The Potty Train Has Finally Arrived at the Station...

I'm happy to announce that Rory has graduated from training and is now officially potty trained! Hallelujah! I have to admit that a few weeks ago I thought this day would NEVER come. Rory would go a couple times in the toilet every now and then (and we would shower him with praise, treats, etc. in hopes that THIS time it would stick for good!), but then when it came time to "go" again, he would cry for a diaper. And I mean CRY. Heart-wrenching, big crocodile tears crying like he was dying until I finally gave in and put one on him. And then he would go sit on the toilet. IN HIS DIAPER. It was starting to drive me crazy. Okay, BEYOND crazy. I had tried every trick in the book and nothing worked.

So what finally did it? Actually, I had almost nothing to do with it! Here's how it went down: About two weeks ago, I took him to Babies R Us and let him pick out the potty seat of his choice. Not that we didn't already have two different kinds at home already, but I thought maybe if he chose for himself, he might be more motivated to use it. I let him sit on every model they had, and he chose the one he thought was most comfortable. I talked it up all the way home in the car ("Aren't you excited to use your new seat? Isn't comfy? We won't need those diapers anymore, no siree!"), and he seemed pretty enthusiastic about it...until it came time to actually put it to use. He went back to begging for a diaper - and my friends, I was begging for mercy.

A few days later, however, we had some friends over who have a daughter a year younger than Ro who also doesn't like to use the toilet. When Rory came up to me later that evening and asked for a diaper so he could go potty, his little friend looked at him and said, "You still use a diaper? But you're a big boy!" Now I know that he really likes how his friend looks up to him as the "older kid", so I could see the wheels of his brain turning as he realized that he was about to lose some face. So he thinks for a minute and then says, "Nope, I don't need a diaper! Come on, I'll show you!" and he took her in the bathroom and "showed" her how he can poop in the toilet. She was totally in awe of him, and he was so proud of himself - I think that was the real turning point.

The next day, when he said he needed a diaper, I just popped him on his new potty seat and reminded him of how proud he was of himself the night before, and next thing I knew, he had gone again! I think even HE was suprised! We made a sticker chart so he could earn a trip to Chuck E Cheese and I just kept putting him back on the toilet every time he asked for a diaper. He would whine a bit, but he wasn't hysterically crying like he had been, and once he went, we were both estactic.

This week has been AMAZING. Wednesday, he came up and instead of saying, "Mom, I have to go poopy in my diaper," he actually said, "Hey Mom, I have to go poopy on the toilet!". ON THE TOILET!!!! WOW! I put him on his potty seat and got ready to read him a book, but he just said, "That's okay, Mom, I need my privacy" and he kicked me out and shut the door! I almost fell over!! A few minutes later, he yelled for me and he had gone ALL BY HIMSELF! I practically cried with joy.

But the crowning moment was definitely yesterday, when we were at a park. He came up and said the magic words again, "I have to go poopy on the toilet, Mom!" and so I grabbed my little fold up potty seat (which we've never used before)and he actually went and willingly sat on the toilet. And then HE POOPED AT THE PARK! Pooping while we're out at a public place - I couldn't believe it. I never thought this day would come!!

We have now gone almost two whole weeks without using a diaper to poop...
and I am ONE PROUD MAMA!

Way to go, Ro!

The Joy of Raising a Boy

A good friend of mine recently found out that she was pregnant with a boy and was more than a little stunned. A few of us decided to take action and try to put something together that might make her more excited about having a bouncing baby boy. At first I had a TERRIBLE case of writer's block - even though I've actually been in this very position before myself. I had been so sure that Rory was going to be a girl that I practically had to be picked up off the examining room floor when the doctor announced, "It has a penis!" However, once I finally figured out what to write about, I have to say that I'm kinda proud of the words that came out. And since this blog also acts as my version of a baby book for Rory, I thought I should include this letter so that someday he can read it, too:

When I was first told I was having a boy, I was in a state of shock. A BOY? What did I know about boys? My fantasies of tame little tea parties, picking out cute clothes, and playing with each others’ hair were dashed in an instant. A boy would be loud. A boy would be rambunctious. A boy was NOT part of my plan.

Fast forward to almost four years later, and I have to say that my original thoughts were not far off from the truth – I most definitely knew NOTHING about boys. I didn’t know that my son would have a huge, tender heart and that he would always be the first to run over to console his friends whenever they get upset or hurt. I didn’t know that he would love being “The Kiss Monster” and coming over to smother my face with wet little smooches and giggles. I didn’t know that he would jump at the chance to be my helper, and that he would get more enjoyment out of vacuuming and dusting than I certainly ever did. And I certainly did not know how much the words; “Mommy, you look beautiful!” would mean so much more to me when said by my little boy.

I also never realized that having a son around would be so darn handy! There is now always someone around to help me kill spiders and sweep away cobwebs (and he doesn’t make fun of me for being squeamish about bugs!). Hoby now has someone who actually ENJOYS accompanying him on those mundane male tasks that need to be done on Saturdays – like going to Home Depot or having the oil changed – so I am free to pass on these activities without feeling the least bit guilty. Having a son means there is always someone who wants to help you dig in the dirt, and who actually volunteers with enthusiasm to mow the lawn, blow the leaves off the porch, and use the weed whacker with gusto. And aside from just being handy – which is definitely an added bonus! – I’m also finding that watching Rory play gives me a glimpse of what Hoby must have been like as a child. I get the chance to learn more about the man I love just by having his son. An added perk that I never knew existed, but that I feel very blessed to have.

So while I may not be having tame little tea parties or getting to pick out cute, pink party dresses, I honestly can say that I don’t feel like I’m missing out on much. Every day with a son is a new adventure, and I look forward to being pleasantly surprised about what I “didn’t know” about the joys of raising a boy.