligator. The one he had was thirty-five pounds. Cale is about thirty pounds. Well, of course Carl (thinking this would make the picture even cooler) chimed in and said, "He can do it. This one will be fine". So, the man sat this big alligator in Cale's arms. Cale looked quite uncomfortable at first and even more uncomfortable when the alligator began to squirm, turned to look at him, and then hissed. I was quite uncomfortable myself. Carl stepped in to grab the alligator and the man went to get another, smaller one. When he came back in with the little alligator, Cale looking nervous said, "That's not a little one". We, in overly-excited voices said, "Cale, you get to hold this alligator for a picture!" He, replied in a not-so-excited voice said, "But, I already did." I don't think he wanted to give it a second try. But, even though he was nervous, he toughed it out and held it. I was proud of him. I'm not sure if I would have held another alligator after being hissed at by the first one.
We had a really good time on vacation, but we're glad to be home. I think this was probably the hardest vacation we'll ever have, with two little ones. I think it will probably get a little easier each year until finally the kids are going out to the beach by themselves and asking us to use the car to go to a movie. That makes me sad. Even though it will be easier then, I will totally miss my little boys. I need to soak up every hard, tiring moment. They will grow up way too fast.
Cale arrived the next day and our vacation began. The first day, Cale was fearless. To the point of being a little scary. He ran into that water so fast, without ever hesitating. We couldn't believe it. But, he did hate the salt water in his eyes, which I had expected. By the second day, for some reason, Cale was more timid about the water. He would start to get in, but only stay a minute before getting out again. He spent most of his time running around on the sand, pushing his dump truck, and digging holes.
The beach, as I used to know it, has changed. Not so long ago, when I thought of the beach I pictured endless hours of laying out in the sun or under the beach umbrella reading a good book or napping. I thought of spending an hour primping and dressing up for nightly dinners where I actually got to sit and enjoy my food. I thought of going to bed late and sleeping in. Let's just say none of those things happened on this vacation. This vacation consisted of getting up at 6:00 am every day, spending 15 minutes getting the little ones all slathered with sunblock and ready for the beach, toting a two-year old, 5-month old, dump truck, sand bucket and shovel, blown up boat, towels, bottle of milk, and water down to the beach, toting the two-year old all the way back to the condo for bathroom breaks, bathing both kids after getting back from the beach, rushing to get a shower and throwing on some makeup before going out to eat, holding an infant as I clumsily tried to feed myself...you get the picture. Wow, things are much harder now. I'm tired just thinking about it.
But, it was so fun having our little family on vacation. The Kirtley fam is comlete and that's a good feeling. It was fun getting to see Cale's face when he saw the ocean for the first time, or the many air planes that flew overhead dragging banners advertising local attractions, or the parasailors, or helicopters. It was so fun carrying Keaton in a harness on the front of me as we walked through the Destin Commons mall (much similar to the Landing in Branson, but even more magical...especially at night). I loved riding on the train around the mall with Cale, two different times. This dinky little train was probably the highlight of the vacation for him. His face was priceless. I loved seeing Keaton asleep on his belly on a towel out on the beach. Besides his hate for car-riding and his constant need to be held, Keaton is such an adaptable little fella. He loved the ocean, didn't mind the sand, was content to be carried in a harness on the front of me for hours, was fairly easy to get down for naps, and slept pretty well at night in his pack-n-play. If he was being held, he was happy, one-hundred percent.
Cale had a blast at Florida also. He was quite tempermental, the opposite of Keaton. Cale doesn't do well with a lot of change...he likes routine. He started out the trip overtired from not sleeping well in the car, stayed up too late, and woke up too early each morning. So, little sleep was a recipe for a cranky little boy. But, he still had plenty of fun, happy moments. He like the beach, loved the pool, and had a blast playing with his cousins. When they weren't around, he would mope around asking about them. He and his cousin Kenzie spent much of their time playing The Three Little Pigs. One of them would lock themselves in a bedroom, and the other would stand outside beating on the door and saying, "Little pig, little pig, let me in" and then the other would give the proper reply. It was too cute. But, being two and three years old, they also had plenty of little arguments. 'Share' is a word that is not yet in their vocabulary.
A few weeks before we left, we started potty training Cale. We were a little worried that the trip would be hard on him and that he might relapse a little. But, he really did great. He even started going on his own. Like, walk into the bathroom, do his business without telling anybody, and then coming out to announce it to whomever would listen. But, since he's not a good aim yet, this usually resulted in a puddle on the floor and a wet toilet seat. And he refused to use any bathroom but my sister and brother-in-laws. Sorry guys. I had to bleach clean their toilet seat and floor on several occasions. Also, on the first day or two at the beach, we caught Cale trying to drop his swim trunks and relieve himself right there on the sand. Yes son, you do it at home but not here. Luckily we caught him in time.
On day two of the trip, we ate at a restaurant called Fudpuckers. It's a great place to go if you have kids. There is a small park, gift shop, and alligator exhibit for you to look at while you wait for a table. While we waited, Cale and his cousins got in line to hold an alligator. When we walked in the "alligator room" Cale was the first up. The alligator charmer, or whatever he was, asked if he should get a smaller alligator. The one he had was thirty-five pounds. Cale is about thirty pounds. Well, of course Carl (thinking this would make the picture even cooler) chimed in and said, "He can do it. This one will be fine". So, the man sat this big alligator in Cale's arms. Cale looked quite uncomfortable at first and even more uncomfortable when the alligator began to squirm, turned to look at him, and then hissed. I was quite uncomfortable myself. Carl stepped in to grab the alligator and the man went to get another, smaller one. When he came back in with the little alligator, Cale looking nervous said, "That's not a little one". We, in overly-excited voices said, "Cale, you get to hold this alligator for a picture!" He, replied in a not-so-excited voice said, "But, I already did." I don't think he wanted to give it a second try. But, even though he was nervous, he toughed it out and held it. I was proud of him. I'm not sure if I would have held another alligator after being hissed at by the first one.
We had a really good time on vacation, but we're glad to be home. I think this was probably the hardest vacation we'll ever have, with two little ones. I think it will probably get a little easier each year until finally the kids are going out to the beach by themselves and asking us to use the car to go to a movie. That makes me sad. Even though it will be easier then, I will totally miss my little boys. I need to soak up every hard, tiring moment. They will grow up way too fast.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Potty Training...Take Two.
Well, we decided it was time. Time to start the difficult process of potty training. About a week ago I asked my babysitter if Cale was getting low on diapers and she said that she really thought he was ready to make the leap. We've played around with using the 'potty' but I had planned on really starting this summer anyway, so here we are in the midst of big boy underwear...daddy insisted we start calling them underwear instead of 'panties' as Cale refers to them. The hardest thing for me has been remembering to have Cale go every 20 minutes or so. I failed miserably in the beginning. After a few days, it has finally become a little more natural. Now, don't get me wrong. We've had plenty of accidents. Mostly accidents of the worst kind...number two. Yesterday I was putting Keaton down for a mid-morning nap. I'm always a little nervous about what Cale is doing in the other room while I am getting Keaton to sleep. But, there's no way Keaton will go to sleep with Cale screaming and playing drums and bouncing around everywhere. When I came out of Keaton's room, I couldn't find Cale. Finally, I noticed the door to the garage was not quite closed all the way. (It's scary that Cale can open our doors and has even figured out how to unlock them) I stepped into the garage to find Cale in his most favorite spot...sitting on the lawn mower. It only took me a few seconds to notice the trail of liquid that followed him to the mower. I knew what must have happened, but when Cale climbed down from the mower, I noticed a big,saggy lump in the leg of his tight pajama pants. Already knowing the answer, I asked him what had happened. I can't explain the look Cale gets when he goes to the bathroom in his pants and is caught. It's a mixture of embarrassment combined with a lot of trying-to-be-cute, and topped off with a heaping spoonful of stubborness. So, I threatened to throw away his Christmas pajama pants (yes, we're still wearing the Christmas pj's because he loves them) Well, of course he got very upset. He said "You can't throw them away. Trash goes in there!" I tried to explain to him that poop-filled pants are equal to trash, but he didn't see it that way. So needless to say I took the poop filled pants out to the grass and sprayed them off with a water hose before covering them with half a bottle of Shout and putting them in the wash.
Later that morning, Keaton and I were sitting on the porch as Cale played at his playhouse out in the yard. I was feeding Keaton and talking on the phone with my mom. All of the sudden I heard Cale say, "The poo-poo came out" I looked up, dreading the worst. But, what I see is Cale, standing with his underwear half-way down staring at the ground. I ran out to see if he really did it. Sure enough, there was a pile right there on the ground. There was also a pile in his underwear (guess he didn't get them off quickly enough) But, I didn't care! I was just excited that he attempted to pull his pants down and go. I ran in to get some wipes. What didn't occur to me was...toddler left outside with a pile of poop and a tractor with a front end loader...bad idea. Cale decided to drive his tractor through the poop. Multiple times. So, he and tractor got hosed off in the yard. That tractor is now strictly an outdoor ONLY tractor.
The rest of the day was really a success. Cale didn't have any more accidents and he even began telling me when he needed to go. Feeling brave, we even went and did some things in town with Cale wearing underwear instead of a diaper. No accidents. He's still a long way from really being trained. But, we're off to a good start. And I've finally trained myself to be conscious of his bathroom visits. So, at least one of us is trained.
Oh and on a side note, the best potty training advice we've been given? Don't ask Cale if he needs to go...at least not in the beginning. Just scoop him up and take him. This works much better, because if we left it up to Cale he would rarely quit playing to go. So, I don't even say anything about where we're going. He figures it out once we're in the bathroom, but usually doesn't put up a fight. He just gives in and goes. Which is a huge improvement on the screaming fit he used to throw when we would make a big ordeal of going.
Later that morning, Keaton and I were sitting on the porch as Cale played at his playhouse out in the yard. I was feeding Keaton and talking on the phone with my mom. All of the sudden I heard Cale say, "The poo-poo came out" I looked up, dreading the worst. But, what I see is Cale, standing with his underwear half-way down staring at the ground. I ran out to see if he really did it. Sure enough, there was a pile right there on the ground. There was also a pile in his underwear (guess he didn't get them off quickly enough) But, I didn't care! I was just excited that he attempted to pull his pants down and go. I ran in to get some wipes. What didn't occur to me was...toddler left outside with a pile of poop and a tractor with a front end loader...bad idea. Cale decided to drive his tractor through the poop. Multiple times. So, he and tractor got hosed off in the yard. That tractor is now strictly an outdoor ONLY tractor.
The rest of the day was really a success. Cale didn't have any more accidents and he even began telling me when he needed to go. Feeling brave, we even went and did some things in town with Cale wearing underwear instead of a diaper. No accidents. He's still a long way from really being trained. But, we're off to a good start. And I've finally trained myself to be conscious of his bathroom visits. So, at least one of us is trained.
Oh and on a side note, the best potty training advice we've been given? Don't ask Cale if he needs to go...at least not in the beginning. Just scoop him up and take him. This works much better, because if we left it up to Cale he would rarely quit playing to go. So, I don't even say anything about where we're going. He figures it out once we're in the bathroom, but usually doesn't put up a fight. He just gives in and goes. Which is a huge improvement on the screaming fit he used to throw when we would make a big ordeal of going.
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