Potty Training

Am I the only one who can't figure out how to do paragraph breaks in bloggers new format?? No, the title of this blog is not a metaphor for some beautiful, existential experience in which I break down long repressed "poopy" experiences in order to break through into the training of my real life. No, it's actually about poop. Potty training is a lousy idea. Diapers are awesome. Anyone who says otherwise has never actually potty trained another human. Don't tell me if you have one of those kids who potty trained in 24 hours and then trained your neighbor's kids and their dog. I don't want to hear it. We have begun this process for the fourth time and my brain had already blocked out how much I hate it. OH, the puddles of urine! The urine footprints running away from the puddle! The laundry that just can't wait until Thursday laundry day! The carpet that will remain stiff in places from the pee-pee/Resolve cocktail that's been poured on it six times! And the 1000 other things I am in the middle of when someone yells, "MOM, Johanna's soaking wet!" Of course, there is another type of waste, affectionately known as "Number 2". (My poor sister KayLynn, second in our family, loves it when she is called Number 2. I digress.) That is an even worse mess. Wanna hear about it? Johanna let loose a NUMBER 2 yesterday in her sweet little girl panties. This is not the first time I have dealt with this but it is the first time I have dealt with it with the, ahem, help, of three older siblings. Nathan took the lead by yelling that something smelled terrible and then crying when he discovered a particle of this matter was on his lego creation. He also assisted with the dry heaving outside the bathroom door as I was dealing with the mess. He wouldn't leave the scene but he wouldn't stop gagging either. Truly irreplaceable help. Dane was the broadcaster. He kept Aubrey and Nathan abreast of the situation. He told them about how Johanna, in her desperate attempt to be rid of the disgusting panties, managed to step in them and then do a poopy dance about the bathroom. He also described the smell, how many wipes I had used, what other items in the bathroom had poop on them, and how he felt about the experience in general. Aubrey, once she was brave enough to survey the scene, provided invaluable instructions. "You missed some, right there on her leg." "Mom, this is taking a long time, can you go faster?" "Mom, you should be more careful, now it's on the bath mat." "Mom, you should have put her on the potty before she went in undies." "Mom, I am going to continue to think you are an incompetent fool for the next 12 years." (The last sentence wasn't actually stated but generally implied.) In the midst of the commotion, the timer on the microwave began to beep, beep, beep. It was a reminder for me to put Johanna on the potty. Folks, you just can't buy this kind of help.

Here a pic, there a pic, everywhere a Jones picture...

My sister and her fiance sent me a one liner email. It said, "Update your blog." Since I want to be in their wedding, as does ring bearer Dane, I figure I better comply. Hannah and Brett, these pictures are for you!

What, you thought I was going to actually tell you what was happening in our family? About how Aubrey suffered from a two week long illness in which she suffered extreme stomach pain, fever, lethargy, and how we went to the peds twice and the E.R. twice because it was so bad and how it inexplicably just gradually went away with no idea as to its cause? Or about how Nathan thinks everything in my house is a gymnastics implement and broke a bookcase at Barnes and Noble today trying to use it as a vaulting device? Or about how the picture of Johanna on the potty is all for show and the only kid who has peed in it so far is Dane to make it sing? Or how I tried to find one stinking picture of myself for our church website and couldn't find one current one of me without a kid? (That will explain the picture of me and Johanna on a carousel if you ever happen to take a look on the care group site for our church.) Or that Greg is on a personal mission to use brute strength and basic tools to rid massive sections of our yard of overgrown weeds, trees, stumps, and even long ago buried dog bones?? Or how I am approaching the end of a successful first year of home schooling and thus far my kids have not become social recluses and have actually (GASP!!) learned something? Nope, not gonna tell you anything about any of that.

The day I tried to murder a fish

We have four fish.

Aubrey was given a fish tank for her third birthday, one in which we allowed our fish to gorge themselves and die at an alarming rate. After one too many dead fish we gave up on the tank and put it in storage. It has been there for three years.

A few months ago Greg tried to sneak the tank out for Goodwill. It was spotted. Pleading ensued. We now have four fish, one for each kid. Current names are Bun-bun, Wally, Lolly, and Fireball. (Fireball had a predecessor, Alexander, who promptly died.)

A few days ago I decided that if our fish were to survive I had to clean the tank. The kids thought this was a terribly exciting. After lugging the tank into the kitchen I began the whole process, four little people excitedly watching.

I removed the fish to a temporary holding tank. I cleaned the tank. I cleaned the rocks in the tank. I scrubbed the castle in the tank. I wondered how I had gotten talked into fish. I filled the tank, lovingly dropped in the anti-chlorine drops, and got ready to return the fish. Almost done.

THREE FISH were in the tank. I was literally on that last fish, THE LAST FISH, when the stupid thing got all floppy in the retrieval net and hurled itself into space, falling at least 100 fishy stories off the counter onto the floor.

The subsequent pandemonium is indescribable. Nathan sank to his knees, sobbing and wailing, before sprinting down the hall to his room. Aubrey jumped up and down in the kitchen, screaming for me to DO SOMETHING, DO SOMETHING!! Dane curled up in a ball on the floor, alternately crying softly and screaming. Johanna ran away in fear, mostly because surely something horrible was happening given the other three reactions. I looked everywhere for the adult who was going to handle the flopping fish and only came up with me.

I didn't want to actually touch the fish and yet I couldn't let it lay there and die. I kept trying to scoop it up but it was jumpy and disgusting and kept flopping away from me. Plus, I wanted to pick it up gently, so as not to squish it, although I was sure the internal bleeding from that fall was doing the job for me. I finally had to let it drown enough in air that it stopped flailing around. I then TOUCHED IT, got it on a spoon, and dumped it back in the tank.

What do you know, it seemed fine! It swam around the tank like a demon possessed eel for a while but kept moving. I was sure it was going to keel over any moment but as the minutes passed my confidence grew. I coaxed the kids back to the kitchen to see what a hero I was for saving the fish. Nathan told me he had "never seen anything so scary." They all wanted to know whose fish it was. I assured them it was Johanna's (as if I really knew) and that it seemed okay. I tempered that comment with a good shot of honesty (Kids, it could die at any moment). The kids told me to never do that again and I said that was fine with me, Daddy could have this job.

I think the fish were his idea anyways.

p.s. Five days later, the fish still lives!

The wisdom of a father

Dane looked up casually from his lunch today and said, "I'd like to hear more Easy Lover."

Thank you Greg for introducing our children to mildly inappropriate Phil Collins music.

Do you hear what I hear?

These are a few things that I heard today.

In an intense moment of imaginative play, Aubrey exclaimed that her stuffed puppy, Boltina, was having SUCH A HARD TIME giving up cigarettes. Will this topic never cease to haunt me?

Johanna snuggled up to Aubrey in bed tonight, binky in mouth and purple blanket in hands, while Aubrey read her three Dr. Seuss books. At the end of each book Johanna would say, "More please Aubee."

Dane asked me to say, "Dane, why are your fish (toys) able to swim in the air?" After doing as I was told Dane said, "Because it isn't air, it's water, and you just don't know it."

After looking through a National Geographic article about Saturn Aubrey said, "It makes sense that Saturn has so many moons. It's so big and such a large mass would make it have A LOT of gravity. It probably sucks in big rocks from the asteroid belt." You're darn right I'll take some credit for that one!

Tonight I asked Nathan if he knew how much I loved him and he said, "One billion and one." WRONG KIDDO! It's more.

Greg, currently yelling coaching tips at the NBA game he is watching while working out. It's a basement full of man sounds.

The "What If" Game

Nathan, our curious question asker, asks a constant stream of "what if" questions. He is sincere in the asking but grows frustrated by my answers. My excuse? THEY ARE UNANSWERABLE. I always make an attempt at a real answer, in an effort to not squash his curiosity, but one mom can only reserve a small percentage of her brain for such conversations. And Nathan? You need to know that my mind is always engaged in the simultaneous effort of figuring out an idea for dinner, a better way to teach double digit subtraction, that Valentine's Day needs my attention, where did I put my phone/keys/glass of water/Johanna, and have I scheduled the latest well child appointment. There is only so much I can do.


Below, a sample of true "what if" questions, courtesy of Nathan.

What if a chimney looked like a castle? (?????)
What if you were the slowest driver ever? What if you didn't know how to speed up?
What if dragons were really extinct instead of not real?
What if you liked basketball as much as Daddy? (I answered, "You'd never get a hot meal during NBA season.")
What if for my birthday you gave me a surprise party but I wasn't surprised and I cried?
What if I had ten small toots instead of one giant toot?
What if I could never get clean, even in the bath?
What if I was older than Aubrey?

Tip of the iceberg I tell you. TIP OF THE ICEBERG.

Daneisms, part 2

In the car today, getting lunch:

"Mom, you know that picture of me where I'm on top of a mountain and I'm making a face like this?" (Imagine a scrunched up nose, squinty eyes, and a cheesy grin.)

(I have no idea what he is talking about.)

"Yeah Dane, I think I know the picture you are talking about."

"Don't you think I look like a guinea pig?"



Later that same day....

Dane runs out, in the middle of the day, in his pajamas.

"Dane, why do you have your jammies on?"

SIDE NOTE: I am tired of my kids changing their clothes multiple times a day because everything ends up dirty and I end up averaging three outfits per kid to wash each day. So no, I was not over reacting. SIDE NOTE ENDED

"Because they are so warm and snuggly."

"Dane, I want you to go and put your clothes back on, you can wear those to bed tonight."

"BUT MY CLOTHES AREN'T AS SNUGGLY ON MY RUMPUS!!"

Daneisms

Dane is an accidental comedian. He truly does say the darndest things.

Yesterday Dane had the stomach flu and spent all day nauseated and throwing up.

Today he was back to himself, running around, playing, and being a tad whiny.

For dinner I made Shepherd's Pie. My kids HATE Shepherd's Pie but it is Greg's favorite and sometimes the four small dictators don't rule the whole universe.

Dane sat in front of it, looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Mommy, I feel like throwing up."

"Dane, do you really feel like throwing up or do you just not want to eat dinner?"

"NO MOMMY, I do feel like throwing up! I see this dinner and it makes me throw up!"

The gratitude is overwhelming.

Nathan might accidentally smoke a cigarette

A while back I was out with the kids and we saw someone smoking. Nathan (of course it would be Nathan) wanted to know what she was doing. I grabbed hold of this teaching moment and explained to the kids about how it was a habit that made you feel good at first but hurt your lungs, heart, mouth, etc., was hard to quit, smelled bad, wasn't something to ever try, blah, blah, blah, blah. I felt like the Charlie Brown mom who is only ever a garbled voice in the background. Still I left the situation with a deep feeling of satisfaction. Lesson imparted, children will never try cigarettes.

This is what Aubrey, my first born rule follower, took from the lecture: Cigarettes bad. Don't do them 'cause Mom said so.

Nathan heard something different.

A few weeks later after all the kids were tucked in for the night, we heard Nathan calling for us in a panicky, sobbing voice. We rushed in to soothe him and he wailed, "I AM SO SCARED FOR ALL THE SMOKING PEOPLE!!" Bewildered, we asked him what he meant. "What if they don't know they are hurting their lungs! What if they don't know they can't quit! WHAT IF SOMEONE FORCES ME TO SMOKE CIGARETTES AND IT HURTS MY LUNGS AND I DIE?!?!?!?"

After assuring Nathan that no one could ever force him to smoke we endured another barrage of questions. Why do people smoke if they know it's bad for them? Do they know they could die? Why was the man on Parent Trap smoking? (I didn't even think he was watching that movie!) Why do they make cigarettes if they are bad for you? Short of having a discussion on free agency, peer pressure, economics, and changing health care attitudes, we were rather at a loss.

I ended up back peddling on half my earlier lecture. Yes, smoking is bad but people who smoke are not bad people. Quitting smoking is hard but people do it all the time and if someone forces you to smoke Nathan, I'm sure you could quit. No, you do not drop dead instantly of a heart attack if you one day smoke one cigarette. I nearly offered to go buy him a pack and smoke it all together, just so he could stop thinking that the mere sight of one was going to give him lung disease and death.

He seems to have recovered from the initial cigarette horror but every single time we see a cigarette butt on the ground he says, "Look Mom, it's one of those sickness sticks."

I can't imagine what he'll do when he gets the birds and the bees talk.

More blog than you can handle

I have wanted to post for some time but the longer the absence, the greater the pressure. What should my tone be? Witty, contrite, or flippant? Do I apologize to my ten readers for my absence (implying that it has been a hardship for them) or ignore the gap all together? Pictures or no pictures? Update or humorous antecdote? After mulling these questions over in my head I would walk away and figure I'd do it another day. Understand, I was probably mulling these things over while folding clothes, teaching math, and cooking dinner. At the same time. Which of course is an entire other reason this blog has been neglected.

Yet, here I am, and I figured an update is what came most naturally. And some photos, courtesy of my mom. I have hundreds of pictures trapped on my own photo card, stuck there until I get myself another cord to hook up to my computer. Thanks Mom!

GREG: Coaching kindergarten Upward basketball, playing on his own rec basketball league for the 13th year in a row (fatherhood, injuries, and other commitments have left his team with THE IRON FIVE more than once this year), and rocking fatherhood and husbandhood. Why, just tonight, I called him in a state of panic, demanding chai tea and carbs, lest I lose my mind. He is an obliging man, and smart one, and keeps this family happy, warm, and fed.

Sara: I am home schooling. And raising four kids. And managing a house. And running kids to gymnastics, art, cheer, piano, and basketball. I try to work out in the mornings. I like to read books. I am fearfully addicted to Words With Friends. We host a care group. We go to church. I would like to do a Women's Bible Study, write more, work out more, read more, sit more, go on dates with my husband more, sleep more, and solve world peace. Most of the time I am satisfied to know that what I do is important, fulfilling, and normally enjoyable. For exceptions see above reference to chai tea and carbs.

Aubrey: Our 7 1/2 year old spent her Christmas holiday sick with mono. Four weeks later she has finally turned the corner and can make it through the day without a nap. She loves Upward Cheer but says she will return to basketball next year. (You can hear Greg breathe a sigh of relief from where you are.) She is whizzing through her piano lessons and, while on a brief hiatus during cheer, thoroughly loving a home school art class. She just recently moved out of her brothers' room and in with Johanna. I am already so in love with that sister relationship, it is beautiful to watch. She is our writer, creator, nurturer, pleaser, and hard worker. An oldest girl child, I understand nearly every move she makes.

Nathan: Our 5 1/2 year old son seems to have an increasing level of energy as the years go by. He is our fearless gymnast and would love to be taking more lessons if time, money, and energy would allow it. He is on his daddy's basketball team and while enjoying it, still is working on the finer points of play (which basket is his, what direction he should run). He is a thinker and asks the most mind stumping questions. Where does lightening go after it hits the ground? Why is the South Pole colder than the North Pole? How are snow and hail formed? Why are the different? What did people do with a kid like him without the internet?!? He is excelling at math, tolerates reading, and loves to play games. He is energetic, enthusiastic, inquisitive, joyful, and imaginative.

Dane: Our Danish Doodle turned four this past Saturday and while every day with a child is a joy, I can't say as we were sad to see three go. Dane excelled at being three, what with its illogical outbursts, selective hearing, and general contrariness. Greg and I also say that Dane is our most polarized child. He is sensitive, thoughtful, an excellent sharer without ever being asked, physically affectionate, hilarious, and endearing. He can also be, well, not so sweet and I find myself saying everyday, "DANE, do you like it when I lose my patience?!?" He loves any kind of airplane, legos, transformers, baking with his mama, giving snuggles, and wearing his Superman pajamas. He was also finally cleared to no longer wear a leg brace at night so that was welcomed news. (He was born with a club foot for those who are wondering.)

Johanna: Our baby has turned into a toddler right before our eyes. She is an excellent little talker (she told me today, "Mama, I bonk head"), adores her siblings, loves to be read to, will eat anything, likes to sit on the counter with me and pour ingredients when I bake, watch Elmo clips on YouTube, and hates to be excluded from anything. Ever since she gave up her morning nap school has been moved to the afternoon while she sleeps. She likes to be an active school participant (LOOK, I dumped the markers! Look, I stole Aubrey's textbook! WAAHH, pay attention to me!!!) and we are all happier doing school while she sleeps. She sports a flowing mullet and remains our sweet and gentle baby girl.

IS ANYONE STILL READING?!?

I hope to be back in blogging business. I miss the writing outlet and need to hone my skills if I'm to make millions writing the next American classic.

Happy Snow Day to all!