Author Archives: Cindy

this is where I have to thank Supernanny

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I mentioned earlier that we’ve been having some behavior issues with Catie. I don’t really know how to explain it, other than to call it the Terrible Threes. She’s argumentative about everything. Anything I suggest, she wants nothing to do with it. Time to take a bath? No, no bath! So I force her into the tub, then it’s another fight to get her OUT of the bathtub. Mealtime, bedtime, all of the parts of our day that are things we have to do, she puts up a huge stinking fight about it.

Catie at Mother's Day brunch, trying on Tracy's sunglasses
Who, me?

On Sunday, I had tickets to take Catie and her cousin Elizabeth to see Nick Jr. Storytime Live. Just me and two three year-olds. Don’t be jealous. When we had talked about it earlier, Catie was SO excited, and couldn’t wait for the show. Then Sunday morning rolled around, and she was in another bad mood. I told her that we needed to get dressed, so we could go to the concert, and it was going to be so! much! FUN! Her response? “NO! I can’t want to have fun!” I finally dragged her upstairs and forced her to get dressed, and as soon as I pulled her shirt over her head, she cut me off before I could say anything and said, “I’m NOT pretty!” Like, don’t even try to compliment me, lady. Don’t waste your breath.

Once we got out the door & headed to my cousin’s house to pick up Elizabeth, everything was fine. Catie and Elizabeth take a lot of cues from each other, and they were both amazingly well-behaved. They held hands as we walked the two blocks from the parking lot to the theater, they stayed in their seats, they were fantastically easy. Of course, I bought them some popcorn and they each got a giant cookie, so that probably helped.

After the show, we took Elizabeth home. The girls played in the backyard for a while, and Cat and I talked about how difficult this age can be sometimes. It’s so nice to be able to commiserate with someone who’s going through the exact same thing. But it also got me thinking that there has to be a way to change this behavior. My parents (well, mostly my dad) insist that we need to spank Catie when she acts out, and I don’t necessarily have any knee-jerk reaction against spanking, it’s just something I prefer not to do. I was spanked as a kid and I don’t harbor any major emotional trauma because of it. But I generally think that if there’s a way to get the desired behavior without spanking, that’s the better route to choose.

On our way home from my cousin’s house, I remembered an episode of Supernanny that I saw ages ago, and I got inspired. After I got Catie settled down for her nap, I left her with Dave and set off for Wal-Mart. (Note: I generally prefer Target over Wal-Mart, but we just got a brand new Super Wal-Mart and it’s surprisingly nice. And cheap.)

I came home with a small dry-erase board. I hung it up on the wall in the living room where Catie sits for her time-outs, and I wrote on it: CATIE’S REWARD CHART. I drew in 10 squares underneath it. Here’s the rules: when she does something that she needs to do (i.e., taking a bath, getting dressed in the morning, etc.) without complaining or throwing a tantrum, I fill in one of the squares. (She can choose if she wants a smiley face, a star, or a heart – she knows that Mommy’s artistic ability is pretty limited!) When all 10 squares are filled in, she gets a prize. Nothing major, probably just something from the $1 bin at Target, but still, it’s the idea. Here’s the catch: when she’s naughty and has to sit in time-out, one of her squares gets erased, and she has to earn it back. So the premise is established: rewards for good behavior, consequences for bad behavior.

We set this up on Sunday evening, and I cannot begin to tell you the turnaround I’ve seen in this kid within 48 hours. She’s back to being sweet and agreeable most of the time – sure, she still throws the occasional tantrum, but they’ve decreased so much, so quickly, that it almost makes me think this must be a fluke. We’ll have to give it a test run for a while longer to see if it really works, but so far I’m cautiously optimistic.

me & Catie
I’ve missed this sweet version of my kid. I hope she sticks around a while.

and yes, we're getting a baby-sitter on Saturday night

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Stuff from this week:

1. Mother’s Day was almost a week ago, and I sort of completely forgot to mention anything about it. But it was lovely. We went to Charlotte to hang out with my sister, and had a great time. We took Catie to a Children’s Museum on Saturday, which was a lot of fun, then went out for a fantastic dinner.

Catie playing at the kids' museum in Charlotte

And my sister, who is awesome, got me roses for Mother’s Day. It would’ve been nice if I’d remembered to take them with me when we left her apartment, but I forgot them at her place. Oh well. They were lovely.

On Sunday, we went out for brunch, then walked around downtown Charlotte for a while.

Tracy & Catie walking down the street in Charlotte

one of my favorite pics from our weekend

me & Catie on my fourth Mother's Day

It was a great weekend.

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2. My stupid elbow still hurts from where I fell on it, and the scab on it is absolutely revolting, but I’m still working out almost every day. I’m just being careful not to do things (like certain yoga poses) that involve putting pressure on my elbow. I’ll be fine. It’s really the food part of the whole diet/exercise thing that I need to work on. I’m still trying to figure out the best way to tackle that. I have a lot of ideas and I’m still trying to sort them out. I’ll write more about it when I figure out what the heck I’m doing.

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3. Catie is in this phase where she goes back and forth between being absolutely fun and delightful and amazing and wonderful, and a 37-inch tall hellbeast demon. And you never know which kid you’re going to get at any point in the day. I don’t really know what to do about that, other than just ride out the bad moments, implement discipline when necessary, and try not to lose my temper (that last part is the hardest one). It’s just difficult when she’ll go for like a week without needing to be put in time out at all, then all of a sudden we’ll have to do four time-outs in a single day. Which may be average for a toddler at this phase, but it feels like a lot to me.

But, you know, then she’ll say something that’ll have Dave and me doubled over laughing, because she’s an absolute riot. So I guess we’ll keep her, in spite of the occasional tantrums.

Catie next to (yet another) fountain in downtown Charlotte
She’s kinda cute too.

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4. I had a little moment of panic there on Monday, when Teenie wouldn’t stop barfing. Everything she ate came right back up (and this was after she coughed up a big hairball). I called the vet’s office, they said to bring her in immediately. They gave her a shot of some anti-nausea meds and an injection of fluids under her skin so she wouldn’t get dehydrated, and they ran some bloodwork. She’s borderline hyperthyroid (she’s also dropped over 4 pounds since we left Washington in 2008, which seems like a lot for a small cat – she went from 14 pounds to 9.8), so we’ll keep an eye on that and address it as necessary.

The whole thing was pretty upsetting and scary, and it reminded me of this post I wrote a while back, and oh god, if something is really wrong with the cat, how on earth am I going to explain it to Catie? I had a pretty big freak-out about that. But it seems that Teenie is ok. She stopped barfing, so either the meds worked or she got it out of her system. And her bloodwork is otherwise normal. So I’m thankful that I get to postpone that particular horrible (and yes, inevitable, I realize) conversation for a while.

Of course, if the damn cat doesn’t stop pooping in random corners of our living room, she may not be long for this world anyway. Argh.

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5. Dave and I are celebrating our fifth anniversary on Saturday. Five years. I can’t even wrap my head around that. It’s not that much time in the grand scheme of things, is it? It’s almost like, “Really? That’s it? Only five years?” Because in a lot of ways, it feels like we’ve been together forever. (In a good way. I promise.) So, I’m a little early, but happy anniversary, babe. Love you.

P.S. Apparently this is the “wood” anniversary. I swear I’m not making that up. And yes, I giggled when I read that, because I’m a 12 year-old boy.

pounding the pavement

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Yesterday, I didn’t get up early to exercise before work, so I decided to go for a run in the evening. Dave was picking up Catie from daycare, so I thought I’d squeeze in my workout before dinner. The couch-to-5K workout is only 30 minutes, after all. No biggie, right?

So I set off on my usual route. And it was fine. On my second running interval, I came to an intersection – although, “intersection” seems like the wrong word because it’s really just the place where a residential street meets another residential street; it’s not like there are stoplights or traffic involved. But anyway, since there was a street crossing, the sidewalk dips down a bit as it leads to the road, making the sidewalk accessible for wheelchairs, strollers, etc.

And even though I’ve crossed that particular road a thousand times with no issues before, this time I somehow lost my footing, and I went sprawling into the concrete. I was carrying my iPhone (since it has my couch-to-5K app on it), and in my effort to try to save my iPhone, my elbow took most of the force of the fall. I also managed to skin my wrist, one of my knees, and part of my stomach. (Nothing hotter than skinned belly flab, let me tell you.) It was a pretty epic wipe-out.

I quickly got up and assessed the damage, saw that I was bleeding from more than one place, and I cursed loudly. (Sorry, neighbors!) I turned off the couch-to-5K app and tried to call Dave to tell him to come pick up his bleeding wife on the side of the road. Alas, his cell phone was off and he didn’t answer the home phone. I knew that likely meant that he was playing outside with Catie, so he wouldn’t be able to hear the phone ring. (I found out later, I guessed correctly.)

So, I had to hobble back home – about 3/4 of a mile from the site of my humiliation – dripping blood on the sidewalk the whole way. I’m sure the people who drove past me were horrified.

And you know, I’m FINE. I am. It’s just some cuts and scrapes, and they’ll heal eventually. But I’m just SO ANGRY about it. I’m mad that I had to cut my run short, and I felt like I was just getting started. I’m mad that this means I probably can’t work out for the next few days, and I’d really been enjoying my workouts. I’m mad that all these scrapes will probably continue to sting and keep me from sleeping well at night.

And on that last note – my elbow was really the worst of all of my injuries. We’re talking several square inches of skin missing. (I’d post a picture, but… no. I don’t need to gross y’all out.) And of course, we don’t have any large gauze bandages and medical tape in the house, because, OF COURSE WE DON’T. Our first aid kid is pretty much limited to a tube of Neosporin and some Hello Kitty band-aids. I knew that when I went to bed, my elbow was going to wake me up every time I moved and it brushed against the sheets.

So, since necessity is the mother of invention, I stuck my arm through one of Catie’s Pull-Ups and used it as a makeshift elbow bandage. It totally worked too! Except when Catie saw me this morning, she got all upset and said, “HEY! That’s mine!!” Well, sorry kid, it’s mine now.

Let’s sum up:
* Knee, wrist, stomach: mild scrapes, should recover quickly.
* Elbow: bad scrape, will take some time to get back to 100%.
* Pride, dignity: damaged beyond repair.
* Gracefulness: never had it in the first damn place.

where I've been

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I haven’t blogged in a week, which is practically unheard of for me, so y’all will have to indulge me here and let me do one of these recappy things to cover what’s going on here at Chez PooBou.

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* Catie hasn’t had a single potty accident since last Friday (as in, April 23rd). That’s 9 days ago. I think, I mean I’m reasonably certain, that this means she’s… potty-trained? Like, we’re done? Quick, somebody knock on some wood for me!

She still wears a Pull-Up to bed, but she wakes up dry every morning, so we could probably ditch that as well. But she asks for the Pull-Up at bedtime, I think it makes her feel more secure. And that’s fine. We made a BIG DEAL out of putting her diaper pail in storage the other day (no more putting stinky poops in here! All your poops go in the potty now, right? Right! YAAYY!), and she was pretty excited about that.

And on the one hand, I feel like, wait, that’s it? We’re all done now? That was too easy! But then I have to slap myself and remember that we started this process a full freaking YEAR ago. So, no. It has not been easy. At all. But I think she’s got it down now. Finally. Praise the lord.

Future's so bright...

Also? She is so proud of herself, y’all. Last night we went to TGI Friday’s for dinner, and she introduced herself to the waitress. “Hi! I’m Catie W[last name]! I poop in the potty!” Dave and I almost died laughing. (And thankfully, the waitress seemed to think it was funny too, she didn’t look horrified.)

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* I’ve been exercising like a maniac lately. It’s bizarre because I’ve always hated working out, but now I’m finding that I actually look forward to it. The exercises for my knee that the sports medicine doctor gave me have really helped, and I’ve been able to really push myself to work out hard, which feels great. I’m doing the couch-to-5K (although I’m stuck on week three because no matter how hard I try, I cannot run for longer than 3 minutes without feeling like I’m going to fall over and die; I’ve tried to move up to week 4 on a few different occasions, and nope, sorry, my body cannot run for 5 minutes; hopefully I’ll get there someday?) and I’m doing “The 30-Day Shred” in there on alternate days.

Yesterday, just to mix it up, I did my “Weight Loss Yoga” DVD, which I haven’t done in ages (btw, that’s another “Biggest Loser” by-product, and I do not understand why I’m suckered into buying these things when I don’t actually watch the show!). And it was a great workout, so I definitely need to start working that one in more frequently.

So, yeah. I’m apparently becoming a workout nut. Bizarre. The diet part is trickier. I’ve lost about 5 pounds and I’m holding steady there. I know the foods I need to change in order to amp it up. I’m just having a hard time making myself walk away from the junk food. As usual.

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* My job is busy. Trying to balance working full-time along with taking care of the house and the kid and all of that? It’s kind of kicking my butt. I think there are probably a lot of areas in which I’m failing right now – like, say, in the housekeeping division. But hopefully I’m going to be getting some help on that front very soon, because there is just no way I can keep this whole house clean on top of parenting my kid and working 40 hours a week. And Dave works even longer hours than I do. So I think a housekeeper is definitely in our immediate future.

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* Spring means getting to hang outside more often, which probably accounts at least partially for my lack of blogging. Catie wants to spend every available moment playing outside with the neighborhood kids. And she’s too little to play outside by herself, so that’s where I am too.

Spring also means the return of Drum Night. The last Friday of every month, we go to see a band called Rhythmicity that plays at an outdoor mall near us. The kids love it.

Catie rocking the tambourine at drum night

Elizabeth boogies down with the belly dancer
(Catie & her cousin Elizabeth both liked the belly dancer, and I have to admit that she was pretty awesome. I admire anyone who can get up in front of a crowd and shake their stuff the way that she did.)

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So, yeah. If you don’t hear from me as much on the blog here, don’t worry about me. We’re all good.

t-shirt headdress

In fact, I think we’re better than good.

The most exciting Saturday night I've had in ages

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Yesterday, I needed to run to a few different stores, and Catie had said she wanted to go “play wif’ kids” at the drop-in daycare down the street. They’re open on Saturday afternoons/evenings for parents to have date nights, which is pretty cool. I don’t mind shopping with Catie because she’s generally pretty easy, but I have to admit that the idea of shopping alone sounded awesomely self-indulgent. The thought that I might be able to take a few extra minutes to actually try on clothes, instead of my usual “grab/dash/return it later if it doesn’t fit” method? Yeah. That sounded nice.

So I dropped her off and went shopping. I’m a big fan of the Kohl’s Cares for Kids program, and this month they’re doing a Dr. Seuss theme. I bought Catie a copy of “The Lorax” a few weeks ago, and it’s quickly become her favorite book. We read it almost every night. I saw that they also had a Lorax plush doll, and I knew Catie would love it, and for only $5, well, what the heck.

While I was finishing up the rest of my errands, I had a lightbulb go off over my head, and I thought this might be worth a shot.

So I picked Catie up from daycare, and when I got her all situated in the car, and I told her that we needed to have a talk. I told her that I had a surprise for her, but she could only have it if she promised that the next time she needed to poop, she would at least try to sit on the potty.

Catie: No potty. I just poop in Pull-Ups.
Me: Huh. Ok then, I guess I don’t get to give you this surprise then. Too bad, I’ll just have to take it back to the store.
Catie: I see the surprise?
Me: Ok, I’ll show it to you, but you don’t get to hold it until you promise that you’ll at least try to poop on the potty. Deal?
Catie: Deal.

So I showed her the Lorax, and oh man, she flipped. She wanted it so bad. I reminded her that she could only keep it if she tried to poop on the potty, otherwise I’d have to return it to the store. (And no, I’m not that cruel, I wasn’t actually going to take it away from her. But she didn’t know that.)

A few times last night, she asked to sit on the potty to try to poop, but nothing happened. I wasn’t really expecting it, I was just happy that she was at least willing to try.

Then right around bedtime, she said that she needed to try to poop on the potty again. I said ok, helped her up onto the potty, and sat on the floor next to her. She asked me to hug her, so I did. She said she was scared, and I told her that there was nothing to be scared of. I started babbling about how it’s ok if she doesn’t go, I’m proud of her just for trying, because all these things take practice. After all, there once was a time when she couldn’t sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and now she sings it beautifully, because she practiced a lot and she got really good at it.

While I was hugging her and just talking-talking-talking to try to distract her, I suddenly heard a very distinct “plop!” sound.

It is a little embarrassing to admit just how much I flipped out over this. I seriously jumped up and down and clapped and screamed “YAAAAYYYY CATIE!!! WOOOOOO-HOOOOO!!!!!” I think I scared her a little bit with my over-reaction, but she laughed too, and joined in with applauding herself and doing a little happy dance with me.

Then we had to call everybody (my parents, my sister, Cat, everybody) and tell them how she pooped in the potty. She got lots of big reactions on the phone too. I think everybody knows how big a deal it was for both of us.

Then, because this kid has a memory like a steel trap, she said, “I have cupcakes now?” Because I once told her ages ago that if she pooped on the potty, we’d have cupcakes to celebrate. I told her that it was bedtime and I didn’t have any cupcakes right now, but that we’d get some in the morning.

Today, Catie’s friend (and our former neighbor) Morgan and her mom came over for a playdate, and just as I promised, we made cupcakes. They were pretty delicious, if I do say so myself.

Today I’m still riding a weird sort of high. It’s a “wow, I think my kid might actually be potty-trained” high. I can’t even begin to explain how great it feels.

I can get her to smile for the camera, but not look at it

And it only took 39 months. Sigh.

99% Big Girl

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Announcement time:
Catie has worn big-girl underpants to daycare every day for the past two weeks. And a direct quote from the source: “I keep my panties dry ALL DAY! And NO acci-nents!!”

Catie in her "two ponytails" (don't call them pigtails to her)
She is quite pleased with herself.

However, when she wants to poop, she goes into the bathroom cabinet, retrieves a Pull-Up, and demands to put it on so she can poop in it. Rather than, you know, just using the damn toilet like a normal person.

I haven’t figured out how I’m going to tackle that one. I’m tempted to wait until I know she’s about to poop, then plop her on the toilet and tell her that she can get up after she’s done. But I know how stubborn she is, and I also know how prone to constipation she is, and I’m kind of scared to force the issue. She’ll figure it out eventually, right? RIGHT?!?!! (Her daycare teacher keeps reassuring me that she will. I’m hoping that’s the truth.)

And for the record, yes I’ve offered bribes. I’ve told her that we’ll have cupcakes when she poops on the potty. I’ll buy her a train table for all of her Thomas trains if she poops on the potty. I’ll do anything. Still no dice.

I’ve also tried telling her that only babies poop in diapers and Pull-Ups, and all the big girls use the potty. She keeps saying she’s a big girl, and I’m all, “Yeah, you will be as soon as you learn to poop in the potty! That’s the only thing left that keeps you from being a big girl!”

I got nothin’.

P.S. A toddler fashion tip:
Besides big-girl panties (which, you know, are all the rage right now), Catie would also like you to know that:
1. “Two ponytails” (NOT pigtails) are the best way to keep your hair out of your face when you’re playing at daycare, and
2. When it’s chilly outside in the morning, throw on your favorite old-lady cardigan, button it up incorrectly, and off you go.

Casual pose on her way to daycare
It’s fashion, darling.

My Patella-ella-ella

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*Apologies if that Rihanna song gets stuck in your head.

So, I’ve been doing the Couch-to-5K workout for the past several weeks. It’s taking me longer than it’s supposed to, because I am… well, I’m pretty horribly out of shape, so I’m not advancing to the next level until I feel like I’ve gotten a handle on the current one. (Read that as: when I’m pretty sure that increasing the length of running time isn’t going to make my lungs pop out of my chest and leave me dead on the sidewalk.)

Oh, also, I gave up on working out in the gym because I realized that having to gather up my membership card, water bottle, etc., and the drive there & back added an extra half hour, and I’d prefer to use that time sleeping. So now I just run around the neighborhood.

Anyway, I was doing ok, but yesterday I hurt my knee again. It’s the same problem I always have with my knee; any sort of strenuous exercise always makes my knee hurt (see: the 30-Day Shred). Years ago, my mom diagnosed it as, “You got your Grandmother’s knees,” because my dad’s mom always had issues with her knees too. I was running with my knee brace on, and I was wearing my Vibram Five Fingers, which are supposed to help with joint pain. And I was totally fine while I was running; I mean, I felt like I was going to die, like I always do, but my knees were fine. Then I got home, took my knee brace off, and my leg sort of buckled and my knee tried to go backward like a flamingo. Dammit.

I was thinking that this new injury would mean the end of the Couch-to-5K, and I was really pissed because I honestly like it. I like running around outside when it’s still dark outside and seeing the sunrise. (I am not a fan of running past the teenagers waiting for the school bus, but you know, whatever.) So I decided to make an appointment with a sports medicine doctor. Which is sort of hilarious given how completely un-athletic I am. But I wanted an official diagnosis of exactly what it is that’s wrong with my knee, and what I can do to fix it.

My fear was that they’d just say sorry, you got some crap DNA, and tell me that I’d never be able to do any type of strenuous exercise. Which would pretty much be the end of the world for me because if the only form of exercise I can do is, say, swimming? No. If I’m required to put on a swimsuit to work out, it’s a pretty safe bet that I’m just not ever gonna do it. Then it’d be, hello 200+ pounds, nice to see you again.

Anyway, the news was much better than I thought. Turns out that my patella (kneecap bone) is slightly shifted (on both of my knees, although since my right leg is dominant, that seems to be the one that always gets injured first), and they gave me some exercises and stretches I can do to try to correct it. After doing these exercises twice a day, I should be a lot better in about three or four weeks.

Bonus: after my appointment, I got to call Dave at work and tell him that part of my physical therapy involves tying myself to our bed. It’s nothing that kinky, honestly, it’s just an elastic band that I have to attach to the foot of our bed and then tether it around my ankle to do some of the stretches. So it’s fine and totally G-rated. But man, listening to him do a spit-take with his coffee that early in the morning? Priceless.

So it was all good news. And in the meantime, since I don’t want to give up the progress I’ve made with the Couch-to-5K, I’m going to be power-walking in my new Skechers Shape-Ups, since those are also supposed to help with joint pain. (Aside: between the Shape-Ups and the VFFs, I feel like I’m starting an Ugly Shoe Collection. What is wrong with me? I used to buy cute shoes. Now I’m all about buying what’s “functional.” It’s sad, really.)

And when my knees are feeling stronger, I’m gonna jump right back into the Couch-to-5K. Only, you know, not literally jump, since that might screw up my knees again, and lord knows we don’t want that.