This morning I went for a walk in the countryside with my son. Actually, I walked and he rode his bike.

There were a lot of hills along the way and my 6-year-old son was soon running out of energy. He asked to stop and catch his breath.

While we paused, my attention turned to the dandelions growing along the side of the road. I’ve always been fascinated by them.

Being me, I instantly wanted to take a photo. All I had with me was my phone though. So I thought I’d give it a go anyway. I was actually quite surprised with the results.

Dandelion 1 Dandelion 2


Poo Goes in the Toilet!

"Somehow it's more charming in black and ...

“Somehow it’s more charming in black and white.” Toddler seated on toilet with magazine. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My 2-year-old (nearly 3 now) has been toilet training for a VERY long time. He is great at staying dry if I demand he visit the bathroom every hour or so. He can hold during his nap time and he even went through the night dry a few times. However, he still has LOTS of accidents.

One of our biggest problems is that he just won’t go poo in the toilet. A few times I’ve noticed him going quiet and disappearing into a corner. Suspecting what he is up to, I’ve thrown him on the toilet just in time.

The rest of the time, I don’t know he needs to go until it is too late. It isn’t until the stench fills the room (or  the change room I’m in, my friend’s house or the café while I’m having coffee) that I notice he has done poo.

We have the same conversation each time I change his bottom. I say “where does poo go?” He tells me, “poo goes in the toilet!” He is so proud that he knows the answer. But why doesn’t the poo go in the toilet? It would be much easier!

I’ve become so desperate that I’ve actually started throwing out his underwear after his soiled himself. If it is a quick, easy removal I’ll tip the contents into a bag and then wash the underwear, but that mushy stuff is all too much. I put him in pull ups for a while. Then I realised that I was paying something like $1.11 per pull up. A 4 pack of underwear at K-Mart only cost me $1. You do the math!

Anyone have any advice on how to get him to go poo in the toilet? My other son trained so quickly that this is all new to me and I am getting so fed up.

In an Instant

There are some moments that change our lives. Sometimes the change is small. Sometimes it is a complete change of direction. In my case it was both, with the biggest change being an indirect result of this catalyst.

We had been living in our new home for a week. I was still getting used to the new locations of my belongings and navigating the nooks and crannies of my new abode.

It was early. My youngest son had a habit of getting up before 7am. By 7.15 the whole house was awake.

In the kitchen, the kettle hissed. Blarey eyed, I pulled the mugs down from the overhead shelf. I needed coffee if I was going to get through the day.

I placed the mugs on the kitchen bench. I filled my coffee plunger. The sweet smell of coffee made me pause for a moment. It was going to be a long day. Then I poured the boiling water into my partner’s tea cup. I would let it soak before pulling out the teabag and adding the milk.

Knowing we were in a hurry, I decided to get breakfast started while I waited. I turned to the pantry to get the bread for my son’s toast.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my 15 month old son near the bench. I turned back just in time to see him pour the cup with the boiling water and teabag down onto his head. It poured over his blonde hair. Then he seemed to pause for an instance, fright in his eyes, before tilting slightly to the right and pouring the water over his shoulder, arm an torso.

It seemed like the moment happened in slow motion. I felt like my feet were frozen to the floor. My limbs felt heavy as I tried to move to him to knock the cup out of his hands. It didn’t seem real.

After an eternity, time seemed to come back to normal pace as I swooped him up and raced out of the kitchen. At the doorway, I ran straight in to my partner. Screaming, I managed to get out “Hot water!” and “Need to put him in the shower“.

My partner grabbed my baby out of my arms and turned to run. Being a new house, he got disoriented and started heading for the bedroom (which would’ve been the right way if we were in our old house).

“What are you doing?” I screamed.

He quickly realised and raced to the shower. We turned on the cold taps and stood our startled toddler under the cold water. Before long he was shivering and crying from the shock.

As our baby stood in the shower, the skin started to blister. It looked as if the skin was melting away and sliding down his arm. I gulped.

“This is bad,” was all I managed to say.

“You need to call the ambulance,” my partner managed.

I raced to the phone and dialed the emergency number. I was shaking as I tried to explain the situation to the operator.

Returning to the bathroom, I took over holding my trembling baby in the shower. My partner had only been in his dressing gown when the incident occurred and had no clothes underneath. He had removed the dressing gown to hold my son in the shower and was now naked. I sent him to get dressed while I held him in the shower.

I looked in to my baby’s eyes and could see the confusion and terror. I felt awful. It was all my fault.

The ambulance soon arrived and my son and I went to the children’s hospital. Fortunately our quick reactions had saved most of his body and the burns on his head, back and chest were now only superficial. The only problem was his arm.

The emergency staff dressed his arm and we went home. We then had to visit every week for about 6 weeks to have his dressings changed. For the first week, he wasn’t allowed to go to childcare as the sand might have aggravated his wound.

The week off meant that I no longer had any annual leave left for the Christmas period. It also gave me time to re-evaluate. I blamed my tiredness on my work hours and never having time to myself. Not only was I working four days a week in an office, I was also writing from home for two different companies to try and pay the bills. I knew that something had to give.

It was this experience that made me see that I had to slow down. I gave up my office job and decided to work freelance writing training materials. This gave me more flexibility so I could be there for my children.

My son’s arm is now healed and you wouldn’t even know that the incident occurred. There isn’t a mark on him. We were very fortunate. There were many children at the hospital who were less fortunate. Some would be terribly scarred for life.

I still blame myself. I was so focussed on making money and trying to do everything that I wasn’t paying enough attention. My partner blames me as well. He mentioned it the other day. I should have put the cups back further where he couldn’t reach. I see the advertisements on TV and at the health nurse offices all the time.

However I am glad that I took the time to re-evaluate my life. I just wish I didn’t feel so guilty about my catalyst for doing it.

This was written in response to this week’s Writing Challenge. To see more information about the challenge, go to http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2012/11/12/weekly-writing-challenge-in-an-instagram/.

Ready for School

My son had his first transition session for school today. He was so excited. He was bouncing around in the car while we took his younger brother to crèche.

When we got to the school, he darted off to the Lego. He was straight into it. Not bothered at all by the new surroundings. The excitement was just too much for him.

I sat with him a little as he built a house out of Lego. The teacher came over to introduce himself. He proudly told her his name and announced that he was going to be at school next year.

After a few minutes, the principal asked for parents to leave. We were to attend an information session. My son looked a little daunted as I told him I was going. I suggested he stay with the other little boy at the table. He just shrugged as I walked off.

After the routine housekeeping information I wandered past the classroom. Through the window I could see him participating in some group activity. He was encouraging another child to participate.

I headed home. Reaching the door I felt rather odd. I am quite used to being home without children. I work from home and my daily routine consists of dropping them off at crèche and returning to get stuck into work. This was different though. It hit me that he had reached a new milestone. He wasn’t a baby anymore. He was my big schoolboy.

Although my son was a head taller than the other new preps, the older children at the school looked so big. It is a prep to 12 college and there were highschool students at the office. They looked huge.

After a coffee at home I tried to do some work to take my mind off it. Every 2 seconds I looked at the clock, eagerly anticipating the time to collect him.

I was back at the school well before the pick up time. I stood on the steps and peered through the window. He was sitting alone, deeply entranced in constructing a race car. I watched him as he left his car to play musical instruments with his new friends. They then had a group song before the session ended.

When he walked out, he was beaming. He showed me the bookmark he made and asked if he could eat his lunch out of a lunchbox today like the school kids do. He even asked if he could go back tomorrow and seemed genuinely disappointed that he couldn’t.

He is definitely ready for school. I’m just not sure that I am.

The Morning Race

It’s early morning and the racers are calm and still. Their breath is heavy and short snorts escape their mouths. The anticipation builds.

A little time lapses and they are ready to go. The noise builds and the racers start to get jumpy as they brace for the event.

A shot of adrenalin rushes over the spectators as they ready themselves for the race. Although they are experienced race goers, they know this could go anyway.

And their off. I Need Breakfast has jumped well and taken a strong lead. I Don’t Want to Go is following close behind. I Don’t Want to Go is a favourite in this race with a lot of experience on this track.

I Need Breakfast is pushing in front. I Need Breakfast and I Don’t Want to Go still looking strong. The crowd pleaser We Will Make It has been pushed to the back of the pack.

I Don’t Want to Go is losing ground as I’ve Lost My Shoe bears in. As they come around the first bend it is I Need Breakfast, I’ve Lost My Shoe and Where’s My Bag at the front.

Where’s My Bag has moved up from 7th to the third spot. I Don’t Want to Go now in sixth. We Will Make It still at the back in eighth place.

I Can’t Find My Show and Tell is coming up the outside and moves from seventh to fifth. I Can’t Find My Show and Tell looking strong.

And here come I’m Not Wearing That and That’s Not My Shirt. They have I Need Breakfast boxed in. I Need Breakfast is losing ground as they come up the back straight.

I Can’t Find My Show and Tell bears in on the last corner and comes round in third. It’s Where’s My Bag still in the lead, followed by I’ve Lost My Shoe and I Can’t Find My Show and Tell.

And here comes the crowd pleaser We Will Make It on the outside. We Will Make It going all out. We Will Make It passes I Need Breakfast and Im Not Wearing That. And it looks like We Will Make It is going to come from last place to finish at the front. Yes, it is We Will Make It by a nose.

The spectators breathe a sigh of relief as We Will Make It saves the day.

Yes, morning in my house is like a horse race. I never know if we will get the boys out the door on time or not.

This is my attempt at the Daily Word Prompt. See http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2012/10/30/daily-prompt-5/ for details. I googled the word racing as my boys were playing motorbike races at the time. The image I got was from this website, http://www.tvn.com.au/project/racing-network/.

Ready, Aim, Fire! Big Boys Stand Up to Pee

My son is a big boy now, or so he tells me. Being a big boy, he has decided that he should no longer sit on the toilet to pee.

Big boys stand up,” he says.

I am so proud of the way he is growing. I love watching him develop and try new things. I smile every time he reaches new heights.

But I was much happier when he sat down to wee.

Big boys may stand up, but I guess you have to be much bigger to have good aim. Each time I visit the toilet, I am now confronted with a puddle of wee on the floor around the toilet.

I have heard that one method is to put a ball in the toilet and get them to try to aim for it. I’m not sure that I like the idea of getting the ball out after each attempt though.

I certainly don’t want to discourage him from standing up to wee. It took us a long time to get him to do so.

He was quite easy to toilet train. We didn’t start until he was a little over two so he was very ready. We had him fully trained in a week. He got the concept within a day or two and has had only a few minor accidents since.

Nighttime is a bit of a different story though. He still struggles to hold it all night.

But for a long time he just would not pee standing up.

One stressful car trip to the country ended in disaster because he wouldn’t pee standing up. He was only just 3 at the time. We were nearly at our destination when my son started jiggling around in his car seat.

“Mum, I have to do wee wees,” he said desperately.

“Just hold it for a few minutes sweetie,” I replied glancing cautiously sideways to see the look of annoyance on my partners face.

As his jiggling got more and more agitated and his little face tightened into a pained grimace, we decided it was time to pullover.

Finding a rest area on the side of the road, we raced to get him out of the car. It was a frantic dash to unbuckle seatbelts, put shoes back on, remove mountains of toys and food from his lap and get him to the grass area.

“Mummy, where is my potty?” he asked.

“There isn’t any potty here. You will have to be a big boy and stand up.”

We tried everything. Different locations, holding him, pants fully off, hovering him above the ground, even a quick demonstration of how it was done. It was all to no avail. He simply refused to go.

Being only 10 minutes from a public toilet block, we piled everyone (and everything) back into the car and began the race to the loo.

We had only got 2 minutes from where we had stopped when his hold gave way. You can imagine how thrilled his father was!

In the interest of avoiding any further such incidents, I am pleased that he now can stand up to pee. I am just not thrilled with his lack of aim.

I want to teach him careful aim. Not enough to write his name on the ground, but at least enough to get it in the toilet bowl!

If anyone has any good ideas, please let me know!