Category Archives: Mary

07.09.10
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Hot as an oven – inside and out

Sleeping on the couch in the pre-dawn hours with a feverish toddler on your chest is like snuggling up to a furnace. That’s OK in January, but pretty uncomfortable in July when the forecast is calling for triple digit temps and a heat index of up to 109 degrees.

I’m not complaining, though. I’m just remembering romantic scenes that played out in my head before I actually had children: the tender mother pulling an all-nighter, rocking her sick child, wiping a sweaty brow, kissing a damp hairline. Fortunately, Mary wasn’t as crabby as my sick kids tend to be, and I do not also have a needy infant draining my reserves day and night. Last night was the closest I’ve ever gotten to that “perfect” infirmary scene.

Still, I couldn’t help but wish that the ibuprofen would work a little faster to help her settle down a little sooner so we could both get some sleep.

06.28.10
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WHERE’S MARY?

You know that panicky feeling you get when your toddler is not in the room you thought she was in and it’s been 10 minutes or so since you’ve seen her?

I didn’t have to go far to find her.

The splash fountain really tuckered her out. I took off her wet suit, gave her some juice to rehydrate and went off to get her some dry clothes. I guess she got tired of waiting.
06.15.10
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Morning Ritual

We stood on the front porch, Katie, Mary and I, and waved goodbye to Bill as he headed off for work. I always try to make sure he gets a grand send off.

As we turned to come in, Mary told me, “I LOVE him!”

“I do, too,” I enthused.

“He gives great hugs.”

“Yes, he does.”

04.08.10
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Can you guess what song has been in my head lately?

Though I’ve tried before to tell her
Of the guidelines I have for her in my home
Every time that I come near her
I just lose my cool
And my mouth starts to foam

Every little thing she does is messy
Everything she does requires a mop
Now there is no point in being dressy
I’ll just end up with stains upon my top

Do I have to tell the story
Of a thousand cleaned up spills since she woke up
Of the marker on the walls
Or of the mashed banana in my coffee cup

Every little thing she does is messy
Everything she does requires a mop
Now there is no point in being dressy
I’ll just end up with stains upon my top

I try to monitor her every second of the day
And keep everything up high and out of her way
But she always finds the butter
Or an unattended drink
She’ll empty the contents of my wallet
And put dog food in the sink

Every little thing she does is messy
Everything she does requires a mop
Now there is no point in being dressy
I’ll just end up with stains upon my top

Every little thing she does
Every little thing she does
Every little thing she does
Every little thing she does is messy messy messy
Messy messy messy

03.11.10
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What’s yours is mine

Mary and her siblings ate their fast food dinner in the car between picking the girls up from ballet and driving the boys to baseball practice. Later, when I sat down to eat my very hot potato soup at home, she climbed into my lap. I picked up a small spoonful, blew on it, and offered her a taste.

“Oooo, yummy,” she said.

“Would you like a bowl of your own,” I offered, “or do you just want to sit here and eat mine?”

“Eat mine,” she said. Meaning, of course, eat mine.

03.02.10
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I, Naked

I’m not a big fan of Pull-Ups, mainly because they are expensive and, if you’re trying to train a child to use the toilet, wearing a diaper is counter-productive. However, if you’re not trying to train a child to use the toilet but she refuses to wear diapers, the cost of Pull-Ups might be worth it to avoid puddles on the floor if those pretty little princesses on the front convince her to stay covered.

My life right now is a little messy. “Mary, put on your diaper,” I’ll demand. “No, I, Naked,” she’ll respond. Well, hello, Naked.

The fact is, it is time to bite the bullet and train her. I really don’t like potty-training.

I am amused by all the resources available to help a parent decide if the child is ready to be potty-trained. We don’t wonder if it’s time to teach a child how to use a fork or spoon. We don’t ask all our friends if our child is old enough to be quiet in church. We don’t look for signs to indicate that our child is ready to use words like “please” and “thank you.” We just do it. Raising children is a process, not an event.

Experience with my kids has taught me one thing about toilet training: it is not so much the child who needs to be ready…it is the parent. Many people criticize the EC crowd by saying, “The child isn’t trained, it’s the parent who is trained.” Perhaps. I’m not jumping on the EC bandwagon, but I would like to point out that these parents are not changing diapers, right? As I find out just how quickly I can dash from the dining room table to the bathroom with a naked toddler in my arms, I fail to see how the training process isn’t parent conditioning as well, no matter the age you begin.

It would be nice if kids trained themselves. My daughter, Katie, did when she was just 2. It was great. Most kids eventually will. You might have to wait 5 or 6 years for that, though. And honestly, if diapers were socially acceptable, I think my older boys would prefer them to actually having to stop playing baseball or riding their bikes or chasing bad guys. Girls at some point prefer cleanliness. Boys, at least mine, prefer convenience.

Sometimes moms prefer convenience, too. That’s where I find myself right now. Toilet training is work, and I just don’t want more work at the moment. Or so I think. This toddler who presents me with stinky diaper in hand is surely not making my life easy. So I have put together a quiz to help myself and other moms decide if now is the time to begin training. Give yourself one point for every “yes” and a half point for every half yes.

1. Are you tired of changing diapers?

2. If you use primarily disposable diapers, are you eager add $100 a month or so to another line item in your budget? If you use primarily cloth diapers, would you like to have more hours in the week to do something other than laundry?

3. Is your child refusing to wear diapers (or screaming in agony if you force the issue)?

4. Do you have the patience of a mule? If no, can you fake it?

5. Do you have absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to go for the next week or two? If no, do you have room in your vehicle for a kid potty and five extra outfits?

6. Do you think bribing rewarding your child with candy is a good way to get results?

7. Is partial or complete nudity of the trainee socially acceptable to all members of your household? If no, do you mind doing an extra load of wet and soiled clothes every day for the next week or two or three?

8. Do you have only tile and/or wood floors in your home? If no, do you own a steam cleaner? If no, is the outdoor temperature above 70 degrees? If no, do you have the patience of a mule without faking it as well as a supply of rug cleaner?

9. Can you run 20 feet in 10 seconds at the first indication of a need to “go”?

10. Are you prepared to observe closely and to drop everything the instant you hear a whispered “potty”, see a child grab the crotch area, or notice that particular look on a child’s face?

11. Do you know the location of every public bathroom for every single store or outdoor venue you plan to attend in the next few weeks?

12. Do you own a large supply of worn towels or rags?

Scoring

Less than 4 points: If you have children, they are still infants. Please realize that kids are messy. You need to budget for a steam cleaner and save those burp cloths for many future spills.

4 – 8 points: You like the idea of having trained children, but aren’t ready to deal with the mess and inconvenience. Inevitably, you and your child will have to do this, but now is not yet the time. Work on patience, stock up on cleaning supplies and start noticing where the public toilets are.

More than 8 points: You are physically and mentally prepared to dive into potty training. It’s not going to just “happen” miraculously, so get to it already!

I scored a 10, so I think I know what I’ll be doing for the next few weeks.

02.16.10
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Urgent Care, here we come, again

Is it possible that the toddler who…

…at 8 PM is begging to have some of her brother’s liquid children’s ibuprofen and liquid antibiotic for an ear infection and who is sucking the last little drops out of the dispensers is the same toddler who…

…at 11 PM is screaming that her ear hurts but is refusing all medicine and who is even gagging and spitting out the little amounts her mother attempts to sneak into her mouth?

I think this week is a good week to sign up for a new pediatrician.

02.14.10
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Valentine’s Day

My sister’s children sent us inexpensive pre-done valentines – the kind you get at any drug store. One of them came with a small tattoo. My girls have placed their tattoos on their ankles.

Oh, how I long for the days of my youth when the only tattoos I knew about were on the biceps of brawny sailors or scary motorcycle men, and my knowledge of them was gained through TV and movies and not real life.

*****

For the first time ever, my husband took the early shift with Mary and let me stay in bed. She was most unhappy. “Daddy, go back to bed,” she ordered. In his defense, he was deployed for 6 months and our last house had a master bedroom right off the living area. Since I’m naturally an early riser, sleeping while people are talking (or babies are screaming) right outside my door is impossible. Last night I made sure my iTouch was charged and in my room. Not only did I get an extra 90 minutes of sleep, I got to check email and headlines without interruption. That’s a lovely Valentine’s Day gift.

*****

Yesterday, my husband anchored our living room bookcases to the wall, and we unpacked the boxes of books and the knick-knacks that were on the bookshelves. When I saw that the packer had wrapped a small porcelain rose in a single piece of paper, I knew things didn’t look good for my larger porcelain rose grouping. Sure enough, a single piece of paper was used to protect this one as well. The small rose survived; the larger grouping was destroyed.

Other victims included my statue of St. Nicholas, now with an amputated arm, and my favorite statue of Mary, armless, handless, and decapitated. I’ve googled and been unable to find statues like these, so if you have any clues, let me know. The bodies are wood, the capes are metal and the arms and head are porcelain. Not only do I want to replace them, I want to claim their cost with the moving company.

While every move incurs some damage, this is over the top. I had more paper around inexpensive drinking glasses than I did around those flowers. It makes me mad. It’s not the attachment to the things as much as it is the complete disregard for my belongings. The flowers are irreplaceable. Bill gave them to me in the early 90’s when we were dating, and they aren’t made any more. I don’t want to replace them anyway. Bill has learned: you don’t give knick-knacks to an Army wife, especially not ones that break. I’ll take the money we get for them and buy a cookbook. Hardback. Useful and sturdy.

*****

Speaking of cookbooks, with Lent approaching, I’m planning a menu and heading to the grocery store today. I like to go meatless for Lent, which doesn’t really fly in this house. I tend to make meals like tacos where everyone can have meat, but I use beans. This year, though, I’m determined to subject them to more meatless meals. I don’t know why, but they don’t like soup. Too bad. I’ll make bread or rolls, so they can fill up on that if they don’t want what I’m serving. For inspiration, I’m digging into two of Brother Victor-Antoine d’Avila–Latourrette’s books: From a Monastery Kitchen: The Classic Natural Foods Cookbook and Simplicity from a Monastery Kitchen. I do not own his Twelve Months of Monastery Soups, but maybe I’ll take the St. Nicholas and Blessed Virgin blood money and buy it. Most of the recipes in these books are simple. All are meatless.