**WARNING** A Mom Moment on the Blog!

I know there are all kinds of new appropriate terms for potty training. Potty teaching, potty learning. I'm here to say folks, considering the volume of fruit snacks I handed out after this kid piddled, getting a kid to use the toilet is the kind of operant conditioning that would make even B.F. Skinner proud. Consequently, (get it behaviorist fans? Consequence?) I will refer to this experience as what it is...training.

I must confess I did not potty train my first two kids. My mom had A in underwear in a weekend and E was in childcare and they handled all of that. So really, L was my first kid I've ever endured this with (yes, I said endured) Many of my friends and family offered advice. Some was great--like waiting until he made a move for the toilet. Some was...interesting--like making him nap with his dirty underwear on? I think that's punishment for me, not him!

Here's what I went with:

1.Go a few days naked (you'd be surprising how cumbersome clothes can be to a three year old who needs to pee). 

2. Wait until he's 3 and a quarter. I tried earlier--I really did, however this resulted in what I now call "The Post Office Incident" where Luke, peed on a pile of flat rate boxes, looked at the long line of snickering soldiers picking up Christmas packages and declared, "I peed a lot. Can you do that?" It was a literal pissing contest. This3.25 idea seriously worked though. I had it marked on my calendar from the moment a friend mentioned it! 

3. Fruit snacks. I decided to use the fruit snacks. Some friends suggested candy or cookies, but frankly, I admit, these are not novel food items in our home. Fruit snacks though--they're gold. Not only are they chemically delicious for kiddos, they come in strange little shapes which resemble popular cartoon characters.

My next step was gathering supplies.

This is what I thought I needed:

It wasn't enough. This kid was a hot mess. You want a study on prepositions? This kid had human waste above, aboard, across, against, beyond, beneath...you catch my drift. It was not pretty. And it's a tedious job, one that requires incredible focus, because you have to be careful not to wipe the kid with the lysol wipe, or more importantly, the toilet with the baby wipe, because that thing doesn't clean worth a crap (pun intended). My bathroom has never been this clean ever, because it was disinfected at least three times a day...scratch that, the whole house was disinfected. As most of you know, my kids span from three-13. A had a friend over one day--as the older boys did what older boys do (I was going to say smoking and joking, but they pretty much are gaming and joking),  I hear A yell, "What the $#@* (h, not f) L." I flew into the living room, not thrilled with the language, but more motivated by the sound of disbelief in A's voice. There stood--wait--there squatted L. Grinning wildly as he shat (yes, I said shat) on my living room rug. "Mommy!" he declared, "I a big boy!" Thank goodness A had a friend over, because all I could muster, in my best teacher voice was, "Oh L, big boys don't defecate (yes, I said defecate) on the living room rug." His response? "I didn't debatate. I pooped."
So yes, quickly I determined the below photo is much more representative of the potty training journey.

L was not having the traditional potty chair with some special wipes and soap. He was not sitting in a "baby seat" on the floor, he wanted to sit on the bog boy toilet like A! I was willing to do anything to never change a diaper again, so pushed aside the $25 potty chair and invested in a $18 toilet apparatus that sits right on the top and makes the toilet a bit smaller. He was happy--it was great!

We did not venture out for weeks. Then we did. And realized, despite our best efforts, he was terrified of the big, ominous toilets at the mall. At the community center. At friends' homes. I lamented to a friend (because ANY of my friends will assure you this is all I have been capable of talking about for weeks). She said, "Get a foldable seat for this diaper bag." I didn't even know these existed! I searched high. I searched low. I searched Wal-Mart. I found one. A travel potty seat. It was purple. With Tinkerbell and her other fairy friends on it. I brought it home--opened it. L loves it. It is by far his favorite potty training supply.

I can't wait for my brave, manly husband to come home from war and proudly watch his son sit to pee on his purple Tinkerbell potty seat...and wipe with a square of toilet paper.

So yes, the last two weeks have been an experience. But we did it. No more diapers. Not at night, not during the day. I'm sure we'll have some accidents...y'all know I love me some metaphors, and this experience with L has had many connections to life...the idea of two steps forward, three steps back. The questioning of self--am I doing this right? Isn't he supposed to stand when he does this? The feeling of personal failure when someone says, "UhOh!" (so notices a failure) as he pees all over the floor during the Girl Scout Cookie Booth lotto. But you know what happens? Just like in life, when you surround yourself by quality people, the person who noticed the failure hands you the paper towels and smiles. You don't stress about the not standing, because at least he's making progress. You come to expect..and maybe even savor a little bit, the backwards movement, because forward movement means change you might just not be ready for.

Analogy of a Snowbank

This is my driveway. Note how in the spirit of personal security, I snowed out my license plate and not my address. Bad guys, don't come, you'll be sorely disappointed. 

I'm going to preface this by saying it has been a really rough week. I have cried a lot. I have snotted a lot. I have been quite mean to the people I love. I don't know if this stems from yet another transition for my soldier (so nowhere to send our awesome Valentine's Day package), or entering a New Year without our Team physically in tact, or what. It might have been L's behavior at A's swim meet (during the required silence diving portion), or maybe the snow that falls non stop. It's just been a week of gray, dismal, me-ness.

Back to my driveway. It's been a work of heart. When I am really feeling at my wits end, I go out there and go to town. It's my new project. I have invested more money in special shovels, picks, and dog friendly rock salt then I care to admit.  My goal is for the driveway to stay black pavement until May--when the snow in almost Canada stops. Today though, I was checking out my snowbanks.

A (the biggest kid), noted how ugly the ice/slush on the crisp white snow was. I agreed, and continued to chip away at the thick, hard ice that had formed on the edges, and threw it on top of the snow. Where else am I going to put it? You know why that stuff forms, right? It's not protected by the warmth or frequent use of cars and foot traffic, so builds and builds. Even when the sun does shine, the ice is so thick, it doesn't melt much. It needs a lot of help. It gets really dirty...exhaust from the car, sand, salt--it turns a dingy gray. It really is ugly, but it's tough--and strong from all of those harsh variables. 

At this point I paused. It occurred to me that I have great snow banks. They don't fall down into the driveway when you brush past them. They are pretty resistant to the wind. I brushed my hand along one, and realized that there was a fresh coat of white snow adhering to the yucky, gray ice. Not just covering it--it was melding into the surface of the ice and becoming part of it, not just a coating. The bank was beautiful because of the easy snow--but strong because of the difficult, ugly, slushy, ice. 

Those broken, used, dark pieces of cold, harsh ice made a very unstable pile of fluff a tenacious force of silent, calm, fortitude.

If you look to the left, there is a kind of couch/shelf looking structure at the end of the bank. That's what happens, when you're at your wits end, and a friend comes over and parallel parks her gigantic truck in your snowbank. And she only had to park in the bank in the first place because another friend had already come and was in the cleared out spot. Note that this didn't mar the snowbank's strength--it helped move things around, and made it stronger. Other friends decorated my snowbanks with snow paint, leaving colorful messages of support and love. A different friend is also the one who established these banks in the first place, when I wasn't in a place to do them myself.

God is in the habit of using weak and broken people. He doesn't call the equipped, he equips the called. I don't understand why He trusts me, but I trust Him. I trust Him with the people who help build my snowbanks and with the laborious task of shoveling, de-icing, and strengthening--my snowbanks and my soul.

Five Reasons I am Smiling in this Picture

I posted this picture on Facebook this morning of the kids and I celebrating the New Year. A friend asked how I could be so happy when my husband is currently deployed. The most obvious reason would be, "Hey, it's 2013. My man is coming HOME this year" but it really did get me thinking how Team Mayers has done this deployment joyfully (so far).

First of all, not every second is happy. I simply am not in the habit of posting pictures of myself covered in snot and tears on the Facebook. I have yet let anyone video my Stanley Kowalski moments where I am screaming for Chris to help me unclog the toilet. I have a friend or two who could tell you (but won't) that some moments are just downright awful. I allow these moments, but don't let them consume me. I have trusted people who work through the uglies, squeeze me tight, and help me hop back onto the happy train.

Second, my husband has asked me to continue moving our family forward while he is gone. He's asked that I continue my graduate work, that I maintain our family friendships, and that I use this experience to glorify God. He's promised to do the same while deployed. He's held up his end of the bargain, I intend to hold up mine. The thing is though, these things (school, cultivating relationships, church) all provide joyful moments. They provide engagement with others. They provide a satisfaction and fulfillment that I could not possibly deny. Those smiles and content looks in the photo above are not simply Team Mayers--they are the culmination of Christ, the love of friends and family, and good old fashioned strength. My husband trusts me to welcome him home to the functioning, vibrant family he left. I intend to honor his request completely.

Third, I worry very little. This is where our faith comes in. Our family verse is Joshua 1:9.

 "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9 NIV

It's hard to be fearful with that kind of command and promise. Chris and I firmly believe our time apart is purposeful and part of God's plan. Just this morning we were talking about the people we have each become friends with since the deployment started. These are individuals with whom we would not have had an opportunity to meet or socialize with if this deployment had not happened. I also learned how to work my IPod and Luke's Leap Pad...come on...that is growth people ;). Seriously though, we work hard to see the gifts and opportunities in Chris's Afghanistan journey--the negatives are so blatant they try to shadow the joy, but it really is possible to find it.

The fourth reason I am smiling are those kids standing next to me. My job is to model positive, Christlike, behavior for them. I can't do that when shadowed by fear or woeful thoughts. If I am worried and doubtful, I tell them our God is not good enough. If I refuse to leave the house I rob them of swimming and skating, basketball and Scouts, friendships and support I might not be able to offer. My kiddos miss their daddy something awful, but like me, they never doubt his love and commitment to them. While they miss daddy hugs and his booming cheers at sporting events, they are firm in their understanding that he is with them in the things that truly matter.

And finally, the fifth reason I am smiling. As much as I am a starter on Team Mayers, I am Betty too. I am a truly happy individual. I have beat cancer and live daily with an above knee amputation (this is no small feat in North Country snow). I have been forgiven and forgive. I am very much loved by my God, my family, and my friends. I have been blessed by the love of hundreds of children as a second grade teacher and volunteer. The not so subtle curves in my hips are a result of beautiful babies and bountiful nourishment which my husband provides even from afar. My limp is evidence of doctors being able to save my life.

So, how can I be smiling in this picture when my husband is deployed? I have much too much to smile about not to. Chris is still the head of our household, the love of my life, and my biggest cheerleader. "Someone" once said that a great leader is someone who takes a week off of work and nobody realizes s/he's gone. That leader has built such a strong team, they function perfectly when leadership is temporarily gone. While we very much realize Chris is gone, he's built a team that functions beautifully, even when one of us is missing for a little bit.

That's why I am smiling in this picture.