Mommy Lessons

            I think the greatest concern I have about life is how to raise my little boy. I am keeping house for my husband and have a demanding teaching job, but if there is anything I want to be able to do well, it is to be a good “mom”—or “mommy” which my son has decided on calling me now.  I want to be a good mom.

I thought instinct should take over and that I should trust every gut feel I get. But life is not as easy as that. And my instincts are as good as the next tree trunk.
            I had a lot of help. Some lessons, I learned from my mommy friends. Some were taught by my son himself. Here’s what two years of parenting have taught me so far:

1.      Children should take their time.

2.    “No” may not always mean “no” after ten minutes. It helps to keep repeating your request.

3.    You can teach them to pack away.

4.     Potty training isn’t conditioning. You just present the option.

5.     Reading books are the best bonding time. (Not meals, coz we’re just too busy getting it done.)

Faith

I think the worst piece to write about is when you’re brimming with emotions and anxiety, and say nothing. I have nothing to say. Ask my dear friends Karen and Gaye. The moment I open my mouth, the better part of me shuts it up. I am all out of wisdom. I have neither descriptors nor action words to express myself.

I think the hardest requirement of faith is cheerfulness. I’m worried to the brim. It's beginning to show in creases between my eyes, a downward curl on lips, and a sigh that sounds more like a gasp. How did Mary maintain her cheerfulness when the angel Gabriel told her that she will be with child—the son of God at that, and not go crazy of all its legal implications? How do you find joy when the world seems to tip favorably on stressful situations and math just doesn’t apply?

Mary kept it in her heart.


I write about it...but only to gesture to Our Lady who watched her Son gallivanting  with sinners, getting Himself in all sorts of trouble, potty trained, breastfed, and loved her boy to pieces. 

Sometimes, when there isn't much to physically accomplish, my mind wonders off...

Do I like it when he screams "poopoop!" when i'm about to get mad at him (in order to sit safely on the potty)? Or "look bird!look car!" when he wants to run off somewhere without me, or pretend to be picking something from the floor to put into his mouth just when i'm busy?( I know he's being smart when doing this because he's done it to me several times with the same intention successfully).

Why are the terrible twos so terrible? He wants to press every crazy button I ever seem to have. And sometimes I have a feeling I'd love to oblige him with a very convincing reaction. Sigh...

Potty Training Week 3

Potty training is ... (rolling my eyes, popping my eyes, and sighing)

Ok. So we're three weeks and three days in the process. We've just started because for some babies, it could take months, some shorter. Ozzy and I don't have it down yet. And we make more misses than hits. But we certainly know when to use the potty.

Here it goes, by order of importance:
1. Sanctuary. When he wants to get away from something -- he calls poopoo!poopoo! when he doesn't want ice on his swelling forehead, or to change his shirt, or me to do something important. We sit on the potty and nobody touches him nor do I busy myself with anything for a while.
2. Prize. He sits on the potty for an oreo cookie.
3. To actually poop or pee. This rarely happens on purpose. I spend most of the time, yanking him from where he is and sitting him on the "poop chair" perplexed about the trail of pee or poop we left behind.

What happens...

What happens when you feel that something’s off with your son? You scramble for answers on and offline. You run to the doctor or whoever it is that can solve the issue. You look at your finances and see if you can afford the solution. Solve it as fast as you can.

What happens when you feel like something’s wrong with you? You shrug it off your shoulder and think, blaahhh. You’re fine. When you’re free or you remember, you’ll have it checked. You put it off. You don't take it seriously. Six months later, you are reminded of it. You have it checked.  Doctor wants it checked ASAP on ultrasound. All your wonderful memories with your son are relived in the waiting room.  You get the ultrasound (cleared). Then, you write about it in third person.

Ozzy on the day he was born...

ozzy playing pimp my ride yo!