I Totally Thought They Were Wooden Blocks

As you all know I believe that motherhood is an art form. It takes a lot of creativity and humor to navigate your way successfully through parenting.

This philosophy is particularly true when it comes to potty training.

I am in the throes of potty training my third child. My 2 year old Cesar has insisted on using the toilet. I actually would like to wait a few more months but seeing as he’s the third child and has two older siblings to look up to, he has proven to be very independent and wants to do everything they are doing.

So the potty training commenced a week ago.

I put underwear on him, showed him how to put his potty seat on the toilet and then how to sit on it by himself.

We’ve had some successes and plenty of accidents throughout the past week.

5 days ago Cesar and I were upstairs changing bedding when I noticed two of Cesar’s wooden blocks on the floor. I went to pick them up but quickly discovered they weren’t blocks…yes, they were poop that were amazingly square shape.

As I ran to his room to grab a new pair of underwear and run back to where he was, I discovered him picking it up…

So now he has poop streaked down his legs, all over his hands, it’s ground into the carpeting and I have to try to figure out a way to get him downstairs to the bathroom to get him cleaned up!

(Insert creativity and humor here!)

2 days ago Bency came downstairs and in a very nonchalant voice stated, “There’s something really weird happening in my room, Mom.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I asked

“Well, the decorations on my dresser have all been turned backwards and my baseball hat was moved and there’s poop on the floor.” Bency replied in the most casual voice possible.

I stood there shocked. I wasn’t shocked that there were things moved around in Bency’s room nor that there was poop on the floor. Obviously, after my go around just the other day with the poop on the floor fiasco I have kind of braced myself for future occurrences as Cesar is still running amok with only loose fitting undies on.

What I was most shocked about was the ho-hum attitude that Bency had about discovering poop on his bedroom floor. I certainly think he could muster more surprise, disbelief or outrage.

So as I tried to wrap my head around his calm, cool attitude about the discoveries in his room, I made my way upstairs for a poop scavenger hunt to pick up before Cesar did….

(Insert creativity and humor for the next few months!)

Business on top, Party on the bottom

Business on top, Party on the bottom

Just A Minute

It’s not a new discovery that small children soak up everything they see and hear. As a mom on her third time around it should not surprise me that my 2 year old, Cesar, has absorbed everything I do and has begun to mimic me incessantly.

Much to my dismay, Cesar has picked up my catchphrase.

It’s not a “cool” catchphrase; it’s merely a phrase I have to say to my family on the average of 107 times a day.

It’s “Just a minute.”

I have legitimate uses for this phrase. Much to my family’s bewilderment I am not idly sitting around waiting for a request from them. I’m more often than not, engaged in useful duties that benefit the running of our household.

Chances are if you want me to come see your newest masterpiece you have just drawn and I’m downstairs putting laundry in, you’ll hear, “Just a minute.”

It’s very likely that if you are requesting food or drink and I’m halfway down the driveway bringing the garbage to the road, you’ll hear, “Just a minute.”

It’s a good probability that if you need help finding your blue shirt and I’m upstairs singing a bedtime song to the baby, you’ll hear a whispered hiss with a edge to it of, “Just a minute.”

So, yes, “Just a minute,” is a fixture in my daily verbiage and it became more apparent to me when I asked Cesar the other day to come by me and get his clothes on and he…..

Held up one finger, looked at me and said, “Just a minute” and continued to put his stacking cup toy back in order.

I dream of the day when my catchphrase is, “Wow, I can’t believe how much sleep I got last night.” or “I can’t believe how much I got accomplished today.”

Until that day, my family will have to be suffice to wait, “Just a minute.”

I’m busy stacking my cups…I’ll be with you in a minute

The Blanket Boy

None of my three children ever got attached to a blanket as a baby. I was seriously disappointed about this.

I don’t think there is anything cuter than a toddler dragging around a faded, ripped up blanket. Something about it just strikes up innocence and sweetness. But like I said, I never had one of these children.

Believe me, I tried. We had a lot of baby blankets….thin, thick, fuzzy, shiny, super soft, nubby, and all kinds of different patterns and characters. As we rocked and snuggled I always draped a blanket on them. When I put them in their cribs they all had a blanket laid on them. None of the kids were disgusted with blankets; they just didn’t want to drag them around.

I thought I had a chance with my youngest son, Cesar. When he woke up in the morning and from naps he would grab his blanket and request to bring it downstairs with him. My body felt giddy at the prospect of having a “Blanket Baby.” I dreamed of the fun challenges this would bring. I know mothers with blanket babies have a hard time getting it washed and there’s always the challenge of replacing the “irreplaceable” blanket that has been lost. My excitement in the possibility of having a “blanket fiend” was short-lived though. Cesar never carried it around. He merely brought it downstairs and never looked at it again. Months ago he even quit requesting to bring blankets downstairs.

I have made peace with this, thanks to my 5 year old son, Bency. Much to my surprise he has come to love blankets. He is actually kind of obsessed with them. Thankfully, he doesn’t want to drag them around and we didn’t have to send one to Kindergarten with him but he does like a blanket wrapped around him when he is sitting watching television. He also requested 3 blankets on his bed this fall as the nights began to get colder.

I was happy to oblige my son with three blankets and as I pulled them out of the chest I told him the story of each blanket.

The first blanket was made by my mom almost 30 years ago. When I was 7 years old I was in a sledding accident and ended up in the hospital for eight days with internal injuries. While I lay in my hospital bed my mom sat by my side and made me this quilt. I loved this quilt and always used it on my bed or to wrap up in when I watched television. I took it with me when I moved out on my own and with its age and several washings it began to tear and get faded. I requested my mom to repair it several times.

The blanket my mom made me when I was 7 years old

She did repair my blanket but she also made me a new quilt. This one was equally loved even though I received it in my 20’s. This one now gets added to my daughter’s bed every Fall.

The second blanket my mom made me that now gets added to my daughter’s bed every fall

The second two blankets I added to my son’s bed, share the same story. They were crocheted by my Great-Grandma Palma on my father’s side. She was Norwegian, very creative and always busy. She made these for my parents in the 1970’s. I remember they always draped over our olive green sofa when I was little. When I moved out of my parent’s house they were passed down to me.

the blankets my Great-Grandma Palma crocheted

When I finished telling the stories of the blankets to my son; he looked at me very earnestly and said, “Mom, please don’t ever pass these blankets down. I want to keep them forever.”

I told him that we would keep them forever.

Little did he realize, I was in fact passing them down to him at this moment as I placed the blankets on his bed.

He is my blanket boy.