I'm gonna miss this

Since I’m turning into my dad the older I get, I’ve started listening to country music. That or talk radio. Occasionally, I’ll turn on a pop station just to see if there’s anything new happening and inevitably find myself changing the station and thinking “Nope, nothing new. Same old crap.” Anyway, there’s a country song out right now called “You’re gonna miss this” and it’s about how we sometimes take  for granted the different stages in our life. We’re always so rushed to get to the next stage that we forget the beauty of the one we’re in.

I try not to let that happen. For most of my life, I’ve made a real effort to soak up every good, bad, and ugly moment of whatever phase I was in. I’ve always known that once it was gone it would be GONE. I’m realizing this in a very acute way with Olivia lately.

Tonight, I was scrolling through the pictures on my phone of her and watching her grow as I flipped through each one. It was like one of those homemade animation flip books. The faster I scrolled, the quicker she grew until I was staring at her big cheese face in her tae kwon do outfit (Okay, maybe if she’s going to be in tae kwo do, I should stop calling it an “outfit.” Ghee. There.)

I nearly started bawling looking at these photos and I thought “I’m going to miss you so much.” That thought surprised me. Oli isn’t going anywhere. Except that she is. Every day, she changes into a little girl that she wasn’t the day before. And every time she changes, every time I realize that she has stopped doing something that I found so cute, I feel such a sense of loss and mourning. Dramatic, yes. But that’s how it feels. It feels like I have lost the little person I had the day before. And while I am excited to get to know the little girl and future woman (holy hell, that’s scary) she’s growing into, I am also mourning the loss of the little girl she no longer is.

This is the first time I’ve really felt this way about her growing up. For the first year of her life, I was just so ready for her to be older that I would sometimes think “Only 17 years, 3 months, and 4 days until she graduates and moves out.” No, really. I did NOT like that baby phase. That crap is for the birds and there’s not very much of that I miss at all.

But I LOVE this phase. I love this little person who chatters all of the time about everything under the sun. I love this little person who is learning to play pretend and developing relationships with her friends at school. I love this little person with whom I get to have conversations like this,

Olivia: Do you have a wedding ring, Mommy?

Me: Yes, I do have a wedding ring.

O: I don’t have a wedding ring.

Me: That’s right. I have a wedding ring because I am married. You aren’t married yet.

O: Oh.

Me:  And who is mommy married to?

O: Uncle Matt!!!!

Me: Um, no. I’m married to Daddy!

O: Oh

Me: Mommy and daddy got married before you were even born because we love each other very much and want to spend our whole lives together.

O: Oh

Me: And then, because we love each other so much, we decided to have you! Isn’t that cool?
O: I picked my boogers!

Me: Oh

See, I’m going to miss the hell out of these conversations. Because one day she’s not going to say things like this. One day she’ll be a grown up and she’ll use correct grammar when she speaks instead of when I ask her “Who’s going to school today?” and she answers “Me are!”

One day she won’t think it’s the best thing in the world to fall asleep in my bed watching The Land Before Time. She won’t be running in the door to see me when she gets home from school shouting “Mommy!” as she sprints toward me, whisps of her crazy hair flying out behind her. She won’t ask for hot chocolate in that funny way that she says the word ‘chocolate.’

She won’t do a lot of the crap I dislike either. Like peeing in the kitchen chair, or throwing a hissy fit because I didn’t let her open the door by herself, or yelling from the bathroom “Mommy!!!! COME WIPE MY BOTTOM!” And maybe I won’t miss that stuff. Well, I know I won’t miss the pee. I will never, EVER miss the pee.

But I will miss her asking me to help her with things she can’t yet do. I will miss her being so impressed with herself and demanding “Mommy, watch this!” every time she thinks she’s learned a new “trick.” I will miss laying in bed with her, reading poems for the eight millionth time from this Mother Goose rhyme book she loves so much. I will miss singing The Wheels on the Bus and You Are My Sunshine together. I will miss every single car ride conversation I get to have with her on the way to school.

About a week ago, Olivia said the word ‘bicycle’ correctly for the first time and I was shocked to find that I was sad that she suddenly just knew how to say the word correctly.  I already miss so much of her. She is already a different little girl than she was just a couple of months ago. And I love every single ounce of the person she is right this second. But I miss that little girl that used to say “bi-chi-ful” every time she saw her daddy’s in the garage. She is not that little girl anymore. She’s a whole different person and I feel like every time I turn around, I’m getting to know a whole new Olivia. It is exciting and incredible and just awe-some. But it is scary and just a *tiny* bit sad. It freaks me out that every day she’s an entirely different kid than the day before. 

I want to plead with God: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE slow down! And yet, I am thrilled to someday meet the woman He already created her to be.

On Saturday, Oli and I cleaned the house together. She LOVES to clean the windows and she stands there with her paper towel and she wipes the cleaner off like a crazy person. Not 10 minutes later, she walks past each window, dragging her peanut butter encrusted hands across each one. Internally, I cringe and walk methodically behind her re-wiping each surface. But at the end of this past Saturday night, I walked by our patio doors and saw several Oli sized hand prints scattered across the glass and I didn’t rush to wipe them away. I won’t leave them there forever, but I’ll leave them there for now as reminders of the little girl who is changing every day. Reminders of the days she played on our patio and ate peanut butter with her fingers. Reminders of the time her hands were so tiny they could fit inside mine.

I’m gonna miss her like crazy. It’s a good thing that the little girl who takes her place every day is even more incredible than the day before. Unlike those handprints on my patio door that will fade with time or get cleaned away, each Olivia that I get to know leaves her hand print forever embedded in my heart. 

The Year Olivia Ruined Mother's Day

For my very first Mother's Day, just 2 short years ago, Mike and The Boss Lady treated me to a really fancy schmancy brunch at this fancy schmancy hotel here. The brunch was incredible and I felt very pampered and loved. I was relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed myself. The bottomless mimosas probably contributed to that but nevertheless, it was BLISS. Olivia was so well behaved and the following year, I INSISTED that we do it again. Olivia was much more active that year and Mike a was a little concerned about going somewhere so nice with our toddler who still had to eat her spaghetti dinners shirtless so that she didn't ruin all of her clothes. Still I persisted. Reservations were made and I was pumped about another beautiful Mother's Day with my girl.

The morning arrived and off we went all gussied up and ready to eat shrimp cocktails and cherries jubilee or whatever delectable item might be on the brunch buffet that year. And like the foreshadowing of a movie, Mike's reservation about taking Oli to this fancy schmancy brunch proved to be right on. It was a DISASTER. 

The Boss Lady insisted on standing up in her chair while eating ketchup with a spoon. She wanted to sit in my lap and then get back down again. Lap. Down. Lap. Down. A splashed mimosa here, a spilled cup of milk there, and I quickly realized I had made a mistake. I wasn't relaxed AT ALL. I was a nervous wreck trying to keep my child from disrupting the dining of the others around us. I had all but given up on me enjoying my meal but I was determined not to let her ruin it for others. Just when I thought my anxiety couldn't get any worse, Oli grabbed a chocolate cupcake, shoved 1/3 of it in her mouth, 1/3 landed on the carpet, and the last 1/3 she smashed into her hair.

Last year's insanity

And so I sat in my pretty Mother's Day dress, at a table with a once white table cloth, my half consumed mimosa in front of me and I sobbed. Yep. Tears streaming down my face as Mike tried to console me. Olivia ran circles around our table, while the icing from her chocolate cupcake formed a lacquer in her hair. "She ruined my Mother's Day!" I lamented. We exited as gracefully as we could and I honestly cannot remember a single other thing from that day. It was that traumatic that I just blocked out the remainder. 

Mike tried really hard not to outright say "I told you so" but he did remind me a couple of times that spending big bucks on a nice brunch with a toddler might not be the wisest financial investment. I'm sure I told him where he could stick his investment. I really was devastated that my vision of enjoying a beautiful outing with my loves had been ruined by the very person who was the REASON for my privilege to celebrate this "holiday" in the first place. 

This year, when asked what I wanted to do for Mother's Day, I inwardly answered "I want to go to a spa all day and be left ALONE." Instead, I took a step back and tried to let last year's "celebration" wash off. I decided instead to just keep it simple. I told Mike I wanted to go to this local place that has a great Sunday buffet AND a playground out on the patio where Olivia can play while we eat. I asked my cousin and his family what they were doing later in the afternoon and we all made plans to hang out together. 

After a little bit of a grueling Saturday with Oli, I wasn't sure how today was going to turn out. But when the alarm went off, I happily jumped up and started getting us all ready for church. Before we left, Mike and Oli surprised me with gifts she had made for me. Her teachers at school helped her to make a beautiful canvas with her hand print and a little hand painted box. As I was throwing another load of laundry into the washer, Oli thrust her package into my hands and nearly into the washing machine as she excitedly said "Happy Mother's Day, mom!" Mike wrote a beautiful message to me in my card and I felt so incredibly BLESSED that I get to be the mom of such a wonderful kiddo. 

The rest of the day really was great. We got to eat and visit with my grandparents. We got to take a nap! I mean, really that was probably the best gift EVER. We got to hang out with more family later and at the end of the day today we just hung out on the patio. Olivia laid down on the deck of the pool and looked up at the sky. She asked Mike and I to lay down with her and we did and we just all laid there side-by-side staring up at the clouds and counting the airplanes. 

After we put Oli to bed I told Mike that THIS was the Mother's Day I envisioned last year. THIS was the kind of day that I idealize. He told me that he and Oli had had a talk about taking it easy on me today. He said he told her how important it was to have good behavior. And, really, I don't care how he did it. I don't care if he promised her ice cream for dinner every night for the next week. I'm just REALLY thankful that he helped make today so beautiful. 

But here's the major lesson about this year's Mother's Day: EXPECTATIONS. As in: in Parenthood, you have to have low ones. 

Last year I went into that fancy schmancy brunch filled with expectations and I was completely let down. This year, I just shrugged and said "whatever will be, will be." And I don't mean low expectations in a bad way. It's just that I've found that the best way to end up with a big disappointment in this gig is to go into anything with any pre-conceived notions as to how it's all going to go down. Kids just aren't predictable. They don't really give a crap if you spent big bucks on a fancy schmany brunch. They're happier playing on a play ground at a cheap Mexican restaurant. And really, about the 3rd time Olivia wished me "Happy Easter" I realized she didn't even care what day it was. The thing is, she was going to just be herself no matter what. For Oli this day isn't about giving me ONE day of love and appreciation. This day is just another day of her being my daughter. Of loving me even when I really suck at this gig. Another day of spending time together and growing together. She didn't have any expectations of me today except that I would just be her mom. For her that's enough and I'm so thankful for that. I'm so thankful for the opportunity to raise this incredible kid. 

I didn't expect to end the day today laying on the ground with my husband and child as we looked to the sky talking about all kinds of random things. I didn't expect it but it turned out to be incredible. 

Happy happy Mother's Day to all!

Pissed Off

Last Sunday, my sweet husband had his second triathlon of the season. We woke up on Sunday morning bright and early at 5 a.m. and headed out. And you might think we are off our freaking rockers but, yeah, we bring The Boss Lady. She does surprisingly well. She's like a teenager and hates waking up but once she's awake, she gets excited about cheering for her daddy.

*On a side note: that particular morning, Mike came parading in the room around 5:30, playing Olivia's pink recorder and singing for her to wake up. She balled herself up in the middle of the bed, moaning "I don't want to get up!!" She's occasionally mentioned since then that daddy woke her up with the recorder and it wasn't very nice. This cracks me up and warms my heart because my dad used to do that to us when we were kids. We'd stay up all night in the summer playing and he'd come bounding into the room in the morning, spoon in one hand, frying pan in the other, and start banging his "drum" as loudly as possible singing, "Wake up, you sleepy heads! It's time to get up on out of bed!" Anyway, I just got a big kick out of that and figured my dad was probably getting a good laugh out of that too.

At any rate, off we went to the triathlon where we cheered on Mike, his brother, Matt, and my sister's husband, Michael. Matt's wife, Emily, and I hung out with our kiddos while the boys got their workout on. The guys all did great but at the end Mike told me he wasn't sure he had done that well and didn't think he had placed. Lately, he's been placing in his division and I could tell he was bummed that he wasn't going to be getting a trophy at this one but relieved that we didn't have to stay for the awards ceremony.

It was probably around 9:30 at this point and Olivia had fallen alseep in my arms. I sat in the grass with her in my lap, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze. I was sitting cross legged and she had her head in my left arm, her butt in my lap, and her legs sprawled across my right arm. I rocked her gently and looked at her smooth skin. As I waited to hear if Mike had placed, I reminisced about how long it had been since she let me hold her like that. She's getting so big and she barely fits in my arms like that but for that moment, I just relished in holding my sweet baby. I felt the warmth of memories and motherhood flood over me...

Wait...

That's not the warmth of motherhood I felt...

Slowly, I felt warmth spread over my crotch, butt, and legs. My brain synapses began firing rapidly. What was this literal warmth I was feeling? Finally, my brain cells made a connection! The warm wetness spreading over the lower half of my body and now into my shoes was

URINE.

But wait. I hadn't peed myself...had I? I mean, I know I have mommy bladder and all but was I already losing that much control over myself?

I looked down at the sleeping angel on my lap and suddenly, I understood. My lovebug had just pissed all over me. And still she slept. Peacefully, soundly. Unaware of the fact that she had doused me in her excrement.

I gasped for air and resisted every urge to push her out of my lap and scream "I'M COVERED IN PISS!"

It was right about that time that Mike sat down and excitedly announced, "GUESS WHAT??"

I had to stop myself from saying, "What? This is all a hellish dream and I didn't really wake up at 5 a.m. on a Sunday only to get peed on by our child?" or "What? You just so happen to have an extra pair of womens' underwear and bluejeans in your gym bag so I don't have to ride home in someone else's pee?" But I did not say those things.

"Guess what?" Mike asked. "I got FIRST PL,ACE!!!"

I was ecstatic for him! His very first FIRST PLACE FINISH! My husband is kind of a rock star, folks.

But then...wait...that means...oh yes...we get to stay for the awards ceremony...and I'm covered in piss. But stay we did. And as I stood there at the awards ceremony while Olivia poked me in the butt and announced, "Mommy, you have pee pee in your pants!" I have to say, I felt so proud of my little family.

When we got home, Olivia had another "accident" and as the day wore on I started to realize that she's had A LOT of accidents lately. As in, I can't remember the last time we went the whole day without at least 3. That's right: 3. I can't remember the last time she came home from school in the clothes I sent her in. I talked to Mike about it and we agreed that it was almost like she wasn't quite potty trained at all.

Here's what we realized was happening: Olivia would announce to us that she needed to go potty. We would say something like "Great! Go potty!" She would walk to the toilet, stop right in front of it and pee her pants. For real.

After another morning or two of this craziness, I lost my freaking mind. HOW IN THE HELL DID I GO FROM HAVING A COMPLETELY POTTY TRAINED KID TO ONE WHO ISN'T POTTY TRAINED AT ALL!?!?!? I'm serious, I felt like I was going crazy. I worried that something was wrong with her physically or mentally. I worried that I had done something to cause her to retaliate against me by peeing on every surface of the house. I vaguely remembered a cat who had done that once--peed on my mattress until it was ruined because I had ticked him off. Were toddlers like cats? Did they hold secret grudges and initiate Pee Revenge? And like most things in this insane world of Parenthood, I had no freaking clue.

Finally, after a morning of 2 or 3 accidents (2 or 3 in a 1 hour period, mind you), I was in tears. I asked her why she peed in front of the toilet and not in it. Her answer: "I had to go pee pee." Yeah, no kidding. I told her that if she didn't stop, she would have to be back in a diaper like a baby. Her response: "Yeah! I'm a baby! I want a diaper!" My jaw dropped. What in the hell was happening?

I took Olivia to school in a pair of plastic panties since we had no diapers. I walked in her classroom looking exhausted and bewildered I'm sure because her teachers took one look at me and asked "What's wrong????" I told them what was going on and they agreed that she had been having a lot of accidents. I shrugged my shoulders and said "I'm not sure what to do...are we supposed to put her back in diapers or pull ups?" They were so sweet and kind about it and said that would be fine. I wanted to scream "IT'S NOT FINE! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY KID!" See, I told you--I was losing my mind.

I looked to Olivia to find her surrounded by her playmates. And to my utter horror, my daughter had the front of her pants pulled down, her plastic panties pulled out, as she proudly announced, "See, look at my plastic panties!" Her friends oohed and aahed at the sight of plastic panties and she looked back to smile at me. I nearly fainted.

Her teachers really were extremely sweet about it though. They explained that this is somewhat normal for a kid who potty trains pretty early. Sometimes kids are just going through so much as they grow and learn that their minds just can't focus on every single thing all of the time. They assured me that everything was okay and that she would grow out of this phase very quickly and all would be okay. They said to just keep encouraging and that it was not a big deal if she was in pull ups for a little while.

I cried and vented to my friend Christina. She assured me it was going to be okay but I was not convinced. The next day she called to tell me she had done some internet research on potty training regression and that it was pretty normal and that the key was to try not to react to it. If Olivia has an accident, just clean up and move on. She shared with me her own trials and tribulations in potty training.

And I swear that if it were not for Olivia's teachers and Christina I would not be writing this blog post right now. I'd be in a mental institution getting electro-shock therapy and screaming "I'm covered in pee!" or something like that. Seriously, The Boss Lady's teachers probably think I'm the Queen Wackadoo but they are always so sweet and supportive to me. They assure me all of the time and it's clear that they love my kiddo. I am blessed to have found her school And Christina--how many friends will spend their evening researching "potty training regression" so that they can help their friend who they know is losing her mind feeling like all she does is clean up pee? Seriously, the only reason I make it through this gig sometimes is because I have an incredible support system.

Since then, it's been a total roller coaster around here. Olivia wants to wear panties but pees in them no fewer than 17 minutes after she has them on. I have washed sheets at least 3 times and cleaned up pee puddles a handful of times as well. We offer to let her wear a pull up but are encouraging when she wants to wear panties. But unlike the beginning of our potty training adventure when I was excited for Oli to wear panties, I dread it now. I know that it will end in a puddle somewhere. I know that soon I will be starting another load of laundry or fuming inside as I watch her sit in the kitchen chair and just pee. A couple of days ago she actually said to me, "I'm going to go poo poo in my diaper." I told her that I had to draw a line somewhere with all of this and that was it.

This seriously sucks. I don't care if it's normal or not. It sucks. My brain truly cannot understand how my child can be fully potty trained one day and just NOT the next. I just do not get that. And here's the kicker: apparently this is NORMAL. Where the hell is that little gem of information in all of the blessed baby books? Just proves my case for why I sold all of my baby books (there's another post for that).

If I ever have the opportunity to write a baby book, under Potty Training it's going to say something like "Hope you like being marinated in URINE." The End.

The weirdest thing for me is this: I did not care if/when Olivia was potty trained. Truly. I did not care if she was 2 or 3 or 13. I was not going to force something that she was not ready for. But nearly 5 months ago, she indicated an interest and off she went. She potty trained so easily and I was blown away and shocked. I expected it to be hard but it wasn't. And now suddenly we are back to square one. Not even square one really because she didn't even do all of this when she was potty training in the first place.

Now that we are going through what most people go through when they potty train  a little later, I'm actually really upset. Really. I've cried, I've yelled, I've nearly thrown every pair of panties she owns in the trash just to prove a point, and I've cried some more. And I cannot for the life of me figure out why someone (me) who didn't care when their child got potty trained now suddenly cares A LOT.

The only thing I can figure is that I just feel duped. I feel like things were going great and we were out of this stage and then BAM! we are right back in it. I feel worried too. Worried that Olivia is going through something that I don't understand. It's hard enough watching her grow and develop this incredible personality and opinions and I am already so worried that soon there will be so many things about her I don't know or understand and this is just one. I worry that I've done something that makes her feel like she has to do this for attention. I'm not typically a worrier when it comes to parenthood. But this has caused me a lot of it. It's just all so confusing.

Am I supposed to encourage her to use the potty and wear panties or just let her stay in her pull up? If I know that she is going to pee in the panties, do I just put my foot down and make her wear a  pull up? Or is that discouraging and will that further delay her getting back into panties? If she's in a pull up and needs to potty do I just tell her to go in the pull up or take her to the potty? See???? CONFUSING.

Today when I picked her up from school I was trying so hard to look on the bright side in regards to her being back in pull ups. I had to go run an errand and while we were at the store, I saw my bright side: I didn't have to scope out the nearest bathroom just in case she needed to go. I wouldn't have to stop in the middle of the store and rush to the potty. But we weren't there 5 minutes when Oli announced that she had to go pee pee. I felt stuck. We were at the back of the store. No potty in site. She had a pull up on. What to do...

"Okay, just hold on, we'll go in a second" I told her. We got to the front of the store and I was getting my last item and she started doing her little pee pee dance and holding herself and announcing how badly she had to go. I really *really* just wanted to say "Just pee in your pull up." But I didn't. I left all of my things and rushed to the bathroom. I mean, what the hell is that? If she was in panties, she would have just peed in the cart on top of all of our things. But Heaven forbid she get the friggin' pull up wet. Am I the only person who thinks this is crazy?

Well, I guess it doesn't matter if I am. This is where we are in this part of the journey. And I have no idea what it means but I'm trying really hard to just remain calm. I haven't written a blog in the past two weeks because I feel so bewildered and frustrated that I'm not sure what to think of all of this. Right now I just think I'm grateful to have a healthy daughter who is smart and loving and sweet. I'm thankful for a nice washing machine that keeps cleaning the pee off of everything we own. I'm thankful for a husband who has assured me repeatedly that no one goes to Kindergarten without being potty trained. I'm thankful for a support group who shares with me their own pee stories and doesn't tell me what a crappy job I'm doing.

And I'm going to just keep trying not to be pissed off about all of this--even in the midst of getting pissed on.