Pottytraining

The time we’ve both dreaded and craved has arrived: we have started pottytraining Brenden.

We started off by talking about the potty, reading a few books, and watching a slightly creepy Elmo video on the subject. Then we picked up a portable potty and drop-in toilet seats decorated with – you guessed it – Sesame Street characters. He spent about 10 days in training pants as part of a market research study, but now he’s back in diapers. He gets to sit on the potty a few times a day and loves to drop toilet paper in and flush. In the process, he loves to repeat, “Paper towel goes in the toilet.” Don’t ask me why.

So far, we’ve had success four times! We let him sit down, and sometimes things happen! We both praise him like crazy, and he seems really proud of himself. Sometimes he claps and cheers. =) Other times he asks to sit on the potty, but nothing happens. Once he asked Jenny to go to the potty, but he could quite hold it for the few seconds it took to get there. Obviously, we have a long way to go, but we are making progress.

I’m sure all of you have your own ideas about pottytraining. I’ll bet most of them fit into this approach from BabyCenter, which is similar to our current approach. However, next week we plan to rev things up with an alternative: the three-day method.

Sounds crazy, huh? Our friends Jon and Amber tried this approach with their three boys, and it worked great. We’ll probably modify it a bit like they did by switching B to real underwear (with a fun theme that he picks out) instead of running around naked. We still need to decide on all the details. Yes, it will be messy and frustrating at first. But it seems to work. I have most of next week off, so we’ll be at home most of the time working on it. Wish us luck!

ER Adventure

Brenden had a rough night Saturday night, waking up repeatedly, crying for no apparent reason, asking Jenny to hold him but squirming around when she did. Finally, she decided he might have an ear infection or some other problem and took him to the doctor. Since it was Sunday morning, his pediatrician’s office was closed, so they made their first visit to CareNow, an urgent care center. The folks there decided that yes, he probably had an ear infection, but the more serious problem was that Brenden was having trouble breathing. Along with a chest x-ray, they administered a couple of breathing treatments and a steroid shot. They helped, but his oxygen levels wouldn’t stay high enough, so they suspected an asthma attack and referred us to the emergency room. We chose Cook Children’s in Fort Worth.

I figured an emergency room visit for one of our boys was inevitable, but I figured it would happen after Brenden broke an arm, not for a breathing problem. Since B seemed fairly happy despite his difficulty, I definitely preferred this reason for our first visit. CareNow called ahead, and we were taken back within five minutes. Toddlers who can’t breathe make healthcare people nervous.

If you have kids and need to put them in a hospital, I recommend a children’s one. A trusted source told me that regular hospitals are afraid of children, especially young ones. Cook was full of nice people who understood that kids need love, patience, and entertainment, people who understand that toddlers squirm a lot and pull off their blood oxygen monitors. They provided stickers, children’s books, and a variety of movies in the exam room. Since we spent nearly five hours in that room, those were welcome distractions. We watched part of Finding Nemo and most of Cars.

Brenden handled the whole experience pretty well. The hardest part was keeping him fairly still so that the monitor would stay on his big toe. He got one more breathing treatment and a dose of liquid prednisone. By evening, his blood oxygen levels were pretty good, and he had returned to his happy, active self. The ER doctor diagnosed him not with asthma, because his lungs didn’t sound asthmatic, but with bronchiolitis, a viral infection of the bronchial tubes. He prescribed an inhaler and a round of prednisone and finally let us go home.

My sister and I both grew up with asthma, so breathing difficulties don’t scare me as much as they scare most people. When I heard that CareNow suspected asthma, my heart sunk. Since asthma runs in my family, I fear that my sons will develop it, too. I was diagnosed at age 3. Either of them could still develop it, but I was happy to hear the final verdict that this particular incident resulted from a short-term infection rather than a lifelong condition.

Poop

I don’t like poop.

It’s gross. It’s terribly inconvenient. It’s unavoidable. It’s never-ending. It’s unpleasant. It’s embarrassing. It wastes time and water. And don’t get me started on the furry critters who live in our home. They poop, too, and not always where they’re supposed to. For many years I tried not to think about it. A like-minded female friend of mine denies that ladies ever do it. I generally did my best to avoid it.

And then I had children.

Now poop is everywhere. Well, not literally everywhere. Yet. But it’s a very strange thing to be so concerned with the pooping habits of other human beings. When the boys were newborns, we tracked how often they pooped. And the color of the poop. Later Brenden helped us with a diaper study that required us to save his used diapers in individually sealed bags and then deliver them in a giant nasty bag to an office in Dallas, along with recording whether they leaked poop or not. Sometimes their normal diapers leak, too. One time Brenden pooped while I was changing his diaper, possibly the lowlight of my entire life.

Now we’re starting to potty-train Brenden. It’s mind-bogglingly humbling to sit another human being on a toilet and encourage him to poop. I cringe when I think about the future, when he is successful, and I must praise him for pooping. Are you kidding me??

Why did God make us have to poop? Couldn’t there be another way? Think about it. Remember that Mr. Fusion thing from Back to the Future II, the amazing device that could convert everyday trash into enough fuel to power a time machine? Why can’t we work like that? Why can’t we be perfectly efficient furnaces that convert every last molecule of food and drink into usable energy? No mess. No fuss. No sewage-related diseases. No shuffle of shame when you forget to check for TP before ascending the throne. No courtesy flushes, blowouts, liferafts, carefully timed fake coughs, or Poo-pourri.

What a wonderful world this could be.

But until God sees the wisdom of my plan, I guess we’re stuck. I will continue to perform my fatherly duties of keeping my sons as poop-free as possible, all the while praying for a potty-training miracle. Sweet holy moly.

Magic Words

So far one of the most fun parts of fatherhood has been listening to Brenden learn English. Because his brain is developing at the same time he is learning it, his journey is different from that of an adult trying to learn a second language. If I try to learn French, I approach it from an English frame of reference and look for equivalent words and phrases between the two languages. I continue to think in English for quite a while until I have developed a fairly solid command of the new language. To say something in French, I first decide what to say in English and then translate it.

We can’t remember a time when every language was foreign, like it is for a baby, to whom everyone sounds like the teacher from the Charlie Brown cartoons. That concept scares me. I am so dependent on language – for learning about the world, for communicating with friends and family, for meeting my needs, for doing my job – that I would be devastated to suddenly lose the ability to communicate in words. But a baby has never known any different. In utero, he hears muffled voices from outside but doesn’t know what they mean or even that they have meaning. Only after repeatedly associating a few common words (momma, daddy, bottle) with visible people and objects after birth does he start to understand the purpose and power of language. Later he learns that people and objects can have qualities (blue, tall, cold) and perform actions (sit, eat, run).

Brenden started with the typical words such as “mommy” and “daddy”. At some point Brenden began to parrot us more often. If I said, “We’re going to the store,” he might reply, “Store,” adding his cute little inflection. This made us watch our mouths more closely. Then he started to figure out some of the rules behind word structure, such as the tendency of certain verb forms to end in -ing. I was amazed when he began to apply that rule to invent his own words. The thought “I am getting down from the chair” became “downing”. He began repeating words he had only heard once or twice and using them correctly. If he couldn’t pronounce a word properly, he invented and stuck with his own version, turning “nuggets” into “nunnies” and “blueberries” into “blueys”. He began to pair nouns with verbs, as in “hold the bowl” or “going Grammy’s house”. I am very proud of his abilities, but also a bit scared. I don’t think he’s “supposed” to be this verbal at 22 months.

Perhaps the best phrase yet came today. I was watching the boys while Jenny went on a girls’ weekend to Canton. Brenden had just awoken from a nap and stood at his window looking at cars. I joined him at the window and talked to him about the cars. After a pause, in the sweetest little voice, he said the magic words that every parent loves to hear.

“Love you, Daddy.”

I melted. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure he understood and meant it.

Thank God for giving us the ability to talk to each other.

Jonathan and Brenden Videos

Jenny filmed and uploaded some videos of Jonathan and put them on YouTube.

Jonathan Sleeping in the Bumbo…Briefly

Jonathan and Brenden at the Breakfast Table

Jonathan Tries Rice Cereal

Jonathan Tries Tummy Time

Brenden Walks in Jenny’s Shoes

The Choice is Yours, Brenden

One of the tenets of Love and Logic is choice. Instead of giving your child orders all the time and waging a continual war of wills, you can give your child a choice between two acceptable options. Giving him choices does several things:

  1. It gives him a sense of ownership of the issue and teaches him to think and solve problems.
  2. It gives him some control over his life, even if it’s just a minor issue.
  3. It helps him accept the consequences of his choice and learn about cause and effect.

For example, let’s say it’s cold outside. The issue is whether your son is going to bring his coat when the family goes out. Many parents would simply order him to take and wear the coat. The Love and Logic approach would be to explain the cold weather and then give him the choice to take the coat or not. If he chooses not to take your advice and winds up cold, he has learned a valuable lesson.

Without knowing it, my mom used this technique with my sister once. (I might have a few of the details wrong, so I hope my sis and mom will post any necessary corrections) We could have one “sweet” per day, such as a candy bar or piece of cake. My sister shared her brother’s sweet tooth, which made this rule necessary. One day she decided she wanted a full bowl of sugar as her sweet. My mom told her that wasn’t a very good idea but gave her the choice anyway. Lisa dove in. At first it was great! Then it was pretty good. Then she started to get a little queasy. Finally she decided she couldn’t finish the bowl. What did she learn? That she can have too much of a good thing. Because Lisa both participated in the decision and got to experience the consequences, the lesson was much more effective than simply telling her no.

We look for lots of opportunities to give Brenden choices. “Do you want milk or juice?” “Would you rather brush your teeth first or put on your pajamas first?” “Do you want to wear the blue shirt or the red shirt?” We are happy with either option, but giving him so many minor choices helps him and also improves our relationship. When he has so much say in his life, even at 21 months old, it isn’t as much of a problem when we need to make some decisions for him on more important issues.

Brenden inherited some of his father’s stubbornness. Those of you who know me, especially my parents, know that I can be quite stubborn when I want to be. In some cases, I’m being stubborn to stand up for what I believe is right, just like everyone should. In other cases, especially in my younger days, I’m just being stubborn to maintain some degree of control over my life. Brenden seems to really enjoy getting to make choices about his day. I’ll bet that’s partly because it gives him back some control. One slide in Wednesday’s presentation summed up the paradox well:

  • Parents who share control get to keep it.
  • Parents who fight to keep control always lose it.

Ever know kids who came from a really strict family full of rules and orders? What happened when they left home? There’s a good chance they went nuts and got into lots of trouble enjoying the new freedom. Our valedictorian was like that. Although brilliant, he came from strict, hard-driving parents who micromanaged his life. Once he got to college, he partied most of his freshman year, lost his scholarships, and nearly flunked out before getting his act together.

Although I couldn’t see it at the time, my parents gave me more freedom to make my own choices. As a result, I didn’t feel the need to go crazy once I left for college. I’m not nearly as smart as our valedictorian, but I worked hard, got to keep my scholarships, and had a more successful college career. Our parents’ differing approaches played an important role in our success as adults.

Jenny and I are enjoying this series and look forward to seeing how it works in practice. So far, so good!