...That's not great.

A little CityMama link love never hurt anyone.

I discovered CityMama and her (at the time) Portland-mama blog in mid-2004, just after she moved to the city and gave birth to her second (lovely) daughter, Wallie. I loved reading her stories about raising kids in Portland, the city of my childhood.

So, when I heard she was hiring bloggers to writer city-centric posts for The Savvy Source, I jumped at the chance to be involved; and I am honored to be part of the Savvy Team.

Today was the BIG reveal (go there NOW - she has giveaways!) on her personal blog, and I want to welcome any readers who have made their way here. If you live in the Puget Sound, I hope you'll hop over to Being Savvy Seattle, where I am posting and insider's look each weekday on adventures and activities for you and your preschooler to enjoy. And if you have any insight to offer on Seattle, I'm all ears.

Work stress and potty training: two totally unrelated topics.

Since I'm made a promise to myself not to get dooced by talking IN ANY MANNER about work, I shouldn't even say this. But here goes: I'm stressed and it's not a good thing.

Work-life balance seems to be an everlasting topic around the blogosphere (especially moms with kids); so I don't need to go through the dramatics here. I will say that I've been trying to be better about the LIFE part of the equation by trying to focus more at work and accomplish more in the time I'm committed to be at work. The first step was to strive to remain "in the moment" when I am off work and with my kids (as part of my 2008 non-resolutions). But that's as far as I had gotten until I read this article entitled "Make More Time for Yourself" in Real Simple magazine (for me the title should be, "Make More Time for the Things You Want to Do"; which translates in my world to: spend more time with my family). It's a great article and I'm already implementing some of their recommendations. I always find something good in Real Simple. 

Alright, enough of that.

On to the weekend wrap up. I decided (on sort of a whim) to potty train Sis this weekend. RD called after picking the kids up at school and mentioned that Sis received a sticker at school for going in the potter. She's three and COMPLETELY ready to train, I was just waiting until after our big trip out east and when we had a weekend of nothing on the schedule. We had something sort-of planned for Sunday, but I canceled it and we were on the potty training horse.

In terms of potty-training (and parenting in general), I'm of the "road of least resistance" persuasion. I witnessed some of my friends struggle with their two year olds for MONTHS to become completely potty trained, and honestly, I could not imagine cleaning pee off the floor for three months. I turned to the collective wisdom of the internets and came up with a plan. We purchased a training potty when Bubba was about 4 months shy of his third birthday to get him used to the idea of what the potty was, etc. He started pooping occasionally in the potty right after we brought it home, and I was pretty happy with that (I've heard that sometimes kids have trouble with this).

After he turned three, we picked a weekend where we were prepared to spend the entire time focusing on potty training. I made the decision to go straight to underwear and skip the pull-ups, except for naps and bedtime. Since regular underwear can't hold the urine very well (at all), we invested in two packs of Gerber training pants. These work GREAT - the child can feel that they are wet, but generally there is no puddles to clean up on the floor. We also decided to reward successful potty trips with his choice of an item from a goody bag (filled with very inexpensive dollar store items). (For my own bizarre reasons, I wanted to not use food as a reward.)

Bubba woke up that Saturday morning (EARLY as always) and I put the training underwear on him. My thought was to take him to sit on the potty every 15 minutes, which I did (with no "action") the first few times. About 5 minutes past our third unsuccessful trip to the potty, he had an accident. I'll state for the record that HE DID NOT LIKE THIS. The wisdom of the internets instructed me not to scold him, just to clean him up and continue to encourage him. So we did.

Onto the second pair of training underwear. In the next hour he somehow figured out how to control himself, because he went three times and was VERY happy to be rewarded with prizes. I figured out pretty quickly he was doing this on purpose (smart boy), so I stepped it up with him receiving a sticker on a chart for each successful venture and then after 5 stars, a goody bag item. He only had one more accident that weekend, and we sent him off to school on Monday in underwear (and three changes of clothes) and he only had one accident that entire week. Of course, we've had accidents since then, but pretty much that was it. No fighting, frustration, or prolonged process - just like the internet promised.

Back to Sis. She came home Friday evening and I put training pants on her. We had a talk about what this means and going potty, etc. With in five minutes she exclaimed, "Oh, I have to stop my pee!" and then she ran into the restroom and went. She did have an accident later that night - and I learned another difference between my children; Bubba would break out into hysterical tears if he had an accident, while Sis could really care less. No big deal to her. I thought we might be in for a LONG weekend.

Saturday was pretty successful, too. Dry in the morning, so then I broke my own "rule" and decided to take her with me for a quick run to the mall (BTW, I got these pants in black - I have a weird love affair with button flap back pockets). She went before we left and then I put a pull-up on her (I told you I was lazy), and off we went. I asked every five minutes if she had to go and kept checking to see if she had gone. RD and Bubba were going to be gone for dinner so I asked Sis if she wanted dinner out, and she requested "spizgetti". Done. I had her try to go when we got to the restaurant and as we were leaving. Nothing. I have her try as soon as we got home. Nothing.

Of course, five minutes later and...well, you know how that story ends. But Sunday was terrific, so we decided to send her to school (with four changes of clothes) in underwear. I am happy to report she was dry all day.

Better living through consultation with the internet.

Here's a picture of us enjoying dinner (but NOT getting our picture taken) at the Old Spaghetti Factory - in the trolley, natch.

Unsent, Volume 1: Don't Look Back.

J,

I was cleaning out Rubbermaid containers of old clothes this past weekend when I unearthed the United Colors of Benneton sweater set that you brought back for me from your study-abroad in Paris. More than I want to admit, it really is a beautiful Audrey Heburn-esque dark charcoal gray color and, honestly, I would probably would have put it back in my closet but for the moth holes. Well, the moth holes and the fact that it represents an embarrassing and painful period in my life; one that for a long time made me question my instincts. Our relationship when from intense to bad very quickly; so quickly that it took me awhile to figure out what was really happening. Once it was over, all I could do was move on with (in the words from a heartfelt card from a dear friend) "my life", because the rest? "No longer an option."  I've tried to to be too hard on myself when looking back, because, while I have made mistakes and mis-steps throughout my life, I love where I am RIGHT NOW. I recognize it is because of all my experiences, good and not-so-good. I know that you have changed your name to your wife's last name; although I'm guessing it has less to do with your pseudo feminism and more to do with an attempt to distance yourself from your own mistakes - and the law. I also have learned that you have achieved your life-long goal of becoming a doctor; but rather than waste my time wishing you ill (pun intended), I think it's a better use of my time praying I'll never need an organ transplant at the Mayo Clinic.

-B.

An announcement of sorts.

I have long been known as the go-to researcher amongst my family and friends.

"Just have Bethany figure it out and let us know."

or

"Have Bethany look it up; she has nothing better to do."

And, don't forget "The Packets" (inside joke for The Sister) from the family reunion in 2002.

So, when I heard about an opportunity to be the Seattle "City Expert" for the amazing on-line site, SavvySource, I jumped at the chance to be involved. I'll be the voice of Being Savvy: Seattle, posting daily about the great (free or low cost) activities that are out there in the community (I'm throwing a pretty wide net to include the general Puget Sound area). SavvySource is designed to provide parents of preschoolers (ages 2-6) information on local preschools, classes, and activities; and now they are rolling out "City Experts" in major metropolitan areas. Take a look; chance is there is a "City Expert" near you.

So, go on over, read up and leave us a comment. Let me know if there is anything in particular YOU want me to cover in my posts; the researcher in me will get right on it.

What I've been up to.

A blog pet peeve of mine is when people blog about why they're not blogging; so I won't bore you with the busyness that has been the past few weeks. I wouldn't want to alienate my small (but awesome!) posse of readers.

I will tell you that Sis and I spent five nights at The Sister's house in the mid-west. It was a girl bonding time as her husband fled the jurisdiction (wisely), leaving just me, Sis, The Sister and her two girls (a 4 year old and an 8 month old) to party it up. 

It was Sis's first plane ride since she was 5 months old and I was pleasantly surprised about how great of a traveler that she was. We had some time-zone adjustment issues once there (that The Sister can attest to), but other than that we had a WONDERFUL time.

Most of the trip was like this:



And this:

 

There MIGHT have been a few moments like this:



But mostly, this:

 

The best part of the trip is that Sis and her cousin, The Bug, spent lots of quality time together; which is important to both The Sister and me.



Mission accomplished.

Five for Friday: 2008 Resolution update.

Remember this post?

Yah, me too.

Well, I thought it might be a good time to give an update on what I had listed as my "resolutions". 

1. Keep a better sleep schedule. I'll give myself a 7 out of 10 on this one. I've been MUCH better about no staying up SUPER late one or two times a week; instead getting to bed at a decent time most nights. I would like to get that bedtime to be earlier, but I'm getting there.
2. Get back on board with meal planning.  You may have noticed I've been listing my meal plans here. Actually, I have been doing it even when I haven't listed them on here, so I am happy to report that this is going well. Believe me, I don't claim that my meals are anything fancy. By preparing simple meal plans, I am more likely to be able to get something decent on the table that EVERYONE will eat, and then I am more likely to hear, "We're eating as a FAMILY," from my son. Swoon.
   
3. FINALLY lose the last 10-15 pounds.  Let's be honest. It turns out it was more like 17 pounds. I did South Beach (which I believe helped me kick my SUGAR! SUGAR! SUGAR! addiction), and lost about 6 pretty easily. Since then I've been doing a less restrictive diet, but trying to do more intuitive eating. I watched a couple of those I Can Make You Thin specials on TLC and as shticky as they are, he has some great advice. What hit home most to me was the four rules of naturally skinny people. It was basically the same concepts that I learned in a body imagine class in college (eat what you love and stop when you are full). I'm now down a total of 11 pounds and feel really in control of my eating, which hasn't always been the case. The 130s are just a few pounds away! 
   
4. Be less distracted with the kiddos. This is going really well - I think just admitting what was going on helped me be able to step back when things got a bit crazy. Though, it's a constant struggle of balancing work, home, chores, kids. Lather, rinse, repeat. 
5. Do more with less. Like some other folks on the internets, I went on a shopping diet at the beginning of the year. It was a hard process to learn from, as if made me recognize the sort of rush I get from shopping. The good news is that with my slight weight loss, I'm able to "shop my closet" for clothes hat didn't fit until just recently. Score!

One of the many reasons I love my new MacBook.

Well, you all told me to get a Mac. What could I do? When the internet gives you advice - YOU TAKE IT.

I won't bore you with all the things I am loving about it (it just being a laptop rocks my socks), because you already know how great it is.

You see, taking obnoxiously cute pictures of my kids just got that much easier. Don't worry - I won't abuse this privilege.

Mother's Day by the numbers.

Hours I slept in after the kids got up: 2.

Cards I received from RD and the kids: 2.

Eggs, toast, and waffles I was delivered in bed: 2, 1, and 1.

Eggs, toast, and waffles delivered to me, but consumed by Sis: 1, 0.5, and 0.5.

Mimosas consumed by 11:00 am: 3 (I would not recommend).

Hours spent with mimosa "spillage" on my white t-shirt: 4 (I am SUPER classy).

Hours spent on my new MacBook while lounging in bed: an embarrassingly large amount.

Calls I made to my mom: 1.

Years I have been a mother: 5 (amazing!).

Mother's Day.

My mother raised her children to be independent. She stayed home with us for nine years; returning to work when I was three years old and entering pre-school. We learned to do a lot of things by ourselves, for ourselves. We served our own Cheerios for breakfast (although I could usually talk my dad into pouring me a bowl); we made our own lunches and cleaned (or not) our own rooms. This is one of the reasons I never had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before my senior year in college; my mom never made our lunches (the other reason is that I used to think salty and sweet didn't go together, but now I have seen the error in my ways). When I was in second grade she stopped bringing our clean laundry to our rooms, opting instead for bins in the basement with our names on it. This did not work as well as she wanted, as I just started getting dressed in the basement. This push for independence was not due to a lack of love, but an abundance of love. She was at every athletic event, every concert, every dinner. She was not like other moms I knew, who gossiped right along with the kids; seeing who was dating who, who failed math, etc. Rather, my mother almost would disappear when the kids were around, quiet and listening. She told me once that she always learned more that way. I think she was pushing our independence as a way for forgiving herself for the choices that she didn't feel that she had.
 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *
As close as I consider my family to be, communication can be a problem. Case in point, when my father had some unfortunate family news to share (a relative made some bad choices), he causally mentions it to me when he dropped me off one morning my freshman year in high school. "You might hear rumors about it around school, so I wanted you to know", he said, as he dropped the bombshell. My father took this same approach when he explained that my mother had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I was sixteen years old and it was the spring of my sophomore year. This was our conversation dropping me off for softball practice.

"You know all those tests and doctor's visits your mom has had recently?"

"Yah..."

"Well, they think they know what it is. They're pretty sure your mom has multiple sclerosis. Have a good practice."

Going home that night, the first thing that my mom said to me was, "No need for you to worry; it's not genetic." And so that's the way it was; she was still my mom, still putting us first, still pushing us towards the independence that she craved.
 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *
Life for was normal for a few years. She started taking medications and we continued on. I moved to on to college out of state; my siblings continued their education in other parts of the country. Her limping became more pronounced; she had a seizure, then she could no longer teach. She would get a bit better for a while, the have another episode of increasing disability. These episodes began getting closer and closer in time until they blurred together. Her stubbornness would continue to show through; after more than one occasion she would exhaust herself from some activity and have to wait there, on the floor next to the bed or out on the deck, until my father returned. They moved across the country for eight years, returning three years ago. She had balanced out somewhat. She had her motorized wheelchair and could get around okay. The downward spiral came shortly after they returned; all independence disappeared. The exact detail of her disability is immaterial here. I will only say that it is devastating.

In the midst of her first long period of hospitalization, she and I lay in the her bedroom. I was on her bed; she in a hospital bed that had recently arrived. She asked me to pull out her multiple sclerosis journal. She wanted me to write in it; until now she had been able to keep it up herself. Looking at the writing through the years shows her handwriting failing as the disease overtook her nervous system.

"I want you to write what happened. Put the date, the number of days I was in the hospital and the medications that they gave me."

I do so. The tears slowly begin.

"Now, go to the very back of the journal. I want you to write down what songs I want at my funeral. Beautiful Savior and Children of the Heavenly Father."

I write.

"I'm sorry you have to be doing this," she says, her tears starting, too.

"I want to be doing this; this is why I am here. This is why you moved here. What else should I write?"

"I want my ashes to be put in the river; where the kids were baptized."

It's almost too much for me to hear.

"Okay,” I say.

Thank you, mom, it is all you have done to prepare me for this. I am not strong enough and strong enough all at the same time. I love you.

Overheard in the bath.

Bubba (to RD who was getting a bath ready for the kiddos): My brain thought you wouldn't put bubbles in the bath. But you did, my brain was wrong.