Our friends Laura and and her husband The Rock came into town. The Rock took Tyler mountain biking up in Oro Valley and Laura came over to our house and... slept. As we were talking and chatting and Lillian was showing off all of her tricks, including singing the happy face song (If you chance to meet a frown, do not let it stay...) Laura's eyes were droopy and I could tell she was fighting to stay awake. I offered the use of our spare bed and insisted she take a nap. About when she woke up, Lillian was fighting with her poop (more on this later) so we couldn't leave to go do anything.Her visit didn't end up being terribly exciting, but I'm always glad to help people catch up on sleep.
The Poop
You knew it was coming. Potty training. I've heard tales that potty training is awful and hard and messy and gross. Messy and gross, I can handle. No problem. But, I think I'm getting more than my fair share of awful and hard. Lillian is, to put it lightly, very resistant to potty training and I'm tired of waiting for her to come around. Well, I don't think she ever will come around, she's a stubborn one. Last week, I set out to break her.
Five thousand tantrums later, we're doing pretty well. No accidents yesterday and she even pooped in the potty, which has been one of the major sticking points because she hates Hates HATES pooping anyway. Really, the only way it happened was she told me she had to go and I made her (read: physically forced her) to sit on the potty until she went. It took about an hour. One hour of screaming and crying and ultimatums and saying "Lillian!" in that threatening Mom voice that I didn't know I had until I had children.
Speaking of that, I got a new calling as Primary Singtime Leader in which I teach songs to children 3 to 11 years old for two half-hour segments ever Sunday. My Mom and my sister have both held this calling quite successfully, so I felt like it was in my blood. Turns out, it is. Yesterday, I had all the kids (of which there are over 50) held in rapt attention while we learned "The Dearest Names" in sign language for them to sing on Mothers' day. It's times like this where I feel like my transformation into my mother is nearing completion, and as I get older, I realize that this is not necessarily a bad thing at all.
Five thousand tantrums later, we're doing pretty well. No accidents yesterday and she even pooped in the potty, which has been one of the major sticking points because she hates Hates HATES pooping anyway. Really, the only way it happened was she told me she had to go and I made her (read: physically forced her) to sit on the potty until she went. It took about an hour. One hour of screaming and crying and ultimatums and saying "Lillian!" in that threatening Mom voice that I didn't know I had until I had children.
Speaking of that, I got a new calling as Primary Singtime Leader in which I teach songs to children 3 to 11 years old for two half-hour segments ever Sunday. My Mom and my sister have both held this calling quite successfully, so I felt like it was in my blood. Turns out, it is. Yesterday, I had all the kids (of which there are over 50) held in rapt attention while we learned "The Dearest Names" in sign language for them to sing on Mothers' day. It's times like this where I feel like my transformation into my mother is nearing completion, and as I get older, I realize that this is not necessarily a bad thing at all.
4 comments:
You get two whole half hours?! My primary presidency only gives me two ten-minute sessions! Do you know how hard it is to teach new songs to Junior Primary in that amount of time? I am so jealous!
I'm glad you are finding your stride. Your Mother Stride.
Maybe one of these days Lillian will find her Poop Stride.
wow that was quite a post. 50 kids!!!
I hope that calling is not in my blood, but I bet you're good at it. Is primary songs music fest in the future?
I had the same 'mother-transformation' moment when i realized that I now have a 'church bag' complete with smashed Cheerios and pens with no lids. "Wait, I've seen this bag before somewhere...."
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