Ready or NotMarch 22, 2010 at 2:37 pm | Posted in Giggles | 25 Comments
When I took Giggles in for his latest check-up, we got the talk. The potty training talk.
“You really ought to go ahead and get him trained,” the doctor said. “Before the new baby comes. Otherwise, you’ll be training them at the same time.” Regression and all.
As she told me this, I shook my head and nodded, smiled even, trying to look like the perfect mommy. The one who heeds all of the good doctor’s advice. But secretly, I laughed hysterically and thought: You’ve got to be kidding.
Water Works (Or it Doesn’t)
I flashed back to Lollipop’s potty training days. When I really, really wanted to believe John Rosemond. When we let her run around without a diaper all weekend so she could see why it was unpleasant to pee yourself. The end result: Nary a drop in the potty. The whole weekend. Super-fun.
Eventually, of course, we got her trained. But I learned a valuable lesson: She was ready when she was ready. Not when we were.
It’s not just potty training. My husband wants to get Giggles in his big-boy bed. So that he and Lollipop can share a room. Plus, we’re thinking about starting him in preschool. All before Bun comes.
This has me wondering, Is Giggles ready, or are we?
My Peter Pan Complex
Well. I know I’m not. I want Giggles in his giraffe diapers, not wearing adorable little-boy briefs with thick blue waistbands. I want him in his crib, not roaming the hall rescuing toilet paper rolls from the linen closet. I want him home with me, sticking stickers on the cat and crashing the stroller into the dog.
I don’t want him to grow up. Even though he is. A little more boy, a little less baby, every day.
He said his first pseudo-sentence yesterday: “Giggles putting purple grapes in his mouth.” He’s turned tall and lanky, like his Daddy. Those chubby, tubby baby thighs I loved so much? Only in pictures now. And he’s starting to voice his opinions: Cheerios, not graham crackers. The train shoes, not the green ones. Goodnight Moon, not Snowy Day.
Second Verse, Same as the First
If I’m honest, part of me wants him to stay a baby for the sake of the status quo. It’s what I know. It’s our routine. I can do it with my eyes closed. And when Bun comes, I’m going to need that. I’ll be juggling feedings, tummy time, endless newborn laundry. And sleep, precious sleep.
If I also have to worry about Giggles wearing the training potty as a hat and ransacking his bookshelves during nap time, I just Might. Go. Crazy. Or eat M&Ms by the bagful. Neither seems like the best course of action.
But I can’t deny that my Giggles, my baby, is growing up. I mean, just yesterday, he said, “Giggles putting purple grapes in his mouth.” Next thing I know, he’ll have mastered his pronouns.
So I struggle to balance what I want and what he needs. Is it the right time for all these changes? Is he ready? In the end, I know that’s what counts.
And me? I’ll be there. Leading the way. Ready or not.