Doo Doo Chronicles: Version 2.0

When Staying the Same Isn’t an Option

Thank God in Heaven above; 3-year-old Bug has put his tee-tee AND his doo-doo in the potty for the last three weeks. Plus, he wore his big boy Elmo underwear every day AND night. And was excited about it.

For weeks (maybe even months) I had been attempting to get him to try the underwear. “Look! There’s Elmo. And cookie monster.” I sang and danced in my best Elmo impersonation. “Potty time, potty time…” I cajoled in an attempt at positive peer pressure. “Big boys wear these.” Bug was totally unconvinced. He was WAY too smart (and independent minded) for that argument. I mean, this is a boy who is three, but insists he’s “pretending I’m four.” Alas, the typical Mommy-tactics were useless. So, I took comfort in the words of the Queen, my friend, mentor and mother of two fully potty-trained adults–”Nobody ever walked down the aisle in diapers”–and decided to wait it out. As with all things Bug, he usually has to make up his own mind before any efforts at convincing have a snowball’s chance of succeeding.

Then, it happened. Three weeks ago, the stars aligned with my overworked brain and dang if I didn’t forget to put 2T pull-ups on the grocery list. Yep, my oversight did not become apparent until AFTER bath time when we would normally pull on the pull-up. I searched the house and every conceivable traveling or school bag to no avail. There were no more pull-ups. Rather than letting Bug stand there in his shimmies while I scooted the minivan to the grocery store at 9:00pm, I thought we could just use one of the old diapers for the night. “Why don’t we just put this on tonight and Mommy can get you some tomorrow.” Yeah right.

The moment of truth. The tipping point. The straw that broke the pull-up’s Buzz Lightyear-clad back. Whatever you want to call it; for Bug, it was a literal defining moment. And I quote… “Babies wear diapers.”

I’m not sure at what point in his doo-doo journey he came to that conclusion, but clearly on this night he had arrived and there was no turning back. Where only a mere 12 hours before he had been content to be a “big boy” wearing pull-ups, before my eyes “big boy” took on a whole new meaning. The diaper differentiation was made and “big boy” was redefined. At one time being a “big boy” meant wearing pull-ups emblazoned with Buzz, or if you were really cool, Lightning McQueen. With pull-ups out of the equation, suddenly the parameters shifted. As they so often do.

It made me think. When staying the same isn’t an option, what do we do?

I haven’t written about my 2010 theme word in a while–the pursuit of COURAGE, learning it and living it. This episode with my 3-year-old brought it back to the forefront of my mind–a mind that perhaps needed a clear reminder of the courage required for growth.

We all reach that point at times in our lives when we realize that going back really means going backwards. It’s a defining moment just like the pull-up fiasco was for Bug. At that moment, when it’s apparent that staying where we are–staying the same–is simply out of the realm of what our own hearts can accept, things get redefined and repositioned pretty quickly. When faced with the choice of going back or moving forward, we often see ourselves in a whole new light, by a whole new definition. Our concepts of what we’re able to do and who we want to be transform. And facing those realities takes courage. Acting on them and stepping out into that new definition of ourselves takes even more.

When it comes right down to realities, what part of life ISN’T a choice of moving forward or going back? Nature teaches that the process of growing only includes a finite time period of hybernation before it becomes stagnation. To be alive is to grow and change, or to become toxic and begin the process of NOT living. In those moments, defining and differentiating progress becomes one of the greatest acts of courage.

Bug decided that very night that Elmo underwear was an acceptable option. In fact, it was a preferable alternative to the babyhood of diapers. He put them on and had no accidents during the night. “Big boy”-ness, the expanded edition, had been achieved. Beyond that, it only took one experience of having doo-doo in those sesame street numbers to convince Bug that was no longer the way to go. Presto. Surprisingly, he’s only had a handful of accidents at preschool, at home or in bed since that night. In his process of growing toward more maturity and independence, it took removing just one thing from the option box (by accident), and the game completely changed. Actually, for Bug, game over. His mind was made up and potty training was done.

I so admire this little guy–his courage, his determination, his gusto, and yes, even his “my way or the highway” attitude. In one fell swoop his definition of being a “big boy” grew beyond his comfort zone, and he embraced it without blinking an eye. I’m so inspired by that sheer resolve NOT to go backwards. A good lesson.

Gift Tag: All Over Us

As you may have read, I’ve opted for a theme word for 2009 rather than a set of resolutions. In my pursuit of harmony, the word that chose me, I’ve been prompted by some conversations this week to consider this question: How do you achieve harmony between folks who don’t agree? Different people with differing view points–not just life circumstances, but life choices and priorities and beliefs. Is it really possible to agree to disagree? Can friendship occur in that situation? Can harmony? Building relationships with like-minded pals is pretty easy. But, building and nurturing relationships with the unlike-minded is advanced harmony. It’s harmony coursework at the 5000 level. You have to want it, because harmonizing at that level takes some work.

As is often the case, Little Drummer Boy inadvertently taught me something. He reminded me that true harmony with my fellow man, woman and child has a ground rule. And, the lesson came in another episode of the “doo doo chronicles.”

Last week I was sitting at the dressing table in my bedroom trying to minimize the look of not enough sleep so as not to frighten any Saturday morning fellow grocery shoppers. Hub had been supervising while Squiggle and Little Drummer Boy watched a movie and Baby Girl watched Squiggle and Little Drummer Boy. It had given me the opportunity to grab a quick shower before morning errands, and I’d vacated the bathroom just in time for LDB’s second cup of juice to convince him it was “tee-tee” time.

His jaunt in the bathroom was suspiciously long, and I vaguely remember that no flushing sound preceded him bounding out of the door on the way to not missing any more of his movie. As I glanced down the hall between eye liner and blush, I caught him in a hurried shuffle with the back side of his Thomas the Train underwear in plain view and his blue jeans down around his ankles. How I love the innocence of a just-shy-of-four-year old’s utter disregard of pants down around the ankles, but… Cue concern: There are still a few finer points of potty ettiquette we haven’t covered yet–at least we haven’t covered them convincingly enough. And, no time like the present.

Mommy: “Sweetie, we don’t need to come out of the bathroom with our pants down.”
LDB: “Why?” [I love that boy]
Mommy: “Because it’s not modest.”
LDB: Quizzical look.
Mommy: “That means we need to cover ourselves.”
LDB: “Yeah, so we don’t show anyone our knees.” [If only. I'll remember that one for Baby Girl.]
Mommy: “Well, it’s ok for people to see our knees, but we don’t want to show anyone our bottom-boo.”
LDB: “Yes. Because if we doo-doo on them, it will get all over us.”

Righhhht. My insistence that Little Drummer Boy pull his pants up before going one step further was punctuated by giggles and reflection. Harmony in relationships does indeed have a baseline, a ground rule, reiterated in a hundred different refrains of the same tune.

What goes around comes around. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. “Whatever a man sows, this will he also reap.” (galatians 6:7)

So often that verse is used as a weapon, an accusation against the “opposition.” But, “if we doo-doo on them, it will get all over us.” It’s the basic principle of life God created and set in motion: you get what you give. When I give peace, when I give love, when I give hope, I can much more easily recognize it in others around me. I can’t make someone’s choices for him, but I can choose to extend love and peace and joy and hope. Harmony isn’t about agreeing. Harmony is about finding the common ground and the largeness of spirit to give what I want to receive. So, I’m thinking our doo-doo is best put in the potty, lest it get all over us.

Gift Tags are the tiny messages God continues to include with our gifts — 2 little joys of boys and 1 little jewel of a girl, each with open eyes, open ears, open hearts, and much to teach. “Behold children are a gift of the Lord…” (psalm 127:1)

Doo Doo Chronicles: Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Dear John,

I don’t mean to dump this on you suddenly, but really, it can’t come as a surprise.  It’s something that’s been building deep inside for a while.  Our relationship just doesn’t really seem to be going anywhere.  Our time together has slowed to nothing more than a trickle every day–and just when I was starting to get into the big stuff.  I know we told everyone we would be spending more regular time together, but things just keep getting messier and messier.  It’s just that every time I’m ready to deal with something really big, you’re nowhere to be found.  You know what they say: “fools flush in.”  I think maybe I just sat on this thing a little too quickly.

I know it’s partly my fault.  A relationship like this takes commitment, but right now I’m at the point in my life where I’m more interested in playing (in) the field–and the patio, and the living room, and the toy box.  I don’t know.  Our time together has been good, clean fun, but I really miss my pull-ups.  You know, they’ve really been there for me–long before you came along, especially when I had a big load to deal with.

I know what you’re thinking.  Everyone in my life thought we really had something going, and I did too.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not flushing the whole thing.  I’d still like to hang with you.  I just really need to be around my pull-ups when I get the urge to let go.  Maybe you can just go with the flow for a while.  One of these days I’ll grow up and turn four.  Then, maybe I’ll be ready to commit to the long-term relationship everyone was hoping for.  Until then, thanks for understanding.  I hope we can still be friends.  Maybe we can go bowl-ing sometime real soon.

Sincerely
Little Drummer Boy

Gift Tag: Lessons in Dignity

We are entrenched in potty training at my house these days.  And, let me tell you:  Nothing can make both Mommy and little boy slam dance between tears and giggles quite like a little “tee tee” and “doo doo” time.  Who knew that pull-ups and their contents would become such acceptable dinner conversation topics?  Red suckers, the promise of a Tigger movie, Elmo and Thomas the Train “big boy underwear” and some irrational cheering and possible dancing — these are the tools of the potty trade!  Yes, we are all sharing in the pride of my 3 1/2 year-old’s excited “I put my ‘tee tee’ in the potty!”

Little Drummer Boy was slow to try out the “big potty,” slow to look at the “big potty,” slow to hear us even mention the “big potty.”  He was perfectly content to go on about his business until his pull-ups were completely full and leaking.  We knew that once he overcame the hurdle of just trying it, his “training phase” would be done.  He would be an accident-free expert.  That’s just how he does things.  And, that’s pretty much how it was with his “tee tee.”

“Doo doo” is another story.

LDB has always been the more modest of my two boys, especially about his “dirty britches.”  He’s also the one who is most resistant to change in his routine and way of doing things.  Those qualities have made for a longer “doo doo” training time, and one prone to accidents.  Several times over the past few weeks, Little Drummer Boy has made himself scarce when the urge hit, and Mommy’s searching has turned up toddler tears and full underwear.  He seems to have taken to heart our instruction that “doo doo is a private thing!”  So, I try to stay on the look out for a missing 3-year-old.

Last week, a “Don’t come in here, Mommy” was the tell-tale sign that another chapter in the “doo doo” chronicles was imminent.  It came just after little brother Squiggle had finished his bath–step one in the one-two punch of our nightly bath/bedtime rituals.  With Mommy and Daddy tag-teaming the process and everyone tired from the day, I’m sad to say that we are sometimes not our best selves during the bath and bed hour. This night we had “doo doo” in the britches, “tee tee” on the pants, tears in Little Drummer Boy’s eyes and impatience in Mommy’s attitude to contend with–all in the 10-minute space before bath time.  It wasn’t one of my proudest moments, to say the least.

I took off LDB’s shoes, socks and pants, and cleaned him up, all the while nagging about the finer points of letting Mommy know when you “need to doo doo.”  I knew Hub was about to get LDB’s bath ready, so despite tears, I convinced him that we did not need to put his shoes back on.  Amidst many “no”s and “but, I NEED to put my pants on,” I also coerced him to walk back to his room (without anything covering his “bottom-boo”) to get a pull up.  With Little Drummer Boy’s concern growing and my patience dwindling, I had the brilliant idea that he could just stand there and wait a few minutes for Daddy to get the bath going — no wasted pull-up, no wasted pants, no wasted time.  Obviously, I hadn’t been listening.  There, with hands over his eyes and tears welling up, my Little Drummer Boy revealed his heart and got my attention.

“I don’t want to stand here (sob)… with no pants on.”

It was the voice of frustration and hurt.  It was the cry of having obeyed despite his own little personal cost.  Then, I knew.  I had taken his dignity.  For my own convenience.  And, it broke my heart.  I had made my sweet, modest baby boy walk from the bathroom to his room and stand there–half naked and exposed–in full view of Daddy and his brother while I lectured him on what he really “needed to do” when he had “doo doo.”  I had shown him complete and total disrespect as a person.  Yes, a quick look in the internal mirror proved that “doo doo” was the least stinky thing in the room at that moment.  I immediately got a clean pull-up and tried to soothe his spirit.

I’ve struggled over the last few days to understand why the experience affected me so much.  It was one of those moments that happen a hundred times in a week when we reason, cajole or scold to get something accomplished in a home with two toddlers and a baby.  LDB was over it almost immediately and on to more fun things.  But, I sat down and cried.  It was profoundly sad to me on several levels.

I was sad because Little Drummer Boy knew he was naked.  He knew he was exposed, and he was self-conscious about it.  It wasn’t the first time, I know, but it was another sign of growing up.  Somehow, without me realizing it, he had lost a little more of his innocence, the carefree freedom of being unaware.  And, like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden when they realized they were naked, he felt the desire to be covered.  His heart cry reminded me again that things are not as they really should be, as God made them to be.  As beautiful and as loving as my beloved children are, they are still dirty without God.  And, I want them to know Him.

I was sad because I saw my own selfishness.  I had allowed my own schedule to prevail.  I was ashamed that my Little Drummer Boy had to shout his heart’s cry to be heard above MY voice.

I was sad because I valued something worthless over what is priceless.  I had focused on the inconvenience of dirtying another pair of pants rather than on nurturing a confident respect in his body and spirit.  In the zeal to train him, I overlooked an opportunity to affirm his modest attitude, something highly rare these days.

I was sad because I exposed him instead of covering him.  Something I thought I would never intentionally do to another human, I had done to my own child.  I had taken his dignity.  My first reaction should have been to cover –to shield and protect in the most intimate way as God did in that first Garden.  The mark of love is that it covers.  I want that to characterize my home.

We sometimes have the mistaken impression that children don’t need the same covering grown-ups do.  Sure, we cover their toes at bedtime and their ears at play time.  But, we often leave their heart desires exposed, assuming somehow that their feelings may not be as valid because they are young and immature.  I’ve realized how often I forget to show due respect to the baby people in my house simply because they are children.  Too often, I talk about them like they are not in the room, just because they may not understand the words.  Too often, I discuss one’s shortcomings while the other may be listening.  Too often, I ignore their concerns in favor of what works for me because I’m the adult.

Dignity and respect are rare commodities in our culture today.  Once lost, they are often hard to get back.  The latest episode in our “doo doo” chronicles was a valued lesson in protecting the baby humans under my care.  I want to so infuse my children’s lives with dignity–with respect and worth–that they know how to recognize it, desire to emulate it and strive to give it to others.

“Above all, keep fervent in your love for one another, because love covers a multitude of sins.” (1 peter 4:8)

Gift Tags are the tiny messages God continues to include with our gifts — 2 little joys of boys and 1 little jewel of a girl, each with open eyes, open ears, open hearts, and much to teach. “Behold children are a gift of the Lord…” (psalm 127:1)