First off, I wanted to give a shout out to the Man upstairs: THANK YOU FOR THE RAIN!
Along with the much-needed moisture for our pastures, You have also given our home a much-needed boost in morale. Hallelujah!
Now we might just survive this long, dry, hot summer.
Although the liquid gold (rain) has been almost non-existent the last few months, our home has moved full speed ahead.
The Oehlschlager children have continued to grow (unlike our pastures) and have met some pretty major milestones.
Side note: I’ve noticed lately my columns tend to lean toward bathroom topics. I believe this is because the matters we moms deal with on a moment-to-moment basis are, unfortunately and typically, related to some form of bodily secretion. These incidents and milestones therefore do not qualify for dinner time conversation and may be considered improper topics in general.
So, I’m sorry to those who display more elegance and etiquette than I, but I can’t just be quiet about my life. And my life revolves around small people whose pastimes revolve around doing mostly disgusting and very clever activities.
One of those more mainstream activities that we participate in is potty training.
Our final diaper wearer, Masen Timothy, is now nearing the finish line of the potty training race.
We are more than excited about this very monumental milestone in our family.
Since December 2003, we have been purchasing diapers and more diapers and more diapers.
While I trained Nos. 2 and 3 (Rylan and Bella) early, I have been dragging my feet with the baby boy.
Frankly, relatively speaking, it’s easier to have only one in diapers than to have to go through the process of toilet training. I was (and still am) a little burned out.
But, I am a big believer in goals. So at the end of last school year, our family listed and posted our summer goals for each child.
I begrudgingly added “potty training” to our little Mae Mae’s list.
And so the quest began.
As all of mine have, Mae began with enthusiasm (which I lacked). The messy and time-consuming roller coaster of this training process also included the unfortunate spell of his refusing to go.
In my house, small people go to the restroom when I say. Period.
Mae learned quickly that I meant business, and he eventually submitted.
How we train in our house involves M&Ms and an oven timer.
(We don’t use pull-ups until the child is nearly potty trained because it’s confusing to them.)
First thing in the morning, the trainee puts on big boy or girl underwear and tries to use the facilities. If he or she goes, they get to eat one candy.
The timer is set for 15 minutes. Then they MUST try again. If they absolutely have nothing happen, then the timer is reset for 5 minutes. And the process repeats all day long. One candy per toilet success.
We don’t push naptime and nightime until daytime is fully established.
And now Mae is going through the stage (which I’m almost 100 percent certain he learned from his brother) of going wherever he is, toilet or not.
He has also discovered, and I’m sure most innocently participates in, urinating as a form of annoyance to other people.
While I was talking to my grandma about Mae’s toilet success, I caught him (pants down) standing behind an unsuspecting sibling who was relaxing on the floor.
I intercepted his plans before the victim was affected.
This is the messiest, most disgusting and frustating phase of the process, which hopefully is short-lived.
When the day comes that I have to give away all of our stock-piled diapers, I might be sad.
But only for a minute.
— As seen in the Lawrence County Record
Categories: Life on the farm
My name is Ginia Oehlschlager and I'm a small-town gal from Missouri. Join me as I document my crazy life on the farm with my husband and four kids. I'm always looking for frugal, simple ways to live the life God set before me. Where faith, family and fun come together on the farm.
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