Summer ended three weeks ago for me, and I'll tell up front, I'm one for three. French braiding and potty training are not on my current horizon.
We started off with converting her crib to a toddler bed. I will not say that Fynnie is a difficult child. Really, she's not. But she happened to be born after her rule loving, get-it-right-the-first-time big sister, over whose successes Tom and I would often high five as if we'd really had a hand in it.
Yes, karma spent the first 28 months of Mad's life preparing to backhand us into reality. Success.
But making the switch went pretty well. That was the big one. I put it at the top of the agenda because I just could not spend one more entire summer nursing Fynnie through naps (or holding her in nursing position while she snoozed and drooled in my lap with her spidey senses working around the clock to make sure "her booboo" didn't find its way back inside my bra).
It's not as though I can snuggle her, put her down and walk away, but I can eventually walk away, and that's what matters to me.
Next up, potty training! I was kind of excited. Fynnie was kind of excited (about the promise of getting "canny" every time she used the toilet), too!
With Madelyn, we did the half naked method. It worked great, and I could see no reason why we wouldn't go the same route for Fynnie.
Except that, oh yeah, my girls could not be more different from one another if they were born on opposite sides of the earth to completely different parents.
The big hold up getting started was our schedule. Because of my allergy shots (which
And good friends of ours who were expecting twins dropped their two older girls off at Grandma's one day a week, too, but not Tuesdays. So the girls were also there on Wednesday or Thursday each week.
And, because I now actually have something of a life up here in the High Desert, the girls and I often had other places to go.
Three weeks into my summer "vacation," we made plans to start potty training on Thursday morning, with a goal of being done with day training by the end of the weekend.
Mad was essentially done in two days, which I blamed more on me and trying to get started the first day I was home alone with her and her one month old baby sister.
In advance of that, I was occasionally letting Fynnie run around the house half naked, and she was occasionally using the toilet.
The Tuesday night before potty training, we came home and she had a good try on the potty. I let her run around while I went outside to spend five minutes in the garden.
Coming back in, I found my very upset little girl had pooped on the floor.
I was glad she was upset, honestly; it meant she got it. But I also tried to reassure her that everything was okay.
As we came out of the bathroom from cleaning her up, I saw that our dog, Maisy, had eaten the poop.
But not before walking through it.
Aaand that's when Tom and Madelyn got home.
Two years ago Madelyn somehow managed to train our big galloop of a dog to race back and forth from the door to the back of the house whenever someone gets home.
Over and over.
This is the point where I'd say Fynnie really freaked out.
She'd been upset before, but this scene and the yelling at the dog and the mess all over the place and the smell... I am wondering if she is not scarred for life.
Potty training? Over.
For the past six weeks or so, the main focus is what can we do to make Fynnie poop?
She used to go 2-3 times every morning.
Now? It can be three days.
We've altered her diet to the point that she sometimes cannot help but go.
She thinks dried apricots are "gums" and that all the other special treats she gets are the new "canny."
She can spend a day and a half randomly squatting and looking scared. When it can no longer be avoided, I find myself holding this crying, sweating, grunting, shaking little girl. I whisper softly in her ear and tell her it's going to be okay, she's going to feel so much better when this is over and I'm so proud of her for working so hard.
At this point she's pooping every 1-2 days. It's better, seems less painful, but it's still upsetting her.
I'm not sure how to help her move past this.
Did you ever have a kid who withheld poop? How did you help them overcome it?