3-Day EC 'Holiday'

We had a little baby bonding vacation over the labor day weekend. Gunner was bare-bottomed most of the time.

On the first day, he did his morning poop in the toilet but mostly peed all over the floor. He also pooped on teh floor that evening. I followed him around with a tupperware container, trying to catch his pees to show him that they are not actually supposed to go on te floor. I did put him on the toilet several times, but he seemed to no longer respond to the 'shhhh' cue.

By the second day, things were improving. Gunner did his morning and evening poops in the toilet and had started to sign 'potty', though mostly after the fact. Since I had to do some stuff at Arron's place, we took the EC thing there, too. Gunner peed all over Arron's floor and I went nuts trying to 'catch' his pees and cue him. I kept telling myself it was worth the effort. On Saturday and Sunday we put Gunner in the playpen with just a PK under him to catch his pees. By the second day, he started to make the ASL sign for 'potty' when he had peed, and even sometimes just before he had to go. He peed three times in the toilet on cue.

By the third day, Gunner was using the 'potty' sign pretty consistently to tell me when he had to pee, although a good part of the time, he would do this after already having sprinkled a bit on the floor. However, the amount ending up on the floor was a lot less than before. He was peeing on the toilet on cue again, though sometimes I would only get to put him on there after he had already gone, so he wouldn't always produce much, but I could see that he was responding. Guner did both his poops in the toilet on the third day, which was great because I always have a lot of trouble 'catching' his evening poop.

On Tuesday, he went to daycare, where they kept him in diapers all day. Joel and I picked him up and brought him with us to a daycare we were checking out. On the way, we naticed him signing 'potty' and I intended to potty him when we got there but then I forgot so he had to use the diaper. Throughout the rest of the week, we tried to give him 'pottytunities' as much as we could. I even brought the seat reducer with me and got him to use it at Starbucks, although trying to potty him in a public restroon is like trying to potty a wild raccoon: he plays with the toilet paper, and tries to put things in the toilet including toilet paper, his hands, his shorts, his shoes...
The second time I tried to putty him at the coffee shop, I ended up giving him an impromptu bath in the sink and he peed on cue while in there, so that felt like a success just the same.

Yesterday, I went to visit my brother and brought the seat reducer along. Gunner was in diapers for the whole visit, but I did potty him 3 times and he peed in the toilet on two of those occasions. So, in general, I think we are making good progress. He is definitely becoming more aware of his elimination again. I am trying to get him un-used to being in wet diapers, which will hopefully motivate him to let me know as soon as possible when he has to pee, even if he has already made some of it in his diaper. He is signing 'potty' really often now and much more clearly. My goal with this is for him to be able to sign well enough for other caregivers to be able to understand that he is asking them to take him to the bathroom. My mother had him the other day and she is also starting to be able to read his signals.

Now that we are back on track, I am keeping him in diapers a lot more. i was starting to feel like all I was doing with my day was cleaning up pee. This was exactly what I thought it would be like when I heard of letting your baby go diaper-free. If only I had known earlier that babies are most effectively EC'd before 6 months, I would have been able to avoid this whole situation. Still, I think that with the way we are doing things, he will at least not have to be toilet trained in the conventional way using bribes and punishments. I prefer to do it gently, in a way so that he feels i am just helping him with his needs, rather than he being now expected to perform in some way which, as everyone knows, often leads to rebellion and conflicts.

I realize I'm going to have to re-think this whole EC thing

That's not to say I'm about to give up! No, I just have to figure out a different approach because what we're doing is not working, what with his time in daycare undoing our progress as fast as we can make it.

First of all, if he doesn't want to sit on the potty anymore, I'm just going to have to let him have his way. I never forced him or did anything to make potty time unpleasant, but when I would see him start to fuss and try to throw himself off the toilet and into my arms, I would bring out another book or toy that I would hope would keep him happily occupied on there long enough for him to actually do his business. Instead of that, which still left me feeling like I was making  him use the potty, I will have to go back a few steps to catching his pees and poops where he makes them.

I think the most important thing I could do to undo the damage is get him used to not going in the diaper. If he were waiting for the diaper to be put on, like some toddlers do, I could use that as a way to get him to consolidate his eliminations like kids do once they are potty-trained. That's not going to happen, though, because he is happy to relieve himself anywhere and everywhere around the house. I think what I will have to do is catch as many of those pees and poops as possible in tupperware containers, in order to give him the message that the stuff is actually supposed to be contained, not just sprinkled all over the floor.

I have a feeling, too, that if he goes diaper-free for a few days, when I return him to being in diapers again he will not be so keen on eliminating in them. Before this trouble started, he so hated pooping in his diaper that he would actually wait for an opportunity to go on the toilet, even if this meant holding it for a bit while I got him to a bathroom. This was definitely a sign of things going in the right direction. Unfortunately, he has apparently lost this habit after having been kept in diapers all day at daycare for the past six weeks.

So, my plan is to 1) leave him out of diapers so he once again gets un-used to pooping in them and 2) try to catch his poop or pees in containers in order to show him that it doesn't really belong on the floor.

Since the daycare is closed on Monday, I will have him all to myself for the next three days and this should provide a good opportunity to put this plan into action. It may mean spending nearly all of our long weekend at home, but that's okay, it'll be worth it if it works. Down the road, I will try to get him to go back to taking those big dumps on the toilet in the morning, which would lead to him usually not having to go again until evening. If we can accomplish this, he may not even have to poop while he is at daycare, which means he won't have to do it in a diaper. I will do my best to keep him there for the minimum amount of hours I can possibly manage.

Anyway, I miss him terribly when he's up there. So much so, in fact, that I let him sleep in my bed last night not because he needed it but because I did. Tonight I am again tempted to keep my little peach next to me. If he wakes up, I will use that as an excuse to bring him into my bed. I know, I know, I don't want to get him in that habit which is so hard to break down the road, but I just miss him so much. I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and is sleeping in the other room right now.

I hate having him in daycare, but at the same time I feel like it is a necessity in order to make my life manageable and keep me from going nuts trying to juggle baby and work. With this in mind, Arron, Joel and I asked the Lord to see to it that Gunner would still have a place in daycare after the current contract finishes at the end of August. We all said 'Amen' and I declared that the Lord would answer our prayer and (whaddaya know?) a couple of days later Atiyeh told me that she would have a place for the month of September after all. I feel compelled to tell my friends that if they need something, they should just ask God for it because it works so well for me!

Joel has been really amazing. Even though he has a lot of problems and is fairly unstable, going through depressions on and off, he has been extremely helpful and supportive as Gunner's godfather. He is really more like a third parent to him than a godfather. I hesitate to say he is like a second father, but basically that's what it amounts to except that he is so nurturing he is more like a second mom. He has been picking Gunner up from daycare nearly every day, which is great because the less time he spend there, the better. Joel takes him all over the place with him, visits the pet shop, puts him on a bike at Canadian Tire, takes him to the parc. I think Atiyeh thinks Joel is Gunner's dad because he is so involved in his care and upbringing. I am so grateful to Joel for all he has done and it seems that Joel is getting a lot out of it, too. He hasn't had more than a couple of low weeks here and there, and he looks good lately, nicely dressed and showered. Considering what a mess he was a few years ago, it's amazing how helpful and caring he is now. I love that he is taking on this role and I want to share Gunner with him as much as possible. I feel like Arron and Joel are really family to me now, and I am happy when I see the two of them getting along well. Arron is a little moody and Joel is particularly sensitive, so there have been some clashes between them and some sore feelings on Joel's part, but in general they get along fine. I know that it is not a typical situation: I don't live with my son's father, and my ex-fiancee is his godfather, but somehow it seems to be working out ok and Gunner loves Joel a lot. As long as Joel is ok with the situation, I want him to be a big part of Gunner's life, to do things with him and help raise him, and to enjoy all the wonderful things about having a child in his life. I know that the one thing Joel had wanted in his life was a child of his own, and even though I was never willing to give him that, I am willing to share Gunner with him.

I don't feel like I get much time to update this log, but I guess it's partly a question of prioritizing. Having a baby is like beng in a blur of feeding, cleaning, bathing , packing diaper bads, dressing and diapering all day.

Potty Pauses and Pint-sized fits

The daycare has done a number on Gunner's EC and signing progress. They completely refuse to do either with him and so after 6 weeks, a lot of the hard work we had put into it has largely been undone. He doesn't seem to want to eliminate in the toilet anymore. He will sit on there and look at books and be fine, and then sign and say 'done' and demand to come down- only he hasn't done his business. Before daycare, he had been doing virtually all his poops in the potty and quite  alot of his pees, but now the only thing I can be fairly sure to catch is the first morning poop, and only if I am really on my toes.

The signing has suffered, too. He is still using the signs, but a lot of the time he turns first to what probably works best at the daycare: screaming, tantrumming, and generally having fits. I imagine that, even though I showed Atiyeh some of his signs, she doesn't pick up on them. When she fails to respond to his attempts to communicate his needs through signs, he gets frustrated and starts to freak out. This probably gets a good reaction out of her and gets his needs eventually met. So, this is what he has been doing with me. I try not to respond positively to this tactic because I don't want to encourage him to continue. I ask him instead to tell me what he wants, and most of the time he will produce a sign to show me what he needs. I think things will get a lot better once he is at home again, starting next week.

Another bad habit he has picked up is lashing out aggressively. I know this is a normal thing for toddlers to go through, but it's still a shock to see your sweet peach arching his back and screaming, kicking, hitting, biting, and pulling your hair when he doesn't like something. Again, I try not to give in. I tell him that that's not the way to act and ask him to tell me what he wants, or I explain to him that he has to do x or I have taken away y for reason x, or I tell him that as soon as he does x, he can have y. It pretty much works, but it is of course disconcerting, especially in public. I'm sure these are some habits he has picked up from the other kids. One day last week, he came home with bit scratches on his face and Atiyeh explained that he had been attacked by one of the other kids.

I feel so bad for him having to be up there all day and even though it's going to be very hard to have him home al day when I do have to work, I'm still relieved that our contract is coming to an end. I am hoping that Arron, Joel and my mother will all be able to pitch in a little to help take care of him, so I can get my work done.

Lately, Gunner's favorite sign is 'motorcycle'. He pumps his elbow and makes a mrrrm mrrm sound everytime he sees one. He even does it when he hears one go by outside. I am amazed that he can identify trucks, cars, and motorcycles just by sound. Little kids are smart, but they look like such little babies that it's hard to believe how much they already understand about the world around them. It's easy to think they don't know anything until they are about 2 1/2 and start talking, when in reality they have been figuring everything out all along. He is probably way more aware of a lot of things than we realize, including the interactions Arron and I have, which are not always the most civil.

He likes motorcycles so much that I bought him a corn-popper truck today, which kind of looks a bit like a motorcycle. It gave me so much pleasure to give it to him and see how thrilled he was to have his own 'bike' to ride around on. He sat on it and made the sign for motorcycle over and over, and I pushed him around the apartment on it. He absolutely loved it.

Snips and Snails

My little peach is turning more and more into a little boy- a typical little boy who likes vehicles and getting dirty and climbing on everything. If ever I had any doubts that there are inborn differences that predispose little boys and little girls to certain types of play, I certainly no longer have them. We did nothing to encourage him to be the way he is. We even bought him a doll for his 1st birthday. But nonetheless, he is still thrilled my things that go vroom, while Leigh, who had never had a doll of her own, instantly turned into a little Mom as soon as she met Gunner's neglected babydoll. I leant it to her and later got reports from Lara of how her daughter was carrying the thing around like a baby all day and calling it 'Didi'. I guess it really is true that boys will be boys and girls will be girls.

D-Oh, I forgot my penis!

My brother got married a couple of weeks ago and my mother gave a speech at the dinner. She started off with the words:
"Maxim was the easiest child to raise". Then, as if there could possibly be any confusion as to who her speech was about, she reiterated, "I'm talking about Maxim". The implication, of course, was 'Make no mistake, I'm not talking about the other one. That one was a nigtmare to raise'. There was no need for her to specify that she was talking about my brother. After all, she was making a speech at his wedding, and had just named him in her introductory statement. No, there was no doubt, this was the typical sort of thing she does to take an opportunity to subtly put me down. Everyone picked up on this. There were a few low 'wooo's and my new father-in-law turned to me and said, 'Don't worry, Sonia, we love you.'

My mother will take advantage of any chance she gets to tell everyone what a little hellion I was. An oppositional, defiant, disrespectful little troublemaker who gave her nothing but grief and headaches. It's almost as if she is stil tying to convince herself that she did nothing wrong: I was just born that way.

But now that I am a parent and have stayed up late many nights reading about bonding, attachment parenting, and different aspects of child-rearing, I have a new perspective on what happened. I had read that 'parents who fall in love with their children have children who fall in love with them' and I had come to the conclusion that whatever  went wrong must have taken place very early on in our relationship. I had asked her if she had had any trouble bonding with me, but she denied this, even though I had been struck by how detatched she seemed form me in our early family videos, before my brother was even born.

The more I read about attachment and how it later affects how the child responds to discipline, the more I was convinced that we had somehow not bonded right.

After the wedding, my mother and I were talking with our old friend Corinne and her son and my mother started recounting the even of my birth.
A stewardess friend of my mother's had given her an article on how to select the sex of your child. My mother, who had always wanted a big brother as a child, had decided that she would have a boy first, and then a daughter. So, in accordance with the instructions in the article, my father abstained for a few days and then made his deposit on the day when my mother was expected to be ovulating. This would supposedly guarantee the conception of a son, and my mother was so sure it would work that she went through her whole pregnancy fully expecting to deliver a male child. She had bought a blue layette and had chosen a boy's name. Let's not forget, my mother was a German and she did things with German Precision. This, I had heard her say many times, was how she managed to give birth to me on her own birthday.

However, some of the other details in her plans didn't quite work out. After a relatively short and easy labor, out I popped into the world. The doctor wrapped me loosely in a blanket and handed me to my mother.
Unfolding the blanket, my mother was stunned.
'There's something missing!'
'You have a daughter, Mrs Lewis' confirmed the doctor.
'No, it can't be!' My mother said in distress. 'There must be some mistake!'

And so it was that I made my first mistake by being born a female. My mother was  inconsolable disappointed although she would not openly admit it except when jokingly refering to the scenario that took place at my birth. She went into a post-partum depression which lasted until the birth of my brother two and a half years later.

"And then, she said, I got my boy".

My mother jokes about how all this happened but, having been on the receiving end of all those negative emotions, I don't think it was funny. I have been reading about how the bonding that takes place in the earliest months of a baby's life forever affect the parent-child relationship. A child that feels loved, loves back, and wants to please the parent, and is, as a result, more obedient. A child that is insecure about its parents love is constantly out to test it.

I can understand that she was frustrated with me. It's true, I didn't listen well. I was always pushing it, trying to see how far I could go. I was very active, always climbing on everything just like Gunner. Always pulling things out of the garbage, getting up at 6:00am when my mother just wanted a little more sleep, wearing her out with my boundless energy and unedning questions. I was a normal child, and another mother with a more positive perspective on me might have encouraged me to channel my energies into something constructive, but my mother was always frustrated with me. When I got older, it only got worse.

In her speech, she told of how my brother was always obedient, never did anything wrong. This is just impossible, of course, for a child to never do anything wrong, but I believe this is how she honestly remembers it. She goes so far as to say he never cried as a baby. Obviously, this is ridiculous, but that's how she remembers it. I remember it differently. I remember that whenever anything happened, whether he was at fault or the two of us had done something nefarious together, I always got the blame for it. I was forever 'The older on', the one who was 'responsible for what happened', the one who 'should have known better'. So I was as flawed as he was perfect, as guilty as he was blameless. And that was how it was throughout my childhood.

She likes to say how good and sweet he was and how she never had to punish him. I would like to add that I took all the punishment for both of us. I am tempted to finish her sentence for her when she says 'He was always obedient and never did anything wrong' with 'Unlike the other one. The more I beat her, the more disobedient she got. The more I whipped her with the riding crop, the less respect she gave me. The more I locked her in the cellar with the lights off, the more hardened she seemed to get against my punishments'.

Even though we were brought up in the same family, we were raised completely differently. He was raised with forgiveness, encouragement, love, and patience. I was raised with punishment, criticism, blame, violence, and abuse. And, not surprisingly, he turned out to be a well-adjusted, self-confident, sucessful adult. And I struggled for years with low self-esteem, the belief that there was something inherently wrong with me, that I was unloveable, and could not succeed at anything (except school, probably because I had always been told I was smart). I went through a series of abusive relationships before I met Arron, the first guy who treats me with respect. I went through nearly a decade of drug abuse before I finally realised I deserved better than that. And even now, I am paralyzed by insecurities that prevent me from even attempting many of the things I would like to do, because in the back of my mind I can hear those phrases that were so often repeated to me,
'That is a very difficult field to get into' when I want to make a career move.
'Why do you waste your time?' when I work on my hobbies.
'What do you need a driver's license for, you can't afford a car'

Long ago, I stopped telling my parents about anything that I was doing in my life. It has gotten to the point where I don't tell anyone about anything anymore. Yesterday, a friend of mine who owns a media and public relations company asked me to do some artwork for her company. I know that if I tell my parents about it, they will say something like 'You don't have time for that' or 'If you have time to make drawings, you have time to get a second job'. I don't even want to tell Arron about it, partly because I don't want him to know how disappointed I will be if I somehow fail at this. I feel better not telling anyone, like I have a better chance of succeeding if I keep it a secret. I don't want to give anyone a chance to play those old tapes for me. They can stay quiet if I just don't open my mouth and tell anyone that I am happy and excited about something I am about to do.

I remember being in the courtyard when I was nine, playing. I suddenly became uncomfortably aware of the fact that I was happy, relaxed and having a good time. I remember realizing why, at that moment. A voice in my head told me 'If you are happy now, it means something bad will happen later to take that away from you'.
I did realize what that 'something bad' was. It was my mother' s inability to tolerate seeing me relaxed and happy. If I was feeling good and just being a kid, she had to do something to take it away from me. Maybe not consciously or intentionally, but she did it just the same. She would come out of nowhere, blaming me for something that had happened, maybe even something that was totally out of my control like her getting stuck in traffic, and a thoroughly bad-feeling interaction would ensue. I would feel stupid for having let my guard down and been happy. After a while, I found a way to play and have fun without ever letting my guard down all the way. I would just detach myself from whatever was happening around me. That way, when things started to getugly and go bad again, I would just tell myself it wasn't real. The problem was that after I while I started to feel all the time like things weren't real, and I could never be present enough to really enjoy anything while it was happening because I felt so distant from everything all the time.

I just tuned it all out, and the good went with the bad.