Hop on Pop

Caitlyn has a bit of a reputation for having the attention span of a marble (or maybe I just have the patience of a bad mom?). She also has a tendency to tune me out. Or it's probably more accurate to say she actively ignores me. I can say her name 15 times and get no response, but if I say the word "cookie" she's suddenly completely aware that she is being spoken to.

It made it hard to teach her things, but I was never particularly concerned. I spent a little time obsessing about it a few months before she turned one, but that was mostly because my niece, who is the same age, was so far advanced and so focused on absorbing absolutely everything around her, that it made me a little paranoid that Caitlyn was behind. She wasn't. Mostly I like to remind myself that every kid is different, and that my kid excels at physical things more so than a lot of kids her age because that is the kind of shit she wants to do, and when she wants to do something, she is absolutely capable of it.

Anyway, now that she has mastered the skills that are really important to her- you know, things like hanging on monkey bars and climbing rock walls at the playground and jumping off the coffee table and doing the Fresh Beat Band dances- she is much more inclined to sit still and pay attention when I'm trying to teach her something. Not that I need to teach her much. My babysitter is like the asshole-toddler whisperer and is fantastic at engaging her in ways I would never even think of. Still, I like to occasionally, you know, teach her shit.

Caitlyn has never had the patience for books. Where as my niece and nephew could quietly sit while being read to (even if not for a whole book- at least a few pages!) at a year or 18 months, Caitlyn decided at an early age that the purpose of books was to cut her teeth on the bindings. And you sort of expect that at a certain age. You expect that, at a year or so old, they may find a book on the floor or in their toy box and their immediate response is to put it in their mouth. I'm not even talking about that. I'm talking about every binding of every book she owns (and our babysitter owns!) being ripped out with her teeth. I'm talking about finding her chewing on cardboard at least once a day. I'm talking about hiding books from her because I knew she would only destroy them.

Finally, though, Caitlyn is interested in the story. She will bring me a book and ask me to read it to her. Whenever I tried to read a book to her in the past, it was met with screeching, squirming and ripping. It's so nice to be able to tell her the story inside the book. I love reading Dr. Seuss to her. I love that she follows along and throws out lines from the book when I prompt her. I love that, when I turn a page, she inevitably turns it back so she can enjoy her favorites parts of the story just a little longer.

Caitlyn's go-to bedtime story right now is Hop on Pop. Reading it with her is awesome and hilarious, because she ad-libs throughout the book. There's an orange dog that is on a lot of pages. He isn't necessarily part of the story on that page, but he's there. Absolutely every time she sees him, she points to him and says "ornage puppy" (and no, that wasn't a typo. She calls it ornage). It doesn't matter what else is happening on that page, she loves that damn ornage puppy. When we get to the page where Mr. Brown and Mr. Black are having a snack, she tells me they are eating sandwiches and drinking milk. She counts the apples and bananas. When we get to the actual "hop on pop" page, she notes that "Daddy is mad", because the pop looks pretty pissed at those two kids jumping on him (I'd venture a guess here and say they fucked his back up. I'm fairly sure of this because my own dad blames me for his back problems. From that time I jumped on his back. When I was 5).

My favorite part though, is the "father, mother, sister, brother" page. That is on the left page. On the right page shows another boy, a baby, with the words "that one is my other brother". For some reason, Caitlyn hates the other brother. She covers him up with her hand and tells me "I don't like another brother" and "no baby!". He's on the following page too, and she covers him then too. I asked her why she doesn't like the baby and she simply tells me "I like THIS one" and points to the other little boy. It's so arbitrary and hilarious. It makes me giggle every night. It also makes me feel a little less guilty about this whole I probably won't be able to give her a sibling thing.

Just in general, I'm finding Caitlyn is more structured and receptive to discipline, too. I think a big part of it is that we are falling into our own routines and not having anyone (coughherdumbdadcough) throw a monkey wrench into it by wanting to do things another way.

Also, seriously, she is fucking hilarious. Her comic timing is genius. Last night, she asked me to put something on TV for her. When I didn't immediately respond, she looked at me, completely straight-faced and said "come on, son". I was sure I misheard her, so I asked her what she had said and she said it again. She also cheerily told me that she had poop in her 'gina last night.

This kid. She is too much.

Stormpacalypse

In case you guys didn't hear, it was all windy and shit this week in Jersey. And by windy, obviously I mean OMGOMGWEAREALLGONNADIIIIIIIE.

Generally speaking, I'm the person who just assumes the weather reports are an exaggeration and rolls my eyes at the people buying 20 gallons of water at the grocery store. Or, more accurately, the people I assume are at the grocery store buying 20 gallons of water because I'm definitely not at the grocery store buying anything. Do you know how crowded the grocery store is before a big storm?

Anyway. Maybe it was the fact that I have another human being to think about besides myself. Or maybe it has to do with being really and truly on my own and not having Rodolfo to depend on to think of the shit I might forget about. In any case, I decided Friday night that I should probably have some sort of non-perishable food in my house besides fun-sized 3 Musketeers and M&Ms and I went grocery shopping.

It would seem that everyone else in the tri-state area had this thought at least a few days before I did. I ended up coming home with some cookies, pre-cooked rice cups, one gallon of water, capri suns and a 12 pack of Pepsi (you know, essentials). I can't even say I worried too much about it. I was honestly more concerned about making my way to the craft store so I could finish up Caitlyn's Halloween costume.

Saturday afternoon, I did make it to AC Moore and picked up some blue duct tape and hot pink felt, like any good mom preparing for a disaster. After I got the IMPORTANT stuff, I strolled over to the candle aisle, you know, just in case, and picked up a few candles too.

As an aside right here, I think it's important to reiterate that I'm recently separated, with a halved income but just as many bills as before. Rodolfo, who makes more money than me, decided that he couldn't afford our 1-bedroom apartment when I moved out and found some random woman who was looking for a roommate, and moved in with her. He won't tell me what he's paying in rent, but I'd venture a guess at about half what I'm paying for my apartment. None of this is particularly relevant right here, but it makes this next part REALLY fucking obnoxious:

Anyway. Saturday afternoon before my trip to the craft store, Rodolfo picked up Caitlyn. He had decided to rent a hotel room, simply for the novelty of using their pool, and took Caitlyn there. Several hours later, I met him there when he wouldn't stop texting me about how cranky she was being (me: it's been 4 hours, have you fed her? him: uh, no.). I got her to eat a little bit and then she told me she had to go to pee. Except instead of pee, she had explosive diarrhea.

We (and when I say "we", I mean myself and my awesome babysitter) have been working on potty training Caitlyn. She has been doing pretty well, and she's been mostly in underwear (with just a few accidents) for the last 2 weeks or so. With explosive diarrhea added to the mix, though, I felt like I should go to the store to pick up some diapers (we won't even get into the discussion I had with Rodolfo after that, when he told me he was keeping an entire box of diapers at his house "just in case") and pedialyte. Luckily, the store had been somewhat restocked, so I was also able to get bread, chips, crackers and a few other non-perishable snacky foods too.

I spent Sunday toiling away on a Halloween costume that wouldn't even be worn (at least not on actual Halloween) and feeling pretty sure that I wouldn't have work the next day. On Monday, the storm came through. I had power most of the day, but by late afternoon, I had a few instances of losing my power, either partially or for just a few minutes at a time. Then, around 6pm, all the power went out for good.

Caitlyn had been handling the power outage remarkably well. She was fascinated by the candles I'd lit- she bounced back and forth, room to room, first repeating my warning that candles are "VERY DANGEROUS!" and then declaring how much she loved candles as she stopped at each one- "another candle in the bathroom! Another candle in the living room! ANOTHER CANDLE IN THE KITCHEN!".

Then, she very suddenly stopped running. She stood at the coffee table in our living room and declared "I pooped, mommy" and started sobbing. It wasn't just that she pooped her pants. It was that she had one of those exploding, watery poops again. And in case you don't already know this, having your mom clean diarrhea out of the folds of your lady business by candlelight is possible the most horrific, embarrassing, traumatic experience a child can ever have.

After several smelly, screeching minutes, I felt I had made my absolute best effort in cleaning her up. I no longer had hot water, so I couldn't even throw her in the bathtub. I just had to resign myself to the fact there might be some poop in her vagina. I decided that a little poop in her vagina was better than the possibility of her describing this scene to her therapist 20 years down the road if I kept trying to pry her legs apart to clean her up. Her underwear went straight to the garbage and within 5 minutes, she went back to running around declaring her love for candles. And, as luck would have it, the shit monster did not return.

After a VERY long, boring night, we packed up in the morning and headed off to Grandma's house, where there was power, hot food, and a super fun playmate for Caitlyn. I managed to convince Rodolfo to stop in and feed/walk my dog (he did so begrudgingly, and felt the need to prove that fact by sending me a picture of the dog's shit), so I was able to stay until Wednesday afternoon. It was a relief. A big part of the decision to pick up and head off to Grandma's was the fact that I had not only no signal on my cell phone, but no service on my house phone either. The stress of the "what-if" was too much with a sicky little toddler, and so we took off for the day. Caitlyn played with her cousin all day, and my mom made us a yummy dinner. It was a huge help.

Yesterday we went home, and I was really hoping I would have my power back. I did not. I totally had a bunch of dog shit on my floor though (also fun to clean up by candlelight, in case you were wondering). I fed my pets and walked my dog and cleaned up the filth and grabbed some pillows so we could crash at April's house for the night. She was the only person in the area who had any power, and she and my brother-in-law were nice enough to open their home to everyone they knew in need of a place to stay (this included myself and Caitlyn, her best friend, bestie's boyfriend and her 4 year old daughter, as well as my 13 year old nephew- with my sister, her husband and their son, that was 5 adults, 3 toddlers and 1 teenaged boy all crammed into their 2 bedroom apartment.).

Today I had to drag my ass to work, but shortly after I arrived, I got word that my power was back on. We were lucky, I know we were. There were people who lost their homes and cars and loved ones. And then there were thousands more who simply survived without power or hot food or showers. Some of them even had toddlers, I bet. As much as it was scary, and a true inconvenience, I have family and friends that I know I can always count on . Even the ones who drive me fucking insane sometimes.

On days when I'm feeling stressed or annoyed or sorry for my shitty situation, I'll think of those who were on their own. I'll try to remember that, while my situation is admittedly stressful and difficult at times, I do truly have a great support system, and unfortuantely, that isn't something everyone can say for themselves.

Anyway. I hope everyone is doing well and that no one else had a literal shit storm like I did.

Asshole, Dick, Fuck. In That Order.

Sometimes I get a little off-track with this blog. Half my posts of late have just been rants and ramblings that have absolutely nothing to do with parenting, and it seems like it's been a while since I actually wrote a post about the shit my kid is doing now. And there is so much shit she is doing now, I can hardly keep up. In fact, I wrote out a checklist of shit-she-is-doing points to hit in this post, so I don't forget anything.

Overall, I'd say the biggest change I've seen in Caitlyn over the past few months (besides, you know, the fact that she never shuts up, ever ever) is how she wants to do everything I do. I mean, obviously this isn't brand new or anything... pretty much everything babies and toddlers do is mocking on some level. The difference now is that she's not just mirroring me when I prompt her to anymore. She's started doing these things of her own accord.

The mirroring thing had hit a high point a few months ago, when she would try to do things like shave her legs in the shower when I did. That kind of mirroring is fucking adorable (you know, except for the part where she thinks she can play with my razor). Recently though, her attempts at being just like mommy have been slightly less adorable. For example, while we were on vacation, I was vacation-eating and it gave me the shits because my body had gotten used to me being pretty healthy of late. One afternoon I spent a solid 30 minutes in the bathroom with diarrhea (I know how you love these kinds of stories- you're welcome!). And in those 30 minutes, Caitlyn walked into the bathroom, oh, I don't know, let's go with 700 times. Shortly after the entire contents of my digestive tract had been forcibly removed, Caitlyn decided she wanted to use the potty.

This has actually also been a big milestone for us of late. It's certainly not consistent yet, but she pees on the potty at least once a day now. Which isn't my point at all. My point is that when Caitlyn says she needs to go potty, I immediately and enthusiastically encourage her. So was the case on the day I got the shits.

She finds it pretty novel, using the big girl toilet, so I never quite know what to expect when she says she has to go. Sometimes she pees almost immediately. Sometimes she insists on getting on and off the toilet 10 times. Sometimes she sits there for 2 seconds, declares she's "all done", then flushes the toilet 4 times. Sometimes she mostly just unravels the toilet paper. Her newest thing is the take the toilet cleaner brush out of the holder and dunk it into the toilet the moment she gets up. On that day though, her mission was clear. She was going to make fun of me. She climbed up onto the toilet (because GOD FORBID I help her up) and immediately scrunched up her face and made some fake straining noises. She then hopped right back down and said "mommy's turn!". Uncool, kid.

Since we are on the subject, though, I should say that during our vacation, and in the week since we've come home, there has been a great increase in using the potty. Two nights ago, Caitlyn peed on the potty 3 separate times. Then she pooped on there too. I've never been so excited about another person's bowel movements in my life. I'm hoping we can move on to underwear in a couple more months.

There is another area where Caitlyn is starting to hit her stride though, no longer just taking cues from mommy, but really owning it as her own. Cursing.

As you may remember, Caitlyn's first bad word was asshole. She was mistakenly under the impression that this was the dog's name, though, so I couldn't really hold it against her. After that she started saying dick. I will take 100% responsibility on that one, because it's not just that I said it to her once and she repeated it, it's the fact that after she repeated it I started laughing hysterically. And really, who wouldn't? When you are mad at your tiny 18 month old for some random act of attitude and she responds by beaming her best smile at you and confidentally, comically declaring "DICK!", well, just, how DON'T you laugh at that? You can't. It's physically impossible. I mean, you know, until the 30th time or so. Now I can actually hold a straight face long enough to tell her it isn't a nice word and that she shouldn't say it. And mostly she doesn't anymore, save for a rare occasion when she knows she's in a lot of trouble and she thinks her comic relief will save her from time outs (or beatings. I mean, probably beatings. I try to use a 70/30 beating to time out ratio).

The problem now, though, is that she isn't just using these words because she knows they will make me laugh. She's using them in context. Actually, "them" is inaccurate. "It" is more appropriate. Because there is only one bad word she regularly uses now. She doesn't use it in anger. This is not a tantrum kind of thing. She's absolutely not trying to get a reaction out of me.

The first time she said it, I hardly noticed. I sort of just glanced at Rodolfo, eyebrows raised, as if to say "did you hear that too?". He wasn't sure either, so we assumed it was some sort of toddler jibberish word that just sounded like the word we, as adults, would automatically hear. After that I started to notice a pattern though. She would always say it after some mild inconvenience. She would drop something on the floor or the dog would steal her last goldfish cracker, something like that. Nothing she would actually be that upset about. And it was always muttered under her breath. Not because she thought she might get in trouble, but because when I say it in the context she was using for it, I'd mutter it under MY breath. Then, at some point (that point being when she started lovingly embracing Swiper the Fox's catchphrase "oh, man!"), she started adding "man!" to the mix.

It went something like this: mild inconvenience, then exasperated sigh, followed by "man... fuck".

We are going to have to get that shit cleared up before she goes to Kindergarten.

I think I'll split this into two posts. More Caitlyn updates tomorrow-ish.

Badassery

There's so much going on right now. Where to start? I should probably start with the important stuff, but fuck that. Let's start with some fun shit:

Caitlyn is a bad ass. This is a known fact. Still, sometimes she surprises me with the level of badassery she exhibits. Saturday was one such day.

Rodolfo and I, in the spirit of keeping Caitlyn's life as normal as possible, have been continuing to do family outings with her. Saturday we took her to The Land of Make Believe. It was supposed to be 100 degrees out and LOMB has a water park and a regular park. Also, it's not at the fucking Jersey Shore, which means we wouldn't have to spend 4 hours sitting in traffic on the way there.

We started at the water park, and I've got to say, it was perfect for young kids. In general, it seemed like the entire park was created by someone with a gaggle of toddlers. The park was on the small side, in a good way. There was no dragging of a toddler half a mile to the next thing. There was no burning of toddler feet as we walked from the lockers where we left out flip-flops to the water. You know why? Because the water's edge was roughly 8 steps away from the lockers.

It was fantastic. There was a huge pool area that was, at its deepest, only 18 inches, so Caitlyn could walk around in it without ever being deeper than waist high. There was a pirate ship with slides coming out of every side, and a half dozen other slides spread around the kiddie pool. And at the bottom of those slides? Fucking PADDED landing platforms. Because, awesome, that's why. Then there was a bridge to cross to get to the side for bigger kids, that had a lazy river and what was essentially a huge jungle gym with water squirting out of it from every angle. We spent the majority of the day hopping back and forth between the two sections of the water park area, but eventually we moved on to the dry park.

The dry park had about a dozen or so rides, a little farm and a train ride around the park. The park is clearly meant for smaller kids, so the rides were carnival-type rides. They were smaller, so they could also be closer together, which made it easy to hop from ride to ride without anyone getting tired or cranky. And because a lot of people were still at the water park, we never waited more than 2 minutes to get on a ride. Caitlyn, naturally, wanted to ride all the rides.

We started at the carousel. She enjoyed that, as she always does. Then we went to a mini-version of the swinging pirate ship ride. You know the one I'm talking about? Anyway, this was a smaller version and the ship swung around in a circle instead of just going back and forth. I was not anticipating this ride to be scary or fast at all. That's the thing about rides though- they always feel much faster than they look! Caitlyn was sandwiched between us, but not even remotely held in by the bar across our lap- the one that was a solid 8 inches above her lap. A few seconds into this ride and I began to panic. This was not what I expected and Caitlyn was going to freak out. She was absolutely going to cry. Except she didn't. She smiled and laughed and LOVED it.

After that we jumped on a bunch of other rides. Spinning dinosaurs, flying hot-air balloons, and a tilt-a-whirl. There was even a canoe ride that she would need to ride alone. I was tentative. I wondered if she would try to stand up mid-ride and fall out. I explained to her, sort of hoping she would decide to skip it, that mommy and daddy could not ride with her. There would be no skipping of rides that day. Caitlyn went it alone. She did fantastically well and my fear of an emergency stop while she tumbled out did not even come close to happening.

Then we saw the roller coaster. Surely she was too small for it. Roller coasters ALWAYS feel faster than they look. Still, she ran into the line and we waited our turn. With every other ride, there was a minimum height for kids to ride alone, but this was the first we came across where there was an actual minimum for kids to ride at all. It was 33 inches. I quietly hoped that she was too small. A roller coaster? Really kid? This was going to end in tears, I was sure of it.

Apparently Caitlyn has had a growth spurt since her 2 year check-up. She cleared that 33 inch mark by at least an inch or two. I sat on the inside seat, since that was the side that curved in when the roller coaster went around the first sharp turn, and prepared to spend half the ride convincing my toddler that I wouldn't let her fall out. I was fully prepared for sobbing and terror. Really. Especially around that first turn. The ride started.

Caitlyn did not respond to that first turn with the fear I'd anticipated. She responded with squeals of joy. She loved it. In fact, she loved it so much that when she filed out in front of me after the ride was over, she tried to get back in to the car directly behind ours. There was a man waiting in line with his kids, his mouth agape as she tried to get back on the ride. Apparently, he couldn't believe how much my tiny little toddler obviously enjoyed herself. I don't blame him. What two year old likes fucking roller coasters?

We rode one more ride after the roller coaster, one that was right next to it, and when we finished, Caitlyn ran back over and got right back in line for the roller coaster again. Yes. She made us ride it twice.

In summation, jeez my kid is a fucking bad ass.

Also? A bad ass who has peed on the potty 3 times this week. It makes sense, I guess. Who wears a diaper on a roller coaster anyway?

This is getting a bit long, so I'll save the marital drama for another day. You're welcome.

AHHHH! AHHHH! AHHHH!

Ok. I had a post planned. It was a good one. I'll still do it, tomorrow maybe.

But there was something else. Something that eclipsed the other stuff that happened today. A milestone. A huge one.

Caitlyn used the potty for the very first time.

There was once before, when I found pee in the vicinity of her potty, like she stood next to it and peed on it like a dog. But this was different.

It started while I fed her dinner. Or, more accurately, while she fed herself dinner. Because usually she whines and fidgets instead of eating, but tonight she was happy to feed herself instead of just throwing the contents of her bowl at the dog. But halfway through dinner, I noticed she kept pulling at her diaper and had it most of the way off. She'd had the farts like whoa, so I thought maybe she finally pooped and was annoyed about sitting in it. She finished eating and I took her out of her chair, where she immediately took off her diaper, pointed to her vagina and said "pee-pee".

Game on, friends. Game fucking on.

I told her if she needed to pee she should sit on her potty and hustled her right over there. She did what she usually does and sat for 8 seconds, got up and started wandering around. Then she picked up her bowl of pasta from the table and sat back down on the potty to snack while she peed.

It was magical.

It was a little weird that she needed a snack to properly negotiate her pee, but I was extremely excited about the whole thing in general. There was clapping. And cheering and giving of cookies. Yes. Bribery is a surefire way to get this to happen again.

My only problem is, if she does start using the potty regularly...well, where the hell am I going to find underwear in her size? Tiny-assed kid still wears 18 months. I might have to take my mom's advice and shrink down some 2Ts in a load of hot laundry.

But I'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Because right now we are all very happy to embrace pissing on the toilet.

A Pot to Piss In

As I've mentioned before, we recently decided to start potty training Caitlyn. She just turned 18 months this week, so it admittedly seemed a little soon, but my personal philosophy is to do things on her timetable and not my own, and she was showing signs that she was ready.

The primary sign was when she started taking off her diaper and pissing on my rug. The dog has really been enjoying this phase because Caitlyn leaves her diapers lying around where he can get to them (like how I just blamed my toddler for the fact that I'm a slob and leave her diapers where ever she happens to take them off? Yeah. Solid Gold Parenting, right there) and he has a delicious diaper feast.

I can't say I understand the lure of a piss soaked diaper, but Joey seems to find them exceptionally delicious. The problem is, I think it's going to make his intestines explode one day.

Have you ever seen a diaper that has been ripped open? You know how the guts are all grainy and disgusting and when they get wet, they bloat up and look like flesh-gorged maggots? Yeah. Imagine that, except in the dog's shit.

The first time he shit out diaper maggots, I about had a fucking heart attack. I was convinced he had some sort of wormy parasites, which is, by the way, like my worst fucking fear. Because worms are just... ick. Fucking icky, slimy, nasty motherfuckers. But then I realized it was just from the diaper he had eaten. And then he shit 5 more times in a row, because the whole purpose of diapers is to ABSORB and so they absorbed the FUCK out of his intestinal juices, apparently, and grew to at least triple the volume of what he had actually eaten.

Lets say he eats a diaper that is mostly dry (which is usually the case, as Caitlyn has a rug to destroy). The diaper maggots are small when he eats them, but then they bloat up in his intestines and he's sliming them out of his ass for the next half hour. I'm pretty much asking for a doggie intestinal explosion, you know? It's like the dog equivalent of Pop Rocks and soda.

Wow. This post has devolved really quickly. The intent was to talk about Caitlyn's potty training progress and somehow I've written almost entirely about the dog's anus. Time to get back on track? Unless you want to hear more about diaper maggots...

Anyway. So Caitlyn and potty training. She loves her new potty. And by loves, I do not mean she loves to use it for its intended purpose. She loves to use it as a stool next to the desk, so she can reach all the things I've put up there to keep away from her. She loves to dump it over and push the button on the bottom that plays music (which is intended to be a reward for peeing in it. So much for that). She loves to pull the little bowl out and hide it under the couch. She loves to lounge on it, fully clothed or not.

What Caitlyn doesn't love to do is pee in her new potty. She seems to understand that she's supposed to sit down when I tell her to use her potty, but she usually gets bored after a minute of sitting there and so she will get up and wander around until she's ready to pee on the rug.

I haven't been particularly bothered by any of this. Caitlyn's still young, and I have a dog, so I'm used to cleaning bodily fluids off of my carpet. And I didn't expect it to be easy. I HOPED that it would be, but I knew that was a long shot. And then it happened: a breakthrough!

The other day I was in the kitchen, making dinner. Rodolfo was in the bedroom... I don't know- not watching Caitlyn? He walked back into the living room where she had been playing and I heard him ask her why she was naked. That's when he noticed it. Pee. On her potty. Please note that I did not say IN.

As I said before, Caitlyn has a tendency to take the little bowl out of her potty and hide it. She does this constantly and she hadn't actually used her potty yet, so I didn't always bother to put it back right away. Until that day when, completed unprompted, Caitlyn took off her diaper, sat down on her potty and peed ... through the hole where the bowl should have been. I always put it back right away now. But obviously she has not peed on her potty since then.

We have a few kinks to work out as far as explaining how a potty actually works and what the purpose of the potty is (not pissing on my floor. That is the purpose, kid. Get with the program) but I was so proud of my little girl. I was sobbing like a lunatic at her HUGE milestone, so she probably thinks she did something wrong and won't use the potty again till she's 9, but I still felt so happy. Even as I scrubbed the piss out of my rug.

Potty Training? Already?

Today I came to the undeniable conclusion that it's time to start potty training Caitlyn. It didn't come to me all at once, the signs have been accumulating for the past few weeks. Here's how it went:

1. About a month ago Caitlyn started taking off her diaper. All. The. Time. I seriously consider duct-taping her diapers shut.
2. After a week or so of indiscriminate diaper removal, I notice a shift in purpose. Every time Caitlyn takes her diaper off, it's because it's wet. She's starting to make the connection!
3. Eventually, she realizes that she simply hates having a diaper on. She spends about 80% of her time bare-assed, while I chase behind her and lure in child molesters by posting diaperless pics on Facebook.
4. She starts pointing to her diaper and says "poo-poo" when she's wet. This applies whether she is actually wearing the diaper or simply holding it up for my inspection.
5. She starts peeing on my floor. By this point, I'd given up on putting her diaper back on 7 times in a row after she takes it off and usually let her run around naked for a few minutes before I try to strap her back in. Until the day she takes off her diaper, immediately walks over to my kitchen and squats down and pees on the floor. REALLY CAITLYN?
   

Obviously, the signs were there for potty training, but there were a few things holding me back too:

1. Me: "Caitlyn do you need to go potty?" Caitlyn: "NO". She pretty much says "no" to whatever I ask her.
2. She still has no mastery of poop. She recognizes her pee game and informs me regularly when she's wet. But aside from a time or two when she took off a poopy diaper, she mostly just waits for me to Toucan Sam her ass on those changes.

So there were signs that I should give it a try, but also ones that made me think I should wait. I certainly don't want to push Caitlyn into something she isn't ready for. It didn't work with solids, or sippy cups or anything else that I tried to start before she was ready.

Today I recognized that it's time to give it a shot. I can only list 2 reasons to not try it, and Caitlyn was able to scratch one of those off the list this afternoon:

Caitlyn was playing and I was dicking around on Facebook when I recognized the familiar smell of a shitty diaper. I turned around to see she'd taken off her diaper and was holding it. That's when I noticed that there wasn't any poop IN the diaper. Nope. She had taken it off before she pooped. But wait. That meant... but... where is the damn poop? OH GROSS, WHY IS THE DOG SMACKING HIS LIPS??? Yup. The dog ate her shit. SO. DISGUSTING. Oh, but wait, he missed a spot! She must have stepped in it first, because it's all over her foot. Awesome.

So it's officially time. She can recognize the need to poop and pee and it might be a little tricky getting her to actually tell me when she needs to go, but I'm hoping she will take the initiative to sit down on the potty and go on her own. We will see. It isn't like I'm not constantly cleaning up after her grossness anyway. Wish us luck!

The Teething Monster

You know how everyone tells you how you hardly get any sleep with a newborn? That you will be like a zombie mindlessly buzzing through the night and maybe accidentally breastfeeding the cat? Well, it wasn't like that for me.

When Caitlyn was a newborn, I had a pretty sweet deal. My in-laws were here from Peru for the first month of her life and every morning when they woke up, they would take care of her for a few hours and let me sleep, and when she would nap during the day, so would I.

That's not to say I didn't have a lot on my plate already... pumping every 2 hours was kicking my ass, but in the way of actual sleep, I wasn't doing too bad.

My in-laws left when Caitlyn was just about a month old and I was prepared for zombification. Except Caitlyn started sleeping through the night. She's always been a night owl, just like me, so it wasn't even a big deal that she didn't go to bed until midnight or 1am, because she would sleep till 9 or 10 the next morning. I was getting a few hours less sleep when I went back to work a month after that, but I still had a pretty sweet deal.

You know what no one warned me about though? That no matter how good a sleeper you have, once the teething monster shows up, you are FUCKED. You aren't ever going to sleep again. At least that's how it feels.

Teething is like Fight Club. Ed Norton and Brad Pitt are the same fucking guy. Teething Caitlyn and non-teething Caitlyn are the same baby. Mornings are fine. She wakes up bright as the morning sun, all smiles and rainbows and shit. She gives me a bit of trouble with eating, but she's always been a bit of a picky eater, so I roll with it. As the day wears on, she holds her shit together just fine. And then 8:00pm hits and she snaps and beats the shit out of my REM cycles for the next 11 hours.

Here is a breakdown of our night as we fight the demon inside of Caitlyn ('s gums):

7:30pm: Dinner time. This is when shit starts to hit the fan. Caitlyn spends half of dinner time begging for a drink and the other half feeding scraps to the dog. You know what the dog can't get out of my rug? Individual pieces of white rice. That shit sticks, yo. Which is probably why as soon as I give up on feeding her and take her out of her high chair, she gets on her hands and knees and tries to eat the food out of the rug. Because she's CONSIDERATE like that.

8:00pm: Climbing time - part one. This usually occurs while I'm cleaning up after dinner. Caitlyn will decide that there's something important that she MUST have on the dining room table. It's ironic that she almost immediately tries to climb up the dining room chairs after spending the previous 10 minutes reaching out for me and clutching my face, begging to be taken out of her high chair, but it always seems to happen.

8:15pm: Acrobatic feats of fearlessness. Last night was a doozy. My dining room table is roughly 6 steps away from my kitchen sink. I cleared the plates from dinner and took those 6 steps into the kitchen, spending an additional 10 seconds to quickly rinse the plates. After no more than 30 seconds, I walked back to the dining room to see Caitlyn standing on top of the table, all triumphant and shit (where was Dad, you ask? In the same room, facing the TV, watching football highlights. Fucker.).

8:30pm: Bath time. Wherein I remove a whining and defeated Caitlyn from her Kilamanjaro-esque glory to delouse her of the food, dog slobber and filth she's coated in (seriously, toddlers are the fucking filthiest creatures you will ever encounter).

8:45pm: I put Caitlyn's diaper on. She takes her diaper off. On. Off. On. Off. At the very least, she finds this exchange amusing and doesn't whine.

9:00pm: This is when Caitlyn is clearly overtired but refuses to go to sleep. Every exchange we have is me taking her off of something she's climbing or yelling at her for pulling the outlet covers off and sticking them up her nose and she responds by throwing herself to the ground in protest. I give her a bottle and put her in her crib, hoping she finally gives in, but alas, she finishes her bottle and cries until I pick her up (there are rare occassions where she will nap for 20 minutes, but this always fails as it rejuvenates her for at least 3 more hours). And I swear to god if I see the words "sleep training" anywhere in the fucking comments, I'm just going to snap. I'm a woman on the edge, motherfuckers. I haven't had a good night's sleep in months.

9:15pm: I pick her up. Obviously. She rewards me by throwing her arms around me and squealing with delight- "DADDY!".

9:30-10:30pm: Climbing time- part 2. Also? Pull things out of drawers time, because Caitlyn is kind of an asshole when she's overtired. This is also the point where I entrusted her to her Dad again for a few minutes and she managed to end up on top of the dining room table again. At least she was sitting this time. Drinking a glass of soda her Dad left there. Caffeine. Perfect!

10:30pm: This is the bedtime threshold at our house. It's finally late enough that we might get her to go to sleep. Except she doesn't go to sleep. She cries. Fuck. I iron my work clothes and try to ignore her. I do not succeed. You know who DOES succeed? Her Daddy. Because "she needs to learn to LISTEN". Jeez fucker, she's TEETHING.

11:00pm: Out of the crib again, because she's been blubbering inconsolably for 30 minutes now. Maybe 30 more minutes of play time will tire her out? Because mommy needs some fucking sleep and is currently willing to try anything.

11:30pm: Back to her crib. And she's crying again. MOTHERFUCKER JUST GO TO SLEEP KID. Give her another bottle, which she casts aside like a D list actress in Hollywood.

11:45pm: Take her into bed with me. Sing, stroke her hair, rock her. All to no avail. I finally decide that maybe she's hungry, since she hardly ate anything and bring her into the kitchen and feed her watermelon. This calms her down a bit.

11:55pm: Back to my bed where I finally manage to rock her into a fitful sleep. I put her into her crib and collapse into my own bed.

12:03am: Caitlyn wakes up. Again. I successfully ignore her and 10 minutes later, she falls back to sleep.

2:00am: Caitlyn wakes up screaming. I make her a bottle, which she refuses to drink. I check her diaper and find that it's wet. I change her and try the bottle again. She takes it for a moment. Just long enough for me to crawl back into bed. Then she starts screaming again.

2:10am: Hold down a sobbing Caitlyn while Rodolfo forces Tylenol down her gullet because she keeps dribbling it out of the side of her mouth. This has enraged her and her little face is bright red and tear-soaked. Which makes me feel like the worst parent on the planet.

2:20am: Continue to rock Caitlyn while Rodolfo makes her a juice bottle, which we hope will go over better than the milk. It does not. When he walks back in the room, she reaches out to him and begs for her Daddy through her sobs. Because Mommy is not good in a crisis, apparently.

2:25am: I decide an ice pop might soothe her gums. That's right. I gave my kid an ice pop at 2:30 in the morning. She refuses the ice pop at first, but also freaks out when I take it away at Rodolfo's request because she's got it pressed into his chest, all sticky and melty.

2:35am: Caitlyn finally calms down enough to eat her ice pop. It must have helped because as Rodolfo laid her in her crib, I heard him ask "what are you smiling about?". She finally goes to sleep for the night.

6:00am: Time to get up. Awesome. I feel SUPER rested!

Birthday

Caitlyn's birthday is fast approaching. In fact, it's just 4 days away. It seems absolutely absurd in more ways than one. The most obvious is how fast the time has gone. Those first fews months are such a blur now. I barely remember the days of constant pumping, poop with every diaper change and a baby that actually stayed in one place for more than 5 seconds. That part is easy enough to reconcile, I suppose. It's still a bit sad though. I wish I had taken more video, more pictures of Caitlyn as a teeny tiny newborn. I look at her now, and despite still being small, the changes are epic. She's not just a snuggly little meatloaf anymore. She's a person. No longer just an extension of myself, but a tiny, opinionated little diva.

The part that is harder to deal with is that part about her being her own person. She's a lovely person: funny, smart and ever-endearing. But with each passing day, she becomes more independent and I can't help but feel a burden of sadness as she needs me less and less. She walks now, talks, makes very clear decisions about what she does and doesn't want. It's not like when she was a newborn and I'd give her what she needed and she would take it. Not like that at all. This kid has opinions. And a penchant for the dramatic (her favorite dramatic reaction? If I put her to stand in her crib or on the floor and she still wants to be held, she reacts by throwing herself in a heap onto the floor and puts her head on the ground, sobbing in desperation as if to say "how could you do this to me?").

Obviously I love all these things about her. I love seeing her reactions. In the last couple of weeks, she's taken to scowling at people. It's just about the funniest thing I've ever seen. If you don't give her her way, she furrows her brow, narrows her eyes, dips her head and gives you the evil eye, staring up at you from under her eyelashes. It's hilarious actually. She's also been seen rolling her eyes at people. Yes, my one year old has an attitude problem. But I love it. That probably sounds terrible, like I'm going to be one of those moms with a kicking, screaming 4 year old in the supermarket one day, but I don't really put up with too much bullshit and I don't see it going that far because Caitlyn is generally so good-natured. But the scowling. Oh my god. It's just too much. I can't help but laugh.

But when I think about these things, they remind me that my baby is growing up. That one day, she will go off to Kindergarten and I'll embarass her by sobbing uncontrollably as she walks into school for the first time. Then she will get her first period, and I'll embarass her by telling her about pads and tampons. Then she will go to college and I'll humiliate her by talking to her about chlamydia and unplanned pregnancy and how college boys are dirty pervs who will say absolutely anything to get in her pants. Then I'll make it 1000% worse by saying something like "if you are going to put out, at least make sure they go down first". Because that's what my mom would have said to me.

Of course, all these realizations make me cry. I think of my baby being a grown-up and it forces me to picture my life once she's made a life for herself that I'm not the biggest part of.

Obviously I want all this for her. I want her to have all the experiences of school and love and work and children. But then I just want my baby to be my baby forever. And in a way, I know she always will be. I think of what my own mother said to me after I had Caitlyn. She felt a sense of loss with all three of her daughters having babies so close together. Like we had families of our own now and we wouldn't need her anymore. I guess I have to take comfort in the fact that I know I'll always need my mother, so I can hope that Caitlyn will always need me.

I think, in part, this is why I've been obsessing about having another baby (oh, did I not mention that?). It's not about being unfulfilled. Caitlyn brings unparalleled joy to my life and I could never have another thing besides her and I know I could still be happy. It's the sense of loss that gets me every time. I've lost a baby once, and even though I know I won't lose Caitlyn in that sense, I can't help but go to that scary "my baby is going to leave me" place every once in a while.

I'm not seriously considering it or anything. I'm certainly not trying to get pregnant (the whole shitty, sperm-that-couldn't-find-an-egg-in-a-damn-chicken-coup issue helps me keep in perspective the reality that anyway), but because we can say with a good amount of certainty that I won't get pregnant without serious medical intervention, we don't use birth control ever. And having gone through years of trying then fertility treatments makes me annoyingly hyper-aware of all my body's fertility signals. So, despite having no real reason to examine my cervical mucus, I find that I do. And despite knowing that I won't get pregnant, I can't help but think "we had sex right when I ovulated, maybe I'm pregnant". It's frustrating and compouding an already annoying reflex reaction to my Caitlyn growing up and having birthdays and all.

Luckily, I've been super busy planning Caitlyn's birthday party and cleaning up diarrhea so I haven't had much time to think about it. That's right, another stomach bug for Caitlyn. She is feeling a bit better now though, and her party is on Saturday, so I'm really hoping she is 100% by then. My baby can NOT not eat cake on her birthday!