On Potty Training Success...and Failure

The thing with parenting twins is, we're often juggling different strategies at the same time to deal with each child.  Okay, so I realize that any parent with more than one kid has to deal with this, but somehow it's different when your children are at the exact same stage in life, and yet polar opposites in some situation or another, so you basically need ALL THE ADVICE RIGHT NOW.  As similar as twins can be, they can also be completely, totally, ridiculously different from one another.  Almost like they are each their own individual little people or something.  Huh.

From talking to parents of one child, or even children who are several years apart, it seems like it can be easy to think that your child represents all kids at a particular age.  Your baby sleeps through the night?  All babies must sleep through the night, what is everyone complaining about?    Your child was talking at 10 months?  You assume all kids are talking by 10 months.  Your toddler only eats the purple box of mac & cheese?  Why do they even bother making the other kinds, just stock the shelves with purple boxes, please.  While you might know that this isn't exactly true (hello, that's why there were 4723 parenting advice books/columns/posts written last month alone), it's also hard to imagine it being any other way when you only have your own singular experience to go on.

While it can often be like that with twins, too, (Caden and Brooklyn are very similar), sometimes the reality of parenting  two individual, different little people can smack you straight upside the head.

Take...potty training.


As I wrote after our "potty-training bootcamp" weekend, Caden caught on like a champ.  No struggles, no look back.  You might have thought he'd been doing it for months, instead of mere hours.  He's still doing amazingly well.  Underwear all day (including for nap), pull-up all night (I don't want to interrupt our recent success with sleep by doing nighttime training just yet), has gone on several different "big potties" when we are out in public like it's no big deal, etc.  Sure he's had accidents, and doesn't usually want to stop playtime just to go sit on the potty, but nothing out of the ordinary.  He's...potty trained.  (Fist bump.)

Brooklyn never made it there.  That's okay.  Our potty training bootcamp was kind of an experiment, to see if all the signs of potty training readiness they were each showing were actually accurate.  Tuesday morning after our potty training weekend found myself in the bathroom with Brooklyn, pleading with her to stay on the potty just a little bit longer so she would actually go.  Nolan was in my arms, wailing, because he wanted to be fed.  Tyson was back at work.  And Caden was wandering around the house taking full advantage of the chaos and getting into God-knows-what.  That's the moment that I took a look around and decided to quit.  We were all miserable.  (Well, except for Caden.  I'm sure he enjoyed his relative freedom while I was stuck in the bathroom with Brooklyn.)  Potty training had turned into a battle of wills between myself and this little two-year old girl (who apparently has the world's strongest bladder), and I was certainly not going to win.  I knew this wasn't sustainable while I was on my own, with three kids, and Tyson back at work.  So...we'll try again in a few months.  And maybe again a few months after that.  ("Me potty," Brooklyn keeps saying, "No yet."  Alright then.)

My point is, twins can really show you the full spectrum of it all when it comes to parenting.  I can relate to both extremes, at the same time, at least in the potty-training world.  I celebrate with you, happy moms, whose kids sat on the potty from the start with no issue, accepted their M&Ms and impossibly small new underwear as their reward, and never looked back.  And I commiserate with you, frustrated mamas, who just can't believe the absolutely epic stubbornness all wrapped up in one little toddler.  We've read the books, done the stuff, tried the tricks.  It didn't work.  I get it.  We WILL win in the end.  I raise my glass of wine to all you mamas, both in celebration and in defeat.  Come to think of it, maybe I need a glass of wine in each hand...

Caden and Brooklyn's personalities can be so.  dang.  similar.  In fact, this is the first "milestone" that they haven't really hit "together".  Rolling over, walking, talking...they did all of these things within days of each other.  This is a very different type of milestone, though.  And the older they get, the more we see their differences, their individuality.  What makes Caden, Caden is his rule-following, doesn't-think-twice, perseverance.  While Brooklyn has a more healthy sense of fear, combined with a generally sunny disposition, friendly attitude, and a bit of a stubborn streak.

So, at least I had three in diapers for just four months.  Now we're back to two.  Though I'm not quite sure if that's a step forward, since I now haul size 1 diapers, size 4 diapers, AND an extra set of shorts and underwear all around in the diaper bag.  Is this an improvement?  Maybe not...



Project Sandbox

So if you follow me over on Instagram, you already know what our Friday night consisted of:


Operation: Sandbox.

Let's just say these kids aren't afraid of a little dirt.



Or a lot of it, either.



I thought the dirt-butt pictured above was bad, but that was just a taste of what was to come...


(Brooklyn, every time the sand started sliding down the bed of the trailer even a little bit: "It's coming!")



Because clearly, if a truck backs up to dump out a ton of sand in your backyard, it's sand-slide time.  (Great idea, Dad!  I'll be sending you the laundry bill.)









We often add a few drop of food coloring to the twins' bath water for fun, colorful baths. In case you can't tell, this was not necessary on Friday night.  As soon as Caden and Brooklyn touched the water it was ALL OF THE BROWN.  I'm not sure they got any cleaner sitting in it, actually.

And yes, I was having mild heart palpitations the entire time this was going on.  SO. MUCH. DIRT.  My neat-and-tidy brain was doing all it could to not short-circuit, as it kept going back and forth between "they're having so much fun!" to "I can't EVEN with all that GRIME". And apparently I need to get used to it, since this thing is kind of a permanent fixture in our backyard.



 Oh yeah, and that dirt butt?


(Also this one.)


Well...


PARENTING WIN.

Possibly my proudest parenting moment.  Play had left a dark brown stain, mommy washed it white as snow.  Slightly dirty snow.  Like, you wouldn't want to eat it.  But still.  Guess I don't need to send you my laundry bill after all, Dad...



I Hate Rocking My Babies to Sleep

I really do.

Okay, maybe hate is a strong word. Don't enjoy. Strongly dislike. Pretty much despise.You get the idea.

It seems like such an essential part of motherhood, right? It's such a classic image: a mother, swaying gently with a sleepy, softly swaddled baby.

It's just not for me.

I've never really enjoyed it. Even when the twins were born...I liked snuggling them, holding them, and being close to them in general, but once it was time for them to sleep? NO THANKS.  Probably because, especially as a stay-at-home mom, I was just with them already so dang much. I've been with you all day/morning/afternoon/whatever. So when it's time to go to sleep, c'mon guys, just CLOSE YOUR EYES and GO TO SLEEP. Maybe it was because the twins weren't particularly good sleepers, anyway. I spent countless hours and logged who-even-knows how many miles pacing around our tiny apartment each and every day (and night), fighting for just about every. single. ounce. of sleep. The carpet was surely worn out in a couple of frequently-trodden paths. I feel like I've done my time, y'know?

That's not to say I always hate it. Sometimes I enjoy it. Like when it goes the way I think it should. Y'know, where within the first 30 seconds or so the eyes are fluttering, the breathing is slowing, and it won't take much more than another minute or so before they're fully out and I'm free. I'm sure when I'm a blue-haired old lady I'll miss and reminisce about rocking babies to sleep. Or maybe I'll remember all of this with a clear head. But by then I'll be well out of the weeds of rocking babies to sleep all day every day. Right now it's more like I enjoy - I mean REALLY ENJOY doing it - maybe once every couple of weeks or so. The rest of the time? Eh. I could pass.

I used to beat myself up about it a little bit. What's wrong with you? Don't you have a heart? Who doesn't enjoy rocking babies - especially their own babies! - to sleep?!? You monster! This is what motherhood is all about!

Nope, Mr. Big Eyes, I don't usually want to rock even you. You're cute, though.

I finally had to realize and admit that, rocking babies to sleep? It's just not my jam.

I don't know. I don't think it's so essential anymore. To enjoy it, I mean.  I still do it. It's not like I really have a choice in the matter. (Though admittedly it's not so super frequently anymore. Mega high-fives to super-sleeper Nolan.) (Dear Nolan: DO NOT MAKE ME SPEAK TOO SOON.) I don't have to enjoy or ooze love for every. single. moment. of motherhood (we can also add diffusing a toddler tantrum, cleaning up, yet again, from another messily-eaten meal or snack, and dealing with a diaper explosion of any sort to the list of I-could-totally-do-without-it moments of motherhood).

I'm good at other things.  In fact, I'm downright phenomenal at other things.  I know people that don't like reading to their kids. I would read aloud to my kids, and your kids, and all the kids,  all the live-long day, if they'd let me. Art with toddlers?  Bring it. Constructing towers and houses and castles out of all different types of blocks? And then having you knock it down and building it up again? Playing choo-choos and creating elaborate tracks? Getting three small kids and myself up, fed, dressed, and out the door before 9 am? I am your GIRL.

I enjoy all of those things, and more. I'm good at them.  I like doing them. Even the getting out the door in the morning.  

I'd just really rather not rock them to sleep.

The Mommy Selfie

Before kids, I don't think I really took that many selfies.  There's probably a few of Tyson and I floating around, but I can't recall any specific selfie-type photo of me or us off the top of my head.

Enter children.  And me, the self-appointed documenter of the family.  I love taking pictures of the kids. But that means I'm not in the pictures myself.  There are times I request it ("honey, take a picture of me and the kids!"), but it can seem so forced.  We get professional pictures taken a couple times a year, mostly for this very reason, but that's not super often with how fast the kids change.  Not to mention it completely ignores my presence in the everyday.

That brings us to:


The Mommy Selfie.

I've read the articles, seen the discussion online.  Us Millennials are just so dang self-absorbed! The  ever-present selfie is yet more evidence of that (*sarcasm alert*) absolutely undeniable fact!  What's our problem?!?  Can't we stop with the selfies already?  And what's with all those pictures of our food???

I think I used to agree to an extent.  But it's not like it bothered me that other people took selfies.  Even though I never personally took selfies before kids.  And really, it does seem sort of weird to me, still, if I ever take a picture of myself without anyone else in the photo.

But now that I'm a mom?  I get it.  I want these moments to be documented.  To show that I was around.  I was there.  I remember that day at the park, in our living room, while I was singing you to sleep, too.

And sometimes, maybe a lot of the time, it's not even a good photo.  But it is a moment I want to remember.  No one was around on this night that I was rocking Nolan to sleep:


But I was.  It's not a super great picture.  It's grainy.  The lighting is terrible.  I'm pretty sure I hadn't showered in a day or two.  Nothing I would ever keep or frame to put on the wall. There wasn't anything super out of the ordinary about this night.  But I remember how much I felt these overwhelming feelings of love for Nolan, and just enjoyed being with him, rocking him (Which, true confessions: rocking babies to sleep?  Not usually my mom jam.), and how even once he was asleep I just kept rocking and rocking him.  This picture reminds of that time, that night.  A night that I would probably have otherwise forgotten.

Maybe us kids do over-document a bit too much these days.  I don't know.  It's just so easy when there's always a camera of some sort (or two or three) within arms reach.  And I know my kids won't have only their memories to rely on, when they recall a moment, and wonder if I was there.





They'll have photographic evidence.