Lake Chatuge 2017: Trip Two

We went to the lake this weekend.

Again.

It's very, very hard for me to EVER find a reason to say NO when Jeremy asks if I want to go - not even when I CAN'T FIND MY CAMERA.

You read that right:

I CAN'T FIND MY CAMERA.

It's actually okay, though, because I'm always aware that I take WAY too many pictures - and I'd lately been thinking how I didn't even need to take pictures at the lake this weekend, because why do I need ANOTHER shot of Freddie driving the boat and all that?

So I guess you could say that I didn't take any pictures, because I'd DECIDED not to take any pictures, but the fact of the matter is that I COULDN'T take pictures - at least not hi-resolution ones.

What I have instead are iPhone snaps that I decided to string together in one obscenely long InstaStory (I've mentioned how much I love those, right?).



There are a couple of things I want to be sure to remember from the trip.

Most notably, of course, is probably the fact that the boys learned how to pee outside. If you'd have asked me earlier even in that very day, I'd have told you that, while I was surprised Freddie hadn't done it already (five nites into potty training), there was NO WAY my uptight, almost-always-anxious four year old would EVER relax enough to drop trou and relieve himself under cover of moonlight and underbrush.

But that's exactly what happened. Here's how:

Jeremy brought it up. As we were making s'mores, he said to Freddie, "Don't stand so close to the fire that you could pee on it." That prompted Jones to respond, "Daddy, we DO peepee on fire to make it go out. We just spray it, because we have water."

Oh, do ya' now? By the way, Son: WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN WATCHING?!

Anyway, a few minutes later, Freddie said he had to go potty. JOKINGLY, I said, "Well, just go over there in those woods." And, y'all. HE DID. To my surprise, HE was having trouble relaxing enough to relieve himself, so JONES WENT OVER TO SHOW HIM HOW. I'll say that again, in case you're as surprised as I was: JONES WENT OVER TO SHOW HIM HOW.

"See? It's easy!" he said, as he stood, bare-butted, beside his baby brother. "Just squeeze it out."

So Freddie did. Once they both pulled their shorts back up, they sat back down and resumed their s'mores'ing. Freddie said he had to pee again - and so he did, and then he looked at me very excitedly and asked through a giant smile, "Can I go stinky???"

No, Son. We're gonna go ahead and sequester THAT little bodily function to the confines of a fully operational INDOOR facility, but it's good to see you're getting the drift of things.

The next day, we went to our lake church. Jones and Freddie were moved from the nursery to children's church, and when we picked them up, the teacher told us that they'd had a lesson on the Widow's Mite. When the teacher asked the boys if they gave, Jones said, "To the BANK!"

Oh, Lawdy. Looks like we have work to do ... not the least of which is FINDING MY CAMERA.

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.

The title of this post is somewhat melodramatic. I take that back: it's VERY melodramatic, but it does pretty accurately capture the yin and yang of living with a pair of preschoolers - more specifically, a very handsome and precious preschooler named Thomas Frederick Pressley.

In "Best of Times" news, Freddie has (finally) potty trained this week! I've known I needed to do it - for one thing, the child is nearly 3.5 years old. For another thing, he can't start preschool until he ditches the diapers.

But, with as much as we're on the road, diapers are just so CONVENIENT. I love that he can do his business, and I don't really have anything to do with it - until the time comes to do away with it.

But all good things must come to an end, right?

To be honest, what finally made me do what needed to be done was the fact that I've got a great opportunity to speak at a theatre in Charlotte on the 20th (thank You, Lord, for opening this door for me!), and because I want the relationship with the Blumenthal Performing Arts Center to continue (and grow), I really need to do a home-run kind of presentation, and there's no way I can prep for a home-run kind of presentation when constantly interrupted by pleas to press play (again) on "Day of the Diesels" or by one brother banging the other brother's head against the wall.

The answer was obvious: Clyde First Baptist, the boys' preschool, offers a super affordable summer day camp for kids who are enrolled for the fall. The catch? Potty-training is a pre-requisite.

So at some point late last week, I made the decision that, because I need a kid-free week to prep for the next week, Monday would be the day - the beginning of the end of our family's almost five year long reliance on diapers.

When it comes to potty training, I am a "cold turkey" kind of person. This works primarily because I've waited so late to train my boys that they are basically capable of teaching themselves. I wouldn't have it any other way. Those with toilet-using two year olds may have gotten there first, but I guarantee you I got there more easily, so, in my book, I win.

But this isn't about the "how" of potty training. It's about the "now" of potty training. It's done now, and after an incredibly easy week with so few accidents I can count them on one hand, Freddie is qualified for preschool, for super-affordable-summer-day-camp-at-preschool, and for using the pools on a Disney Cruise, if I can ever talk Jeremy in to taking one.

Cue my Pharrell William's "Happy" dance.

And now, for the "Worst of Times."

After starting out really strongly in swimming lessons, Freddie has gotten to the point where he absolutely will not - like, can not, even under threat of corporal punishment - jump into the pool, even with his life jacket on. He's suddenly terrified.

He's been like this for a few weeks, so after he and Jones finished their six weeks of swimming readiness lessons with Sarah Grace, I asked her opinion on whether or not they're ready to move on to actual swim lessons. Jones definitely is, she said (Woohoo!). Until Freddie's ready to jump in and to get his face and hair wet, he's not, so we've decided Jones will continue seeing Sarah Grace every Thursday, and Freddie will wait another year or so until he's ready.

It's not a big deal. 3.5 is really young for lessons, anyway. I'm just slightly surprised that Jones is ready for something before Freddie is, because we all know that doesn't happen often.

So, see? I told you it wasn't as bad as all that. "Worst of times"? Hardly. But with the potty training thing behind us, I can only imagine that the "best of times" are ahead.

Wild-ly entertaining

Tonite, the boys and I went to the Wilds to visit the kids, who are all at camp there.

Not only did I want to see the kids, but I also wanted Jones and Freddie to start learning the lay of the land up there, as it's likely where THEY'LL attend camp, too.

I can't even get over how well they did. There were a couple of complicating factors that could've made for a REALLY miserable nite - we didn't get home until after 10 p.m. (it's probably the latest my boys have ever stayed up IN THEIR LIVES). Plus, with Freddie potty-training ...

But they were TROOPERS. I was oh, so very proud and oh, so very glad that we are reaching the stage where late nites now and then aren't the end of the world they way they have been for the last few years.

As soon as we got to camp, we got to see Lila. Then, we waited a LONNNNNGGGG time for the big kids to get out of their service. While we waited, the boys played on the wide open fields, which they loved, but they probably had the best time playing with the water cannons. They got each other, but they most enjoyed getting their Uncle David.

We had snacks with the kids and then headed up. Jones had NO FITS; Freddie had NO ACCIDENTS, and I had NO IDEA how much fun life is when little boys act bigger than they actually are.

(PHOTO NOT AVAILABLE)

Today, the boys were playing at the clubhouse. When I called them in, they both came right away - Freddie first but Jones following right behind, his shoes in his arms and pants around his ankles.

Wait.

WHAT?

Understandably befuddled, I asked him, "Jones. Why do you have your pants down?" Without a single shred of shame or irony, he said, "Because I went stinky outside, like Blue."

Oh, DID you now?

The answer, in short, is yes. He most certainly did - marked his territory right up by the clubhouse steps in what seemed to him as normal a thing as April showers bringing May flowers.

He wasn't punished. I've never once TOLD him not to "stinky outside, like Blue." Further, he wasn't at all ashamed or trying to hide anything. He thought what he did was well within the framework of civilized society.  After all, BLUE does it!

What I did instead was give him a bath and explain that, while he sometimes pretends to be a dog, he is, in fact, a boy, and little boys do their business in potties.

Or at least, we HOPE they do.

SURPRISE!

Freddie just peed in the potty.

Yes, you read that right, and no, I'm not even trying to potty train him.

He's said several times in the last few weeks that he wanted to pee pee. When he does, I'll take him in and let him sit on the "ducky potty," which is the padded seat that goes over my big potty. He's never actually peed, though, so I figured he didn't know he needed to go; he just wanted to sit on the potty.

Well, this morning he said it, and I put him off for a few minutes, figuring his request was just a boredom buster. He kept asking, though, so I finally took him. He took off his diaper ("I do it myself"), and then I placed him on the potty, assuming nothing would happen ... until it did, about six seconds later.

I'm not sure I'm really ready to train him - I mean, I want him trained by the time we go to the Bahamas (end of November), but I'm not sure he has the bladder control (Jones can go for DAYS without going) to make potty training anything more than a complete headache that involves potty stops in quick succession  on car trips. I just don't want to rush it. Jones was amazingly easy to train - at almost 3.5. I'd planned to wait until closer to 3 with Freckle.

It's beginning to look, however, like Baby Brother may force my hand.

Stay tuned.

(UPDATE - 55 minutes later: Freddie and I were reading a book when I noticed him straining. I said, "Do you want to stinky in the potty?" And sure enough, he did. Are we doing this?!?)

(UPDATE - end of the day: I decided to try Freddie on the potty training method that I used for Jones this afternoon. He never went in the potty again. I noticed, though, that he still pees really frequently, so I'm not going to force it - especially not with my plan to put them in the same room soon. I'm thinking we'll get through that, and then we'll focus on the potty.)

Potty Train-wreck

Four hours into potty training Jones and Freddie, I've come to a couple of conclusions:

1) the boys can wear diapers forever, and
2) I want to die.

I'm using a method from a book called Toilet Training in Less than a Day. It's got four out of five stars on Amazon and hundreds of very favorable reviews, many of which I read, naively believing I, too, would have the success of the super-parents who'd written them.

Well, we're a half day in to "less than a day," and the only little boy who's pee-peed in our potty is the $20 doll I bought on my way home from Bible study last nite.

That's right, Friends. In four hours, there's been plenty of pee pee (I think Freddie's wet through 16 pairs of underpants), but not one single drip of it has made it in to the potty.

I'll write more about our morning later, but for now, Mama needs a nap.

And a mop.

And, maybe, a party-size bag of M&Ms.

The Potty Train has left the station.

Well, just like the whole big-boy-bed thing kinda just happened one day, it appears that potty training is upon us way sooner than I'd expected it to be.

Assuming that Jones would be late training (because, Y'all, let's face it. In spite of his early arrival, he's been late at most EVERYTHING else), I'd not really thought much about potty training, except to dread the constant fear of inevitable accidents.

I know he's physically ready. He definitely knows when he's going and shows all the signs of being where he needs to be from a physical standpoint. I just didn't think he'd be emotionally ready. Or maybe I'M not emotionally ready to give up the convenience of diapers. Either way, I was planning to put it off for another few months in hopes that, maybe, I could train both boys at the same time.

Then, yesterday morning, Jones woke up with a COMPLETELY DRY DIAPER. I couldn't believe it. Neither could Jeremy who thought Jones must be dehydrated (he filled his dry diaper BIG time a few minutes later). That's when I started to think, "Okay. My window of opportunity is opening. Maybe I should seize this day."

The problem is, though Jones has the fireman potty he picked out after watching multiple demo videos on Amazon, and though he has "big boy underwear" in a myriad of designs, he's never shown much interest in either. He LOVES his "Even Firefighters Go to the Potty" book, but I don't think he's mentally connected the dots to going himself.

Or so I thought.

After his nap, I asked if he wanted to put on his big boy underwear. I assumed he'd say no. To my SHOCK, he said, "Yes." He picked out a pair with both Donald Duck AND Mickey Mouse on them. We then took the fireman potty into the den, where he ran around in nothing but his drawers, playing for 45 minutes at "taking a potty." "I have to go take a potty," he said in an endless loop of sitting on the chair and running in circles around the den.

He never actually TOOK a potty during his game, but the fact that he played it was WAY more than I'd thought he'd do, proving that, as I did with the Big Boy Bed, I had WAY underestimated my child.

After playing around for a few minutes, he said he needed his fire helmet. I got it for him; he put it on and sat back down in his red plastic chair. "It's working!" he excitedly announced. "It's working!" (It wasn't). When we went to get Freddie up, I saw Jones grab himself and then go hide in the folds of Freddie's accordion-style closet doors. I knew what was happening, so I rushed him to the potty seat. It was too late, but at least, I knew he'd gone, so it was probably safe for a trip to Wal-Mart to buy Pull-Ups for night time and a potty chair to keep in the car.

So that's what we did.

checking out his Donald drawers

Jones stayed dry the entire time. He very proudly held a package of Mater Pull-Ups, as we wheeled our way through Wally World. On the way home, we dropped by Nan and Pop's. As soon as we got out of the car, I could see he needed to go again, so I pulled his pants down in the driveway and said, "Just go, Buddy." He couldn't. Well, he wouldn't. I sat him on the car potty. Again, he wouldn't. Finally, he went a tee-tiny bit (like, MAYBE 1/4 teaspoon) in the potty. I was so proud and took the boys in the back yard to play.

He was pushing his lawnmower around the driveway ("I haffa cut grass," he always says) when he stopped and got a terrified look on his face. Again, I knew what was happening, so, with the help of his Nan, I cleaned him up, and we headed home. A little later, he went to bed, and I developed a strategy.

Knowing Jones, I think the way to play this is to talk about it a lot for several days - let him live with the Pull Ups at nite and the potty chair in the den - let him get used to these things in the same way that he took six days getting used to the big boy bed before he finally slept in it himself. I'm learning that I can't just spring things on a boy who hates change, so normalizing the implements of potty training may be the secret to a successful transition for him.

Or maybe not.

Time will tell, but this is where we are today. My boys are getting bigger every single day!