Cleansing the Diaper

I can feel the white walls coming in closer and closer. Each day my little white box gets smaller and smaller. And a majority of feeling this way is due to my son. My daughters were my sons age not very long ago. There is only that two and a half year gap between my children. Only my son...ah yes, my son...loves to be a real life Dennis the Menace. He came up to me earlier today ever so sweet. It was then that I realized he was coming close so I could get a whiff of what sat in his diaper. I stood up from the chair I was sitting at to make my way for a diaper and wipes. While in the diaper bag, I hear sloshing in the toilet. My son has decided to remove his diaper and try to flush out "the poopies." There are really no words to describe how I reacted. Shock, disgust, irritation. Those words should be enough to describe to you the feelings that became a marathon throughout my body at the sight of my son washing out his dirty diaper in the toilet. I do admire my son wanting to be "clean." But I am sure that many of you will agree with me that my sons version of cleanliness went to the extreme in a revolting way.

The Grocery Shopping Challenge

You know, it would be really fun to have a game show where parents see how long they can go through a store without hearing one whine from their children. It would be a great game show. How long could the parent continue on through the store while their children start out at a low whine which slowly rises to each child holding a death grip onto the others hair. It would be a test of patience and dignity. If the parent leaves, the parent fails. I dont know, it is just a thought. I mean people love to watch other people suffer, right? Come on now, we all know we would find this type of show to be a bit amusing. Remember that there is no one around to judge your thoughts. You are reading my blog in cyber space after all. But here I am living reality. Where my life is a daily game show. Only I am not being paid for it, and there is no one to judge my parenting ways. There are people to critisize, but I typically look the other way. For in the world of parenting, to each his own. I have come to realize in my seven years of parenting that any type of errand that involves leaving the vehicle is nearly impossible. I have not recently realized this. Oh, it has been a realization since the first started going through the walking phase. Typically I wait until my daughters are in school before I attempt shopping. But even that is a challenge. I still have my son. It doesnt matter if I have three kids or just the one. They all know how to ruin the shopping experience for mom. What parents hate is how I do not let my children get to me. I have neither the time nor day to come back at another time. So, they can fuss all they want but mom is sticking through the muddy thickness that yet another grocery shopping experience will bring on. And yes, I receive many looks from passer-bys. People who cannot believe the torment I am bringing upon my children. People cannot believe that I do not just leave. Why? Why leave? My children will act the same exact way if I was to return. My oldest is pretty good now. It is the four and two year old I am working with. Today was wonderful. I literally had to grab one item from Costco. Milk. My son decides as soon as he flashes my Costco card that he is going to start throwing a tsunami of a tantrum. As he is sitting, he starts to scream "MEAN! MEAN! MOM MEAN!" I love it. The whole store is looking. People are shaking their heads. What is lovely is that my son is echoing because Costco just has to be a huge warehouse. For one item it feels like eternity. Now I do not know how many people shop at Costco, but unfortunately the store has to store the milk and other dairy products near the back of the store. I ever so calmly make my way to the front of the store to the back, grab the milk, then make my way to the front again to pay. The whole time, my son, Dylan is kicking, screaming, attempting to bite me. God forbid I discipline in any way shape or form. The slightest raise in my voice and the most offendable person may call CPS on me. So I have to remain patient as I am dealing with my son. When we get back to the van as my son is still screaming at me that I am mean, I ever so calmly place him in his car seat. I take a sip of my coffee that has been sitting in my drink holder, and I leave the Costco parking lot. Onward and upward to my next challenge for the day.

Midnight Kitty Box Cleaning

As I am quietly sitting at the computer starting my next weeks college coursework, I start to hear a noise. I realize the noise is coming from the bathroom. More specifically, the cat box. At first it sounds like the cat scratching in her box. As though she had just completed her twice a day "business." But wait, the noise continues. It cannot be the cat. She has never took that long. And I know she doesnt view her catbox as a sandbox. I stand up from the computer chair, tip toe over to the hallway and make my way around the corner heading to the bathroom. There is no light. It is absolute darkness. I push the bathroom door open. It is then that there is a deer in the headlights moment. My son doesnt dare to move. He stands as still as can be. He is holding the kitty litter shovel. And there is kitty litter all over the bathroom floor. If this was the game of Clue, my most definite answer would have been, "it was Dylan, in the bathroom, and he did it with the kitty litter scooper."

The "Diaper stays on" battle with my son.

Enough apples have not been consumed yet. For my son would rather play naked then with clothes. At the ripe age of two, he is for now anyway, an extreme nudist. He does not mind in the least letting it ALL just hang out.
Let me go over a few examples. So you have a better idea in your mind of what I go through. :)
1) There have been times when my boyfriend and I have had company over. The adults will be chatting, having a few drinks, and having a great time. When suddenly, naked Godzilla will come out of his room wearing nothing but his birthday suit, running at someone like a bull, to terrorize. Of course some smirk about it. A few laugh. Other people might roll their eyes to the other side of the room in discomfort at the sight of my little boy wearing absolutely nothing.
2) There was one instance, recently actually, where it was freezing cold outside. My son decided he wanted to be butt naked. As usual. On top of being in his nakedness, he decides to open the front door, step out of the apartment and then taking off running down the hall of our apartment complex. I, of course, took off after him with bare feet. Because of this action, we now have a chain lock which works wonders when he tries to make one of his escapes. I don't think he has yet devised a plan on building a sophisticated ladder that is tall enough to reach the lock. But who knows.
3) Another very recent moment of struggling with my son. My oldest daughter, Rachael, had a sleepover last night. Two of her good friends came over. This morning, my son decides that he is going to strip. As I am taking care of laundry in the back room, I start to hear the sound of giggles and then pure shock. My oldest daughter starts saying in a sarcastic and whiny tone, "ewwwwwww. Dylan is naked!" As I make my way to the living room, sure enough there is my son. Standing in front of the tv, mooning the girls. I just hope that none of the girls have nightmares now at the sight of little man butt. For they were all cringing and putting faces into couch cushions. Just trying to get his diaper back on after that was a struggle. He fought me on it, tried ripping his diaper off, and calling "mom mean."
It is like this for me every day. My girls never did this to me. Sure, they enjoyed their nakedness from time to time. But when it was time to put their diapers on, they didnt fight me. They allowed me to put their diapers on with no struggle. Oh no, not my son. He will probably fight me till the end on keeping that thing on. I would not doubt it if he grows up to be the next generation nudist.
Well heck, people werent meant to wear clothes anyway, right? If it wasnt for the apple incident, we would all be joining my son Dylan in celebration of being nude!

Excuses at bedtime.

You would think that bedtime and nap time would be routine.  You would think that children would listen when bedtime comes around.  Guaranteed my daughters listen, but there are still excuses for getting up.  As with any child, I suppose.
Here is a normal bedtime routine at my house....
Bedtime is at 7 or 8 at the latest. 
Teeth and hair brushed, books read, jammas on before bed. 

I ask the kids if any of them have to use the bathroom before they lie down.  Their answers are always the same, "no." 
I go into each of their rooms to say goodnights, give kisses and hugs, and say prayers. 
Not even two minutes after finishing up with the goodnights, the first child comes out of their room.  Usually it is my oldest daughter, Rachael, who is seven.  "Mommy, I am thirsty.  Can I have a drink of water?"  My youngest daughter, Jozlynne, who is four comes out of her room next with the same question.  Obviously I do not mind.  Then my son, Dylan, who is two, has to see what all of the commotion is about and wanders out of his room.  He gets a drink to.  Then they all head back to bed.

Ten minutes later, my oldest wanders back out of her room.  "Mom, I have to go potty."  I tell her to go.  After she comes out of the bathroom, you can only guess who is next.  And it is pretty routine after that in terms of who comes and goes next. 

Once "potty" time is done for all three.  I think I have some peace and quiet.  Oh!  But wait!  My oldest comes back out of her room saying she had a bad dream.  I have to smile a bit on this being said by my seven year old.  I smile because only twenty minutes has passed and in no way has she even had a chance to fall asleep yet.  She asks to sleep on the couch since she had a bad dream.  I tell her no and to head back to bed.  The routine starts all over again on who comes out next asking to stay up or sleep on the couch. 

Ugh!  Let me see...bedtime is scheduled at seven.  With all of the fighting to get the kids to bed, it doesnt happen until around nine o'clock.  Two hours of trying my hardest, my boyfriend trying his hardest to keep the children in their beds. 

So with potty, water, bad dreams, not tired, noises, potty again, thirsty again, "just want to hang out,"  all of the excuses in the book to stay up...I guess I learned something growing up that I am sure a majority of us learned while growing up...I know my mother said it all of the time, "patience is a virtue." 

As a parent, I have learned to stay patient.  My girls for the most part do not fight my boyfriend or me on going to bed.  They come up with a ton of excuses.  My son is the one that typically throws a fit when bed time comes around. 

As I have mentioned above, you would think bedtime would be routine by now.  And I know my children know its bedtime.  But they just dont want to miss out on the party with the purple elephants and balloons.  ;)  Oye.

Listening Ears?

When I ask my daughters to use their listening ears, they often times look at me with a sour type of look but still do as asked.  My son on the other hand will just point to his ears and pretend not to hear me.  He finds it amusing to act as though mom did not say anything. 
Could it be that my son is already acting out in a way that is in one ear and out the other?  It is as though he forgets what was just said or pretends that he does not understand.  Bed time means play time and nap time is a time to sneak around quietly hoping he will not get caught.  Guaranteed my son is two.  But my daughters at his age did not fight me.  They understood nap meant nap and it was a time to lie down peacefully without a fight in their beds.  To this day, my daughters do not fight me when it is bed time.  My youngest daughter, who is now four does not fight me.  Never has.  Why does my son? 
I feel as though I am sometimes losing the battle of power where my son is involved.  I feel drained when trying to discipline.  I can time out him all I want, but it does not seem to work. 
Although I maintain the discipline methods of time outs, presently they do not work.  I keep telling myself to stay persistant.  But what two year old is going to stay sitting where told?  When he goes for time outs, he slowly starts to slide of the couch and then takes a mad run down the hall way....as though he is going to fly away like superman and rid his mom from taking him back to that "awful" time out spot.
Ugh.  Maybe once the terrible twos fade away, and he gets older things will turn out differently.  But when I look at my step son, I think not.  For what I have seen so far, my girls think they can win someone over with love and large sad eyes.  My son and step son think it is with pure boyish attitude that they are the toughest.  And remember, my girls and my son have all been raised the same.  My step son has been raised in a different home by his mother, and acted the same as my son does now.  Ugh am I in for an interesting thrill ride in the life of parenting opposite genders.  Maybe when he is three, four, five, or six...then his listening ears might kick in.  Until then, at least I have my girls to not drive me crazy.  :) 

Raised the Same...But Sons and Daughters Different

There is a book titled, "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus."  But is it true for children?  As a parent of two girls and one boy, I would say the answer is a definite yes. 
Although my children are still young, I can see the obvious differences in my son when compared to my daughters.  Now I am sure that others will argue that there is no true difference.  For the topic is quite debatable.  However, has anyone truly sat down during a playdate, or a trip to the park, or a hike in the mountains and truly took in the differences of both genders?  I have watched countless times my son play.  I have watched countless times, my daughters play.  The same goes for their actions and behavior.
My daughters are both very vocal, argumentative, debatable, mother-hen like, and independent. 
My son is very hands on, not too vocal, keeps to himself, and loves getting dirty and playing rough. 
While my girls love playing with their dolls and putting on dress up clothes, my son would rather ram his monster truck into walls and pretend to hammer nails in his bed. 
Not one of my children has been treated any different.  Ever since birth, I have offered the same time of toys(for their age group of course), took them to play and hang out at the same places, was just as rough with the girls as with the boys, took them fishing, hiking, camping, etc.  But my boy maintains his "toughness" while my girls maintain their "girliness."  If that is even a word.
I am sure that there are doctors who would argue with me and try to find a "flaw" in how I have raised each child.  I am sure that the so called doctors would love to watch me at home to see if I am more rough with my son versus my daughters.  I am sure the doctors would love to watch me at home or in public to see just how "different" my children are treated.  But the good "doctors" would be amazed to find that not one of my children are treated any different. 
In my "studies" as a parent of both girls and boys, I have found that girls will be girls as boys will be boys.  Even in their ways of thinking.  Will this change over time for them?  Maybe.  Do people change as they get older?  Of course.  Am I a parent to care if my son likes and wants to wear the color pink?  No.  Girls wear blue, right? 
I guess what I am saying in all of this mumbo jumbo is that the differences are there in the sexes.  Girls and boys are different.  Even if supplied with the same toys, stuck in the same room together, etc., the boys will find ways to "terrorize" at a young age and the girls will remain content until they start to argue in a debatable fashion of why they had things a certain way and why the toy should go back to the old way.  For what I have witnessed thus far in my parenting, my son is definitely more "hands on and thought processed" while my daughters are more "vocal and emotional."  What a whirl what a whirl.