Pro-Victory
We like to celebrate the achievement of goals. Some in our culture might call that being pro-victory. Regardless of your political views, being pro-victory in the Bushlack household means celebrating accomplishments. Some major ones for the adults are Tom completing his PhD and my last day of work on August 1, 2011. Some major ones for the kids are Audrey rolling over (to which we respond with clapping and shouting "hooray, Audrey!") and Sean beginning to show more signs of wanting to potty train. In September I thought Sean was ready to start potty training after we hosted a string of visitors who had 3-year-olds who were potty training (thank you, Victoria and Mia, for shining a "light' in the bathroom, a 'light' on the training potty). He showed some minimal interest then and I jumped all over it: I bought Disney's Cars stickers from Target, Sean and Tom drew a 11X14 picture of a road, and we encouraged Sean that any time he tried sitting on the potty he could get a Cars sticker to put on the road. He got three of them. That was back in September.
Just the other day Sean complained that he does not like changing his diaper. He says the wipes are too cold. Call me old fashioned, but I have not invested in a wipe-warmer, and now I'm glad that we have not. I told him that if he didn't want to use the cold wipes anymore, he could start sitting on the potty and we could use toilet paper. Something clicked in his brain (or perhaps his cold, cold butt cheeks revolted) because he agreed to sit on the potty. Now the 11X14 piece of paper is filled with cars. Up and down that road, they are two by two, and sometimes piled on top of each other. It makes my heart happy. He's not yet potty trained, per se, but the possibility of him becoming potty trained is there. The potential ability of him to be more in tuned with his body exists and we are working on it. Hooray, Seancito!
This morning, Sean found his own way to celebrate. He is the definition of pro-victory. I asked him if he wanted to use the potty this morning, and he responded, "yes!" and jumped up and ran, pants-less, to the bathroom. At the door, he turned to look at me and said, "Mom, I need some priwacy." read: privacy. (other convoluted yet charming Seancito words include "patterkillers" for caterpillars, "chicken" for the kitchen, "member" for remember, and "tending" for pretending, just to name a few.) I allowed him this space. I thought this yet another pro-victory moment! Not only is he learning to use the potty, but he's learning that he needs privacy to do it. I applauded this request in my brain. After a couple minutes in the bathroom, he came storming out, as he has done a number of times this week, shouting, "I peed in the potty!"
I was so excited, I celebrated with him, told him how proud I was of him and then headed in to inspect the potty myself. When I looked into the small training potty, I didn't see any gathering of urine. I questioned Sean about the lack of pee.
me: Hey, buddy, where's the pee?
Seancito: Huh?
(We've heard "huh" a lot recently from him. As a mother of a tantrum-proned toddler, I relayed to Tom that we should not indulge the repeating of ourselves over and over again. I indicated that this "huh" business was just Sean's way of drawing out moments, stall tactics. It was only last week when we had his hearing checked and ear-tubes inspected that we learned he has minor hearing loss in the left ear due to one tube falling out and fluid behind the ear drum. Nothing too serious, nothing that a replacement tube can't fix, but the woman testing his hearing told us that until he has a new tube put in we should, "try to speak into his right ear so that he gets clear speech samples." Brilliant. Best Mother of the Year award right here. Thank you very much - I've been angry that he says "huh" so much and he has minimal hearing loss in one ear. Pro-victory.)
me: where's the pee, Seancito? You said you peed in the potty?
Seancito: Yeah! I peed in the potty!
me: yes! but where?
Seancito: Huh? oh yeah. I peed standing up.
I glanced at the outside rim of the potty, speckles of urine in every corner, dotted every which way except for in the basin of the toilet. He was so thrilled with his new-found ability to pee on the potty, he decided to celebrate with a little standing-up-peeing. He's pro-victory.
Just the other day Sean complained that he does not like changing his diaper. He says the wipes are too cold. Call me old fashioned, but I have not invested in a wipe-warmer, and now I'm glad that we have not. I told him that if he didn't want to use the cold wipes anymore, he could start sitting on the potty and we could use toilet paper. Something clicked in his brain (or perhaps his cold, cold butt cheeks revolted) because he agreed to sit on the potty. Now the 11X14 piece of paper is filled with cars. Up and down that road, they are two by two, and sometimes piled on top of each other. It makes my heart happy. He's not yet potty trained, per se, but the possibility of him becoming potty trained is there. The potential ability of him to be more in tuned with his body exists and we are working on it. Hooray, Seancito!
This morning, Sean found his own way to celebrate. He is the definition of pro-victory. I asked him if he wanted to use the potty this morning, and he responded, "yes!" and jumped up and ran, pants-less, to the bathroom. At the door, he turned to look at me and said, "Mom, I need some priwacy." read: privacy. (other convoluted yet charming Seancito words include "patterkillers" for caterpillars, "chicken" for the kitchen, "member" for remember, and "tending" for pretending, just to name a few.) I allowed him this space. I thought this yet another pro-victory moment! Not only is he learning to use the potty, but he's learning that he needs privacy to do it. I applauded this request in my brain. After a couple minutes in the bathroom, he came storming out, as he has done a number of times this week, shouting, "I peed in the potty!"
I was so excited, I celebrated with him, told him how proud I was of him and then headed in to inspect the potty myself. When I looked into the small training potty, I didn't see any gathering of urine. I questioned Sean about the lack of pee.
me: Hey, buddy, where's the pee?
Seancito: Huh?
(We've heard "huh" a lot recently from him. As a mother of a tantrum-proned toddler, I relayed to Tom that we should not indulge the repeating of ourselves over and over again. I indicated that this "huh" business was just Sean's way of drawing out moments, stall tactics. It was only last week when we had his hearing checked and ear-tubes inspected that we learned he has minor hearing loss in the left ear due to one tube falling out and fluid behind the ear drum. Nothing too serious, nothing that a replacement tube can't fix, but the woman testing his hearing told us that until he has a new tube put in we should, "try to speak into his right ear so that he gets clear speech samples." Brilliant. Best Mother of the Year award right here. Thank you very much - I've been angry that he says "huh" so much and he has minimal hearing loss in one ear. Pro-victory.)
me: where's the pee, Seancito? You said you peed in the potty?
Seancito: Yeah! I peed in the potty!
me: yes! but where?
Seancito: Huh? oh yeah. I peed standing up.
I glanced at the outside rim of the potty, speckles of urine in every corner, dotted every which way except for in the basin of the toilet. He was so thrilled with his new-found ability to pee on the potty, he decided to celebrate with a little standing-up-peeing. He's pro-victory.
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