Confession of a Shoeaholic.

Warning: There is no point to, moral of, lesson to be learned from this post.

I love to shop. It is a hobby of mine. Sometimes the gathering of items for a project is more fulfilling than the actual project itself.

I think it all goes back to kindergarten. We go to Wal-Mart, pick up our class list, and buy brand new, colorful, amazing, wonderful school supplies and they are JUST FOR US. What a high! I have such fond memories of packing my backpack the night before the first day of school, writing my name (or scrawling, I have terrible penmanship) on all of my new treasures. Sometimes my mom would try to get her hands on stuff first and just write our last name so that it could be shared. Oh no, none of this collective ownership for me, I want to write LINDSAY on everything. My Precious!

I have never been too into clothes or trends, though. I think this also goes back to elementary school. We didn't have a lot of money, and we didn't spend that much on clothes at all. My mom rarely bought things for herself, she sewed for us when we were younger, and we typically only got new clothes a couple of times a year, once before school started and once when it started getting hot. So we got basic stuff, tee shirts, shorts, jeans, tennis shoes, stuff that would last for the rest of the season.

I never would have imagined I would turn into a shoe junkie. But I kinda have.

And not even for myself.

I. Collect. Girls'. Shoes. And, to a certain extent, clothing in general.

My girls' closets are amazing. They have so many outfits, it is almost disgusting. I could put something different on them everyday and not do laundry for several weeks. And they have more socks, panties, tights, bows, clips, barrettes, and headbands than I thought possible.

The shoes, however, take the cake.

Mom: "Kate, go put on your shoes."

Kate: "Which ones?"

Mom: "The sandals."

Kate: "Which sandals?"

Mom: "The white sandals!"

Kate: "But they not match!"

She has no less than 10 pairs of shoes. And she wears them all.

She has flip flops and Crocs for swim lessons and gymnastics, tennis shoes for playing and preschool, brown Mary Janes, black Mary Janes, white ballet flats, white sandals, gold sandals, brown sandals and rain boots. And that's not counting the ruby red slippers from Aunt Sarah or the silver gem ballet flats that are on deck for when her feet grow just a little bit. Or the pink slip-on tennies that I'm saving for this summer when it's too hot for socks but she has to wear closed-toe shoes.

I can justify just about anything.

Meanwhile, little Brookie has tiny little feet, and she is in a different season than big sister was. So the shoes that fit her now are winter blacks and browns, which means "they not match!"

So off to the store we go today, for some new sandals for Brookie, and maybe some for Kate.

I found my Mecca, ladies, it is here in Houston and it is called Rattle Tattle. You only thought I'd hit rock bottom. I tell myself that Brooke will wear her big sister's shoes and clothes. (Eye roll) Poor Tommy, he is in so much trouble.

Oh my "goomess," as Kate would say, Rattle Tattle is like crack for Kate. They sell every frilly, frou frou, girly item you can think of, and all of the adorable boy stuff that Moms and Grammies love and that makes the daddies cringe. One part of the store is tutus and dance wear, then they have all the beautiful smocked dresses that I love, a toy corner for the kids to play while you shop, and right in the middle is the SHOE SECTION. Quincy on Little Einsteins would be saying, "I can not believe it!" Both girls walked out of there with two new pairs of sandals for the summer.

And I will be returning soon for their smocked dresses for Easter. Don't kid yourself.

Abby Normal

Few things can bring me crashing to Earth like a well child check-up.

I usually walk in on top of the world, thinking that I have the most wonderful, advanced, spectacular child in the joint, only to find out 45 minutes later when they finally call our name that I, sadly, do not.

I am then reminded of how little I actually do know about health and development in general when faced with the health and development of the two little people living in my house.

I also think that sometimes, this is all a load of horse manure.

What is child development based on? From what I can gather, it is the average time that an average baby/child meets specific developmental milestones. This is similar, perhaps, to saying that every woman on the planet ovulates on day 14 of her cycle and then exactly 40 weeks later, a baby is born. Which is bunk.

So if we're talking in averages, then about 50% of babies at 18 months have 10 -100 words in their vocabulary, right? Or is that too wide of a range? Maybe the bottom 10% have 10 words, the next 10% have 20 and so on. And if my child has 100 words but is still not feeding himself, does that mean he is advanced verbally and delayed with fine motor skills? What does this all mean?!?!

Before I say anything else, I don't want to sound as if I don't appreciate the heads up. I definitely needed to be told that we weren't devoting time everyday to Brooke's vocabulary and speech, and since that appointment, she has been talking more and gaining words every day. But I am wondering if it is what we are doing that is making a difference, or just the fact that I'm truly listening to her.

The one thing that has struck me the most about the whole speech/language development thing is how many moms have had their children evaluated. Formally or informally, pediatrician or speech pathologist, so many of the moms that I come into contact with daily have sought help for their child's own speech development. Is it just because we are aware of the resources available to us, or is it that most of the kids I know are in some type of preschool situation, I don't know. It's just more widespread than I thought.

Because obviously, I don't know everything. But I still think that Brooke is amazing, wonderful, and spectacular, if not advanced. She is perfectly average, with her little hairy patch on her belly and her 20 words at 18 months.

The rest of the story: Potty-training

When we left off, I was waxing about the brilliance of my sister-in-law. In Phase Three: Bribery, we discovered that Kate was willing to do anything for a Barbie.

The story from Jill was that with her oldest son, she bought him a toy and put it on the mantel out of reach, yet in sight, and told him that he could have it if he pooped in the toilet. Well, Jill was basically tapped out at this point of potty-training with him and so I am sure that the relief she felt when IT ACTUALLY WORKED was transcendent.

I know it was for me.

I also know that it was short lived when we went right back to not pooping in the toilet the very next day.

So we did it again, like instructions on a shampoo bottle: Bribe, Poop, Repeat.

We wisely added stipulations to the bribe, such as "You must poop in the toilet every day for the next three days to receive this toy." Then we added a day, until Kate hit the week mark, and we knew that we were golden. So we were many dollars poorer and many Barbies richer, but we had a (mostly) potty-trained almost three-year-old.

The moral of the story is that everyone has their own methods of enticing their own stubborn little ones to do what they don't want to do, and there is no one right or wrong way to potty-train. I learned a lot about how my child handles frustration (not well,) and that she really just wants to please us, as most toddlers do.

So, my advice for potty-training is as follows:

• Come to the party prepared. Have your kid pick out whatever special character underwear they like, but know that those are like wearing a garbage bag in a hurricane. The ones that you really want are the double seated underwear, I think Gerber makes them, because at least they slow down the big pees. If your kid demands to wear Buzz drawers, just put them over the thick ones.
• I know nothing about potty-training boys. My sister's boys learned to pee sitting down and standing up, my sister-in-law's boys only stand up. Whatever their daddy does, they're going to want to do. Here I must add the story about Kate walking in on Tommy peeing and patting him on the butt and saying, "Good girl, Daddy."
• You have to teach girls to wipe from front to back, otherwise you are in for a world of hurt.
• Those flushable wipes are usually fragranced, so if you have a sensitive bum, steer clear. Kate calls it "ouchie pee pees."
• Take an extra change of clothes, including socks, in a large Ziploc bag everywhere you go. When there is an accident, you use the Ziploc for all the wet stuff.
• Invest in a piddle pad for your car seat, they are usually around $10 or $15 and will save you from having to dismantle the carseat once a day.
• Don't stress if they are still in diapers at night, that is a brain development thing and it takes a while for some kids. Kate is still wearing Pull-Ups to bed. She wakes up dry about twice a week, and almost every day at nap time she is dry. I made the mistake of withholding liquids close to bed time to try to help her stay dry. The only result was a mild UTI and dehydration. Their bodies have to start telling their kidneys to slow down at night before they can stay dry for such long periods of time. It's not a behavior thing, it's a physiology thing. Obviously, giving a kid a huge juice drink at dinner and then putting them straight to bed is a recipe for disaster, but letting them have liquids and teaching them to use the toilet before bed is not a bad idea. When we lived in Hobbs, the air was so dry, Kate was thirsty all the time, so she got used to having a sippy cup of water in her bed every night. We still do this for both girls and there is no difference in their diapers on the nights we forget.
• Speaking of Pull-Ups, they did not work for Kate as a potty-training tool. We use them now for sleeptime so that if she needs to use the bathroom she is not having to take off her diaper and then put it back on with the tabs and whatnot. Not that she ever has actually gotten out of bed, gone to the bathroom, washed up and went back to bed, but just in case she does... I like to set my girls up for success! Pull-Ups are more expensive and less absorbent than regular diapers, and Kate always went ahead and peed or whatever in them because they felt like diapers to her.
• I have no idea how many packages of panties we went through during those two months of hell, but I know that I probably bought panties everytime we went to the store. I hated rinsing out the mess and washing them with all the other clothes, especially since Brookie was a tiny baby. Even though we have a Sanitize setting on our washer, it was still poopy panties in my washer. Ick. So I just treated them like a poopy diaper, and tied them in a trash bag and tossed them. Eco friendly, no. Less nauseating, yes. And it was incentive for Kate not to poop on whatever friend she was wearing that day. "Kate, don't poop on Ariel," or "Don't poop on Minnie Mouse." And if she did, I made her say "bye-bye" to whatever friend as I tied them up in their own little burial sack.
• Finally, make it fun for them! Let them pick out their own soap, stool, towel, or whatever so that they are excited to go in the bathroom.

I pray for you, my friend, that it will not be as difficult for you as it was for us. I pray that your angel baby will never have an accident, those kids really do exist. Who knows, maybe Brookie will be that child. And as a disclaimer, I am not an expert on kids, I'm an expert on MY kids and a shaky one at that. I hope you don't make as many mistakes as I did, and if you do, you learn from them for the next frustrating lesson.

But the most important thing that I took away from all of this was that negative reinforcement doesn't work in this situation. You don't have to bribe or use Barbies or M&Ms or whatever, but being upbeat, praising them for their success and encouraging them when they fail makes them feel empowered, and you don't feel like a monster everyday.

And you know what, if you want to be one of those moms who scrapbooks about your kid sitting on the toilet, you just go right on ahead and do it.

And now I'm off to peruse my new iPhone that Tommy surprised me with for Valentine's Day. YAY! Good night!

Why are we scrapbooking about toilets?

So my good friend Courtney and I were hunting for fireworks stickers on the scrapbooking aisle at Hobby Lobby last week, when I came across multiple embellishment, quote rub-ons and sticker packages for potty-training. I have seen these before, but just dismissed them as something that I would never buy, but for some reason that day it really struck me as odd.

Who wants to make a commemorative page in their child's scrapbook about pee and poop?

I love my children, and I have successfully potty-trained one of them, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that it is not something that I will need to be reminded of for the rest of my life.

It was terrible.

I was crying, screaming, Mommy dearest for at least two months. I cleaned poop or pee off of every surface in my house at least twice. Poor Kate was worse off because on top of trying to figure out how NOT to poop or pee on herself, she had to live with me, the crazy lady.

I call this Phase One: Preparation. I talked to anyone and everyone who had ever potty-trained a child, I read what Dr. Sears and Dr. Spock had to say, and I bought books and cartoons for Kate with various creatures using the toilet. I bought a potty chair, a potty ring, a stool and flushable wipes. I bought Pull-Ups, double seat panties, plastic panties, and Disney Princesses panties. Target loved me.

Several of the mommies from Kate's gymnastics class were potty-training at the same time so that we could move our kids from Mommy and Me to Preschool class. We could all see who had been successful since last week because there was no more bunchy diaper or Pull-Up sticking out under their leotards. And one by one, they all started wearing panties.

EXCEPT KATE.

Even the kids who were younger than her were at least able to wear panties during the day. So I got all their tips and advice and put it to use. I call this Phase Two: Desperation.

Amy said to do the timer trick, set the timer for a certain amount of time and when it rings, take them to the toilet. Leave them there until they go or for five minutes, whichever comes first. If they go, set the timer for forty five minutes and repeat. If they don't set the timer for ten minutes and try again.

Kate would scream and turn red and spit and act like a demon if I made her sit there for five minutes. As soon as that timer went off, we both let out a huge sigh of relief, and off she would go. A few minutes later she would pee or poop on herself.

Laura said to put her on the potty and squat down in front of her and make her squeeze each of my ten fingers as hard as she could, hypothetically this would make her tighten all of her muscles and if there was anything in there, it would come out.

Kate would grab one finger and scream and spit and turn red and throw a fit.

Then there were the moms who said it took them one day and two accidents and their angel babies just got it. There were the daddies who took credit for potty-training their kids (HA!) while mom was seeing red, and the well meaning older generation whose advice was to try again later, maybe she's just not ready.

I was so afraid I had scarred my poor child for life with all of my ranting and begging and isolation in the downstairs half bath. I was worried that she would start kindergarten and still be wearing Pull-Ups. Mostly I was afraid that I was doing something wrong. There is so much guilt and fear associated with motherhood, I hope my daughters never realize how much power they have over me. I would call Tommy and vent my frustration on him, and feel like an absolute failure as a parent for most of the day. Then I would call my sister-in-law.

She is one of my best friends and biggest champions. I love her as a friend and as a sister-in-law. She and I are so different, but as parents we have a lot of similarities. More on her later. What she suggested turned it all around, and I call this next section Phase Three: Bribery or Bargaining with the Devil.

I'm usually pretty late...

But this is ridiculous. Everyone I know has started a blog, mostly to update family and friends on their kids' goings on, even people who probably don't have time to do it. So here I am, a late addition to the club!

I love to write and talk, so I think my problem was that I was so worried no one would read (yet another) blog by (yet another) stay at home mom/housewife. But a thought has been running through my head lately, and I don't know who said it first, but it's so true.

"You wouldn't care so much about what others thought of you if you realized how little they actually did."

So I'm doing this for me, and also for all my friends who ask me questions about how I chose to sleep train, potty train, etc. my own fabulous girls. I LOVE to tell people what to do, and now, instead of writing emails, I am just going to add it to the blog. It's a great idea, right?!

Here's the other thing, I have been asked so many times recently if I will be going "back to work" when my girls are older.

Ahem.

I do "work" everyday, this, my job of taking care of my children, preparing three daily meals and maintaining my home is my chosen career. I went to college, chose a major, went to as many classes as I felt were necessary and graduated by basically putting in the minimum amount of effort. I then discovered that I had no desire to actually use my degree, so basically the three and a half years I spent earning my journalism degree were wasted, right?

Not really, because I still love to write, it's just that I want to write about what I want to write about. Sometimes it's my family, other days it's cooking, sometimes it's a rant about competitive suburban moms. So feel free to check in every now and then to see what I'm in the mood for today.