Operation Spray

This weekend we packed up our tent, children, fireman boots, and wine and went camping a couple hours away.  Appa and I are passionate about helping our children develop a love for nature, a taste for food cooked over a campfire, and a reverence for falling asleep to the sounds of nothing more than insects buzzing and animals rustling. However, on this particular camping trip, we had one very specific camping goal for Little Bug and Little Bro.

It was time for homeboys to learn how to really rough it....by peeing in the woods.

I assumed this would be way easy and way fun for them.  After all, isn't that sort of thing right up little boys' alleys?  But, unfortunately my recent gentle reminders to "OMG NEVER PEE ON ANYTHING OTHER THAN THE TOILET...ESPECIALLY NOT YOUR BEDROOM FREAKING FLOOR AND CARPET" were taken to heart because the first time we showed our kids how to find a secluded spot and drop trou to relieve themselves, they both looked confused, then scared, then horrified.  And they would not go.

The thing was, perhaps we wouldn't have pushed it, but the actual toilets in the campground were way worse than anything Mother Nature could offer, and I had zero interest in sitting my babies' butts on those spider hotel poop pits.  They could hold it and come home and pee on the bedroom floor before I wanted them using those toilets again.

So Operation "Spray," as Little Bro coined it, began.

It took Little Bro a couple attempts, but it was ultimately his recent fascination with waterfalls that got him over the hump.  From then on, he regularly asked to "spray in the grass," and I consider myself lucky that he still understood that one does not "spray in the grass" in front of other people or their food or tents or pets.  Because I know he secretly wanted to.

Little Bug was our hold out, but I'm really proud of him for getting past what was obviously a confusing thing for him.  Little Bro peer pressure sent him over the edge, and he got comfortable with the program after a while.  Comfortable enough that I caught him twice trying to drop trou and "pee in the grass" on his own....in front of our tent.  You win some, you lose some.

I can now proudly say that my boys are well on their way to becoming true campers.  Just wait until they find out what our next camping operation will be!

In Between Doses

It's been over a month since I wrote in this space.

Honestly, I didn't have words.  To blournal the small things seemed wrong when the BIG things were looming.  But the BIG things felt too overwhelming to write about, and frankly, I just didn't want to vent and moan.

But the truth is, that little pill kicks some serious baby butt.  The first few weeks were filled with side effects--horrible, sad side effects that left my sweet boy in physical and emotional pain.  That, in turn, left Appa and I nearly bereft for him.  Once the side effects tapered off, it became apparent the dose was too low, so we had to increase the dose again, restarting the side effects.

Swallow, melt down, repeat.  Swallow, melt down, repeat.

The bad news is that I have a mother's intuition that this dose/particular medication isn't going to be the right fit either.  The good news is I have total faith in our doctor and appreciate the slow and conservative approach to medicating a child off label (due to age).

The best news is that Little Bug is still thriving and continuing to improve his knowledge and capability to help himself.  We've made some big decisions for his education this Fall that we hope will give him his very best shot at making the most of his last pre-K year.  Although we are very much in the present with him right now, we're serious about positioning him for his academic future, and I am excited to start taking advantages of the many unique resources we have available.

As an aside: giving up a master bathroom to get into a really good school district was one of the best decisions I ever made.  Way to go, me 6 years ago!

So, the thing is, I need to move on from this.  Swallow, melt down, repeat is going to continue for a while, and I can't just censor myself anymore while I wallow in the cycle with my baby love. I'm going to make a concerted effort to blournal more about the daily things like I used to.  Maybe I will blournal about Little Bug's new trick of taking his underoos off and peeing on the floor when he gets angry or about Little Bro's daily expository speeches.  Maybe I'll blournal about my baby sister moving the the freaking Philippines for an 18-month mission or how she and I wasted an hour and a half watching possibly the most pointless movie in the whole world simply because Adam Brody was in it (my choice).

And Lee Min Ho is filming a new drama.  Since Appa just bought me the complete Rosetta stone for Korean, I'm now officially on my way to becoming fluent in my children's' birth language.....right?

Or maybe I will blournal about the week we just spent on my Aunt's farm in Michigan.  How Little Bug and Little Bro had smiles mile wide on their faces from morning to night with attitudes to match.  How perfect it was.

And can be.

And is.

Comedy

"Wear my socks in the bathtub."

[Cue laugh track]

Three nights ago Little Bug made what I have deemed to be his first official joke.  Sure, he's teased before, but he has never intentionally verbalized something he knew to be nonsensical with the expectation of getting a big reaction.

But 3 nights ago, as he was sitting on the toilet, naked but for his beloved electric green reindeer socks, he looked me in the eye, got this sneaky twisted smirk on his face, and told me he was going to wear his socks in the bathtub.

Of course, I acted MORTIFIED and then laughed and laughed.

And thus began Little Bug's new life as a comedian.

Nearly every hour of every day he gets that same smirk on his face and busts a line.  Because he is a 4-year-old boy, his favorite jokes all have to do with poop and pee pee.  Naturally.

"I pee pee in the bathtub"
"I pee pee in Little Bro's bed."
"I poo poo in Daddy's car."
"I poo poo in my underwear."

Why bother with new material when your routine works?

Every time he looks for it, the big reaction from us.  And we laugh and laugh and laugh, and it is clear that he feels like the smartest, most clever kid around.

I'm not a stand up comedy sort of gal, but I'll buy tickets to this show anytime.

Mommy Has a Ghina

The last 5 days in my house have been an intense period of time where all four of us focused on two things and two things only....pee and the penis.  We're big believers in giving our kids the correct terminology upfront for things (expect, of course, for the mythical "fire bus"), so we now have two little boys who are very comfortable talking about their penises, what their penises can or are doing, what their penises look or feel like, and who they know who has penises, which in their little minds, is everyone.

So far we've established that Appa, Little Bug, Little Bro, Pappa, cows, kitty cats, tigers, and Santa Claus all have penises.  Carousels, trains, and raggies do not have penises. But it's been a hard sell to convince my boys that their mommy doesn't have one.

But today, randomly, they got it.

So now, when they are sitting on their potties listing off the anatomy of everyone in their world, when they come to Mommy they always laugh and point at me and say "Mama has a GHINA!"

And that, truly, is the story of my life right now.

Oh, and my Little Bug rocked the crap (pun intended) out of his first day at school in big boy underwear.  He asked to go to the potty three times (including once while outside), never had a single accident, and kept it up all evening long.  He is awesome.

An Apology to My Little Bug

It's been a lonely couple of weeks for me.

Sometimes being a mom of a kid with special needs, especially behavioral special needs, just plain sucks.  It's stressful, emotionally draining, depressing, and scary, which leads some (me) into periods of isolation as I try to swing our family pendulum back into sync with some serious sleep and diet modifications and a super low-key environment.  Even as I took the boys on a 5-day vacation last week, I felt so off, a mirror to Little Bug's off mood (that was likely a bit of a cycle between the two of us by the end).

And that isolation extended to my writing, which I deliberately avoided, simply because the things I wanted to say were not things I actually wanted to say.

In fact, I just had about seven additional paragraphs to this post detailing my last couple weeks that I just deleted.  Because it wasn't what I wanted to say.

Instead, I want to write about how amazing my Little Bug is and how humbled I am tonight to be his mother.

Little Bug came to us as a sweet, beautiful 10-month-old infant.  He's always been so far behind in development that Appa and I just grew accustomed to parenting him at his delayed age.  He was our first child, and our parenting experience has been entirely built upon ignoring all conventional parenting methods and milestones. What we have given as compassion, acceptance, and avocation have in some instances been nothing more than enabling or selfishness.

That has now been put into blessed clarity for us.

Little Bug is a couple months away from turning 4.  Yet, he has never been formally sleep trained and has been cosleeping in a most unhealthy way since his first birthday.  Why have we never bitten the bullet and kicked this habit?  Oh, that would be because he couldn't be walk, then he couldn't stay in his big boy bed, then he couldn't fall asleep without us, then he needed his sleep and it was easier to put him to sleep in our bed, then we would be going on vacation, then he was getting a new room, then he got a new brother, then then then then then.

All excuses, every one of them.  The real reasons were that Appa and I loved having him cuddle in our bed with us and that we simply didn't have enough faith in him to be able to go to sleep on his own and cognitively follow the rules.

In the last four days, he's almost completely sleep trained.  We still have tears, but they are short.  And most importantly, he understands the expectations and accepts them.  Appa and I are ashamed to think of the YEARS of sleep deprivation we have imposed on our tough son simply because we underestimated him. 

And we started potty training him today, too.  Again, I didn't think this would work, at all.  If anything, I thought Little Bro would potty train and help eventually with Little Bug's training.  After only 4 hours, my son who has never peed on the potty in any intentional way was telling us, over and over during dinnertime, no less, that he needed to go potty.  He kept his big boy pants dry for hours as he motored back and forth to put his business where it needed to be.  (And he started taking the stairs without holding any railings.....another first for this super kid.)

In 3 days, I actually think he'll be potty trained.  Officially.  And it shocks me, to be honest.  Both Appa and I are pretty incredulous.

And we're both a bit humbled and ashamed to have underestimated our son in such huge ways.  In every challenge we've thrown his way, he's breezed through it.  Not even really struggled, but just breezed through it.  He's shown us time and time again that he's up for the challenge.

We just haven't been challenging him like we thought we were.

So although there are still a lot of challenges facing Little Bug that can't be fixed with a modified sleep training program or a 3-day miracle potty training program, there are a lot of little life lessons that Little Bug IS probably ready for.  And that is going to force us to change how we parent him a bit, which includes me cutting out some of our isolation therapy. Which is probably going to make us all happier.

I know every mother thinks this of their child, but I just really feel deeply that there is something special about Little Bug and what his future holds.  Of course I think Little Bro is very special, too, but I feel strongly that Little Bug was given his gifts of a fighting spirit, charming disposition, and joy of life to turn his challenges into something really amazing.  He's going to inspire people in some way, some day; I know it.  I know it.   And someday, when he reads this note from his mother in the midst of all my random musings, I hope he knows that I, more than anyone else in this world, have been blessed beyond measure by him simply being who he is.

Butt head

Within the last week, someone taught Little Bug the word butt.  As in, the slang word for your rear, bottom, posterior, rump, buttock, etc.  And while they were at it, they taught him the context, too.

He's big into saying things "hurt" lately (milk on his chin = hurts; touches something slightly above room temperature = hurts; someone else cries because they hurt = hurts; blinks his eye = hurts).  But yesterday he started telling me his "butt" hurt.  I scrolled through my Little Bugese mental dictionary to try to figure out what he was saying, because surely my 3-year-old doesn't know the word butt.

But when he pointed to his toosh and said "Poop, butt hurt," that pretty much said it all.

Except for the word butt, which he LOVES to say now, always in the correct context, which makes it somehow worse.  I'm no prude, and I say words a million times word than butt on a regular basis, but it's such a grown-up, slang word to come out of my precious baby's little mouth.  Shouldn't he be calling it a "bum bum" or some other made up, slightly adorable word?


To the butt head who taught my kid this new word, thanks a ton.

"It wouldn't hurt if you stopped playing with it."

Sometimes the words that so naturally and seriously come out of my mouth as a mother make me laugh....and cringe.  The conversations I have nowadays leave little sacred.

*Waves hi to 20-year-old Little Bug someday.* 

WTH Just Happened

I resigned myself a while ago that Little Bug would be in diapers for a while. An early or even "normal" potty training seemed ridiculous to us. So, although he sits on the potty after each diaper change at school, I've never so much as looked twice at a potty for our home.

Scene: Little Bug and I enjoying an ice cream on our back porch. Little Bug suddenly starts squatting and grunting. Very gentleman-like.

Mama (absently, still mentally celebrating the fact he handed me his ice cream instead of tossing it on the ground): "Little Bug, are you pooping? Do you need to go to the potty?"

Note, the fact that I used the word potty was not because I expected him to actually need to use the potty (he was clearly already doing his business); it was just some absent thing I think I have always said to him.

Little Bug: "PbA?"

Little Bug straightened up, brushed away the ice cream and went to the door expectantly. Mama opens the door and Little Bug goes directly to the baby gate and waits to be let upstairs. He goes directly to the bathroom and stands expectantly, pointing at the toilet.

Little Bug: "PbA?"

Mama: "Uhhh, ok?"

Mama takes off the poopy diaper and sits Little Bug's tiny tushy on the way too big toilet seat. Both Little Bug and Mama are afraid he is going to drop through.

Little Bug (clapping once he is removed from the toilet): "All done."

End scene.

So today I am reviewing toddler potties and will have one in our bathroom by the end of the week. Do I think this means Little Bug is anywhere near ready to even begin potty training? Nope. The running water I heard this morning while getting ready for work that was actually my son loudly peeing in his diaper, totally oblivious, tells me as much.

But I'm going to have the potty and rewards on hand, just in case.