Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Potty-Training Gone Wild!!!

I have already recognized that potty-training is vastly different from child to child. I think that eventually they just decide that they don't want to deal with diapers or pull-ups. Each child makes that decision at different times. Grace made the decision right before she turned two. Anne made the decision at about two and a half. James is still indecisive. Sometimes we have a perfect record, and then sometimes it's yesterday and he drops his pants in the middle of a birthday party after he had an accident.

If there is any one other conclusion that I have come to, it is that the assumption that boys are harder to train, is absolutely the truth. The fact is that you have to teach both boys and girls to actually use the potty. With boys, you have to go a step further and teach them to aim. Break out the Cheerios, everyone!

So, I would love to hear your stories about potty-training. To get the ball rolling I will share one from each of my children.

Grace:
If only all babies could train as easily as Grace. The only difficult thing about potty-training her was that she insisted on removing all of her clothes. I don't know if it was because she didn't want to get them dirty or what. Anyways, it's a normal day. I have clothed Grace. I am pretty sure she has basically gotten the whole potty-training thing. I walk outside for just a moment to check the mail. So, I am at the mailbox when my daughter comes racing out of the house towards me. She's naked. I am still not sure how she stripped that fast. I dropped the mail and got my child back inside. From that day on, I always made sure I closed the door tightly so she couldn't get out. At least she likes to wear clothes now.

Anne:
Anne never wanted to leave her potty. She wanted meals and her toys while she was sitting there. I couldn't seem to convince her that she could leave it. Her story starts at lunch time. I gave in to her mostly, thinking at least she isn't having any accidents. I checked the potty and then gave her a sandwich. I told her that she had to finish her sandwich first. Then, I would give her some baby carrots. I went to make a sandwich for my older daughter, Grace, and myself. Everything was going well. Both girls seemed to have eaten their sandwiches. I gave them some baby carrots. After lunch, it was time for the girls to lay down for a nap. I get Anne up to put on a pull-up for her nap...and there is her sandwich. I guess she really wanted her carrots. She put the sandwich in the potty...and peed on it. Yuck! When she went to grab it, I yanked it up quick. That was one bit a grossness I could live without.

James:
I think we are somewhere in the middle of potty-training with James. I have learned the hard way that he goes often, and when he tells you he has to go he is on the verge of an accident. I always give the kids an opportunity to go potty before they lay down for their nap. He had gotten up ten minutes after he laid down and told me he had to go poop. I honestly thought he was just trying to get up. He is always trying to skip nap time. So I told him to go lay down. Twenty minutes later I was doing a check to make sure he was sleeping. I opened the door to find a disaster. He did have to poop. He had pulled of his clothes and let it rip...all over his room. There was poop on his bed, the rocking chair, the walls, and the carpet. His body was covered in poop. There he was. My precious baby boy smearing poop into the carpet. The best part of this whole thing...it was just our third day in our new house. The old house had hard-wood floors. As I scrubbed carpet and walls I thought of all of the benefits of those hard-wood floors.

I was going to try to share one of my own potty-training stories as well, but I talked to my mom, and she reminded me of exactly how long ago it was that she had gone through these things. The one thing she did share is that she remembers wishing that my dad had gotten more involved in training my brother. MEN: We don't have the equipment to show boys how to aim! I have to admit that it would be easier if my husband would show our son how it goes. 

So once again, please share your stories. And if anyone has some good potty-training tips, please share those as well!

Sunday, March 2, 2014

What Home-schooling Means To Me

My husband and I have been following the story of a family from Germany who have come to the United States so that they may home-school. This family, the Romeikes, decided that they didn't like the way that the public schools were teaching. More importantly, they decided that what the schools were teaching did not align with what they believed as Christians. Their struggle has inspired me to really look inside at all the reasons that I have decided to home-school.

I went to public school. I had many wonderful teachers, teachers who inspired me and helped me to become who I am. I will never forget them. However, I cannot put that label on the Geometry teacher who had us open our books and read while he slept. Nor can I give best teacher award to the math teacher who lectured us on hygiene the day someone passed gas in her class. I used to wonder what it was that made the difference. I think I understand what it was now.

I have remained friends with one of my favorite teachers. I have since learned that she often broke the rules. Her constant desire to help students drove her to tutoring after school. She would stay until the student felt confident in what they were learning. I thought she was amazing for doing what she was doing. She made me feel special. I wanted to be a teacher just like her.

I went to college with stars in my eyes and hope in my heart. I did well in at least most of my classes. Then I got to a class that dealt with the laws associated with teaching. Even though I did well in the class, I started to become dis-heartened. I could be sued for hugging a kid who may really need it or for leaving my Bible on my desk. Despite these issues, I thought I could still make a good teacher.

As part of a class I was taking, I was given the opportunity prior to student teaching to go into a classroom and teach real kids real lessons that I had come up with. It was while in this class that I finally figured out that I would never make a good public school teacher. I came face-to-face with a child who desperately needed a hug. The teacher I was with talked to me about what he knew about the child's home life, a life full of social workers. I had nightmares of facing this same child over and over again, each time with a different face and spaced all too frequently throughout my career. I remember crying at night.

I turned to my favorite teacher. She had felt the same way. She left the public school system to teach in the private sector where she could be the teacher she wanted to be without hassle. Apparently, she had not received the high praise I felt she deserved. After giving so much to her students, she had instead been constantly complained about and to regarding the fact that she was always staying late at school. When she retired, they gave her a $20 gift card.

I was going to take her advice and go into the private schools when I met my husband who introduced me to another option. He had been home-schooled. It was almost a radical concept to me. I could teach my students. No lesson plan is too complicated. I can hug my students. If they need more help in one subject, I don't have to worry about boring twenty-nine other students to help the one who needs it, or leave one student behind on behalf of twenty-nine. If my child is advanced in a subject, I can spend time nurturing that advancement.

Sometimes it feels like I ran away. After all, public schools need good teachers. I wasn't afraid of being a good teacher. I instead feel like I have made the decision to break outside of the mold and be a different kind of teacher. I think it makes me brave in a different way.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

"Do you want more kids?"

I hear this question all of the time. I personally think that it is perhaps a little morbid curiosity on the part of the person asking the question. Perhaps you are asking the same question, too. Well, there are pros and cons to both answers. I think I will explore those before I answer.

Cons:
Attention gets divided again.
Money gets tighter.
I might gain more weight.
My breasts will sag even more.
I will have to watch even more kids' programs.
I will be that much older when the kids move out.
I will be older when I have the child.
Two-hour feedings.
Diapers.
Etc., Etc.

Pros:
I love kids.

The answer is yes. We do plan on having more children. I am very aware of the cons. I am currently wallowing in some of those cons. I think that some people are blessed with the patience and extraordinary ability to successfully raise multiple children. It is what I was born to do. I'm a breeder. Everyone has that one thing they are good at, and this one is mine. Do I worry about it? Sure. I wouldn't be a good parent if I didn't. Perhaps I will also be lucky enough to have a child who wants to deal with me in my old age. I would be giving myself a better chance of that at least. ☺

Introduction

I want to introduce myself. I'm a stay-at-home mom. I know, I know...some people think it is an outdated profession or that by staying home I am somehow depriving myself of a "real" job. Let me make myself clear...I truly believe that I am making a difference every day. I home-school, I breastfeed, I work. I don't intend to bash other moms who don't do things the same way I do. Everyone is best suited to different work. Instead I hope to give and gain a little insight. I refuse to fight with anyone, so if you intend to comment negatively to myself or anyone else, I highly suggest leaving the blog. You don't have to read it.
Meet my kids. Grace is my oldest. She is six. She loves books, Doc McStuffins, and cucumbers. Her favorite Disney Princess is Belle. Her greatest ambition is to read all of her books. Anne is four. She arrived on Easter. She loves story time, anything art related, and tomatoes. Her favorite Disney Princess is Tiana. Her ambitions are to learn to read and get out of nap time. James is two. He gets into everything. He loves toys (whether or not they belong to him), eating, and pizza. He can't live without his Thomas the Train. His greatest ambition is to not get caught stealing food. Last, but not least, My youngest is Bobby. He is six-months old. He sleeps, eats, and poops. He wants to put it all in his mouth and can't go ten minutes without Mommy.
Just a few more things you ought to know:
I am a Christian. I won't fight with anyone on this point, and I welcome everyone. I don't think we have to believe the exact same thing to get along. I only felt it was necessary to mention so that everyone will understand that this will be a clean blog (meaning you won't find me cursing). I don't think that some curse words are bad, but others may be offended. I want everyone to feel comfortable.
I am sometimes funny, whether or not it's on purpose. I do hope my readers can have some fun reading my posts.
I welcome honesty as long as everyone knows that we are just here for a good time. No "I'm just being honest," as an excuse for being mean to someone else. I will poke fun of myself and encourage others to do the same.
I have changed the names of myself and my children. I won't hold it against you if you do the same. For everyone's safety I will assume you all have done the same.
I am in fact from the south. That is all I will give as far as where I am from. I only gave that much because I probably will say "ya'll" and talk about things that may indicate a general location. It also means I will occasionally share recipes. I do fall into the stereo-type of liking to feed the hungry masses.
I want to give the real stories (and sometimes rants), whether they are funny or sad. I want to share the real view of life that I have gained from my decision to stay home. I want to ponder all moments, big or small...happy or sad. I will even give a voice to those moments we all dread can happen to us. Thank you for joining me on this journey through (and perhaps around) my trepidations.