A Trip Back East

Sarah and I flew back to M*ssachusetts to visit my family the week before Easter.  Unfortunately, she was sick with a cold most of the time, and the weather was awful, but we had a wonderful trip nonetheless.  She loved seeing Grammy, Auntie Heather ("Heshy"), Uncle B, Forrest, Sam, Kelley, Chelsey, and Uncle George. 

We visited my brother's new property, where he and his fiancee are rebuilding a 19th-Century farmhouse on 90 acres.  It will be beautiful when done -- they hope in time for their wedding this fall.  I'm so excited for them!

We also went to an historic merry-go-round, and Sarah LOVED it!  She laughed for most of the first ride and insisted on going twice more.  She's still talking about it.  She enjoyed helping Grammy feed the cows and continues to be enthralled by Uncle B's ability to harvest coins from behind her ears (she came home with quite a haul).

Sarah did great on the plane ride each way.  She's an experienced traveler these days.  The P*tette Plus was a lifesaver.  She was extremely stubborn and defiant the whole time, though.  I figure it was a combination of not feeling well, being sleep-deprived, and being out of her element and routine (and seeking control).  She pretty much ignored every request I made and insisted on doing EVERYTHING herself, which was difficult at first.  As time went by, though, we figured out how she could do most of the things she does at home, and life got easier.

As usual, she's very happy to be home.  She's been sleeping well and has stayed in her own bed all night three of the last four nights.  We'll see if it lasts....

Easter 2011

Photos from Last Weekend

It's been a busy week, and I haven't had a chance to post about our trip to see Emily, Omar, and Sophia last weekend.  This doesn't do it justice, but here are some fun photos.  We always have such a good time!

Potty Postscript

In my last post, I rather flippantly recounted Sarah's run-in with an automatic flush toilet.  I wrapped up the story declaring confidently that I was ready for the next interaction with said machine and would conquer it with a pad of P*st-It notes.  Oh, how wrong I was.

This past weekend, we made the trek to W*unakee to visit Emily, Omar, and Sophia.  It was a delightful trip, as usual, until Sarah announced on the drive back that she had to go potty.  Luckily (we thought), the next rest area was just a few miles down the road.  I was relieved to see it was an older building, which reduced the odds of the dreaded auto-flush.  That didn't seem to matter to Sarah, however, as she immediately started swearing she no longer had to go.

I carried her to the stall and, with great flourish, stuck a "magic paper" on the manual handle.  I figured it was a good chance to practice with the P*st Its, when there was no chance of failure.  Sarah didn't feel the magic, though.  She refused to sit on the seat and grew increasingly anxious, until she was screaming.  I pleaded and prodded for a few minutes, until it was obvious there was no way I could win.  We returned to the car, and I resigned myself to an accident.

A few miles down the road, Sarah indeed declared, "Wet."  We got off the next exit and pulled into the deserted parking lot of an office building.  When I took her pants off, however, she was dry.  Noticing the narrow lawn in front of the building, I decided it was worth a try to have her go in the grass.  I held her by the waist and told her to bend her knees, and she went right away.  Problem solved, for the moment.

Since it's finally spring and we live in a rural area, knowing Sarah can "use a tree" brings some relief.  We should be able to schedule our outings around her fear of public restrooms, with one notable exception.  This Friday, she and I are flying back to M*ss. to visit my family.  From the time we leave our house until we reach my mom's will be about nine hours.  That's a long time to go without a potty break.

So, yesterday, I got on the Internet in search of a fully portable potty chair.  Lo and behold, there is such a thing, called the K*lencom P*tette Plus, no less, and, wouldn't you know, I could get it shipped from W*lmart to arrive by tomorrow -- all at a not-too-exorbitant price.  It should fit into my backpack for the trip, and, I've rationalized, will come in handy in the car and boat this summer.

I can't tell you how discouraged I felt Sunday afternoon, when it was obvious something that had come so easily for Sarah (and me) had been taken away.  She was a breeze to potty train and always went without incident in public toilets.  It seems as though I spend every free minute researching and brainstorming ways to work with the latest challenge that she's presented me, and I couldn't believe that a notable achievement had just disintegrated.

The next day, however, I set about overcoming the latest roadblock, and I think I have.  I've decided that being a mom later in life must be good for preventing Alzh*imer's disease.  Raising a child is a perpetual chess match, and I'm constantly plotting my next move.  I hope it's keeping my brain young, if not my body.  I'll have to admit I sometimes miss the simplicity of the N*w Y*ork Times Sunday crossword, though.

Breakfast with the Star

Putting the Fear of Flush Into Her

After spending many Sundays in the church nursery with Sarah and still having her freak out when I left, we decided a few months ago to keep her in the service with us.  She's remarkably well behaved and keeps busy with snacks, sorting the offering envelopes and membership brochures, and "reading" the Bible and hymnal.  She even goes up front for the children's message, as long as I tag along and sit on the sidelines.

She usually needs a potty break part-way through the sermon (don't we all?).  I take her downstairs to the kids' bathrooms so she has a chance to stretch her legs and use the shorter sink.  This morning, she wouldn't go before we left the house, so I was on alert.  When she gave the potty sign a few minutes before the children's message, I decided to go to the bathroom just outside the sanctuary, hoping we'd return in time. 

As I set her on the toilet and noticed the automatic flush mechanism, I had a moment of panic, knowing that it would be a bad scene if the toilet flushed beneath her.  The downstairs one never had, and I hoped this one was set conservatively as well.  No such luck.  Before she even got started, the sensor clicked, and a torrent of water roared below her bottom.  She erupted in tears and lept into my arms.

Once she was calmed down, I persuaded her to go downstairs to our usual commode.  She apprehensively took a seat, but she was too shaken up to go.  After about five minutes of reassuring her that nothing would happen until she was done (I've always had to push the button), the darn thing flushed.  Again, she screamed and dove into my embrace.

At this point, I remembered that there was a small toilet stall in the nursery with a manual flush.  Knowing that Sarah wasn't crazy about the place, I assured her that we would just use the potty and go back upstairs.  It was no use, though.  She refused to have a seat and insisted she no longer had to go.

We returned to the sanctuary, where the minister was in mid-sermon, and I spent the rest of the service praying we'd avoid wet pants (and pew).  Thankfully, Sarah has pretty good bladder control these days, and we made it all the way home without an accident.

Needless to say, I'm not looking forward to our next visit to an automatic toilet.  After a quick Google search, however, I'm ready to give it a shot.  It seems you can put a Post-It note over the sensor to disable the automatic flush, so I've added some to my bag of tricks.  Now I just have to convince Sarah to give it another try.