Does That Make Me a Grandma?

Okay, off the bat, no. This has nothing to do with Corey. This is all about one Fynnie Fynn.

Do you remember her traumatic poop incident? Happened in early July, took 'til September to recover. And many dietary changes. And put potty training, which I was so sure was going to be a breeze, on hold.

By mid-October things were really looking up.

Two weeks ago the signs were clearly present, she was ready to potty train again, right before my week off at Thanksgiving. Only we weren't staying home for Thanksgiving. 

A seven hour drive just really doesn't mesh well with potty training.

Fynnie is such a sensitive child. I don't think this is such a bad thing, generally. It has caused me to stretch and grow (okay, yes, and groan).

Unlike her traumatic poop incident, this time I do not know what happened.

I think maybe she connects using the potty with the stress, pain and strain of this summer. But she was the one asking to use the potty recently.

Whatever it was, she quit pooping again. For four to five days at a time.

She went on Monday and then nothing all week during our little vacation up in the Bay Area.

The vacation? 

Unfortunately, the girls didn't often get the two things they need when they needed them. You know, food and sleep.

On the up side, it was better than this summer's trip to Boston in that I only spent about half the time in a darkened room with the girls. Plus, this room's curtains still let a little light in. Said room had a very nice seating area reasonably separate from where the girls were sleeping, too.  And my new phone kept me connected to the rest of the world longer than five minutes at a time.

But unlike Boston, where I attended a wedding and had a brief walking tour of downtown, this time my excursions included a girls' night out with my friend who lives nearby (thank you!), two walks in a shopping center, one of which was during normal business hours. One happy trip to the park (that ended with Madelyn having a meltdown). One very tense trip to the same park (that ended with Madelyn having a major meltdown) after I declined taking the girls to a different park about 35 miles away when no one else could get themselves ready to go for the day until it was the girls' lunchtime.

Did you know lunchtime comes right before nap time? No? Then, like the rest of Tom's family you are either the parents of adults, the parents of your first infant or childless. For the record, I do not expect any of them to automatically understand our girls' needs. However, both of their parents should know this. And the one who is actually related should grow a pair feel comfortable speaking up. It's not even remotely like Tom's family is a pack of wolves. They would understand if they knew. *ohm*

Oh, and we also had a lovely meal on Thanksgiving at Matt and Sarah's, after which everyone but Fynnie and I went for a three hour walk. Why stay back? Because the girls hadn't napped yet, since the meal was scheduled to start at 2:00. True to form for Tom's family, it actually started about 90 minutes later, which means they could have slept.

That tense trip to the park? That was yesterday. It was awesome. Between Mad's meltdown, Fynnie's obvious discomfort and Tom and I searching different parts of the sky for the answers to life's persistent questions... well, I'm glad it was yesterday. After the park, we went back and put the girls down for their nap. Tom and I worked on a little 160 piece puzzle together, solving it almost silently in record time.

Last night we joined the family at this fabulous vegetarian/vegan restaurant. They were very nice and didn't seem at all put off about our party having two littles and a wee bebe. The servers engaged Madelyn and talked with Baby Zoe. They would have included Fynnie but she was only up for being held by Mama.

Dinner was amazing. Seriously, if I could get vegan food like this regularly, I would give up meat in a heartbeat.

The restaurant? Tiny, but very hip.

Since they have do have one highchair, there's a sense that the occasional kidlet does come into the joint.

You know what they probably don't usually get?

A toddler, no longer able to delay the inevitable, using vocalizations... LOUD grunts and gasps while clawing at my shoulders and crying... as she pushed out something unholy that made the back side of her heinie seem to grow by three or four inches.

The upside? Fynnie usually declares, "I'm pooping!" This time? No. But in case people had any doubts about what had just transpired, she did announce, "I want you cwean ma diapah!"

Oh, and me? Yeah, I was the one cheering her on the whole time. Rubbing her back, kissing her sweaty head, giving a big thumbs up and goofy grin to the rest of my table mates. And in case that wasn't clear enough for them? I added, "Successs!"

The single restroom in the joint was occupied (I have my doubts we'd find a changing table anyway), so I carried Fynnie out to my car and changed her in the cargo area.

Right in front of the little Prius that was parked just a few feet behind us.

With a couple that, only moments before, could not keep their hands off one another.

I'm pretty sure they were parked close enough that they couldn't see around me. But I know they quit hanging around and left right after I double-bagged that diaper.

This morning all of Tom's family gathered in the hotel lobby where we stayed and hung out before heading off in separate directions.

Fynnie ate more than she had the entire trip.

About 90 minutes into our drive home she started fussing about having "booboo for you booboo," which is our rather long pet name for nursing. It was almost lunchtime, so Tom pulled off at the next stop. I brought Fynnie into the front seat with me while Tom took Mad in to get lunch.

Not long into it, I realized that Fynnie was acting very similar to last night. I sat her up and held her with her bottom hanging between my legs.

Again I cheered and rubbed and smooched while she sweated and grunted and pushed. Again, her diaper grew by several inches. When I went to change her, however, I found that things had stopped coming out simply because there was no more room. Using the diaper, I pulled while she finished pushing. Seriously, it was like performing a poopectomy.

As I was about to close up her new diaper, I realized that we hadn't gotten everything. So, with her half-naked body not quite fitting across the front passenger seat of my car, I again cheered her onto victory.

It was like delivering twins.

In other news, I am looking forward to having a vacation that feels like a vacation. Some day.

The Real Poop

Since late winter or early spring, Fynnie's been gearing up for potty training. I was actually looking forward to it. I had three goals this summer, potty train Fynn, get her to take naps in her own freakingbedbyherselfsoIcouldactuallygetthingsdonearoundhere *ohm* and learn to french braid Madelyn's hair.

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 are a waste of time happen close to my work), I did not take several weeks off in a row. I worked every Tuesday. The girls went to Grandma's every Tuesday.

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.

No joke.

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?

Help!

Craptacular Days for Everybody!

It seems there's a theme running among a few of my favorite blogs, Anti-Supermom and The Rambler (and no ladies, you are not listed in order of preference... I love you equally).  Normally I try to avoid jumping on bandwagons, but the stories brought to mind one of my own.  It's from June 2008, when Mad was a wee babe of not quite three months.  The original title was BGS and the Craptacular Day. 


I mention this because BGS has been Nancy's nickname for Mad since she was en utero.  It stands for Baby Girl Sweener (our combined last names); she always knew I was going to have a daughter.  This is relevant because you may hear me mention BBS periodically until we find out at the end of next month whether we need to come up with a new nickname or not.  And I'll work on telling you how everything went today regarding BBS once I get this posted.


Madelyn and I got going early today... well, actually, I got up and going early today. I managed to have a shower while both of my children (I'm still not quite used to that, lol) slept. I looked outside and felt the window (my usual way of figuring out the weather... it's at least as good as any weatherman's report) before dressing Mad. I was pretty excited to put her into my favorite bloomers outfit because today we were going visiting with Nancy at some of our classes.


As the three of us walked out the door (Corey was loading La Mad for me), we realized it was misting... not the best day for the bloomers outfit, so I ran back in and grabbed not one, but two! footie sleeper outfits. I tossed them in the car and figured I'd change her at my first stop, which was the newborn center.


Just as we pulled in I got the text from Nance saying that she was heading down to get the van, which was my cue to work my way over to one of our employers.


I went to pull Madelyn out of the car and realized that the diaper bag wasn't there... we'd gone for an extended walk yesterday evening (complete with a stop at the polling place for Madelyn's first "I voted" sticker) and we brought the bag along just in case. I forgot about the sleepers and just ran on in so I could get Mad weighed. Then we dash back home, where I grabbed the diaper bag and a few other things I'd forgotten, and off we went to meet Nance at the employer's.


When we got there, I backed my vehicle up to the dock so that a bunch of gifts for the students could be loaded up. Loading had occasionally taken a bit of time to handle previously, so I took that opportunity to nurse Madelyn and change her diaper and clothes. No problem, but there was more stuff for the kids than my car would hold, so Nance had to cram the van (very skillfully, I might add) up next to my car on the dock. Her vehicle was loaded pretty quickly, too, and FedEx had just arrived, so we had to scoot off the dock.


I loaded Mad into her seat and we headed over to Casa Sanchez. She nursed virtually the entire time we were there, and mostly slept when she wasn't eating. At one point the owner came over and said to Madelyn, "I'm the one who fed your mommy when she was pregnant," but Mad was screaming by then so it we hightailed it.


We stopped at one school and saw some of my favorite people (kids and adults), went to another employer's and then to another school. While we were at the second school it was time to nurse again, so I spent the whole time there bundled up in the car with Madelyn. Kids and teachers came and went and I really didn't get to say much more than hi to them.


Madelyn was in serious eating mode, so I said goodbye to Nance and watched her drive away. Mad finished on one side and I decided to check to see if she needed another diaper change.


I put her on the back seat... I probably should have done it in the cargo area, but that seemed more exposed than I wanted her to be... and I wasn't even sure that she needed a change, so I hadn't put a pad down, just the blanket that I'd used while she was nursing. I used that second footie sleeper to prop her up from where the seat is angled and to cushion her against the seatbelts.


Did she need a change? OMG, yes!!!


Tom and I have talked about diapers in the past few weeks as being "the messiest" or "the biggest" or "the one that took the most wipes." This was the diaper to beat all other diapers. Possibly even adult diapers.


A little baby poo primer for ya... breast milk diapers look like seedy mustard. Madelyn looked like someone had taken a large bottle of mustard and dumped it in her diaper. That thing was full to the edges... in the front, sides and the back!


A little Madelyn primer for ya... Madelyn doesn't like anything cold or wet, and the combination of cold and wet will drive her over the edge.


So I opened the old diaper and began the massive cleanup. But it was cold and windy, which was making Madelyn very unhappy, and it was also making the poo stick to her body like glue... and not just on the private parts that she's used to getting cleaned up, but even up to her abdomen! I was taking a sort of "top down" approach, so I started on her belly first (good to keep the hands from getting into anything nasty). While I did that, she screamed bloody murder and flailed her legs. After a few minutes and several wipes and I'm still not sure that I've gotten her stomach clean, I realized that Madelyn's feet are in the dirty diaper, which she has kicked open. And there's poo on her clothes.


I worked frantically to get her done. My back was aching from being bent over like that (ugh! I'm old!) and I was talking to her, trying to soothe her and get it done as quickly and as best I could. What happened next?


She peed, of course.


No pad, remember? So I grabbed another blanket and stuck it under everything to hopefully absorb as much as possible before it ruined my still new car interior.


The upside? Pee acts as a poo-glue remover and I was able to finish up fairly quickly and get my poor baby girl into a clean diaper and some dry clothes... but not that other sleeper, because it also helped catch pee.


After I got everything into bags, I took her back to the front seat of the car and we snuggled and then finished nursing. After that, life was good and she fell asleep pretty quickly.  I could have done the same.