Maddie Saves The Day…And Her Dad’s Life

This past weekend, my daughter impressed me more than I could have ever imagined when she saved Tom’s life. 

I left on Saturday for a girl’s weekend with my roommates from college.  We all met up at Illinois State  for Homecoming and set out for a night of bar hopping and pretending we could still drink like fish, despite the fact we are mommies in their mid-30s. We started at the bar we spent most of our time at in college and indulged in some 32-ounce beers in Homecoming souvenir cups and fried cheeseballs.  I’m pretty sure that 15 years ago I would not have been so jazzed about the souvenir cup part, but I suppose that just shows how much I’ve matured over the years. We topped off the night at LaBamba for some burritos as big as our heads to soak up the liquor the cheeseballs didn’t take care of.

In the morning, despite the fact I had gone to bed at 3 a.m., I was wide-awake at 6:30 a.m.  Go figure, even when I had the chance to sleep without a little munchkin jumping in my bed, my body had other plans.  Of course, within a half-hour, all the other girls’ internal clocks kicked in and we were all up.  We spent the morning lounging in our beds and chitchatting about our kids, our husbands and life in general.  I had just gotten done telling them about Tom and his diabetes and my concerns about his sugars going low, especially when he was home alone with the kids.

I waited a while to call home and at 8:30 decided it was time to check in and make sure everything was okay.  Tom answered his cell phone just before it went to voicemail and his voice sounded muffled.  I thought he said he was wrestling Colin, but he continued to slur his words and wouldn’t stop babbling.  I realized his sugars were low and I started screaming into the phone.  My girlfriends realized something was wrong and their conversation ceased.  I kept yelling to have him put Maddie on the phone or hoped that Maddie would hear me and grab the phone from Tom.  Finally I heard her voice on the other line and she was crying.  She said,  “Daddy won’t wake up!  I can’t get him to wake up!”  We have taught her about Tom’s diabetes and how to tell if he is low and that when he is, she needs to get him juice.  Most times there is juice right next to our bed.  She said she tried to give him juice and he wouldn’t take it.  My first thought was the image of my poor baby trying to force juice on him.  I’ve been in that position myself and it is the most helpless feeling when he is so low he refuses to drink it.  I also knew that he must be really low at that point and I had to act fast otherwise he would die.

I hung up with Maddie and my first thought was to call my neighbors to get there to help her out.  I knew they could get there faster than the paramedics or Tom’s parents not only for Tom’s sake, but for the kids.  Lord knows how long they had been up with Tom in that condition.  Thank God we are close with our neighbors and they know our garage code and about Tom’s diabetes.

I was shaking uncontrollably and couldn’t remember how to dial my phone or my neighbor’s name.  My friends were asking me a ton of questions hoping to help me somehow, but once I was able to access my contacts and call my neighbor I knew it would only be a matter of minutes that help would arrive.  I made sure Lisa brought her husband because Tom is hard to handle when he is low.  He can also get aggressive and I have had to literally wrestle him to get sugar in him several times.

I immediately called Tom’s cell phone back and Maddie answered.  I explained that Richie and Lisa would be coming in the house to help her and not to be afraid.  I was amazed at how calm she was on the other line and within seconds I heard my neighbors voices and I felt at least a less helpless and worried.  I could hear Richie, but he didn’t know I was on the phone so I started shouting, “Someone pick up the phone!!!”  He heard me and then saw it on the nightstand and grabbed it.  I started giving him specific instructions on what he needed to do.  I knew pouring a bottle of Gatorade down his throat while he’s laying in bed incapacitated was next to impossible. I instructed him to go downstairs into the pantry and get the applesauce that comes in a pouch making it easy to squeeze into his mouth.  I told him to tell Maddie he needed “Applesauce Juicies” and she would know what he meant.  My neighbors told me after the fact that the whole time they were trying to find what they needed and figure out what to do beyond my instructions over the phone, Maddie was a rock and remained very clear, focused and helpful.  The only time she lost it and cried was when I got off the phone with her to call the neighbors. She thought I had hung up on her.

I remained on the other line waiting for Richie to get a combination of applesauce jucies and Capri Sun into Tom, unsure of whether or not any of it was getting into his mouth.  Richie mentioned it was getting all over our sheets and I told him not to worry, just save his life.  It felt like forever listening for some sign that Tom was coming to.  Normally once he gets at least a little sugar in him, he starts to come around enough to sit up and drink the juice and aid in the process.  Even after twenty minutes, I heard no sign that he was improving.  I wasn’t sure if I should call 911, but I knew that as long as they kept putting sugar in him, he would come around at some point.  Then I started questioning whether or not there was something else happening to him.  His voice was so garbled, slurred and muffled when I had first called, I wondered if perhaps he was having a stroke or heart attack or something?  I felt so helpless knowing I was 2 ½ hours away and couldn’t do anything to get to my family.  At one point I was standing there in my pajamas putting my shoes on thinking I should just leave, but realized that was pointless.

Meanwhile, Lisa was tending to the kids and trying to distract them.  She thought Colin might still be sleeping, until he emerged from my bedroom waving his Star Wars Light Saber.  He proceeded to sit on Lisa’s lap downstairs where he farted on her several times. Clearly, he was there purely there for moral support and comic relief.

It wasn’t for at least another ten minutes that I heard Tom’s “real voice” in the background and could finally take a sigh of relief.  I spoke to him just long enough to hear him say, “I’m okay,” and heard him call Maddie over so he could comfort her.  At that point, I could finally shift out of damage control mode and let out the emotions I had been holding in.  All I could do was cry and tell him how much I love him. He got off the phone relatively quickly, but I knew that he needed to gather himself and finish coming out of his low.  He called me back within a half hour and we were both emotional after the whole experience. 

This has happened several times in the past and in a handful of times, I’ve had to call 911.  We used to have a Glucagon shot, but Tom had instructed me not to use it on him because he swings when he’s low. He was worried he could hurt me or the needle could break off in his leg or if he hit me while I had it in my hand it could end up my eye or any other host of issues.  Even when I called 911 a few years back, the first thing they asked me before they gave him the shot was whether or not he was known to get violent when he’s low.  Tom’s friend used to pick him up on Friday morning and they would carpool to work together.  He had just pulled up in the midst of the chaos and the paramedics used him to help hold him down while they gave him the shot.  They figured it would be better for Tom to see someone he knew when he came to rather than three strange men in his bedroom.  

We've taught Maddie to call 911 in an emergency and she told us that she was about to call 911, but couldn’t find a cordless phone upstairs and couldn’t reach the one in the kitchen.  I think it is safe to say our guardian angels were working overtime. By the grace of God,  I decided to call at that time and with the help of my superhero daughter and really awesome neighbors they took care of my children and saved my husband’s life.  I think it is important to note this is the same neighbor who helped me break into my house last week.

Needless to say, when I got home I squeezed my husband and kids tight and we took Maddie to Toys R Us to pick out a toy.  Of course, Colin scored a toy too since he kept his cool through the situation despite the fact he was lighting it up on poor Lisa’s lap.  I don't think I will be leaving on any overnight trips any time soon, we have located all the stray cordless phones and put them on the chargers and reviewed how to call 911 on both the home phone and our iPhones.  In addition, we don't ever plan on ever moving out of our commune/neighborhood because the relationship with our neighbors isn't very easy to come by.  I was even able to get over the fact that they had to kick dirty laundry on my bedroom floor out of the way in the process.

In the end, I am just so grateful that my daughter inherited my grace under pressure and that the real “Homecoming” was when I arrived home and everyone was alive and well. 

Breaking and Entering

I don’t mean to offend any blondes out there, but I am pretty sure that I was a blonde in a former life.

While I know plenty of intelligent, well put-together, organized blondes, as of late I seem to be fitting the stereotype that is exactly the opposite of those attributes.  I know I have established that I am always late, my mind has gone to mush and I am a general scatterbrain who is usually running in about 15 directions all at once.  However, this week proved to be one of the more “gold banner” weeks in my little mini-tornado of a world.

It all started with our return from Disney World.  I was exhausted, beat up, and quite frankly a little depressed and disconnected from “the real world.”  As much fun as we had on our trip, it really was nowhere near relaxing. We decided to stay in a house like we did two years ago, since the kids are still pretty young and the house meant we could actually put them to bed at a reasonable time, have some downtime ourselves and not have to tiptoe around a hotel room. While there are many benefits to all the extra space, pool in the backyard, having the in-laws stay with us who could occupy the children for awhile, staying in a rental meant I still had to do four things we can all agree should be avoided while on vacation: cook, clean, do laundry and grocery shop.

To add to my depression upon returning home, a week before we left we had to put down our beloved dog, Kira.  She was fourteen and had a large cancerous tumor on her front leg.  We were concerned about her taking a turn for the worse or passing while we were gone.  You can’t buy your neighbors enough Target gift cards to make up for your dog dying while they took care of it.  So, as soon as we got home I packed up the kids and headed to the shelter.  We ended up adopting a sweet Lab Mix named, “Brownie.”  Maddie ended up renaming her “Daisy.”  She quickly adjusted to our family despite a few accidents in the house and a major case of separation anxiety from yours truly.

The first day we got her, we spent some time outside introducing her to the neighbors.  However, we still hadn’t introduced her to our cat, Tuna.  I had to teach cycle class that evening and figured I could just put up a gate to keep Daisy in the kitchen and living room areas.  Within 5 minutes she had jumped the gate and run upstairs.  I was running out of time and decided to just put her in the garage.  Of course, she kept running back in the house and once I would get her out there, the kids would run out and then she would run in and so-on and so-on.

I finally got her in the garage and the kids in the house and we were off to they gym.  As I was driving there I realized I still had on my fuzzy Sketcher mules, which are pretty much slippers that are acceptable to wear in public.  Normally this wouldn’t be an issue since I wear cycle shoes for class, but my cycle bag was conveniently located on top of my washer at home.  I didn’t have enough time to go back home so I just had to forge on.  I texted Tom and asked if he could bring my shoes to the gym when he got home.  Of course, Tom is not a member of the gym I work at and he wasn’t able to come into the gym to give them to me.  Therefore, I had to explain to my class that my world had been turned upside down by my new K9 friend and that in an effort to get out of the house, I not only forgot to change my shoes, but grab my bag with my cycle shoes.  Luckily my giant clodhoppers still fit in the cages on my spin bike, but my feet were on fire and I had to exit class for about 2 minutes to run and grab my shoes from Tom who was at the front of the building. 

I was so embarrassed and could just hear all the rules and standards that are expected of group fitness instructors running through my head…Be prepared, be on time, every class, every time.  I guess I should be thankful that we are also expected to be entertaining, and I think I achieved that by how ridiculous I appeared.

So, I survived that debacle only to wake up the next day feeling a sinus infection setting in.  I suppose the combination of travel, exhaustion, wiping my own kids’ snot and collecting the germs and bacteria of everyone in the Magic Kingdom did me in.  I was able to get some anti-biotics, but it took a good three days to stop feeling like a Mac truck had hit me.  I survived teaching again on Tuesday night, two classes on Wednesday morning and the general rigmarole of schlepping two kids in and out of the gym, to school, to hockey, etc. etc.  I also learned that Zyrtec is my new best friend and was able to pop one before I taught my Saturday morning class.  Tom is responsible for taking Maddie to skating while I teach on Saturday morning and after forgetting to leave him the car seats the week before, so he made sure he grabbed them the night before.

This week, I got to class, was getting set up and began class only to have my phone ring five minutes into class.  Unfortunately, I use my iPhone for my soundtrack and his call interrupted my music.  Despite my efforts to ignore his call and text him that I was teaching, he kept calling.  Then, I got worried.  I had images of someone with a gaping wound, broken bone or that one of them had escaped and backed the car down the driveway.  I finally answered only to find out that I had Maddie’s figure skates in the trunk of my car.  I was completely mortified that I had to have this hushed conversation with my husband while on stage in front of my class of 30 cyclist.  I shook it off, made a joke of it, and carried on with a smile.  Inside I was beating myself up for not putting my phone on airplane mode, or not remembering the skate bag in my trunk of for not expressing to Tom how important it is NOT to call me during class.

Flash forward to Tuesday.  I got Maddie to the bus and then decided to take advantage of a beautiful fall day and take Colin for a run in the jogging stroller.  We were still putting Daisy in the garage to avoid any accidents in the house, but the day before she had managed to push the door into the house open and was roaming the house when I returned home.  This time, I locked the door to the garage and then exited out the front door, which I locked behind me.  As soon as I closed the door, each door in the house flashed through my head.  I was locked out.  I ran around to the back of the house to see if the backdoor was unlocked, but after absentmindedly forgetting to lock it in the past and getting my hand slapped, I have become diligent about locking it when I leave the house. 

I decided that I would just go for my run and think about my options.  I’m all about multi-tasking.  I came to the conclusion that if one of our windows was unlocked, preferably on the first floor, I could pop the screen out and push the window up and climb in the window.  I had two things going for me, our garage has a keypad and I had access to tools and I had my cell phone with me, so if all else failed I could call a neighbor or locksmith.

I got home and as luck would have it, the front window was unlocked.  The only problem is I couldn’t pop the screen out on my own.  I called my next-door neighbor hoping he hadn’t left for work yet and he didn’t answer.  A few seconds later I saw his garage door open and he was pulling out.  I grabbed him and explained my predicament.  He knows me pretty well and has witness several of my bubble-head moves like leaving my iPod on the back of my car only to come home and find out that it had fallen off in the street in front of our house when I pulled out and I ran it over, smashing it into pieces. 

He tried popping the screen out only to find it popped inward making it difficult to remove.  He finally asked if it was OK to just cut the screen itself.  My first question was, how much will it cost to replace?  He said if he was careful, he could put it right back in himself, otherwise it would only be a few dollars to replace.  I gave him the green light and within five minutes Colin and I were climbing in the front window.  It was the highlight of Colin’s day.  I also realized that no one has a spare key to our house and I don’t even know if a key to the door from the garage to the house or the back door even exists. 

I’m wondering how I can avoid such chaos in my life.  Are other moms as crazed as I am or is there something seriously wrong with me?  I keep waiting for all the smarts I lost when I had kids to return or for my luck to change and neither seems to be happening to me.  I thought about perhaps taking up meditation so that I can work to center myself each day before I get started.  I thought that this might help me stay on track better, roll with the punches better, remember things when I leave the house and stay more sane in general.  Of course, mediation requires even more coordinating, organization and peace and quiet.  It really is a vicious cycle.

I was really beating myself up over my shortcomings when my friend sent me an article that put everything into perspective for me. The link is below for those of you interested or who have time to look at it after reading this.  http://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2012/09/23/why-women-should-stop-trying-to-be-perfect.html Turns out I’m not the only one and most, if not all moms struggle to keep it together, especially those that work. Furthermore, our society certainly doesn’t make it any easier on us. Now, I know that my job teaching group fitness is not a full time job and isn’t like I am a high ranking executive, but it requires the same principles as any job, be on time, be present and focused and be prepared.  I have a hard enough time getting to my job, let a lone being focused and prepared!  No matter how much prep work I do planning out my classes, picking out music or choreographing routines, somehow life always gets in the way.

I did feel better after reading the article and it gave me vindication that I’m not crazy. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, this does not mean that I am going to stop trying to get my act together.  I am not going to just throw my hands up and say, “Screw it? I’m a mom and if I’m late, it’s not my fault.”  I take full responsibility for my actions, but I also need to cut myself some slack sometimes and give myself permission to be imperfect otherwise I will go nuts and I won’t have to worry about making it to my cycle class on time, I’ll be locked up in an institution.  I also need to realize that some things are just out of my control and no matter how hard I try, the odds aren’t always in my favor especially when I am dealing with two young children and a third child named Tom.

Today I walked into Colin’s preschool and one if the teachers stopped me and said she had something for me in the office.  I asked it was good or bad and she said that I overpaid for the field trip and they owed me $2.  Turns out for once my ditziness worked in my favor.

I think this little photo I found on Facebook says it all and is something all us moms have to remember. 

Nobody is perfect and all we can do is keep improving day after day.  At the end of the day, I guess I should be glad that my absent mindedness hasn’t caused any major harm, like forgetting a kid at home or getting into car accident racing to get somewhere on time…knock on wood.

First Day Jitters...

I know most parents are probably counting down the days until school starts, me not so much.

Usually I am the first person to raise my hand at the offer for someone to take my kids off my hands for any period of time, even if it means I can go grocery shopping in peace.  However, when I think about the impending school year I get a little anxious, worried and sad.

I’m not looking forward to leaving the lazy days of summer behind and gearing up for the morning rush that is required to get one kid on the bus and drive another to preschool. Then there is the looming realization that my daughter starts Kindergarten in the fall.  I never really understood why moms got weepy over this milestone in their child’s life.  Even up until a few weeks ago, I was still in denial about how this would affect me.  I remember very vividly the day I went back to work when Maddie was a baby and my friend and co-worker had a daughter starting Kindergarten the same day.  I’m not sure who was more beside herself: me leaving my three-month old at daycare or her putting her five-year old on the bus?  I tried to imagine what she was going through and it just didn’t translate for me.

I remember the angst I felt leaving her each day and would be fine unless I looked through the glass window into the classroom before I left.  At that point, her separation anxiety hadn’t kicked in, so it wasn’t like she was screaming and crying because I left her.  It was more because there she was doing just fine without me.  I know, I know--this is ludicrous especially after the eventual battle I had with her crying so hard she’d throw up each time I left the room from the time she was 15 months until about three-years old.

It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when fellow mom explained the sight of seeing your child on the first day of Kindergarten on the bus with their little face looking out the window at you as the bus drove away.  That’s when it really hit me; this is going to be like dropping her off at daycare all over again.  I’m not sure what will make me cry more when I see her little face in that bus window--a look of fear and despair or utter joy that she’s a “big kid” on the bus going to Kindergarten without me.

Then the fear of the unknown sets in.  What if the kids pick on her on the bus?  What if she has a hard time fitting in? What if she is too shy to ask to go to the bathroom? What if she doesn’t eat her lunch? What if kids are mean to her?  What if she is mean to other kids?  What if she sasses the teacher back when she tries to help her write her name like she does to me? What if she gets in trouble? What if homework frustrates her? What if she’s bad at math like me?  What if they mispronounce our last name like so many people do and she is too shy to correct them and ends up Madeline Stein for her entire school career!

And when I put it all into perspective, I know she’s going to be just fine.  She is a rule follower and would rather die than be in trouble. She’s also a social butterfly who often seeks out friends at the park and introduces herself, “Hi, my name is Madelyn.  Do you want to be my friend?” I also know that her neighborhood friends, especially her boyfriends who live on either side of us would never in a million years let anything happen to her on the bus.  She is already doing homework in her Kindergarten workbook and loves to learn new things.  I am pretty sure the only person who will get frustrated by homework will be me.  I know her teachers are paid professionals who know how to shape young minds. And as for lunch, she will only go to half-day Kindergarten and will have lunch at home. The teachers in preschool eventually figured out her name, so I’m fairly confident we can nip that in the bud as well.

In the end, I have to remember that my first-born is naturally in-love with the idea of school and will likely excel in every way.  She has already told me that her top three things that she is looking forward to at school are The Library, Art Class and the Lunchroom.  However, talk to me in two years when my son starts Kindergarten. I’ll likely be praying for full-day Kindergarten and hopeful that he won’t be the bully on the bus rather than being bullied.

I Got Out Of IT!

Inquiring minds want to know: Did I have to perform a live concert on my front lawn or what?

For those of you who read my previous blog, "How Am I Going To Get Out Of This One?!" you know my daughter had the grand idea to have a concert on our front lawn where she and I would perform.  (See last entry for details).

Since then, I've had a lot of inquiries, especially from the ladies in my mom's office, as to how everything played out.  The day started out relatively hectic.  I had to sub a cycle class and teach my regular Pilates class at the gym first thing in the morning.  The kids went to our neighbors to play while I taught and I gave my neighbor very specific instructions that her job, besides watching my kids, was to convince Maddie that this concert was a bad idea.

After teaching, I was in a rotten mood because due to several technical difficulties my music for my cycle class had been a disaster.  If any of you who take spin or cycle classes, you know that good music is key and mine kept stopping and starting. On top of that, I hadn't notice that the charger for my iPhone wasn't plugged in at the wall when I plugged it in the night before and since I was constantly messing with my phone and sucking what battery I had left, it died halfway through class.  I had to sprint out of the room to find someone with a charger so I could continue to play my music, assuming I could get the applications I use on my iPhone to play my music to cooperate with me.  It occurred to me that I might have to sing to an audience after all, but instead of to my neighbors on the front lawn, it would be to my cycle participants.  Luckily I was able to eek out another half hour of music and got everything to work smoothly for my Pilates class without any major issues.

Colin using broom for his guitar solo!

When I got back to my neigbhors to picked the kids up, my neighbor informed me that some of our other friends from the neighborhood that we hang out with were coming over at 1:00 p.m. for the concert.  As luck would have it, our friend's 8 year old daughter, Marissa, is a Karaoke fanatic and was more than willing to sing with Maddie as long as she could have a solo.  I was ecstatic!  Not only would my daughter love to perform with one of her "swiends," I was off the hook!

Nick showing off his biking skills a la "America's Got Talent."

Marissa performing her solo-Call Me Maybe

At 1:00 we headed outside with our music and waited for the gang to gather.  We put Maddie's sign in the front lawn and Marissa brought some accessories and costumes for the show. The girls began planning for the show and ended up going inside to choreograph their routines and make more signs. Meanwhile the other two moms and I enjoyed some fresh air and a "cold beverage" on the front lawn.  Not something we normally do, but it was a concert and what kind of groupies would we be if we didn't party like rock stars? (and by that I mean having one vodka lemonade!)

The girls were finally finished practicing and came out to perform.  The boys wrapped up their XBox game and came out to participate as well.  The kids decided that the name of Maddie's group was the "Under Pencils Jumping Pencils."  They wrote it on the sidewalk and unfortunately every time I walked by it I thought it said, "Under Penis Jumping Penis." 

Maddie performing Life's A Happy Song

Colin decided to get in on the act and was the opening act.  He and Ethan, the boy next door, lined up several hardhats and used them as drums to perform "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osbourne.  From there Maddie and Marissa performed "I Love You Like A Love Song" by Selena Gomez, Maddie did a solo to "Life's A Happy Song" from the Muppets and the grand finale was Marissa singing "Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen.  Then Ethan and Nick (Marissa's brother) rode their bikes and scooters across the "stage" like the bikers on "America's Got Talent" do. The best part was all I had to do was play DJ. 

Maya-who also produced and directed the production!

Duelling helmets! Ethan and Colin

I don't think I've ever seen my daughter smile so big and I was so proud of her for having the creativity and bravery to perform in front of everyone.  I admired her ability to inspire others and do something out of the ordinary for a Wednesday afternoon.  I am also eternally grateful to my neighbor and our other friend for rallying the troops to make all my daughter's rock star dreams come true.  All-in-all a good time was had by all. Maddie's only complaint was that more people didn't show up. I told her that next time I would do a better job of publicizing her event. Jeez, what a DIVA!

Marissa and Maddie performing I Love You Like A Love Song

Grand Finale!

How Am I Going To Get Out Of This One?

Today Maddie was working on one of her many art projects making pictures for neighbors, telescopes out of construction paper and a sign to put in the front yard.

She asked me to write, spell and tape various scraps of paper. I got her glue, popsicle sticks and glitter until she finally asked me to write, "Music Concert Tomorrow." She went on to inform me she was going to have a music concert on our front lawn for everyone to come watch. She determined that it should be in the afternoon and instructed me to write our address and that it would be held "outside" so people wouldn't get confused. I asked her what kind of music she was going to perform and she said that she was going to sing and hoped that some of her friends would sing with her. I told her that her friends might not be around to sing with, her hoping it would squash her plan. That was until she informed me that I would be performing with her instead.

I wasn't real sure how that would play out or how I could possibly avoid placing her handmade sign in the lawn with the attached popsicle stick waiting for the neighbors to come watch our performance. I am not sure what will be more disappointing, that no one will show up or my singing?

Someone asked what we will sing...likely it will be some of her vocal stylings she performs to herself that is a hodgepodge of Top 40 songs by Katie Perry, Lady Gaga, Carly Rae Jepsen and Justin Bieber. All the words will be off and/or mixed together and she will likely yell at me for singing it wrong.

Of course as with all doozy of a story that is the foundation of this blog, I called my mom. She almost spit out her cup of tea and promised she would take the day off work to witness that one. Thanks, mom.

Mommy, Where's Your Wiener?

I knew this blog was coming. I knew that somehow, some way when I potty trained Colin, there was sure to be a good story, and boy was I right.

We've been gradually working towards potty training for a few months now. I knew he wasn't ready for awhile because he never woke up dry in the morning and just never had the voids that Maddie did when it was time to potty train her. I also feel like I started a little too soon with Maddie and there were more headaches than victories. There may be a slight chance she'll need therapy as a result of my aggressive potty training technique. To my defense, I trained her when Colin was only a few months old, was sleep deprived, desperately wanted to get rid of at least one set of diapers, and many times rushed her along because I was either nursing Colin on the bathroom floor waiting for her to do her duty while he was screaming at the top of his lungs because I had ditched him on the family room floor in order to rush her to the potty.

We have finally gotten to a point with Colin where he understands "Potty Training" has nothing to do with riding a train and he now refuses to wear a Pull Up. A few months, back we started by simply having him pee on the potty before he went to bed each night. This was more out of necessity since he outgrew nighttime diapers and the nighttime Pull Ups don't absorb as much. As a result he would wake up with a wet bed.

He actually had done pretty well adjusting to this routine, except he usually threatens to pee on Maddie as he aims his wiener at her. Then he goes into a soliloquy about how he is "Pee-Pee Guy" and shoots bad guys with his "pee gun." Sigh. Typical boy.

Over the last week or two, I have started putting him on the potty periodically throughout the day in an attempt to keep him as dry as possible. With each trip to the bathroom comes a new discovery. He investigates himself and asks a lot of questions. The questions started simple. "Mom, what is this?" I decided not to use any cutesy words for it, so we call it either a wiener or quite simply a penis.

I then had to make sure that his "discovery" didn't prevent him from aiming it into the toilet. He is like a contortionist and treats his stuff like Silly Putty. It even makes me uncomfortable. A few days later he moved down to his testicles and began trying to figure those guys out. "Mom, what are these?" Again, I tried to be as straight forward as possible and tell them they are his testicles or some men call them "balls." Then he asked me what they were for. A million answers popped into my head, but rather than answer him I told him to ask Daddy.

The latest inquiry came the other day. I have never really been that self-conscious or discrete with the kids since they usually bust open the bathroom door even if I do close it. It never really made much difference to me and I got used to the fact that I probably will never pee alone again. Of course, with Colin's new found curiosity came the realization that I don't have a penis. He was trying to go on his potty chair and I happened to have to go as well. Without skipping a beat, I dropped trou and went as well not realizing what his view from his potty chair was. (Side note: I can't believe I am going into great detail how I went about relieving myself as it pertains to my son. However, this is the reality we live in as parents and there is no such thing as privacy, modesty or a moment’s peace.)

But I digress, Colin caught a glimpse of what I had versus what he had. Suddenly an alarmed look came across his face. "Mom, where's your wiener!!" I explained that I am a girl and girls don't have wieners. “Boys have penises and girls have vaginas.”

He became even more perplexed and tried to get another glimpse. I feverishly pulled up my pants to avoid being the subject of his anatomy lesson any longer. He finally stopped trying to figure it out and proclaimed, "Mommy, you have a wiener but yours is broken." Oh. My. God. I don't even want to know what image in his little mind created that conclusion. Then he told me, "Mom, you better go and get one!"

I gently explained that it isn't broken and that you just can't go out and get one.  I realized that there was more to this conversation that I am sure he can learn on MTV at some point and simply restated my previous statement. "Boys have penises and girls have vaginas." According to Robert Fulghum, everything I learned, I learned in Kindergarten, in this case it was Kindergarten Cop. Then he started asking about various members of our family to take stock of who had what. "Does Daddy have a wiener?"

"Yes, Colin. Daddy is a boy so he has one."

"Does Maddie have a wiener?"

"No, Colin. Maddie is a girl like me. She doesn't have one."

The list continued to grandparents and close friends.

Later that evening I was helping Colin get his bike out of the garage. He looked up at me and proclaimed, "Mom, I think you're gettin' a wiener."

Hmm. Was it my extraordinary man-like strength lifting his bike that brought him to that conclusion or just wishful thinking that maybe I would just sprout one so we could be alike? Whatever the case may be, all I could do was chuckle and shake my head. My neighbor was watching this exchange from afar and inquired why I was laughing and shaking my head. All I could tell her was that Colin was writing my next blog for me.

The next day, Colin continued his inventory of who had one and who doesn't even outside of bathroom time. "Dad, you know Jimmy right? (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

"Yes, Colin. I know your friend Jimmy."

"Do you know his daddy?"

"Yes, I know his daddy. What about him?"

"Does he have a wiener?"

"Yes, Colin. Jimmy's dad is a man so he has a wiener."

"Oh."

Then Colin proceeded to list off everyone he knows. Let's put it this way, if Colin has ever met you, chances are he has inquired whether or not you have a penis or not. And if he isn't sure, he'll come right out and ask you. Case in point, the girl who lives across the street got caught in Colin's crosshairs as they were doing sidewalk chalk the other day. "Hey G, do you have a wiener?" This poor 8 year old didn't know what hit her. She hadn't been informed of Colin's most recent phase and was completely mortified.

Yesterday the kids were at a friend's house for a playdate and he interrupted playing with his toy to turned very nonchalantly and asked my friend, "Hey, do you guys have wieners?" Luckily I was able to explain why my son asked if she and her 6 year old daughter had penises. My fear is that he will start doing this out in public. I can just picture him asking a server at a restaurant or shouting it through the grocery store at an innocent bystander.

In addition to his curiosity about parts of the body, he is interested in all things poop. I can't say I'm surprised since it is his favorite word. He told me a little story the other day about his poop. I asked if he had to go while he was sitting on the potty and he told me that the poops were still in his butt watching a movie about shooting guns made out of poop. Hmm. Very creative.

The next time he told me there was a mommy poop, daddy poop and two poop kids inside his butt watching a movie. He went on to tell another story about what they were doing, where they were going, etc. etc. Honestly, I just wanted his poop family to come out and join us in the toilet so I didn't have to sit in the bathroom any longer. Unfortunately, most times his new friends end up having a party in his Lighting McQueen underpants instead of where they belong in the potty.

Then there is the eternal question--what is poop? I tried to be as honest and intelligent as possible since most of his future conversations on the subject won't be, and told him it is all the food he eats after his body takes the good stuff out of it. I also told him it is called "waste." That stressed him out and he cried, "I don't want to waste!" I further explained that if he didn't poop, he would explode. Turns out he'd rather waste than explode, and he accepted that answer.

As of right now, Colin has mastered the pee thing. He even tells me when he had to go as opposed to peeing under his train table. The poop thing is a work in progress and we are working on bribing him with Matchbox cars to go tell us before he goes in his pants instead of after-the-fact.

I do have to say that Maddie is paying back her debt to Colin for all the times her potty training left him lying helpless and hungry on the floor while I sat with her. Now she sits with Colin in the bathroom and reads him books. It gives me a chance to actually write this entry as opposed to sitting on the bathroom floor discovering how many parts of my toilet I missed when cleaning. I guess it the silver lining to having two kids 23 months apart and all those diapers I've changed over the last five years.