Rebecca really amazes me sometimes. I don't tell her enough.
For a multitude of reasons, I had three items on my task list in regard to Taylor.
Bottle - Judge us if you'd like, but Taylor never took a bottle while breastfeeding. She got her mommy milk al naturale until she turned fifteen months old. From that point forward, sippy cups were an issue and she would take juice and milk via the bottle. Avery came, and it just wasn't high on the priority list; that is until she turned two and we agreed it was time to make the transition to a sippy cup (which blogger wants to rename "zippy cup"). It was much smoother than we had expected. We left it in the car in Savannah a few weeks ago and couldn't use it with her going to bed that night. Lest you think I'm a completely lazy father for not to going to get it, I'll mention the car was valet parked because it was the only option (space in downtown Savannah) and it would have been an act of Congress to get the car at that time of night. Becca seized the opportunity. Taylor asked for it once or twice throughout the trip, and has asked for it once or twice since we have been home. No major fuss though. I think this battle is over. Mark one down for the home team.
Potty Training - Who wants to clean poop off of a 30 lb kid? You do? Well you can come over to my house and do it. Believe it or not, work hasn't given me a raise specifically because we added another baby to the picture, and those diapers get expensive. Those two things combined (hassle, cost) led to the decision to get on the potty training train (you see what I did there?). You may not agree with this method, but we chose was to let Tay run around with no panties on an close off the rooms that would present a problem (carpet, etc.). It worked pretty well. I was amazed at how quickly she caught on and started using the big girl potty. It was a question Rebecca and I asked 300x/day and it received a yes response about 3% of the time (that's 9 times a day for those of you who didn't ace the Math portion of the ACT). That was until . . .
I'm in the kitchen putting away dishes. Rebecca is in the laundry room with Avery. Taylor has been watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on the iPad alone in the living room for no more than 5 minutes. She comes around the corner running like a wild woman to the laundry room. She slips (not that uncommon), falls, and cries. I rush over to her and scoop her up, asking her what is wrong. She responds that she "hurts" and that she "pee peed in the floor next to her kitchen". Uh. . . I check the kitchen area. No pee! I glance over to see the pee glimmering off the hardwood floor next to the coffee table. Not just a little of it either. It's obvious that she just stood there while pee ran down her leg and let it fly. Nice! While I am cleaning that up, Becca does the good parental duty of explaining that we use the potty chair when we need to go pee and poo. She's into about the third sentence when she looks over and sees it. It! Poo. In the floor. A turd. In the floor! What the . . . Who takes a crap in the floor? Who takes a crap in the floor after crapping exclusively on the potty chair for four days? How do I resolve this discrepancy in my mind?
Since then she's been doing pretty well with an accident here or there. It's progress. We're about mid-way through week two and I'm happy with how that's progressing. Mark another one down for the home team.
Co-Sleeping - You see that word to the left there? It sounds so wonderful doesn't it? You probably don't know what it means, but it involves "sleeping" and that's always good. Then there's "co" and you start to come to the realization that it means sleeping with someone else. Ok, that's good you think. I can definitely get on board with this. That is until you realize you don't get to make up definitions and you go to m-w.com (that's merriam-webster dictionary online for you super nerds) and discover that it means that your kid sleeps in the bed with you. That sound sweet until the first time you get slapped in the face from a dead sleep at 2 AM. Then a 3 AM. Then at 4 AM. Every night, tossing and turning. Getting scrunched off of the bed. Waking up to find you are left with a razor thin strip of mattress to call your own while the kid has approximately 4 feet of room.
I know why it happened. If you've been following this blog, you know why it happened too. It was all about comfort and protection of our little girl who had been through a premature birth and five week hospital stay and ensuring that she kept breathing through the night and . . . But now? Now I am tired of getting hit in the face and I have expressed my disgust with the situation. Tomorrow night, I am installing bed rails on Taylor's bed and we have SERIOUSLY talked up having a "big girl bed". Taylor is expecting fairies with lollipops to pop out of the mattress to wish her sweet dreams. Let's hope I can say one week from now that this is another win for the home team.
If Becca can pull off these three monumental tasks (in the span of a month or two), she at least deserves a spa day, right?
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