Chelsea Kaplan’s Musings About Life... After Birth

I’m nearly two weeks into potty training Big Bro, and sadly, it hasn’t been going too well. He’s definitely “ready” (or as “ready” as he’ll ever be), and we’re having decent success at home, but when we’re out, he rarely wants to stop what he’s doing to tell me he’s gotta go. Therefore, we’ve had our fair share of accidents - and a lot of them have been full-on gross, if you catch my drift. Just this week we had one at school today, one at the park the other day and another that same day when Momtourage members Meredith, Jen and I were at Chicken Out eating lunch with our kids. Ugh. I know we just started, but already, I am so over it and so frustrated. Obviously, I can’t communicate this to my kid, as that would only set us back even further, not to mention guarantee his presence on some therapist’s couch 20 years from now.

I needed some major advice, so I consulted my brother-in-law, Michael, a child psychiatrist and the father of two older kids (read: he’s done this before, and actually knows what the heck he’s talking about). He listened intently, and then offered these words:

“I think it’s time to bring out the big guns.”

“The big guns?”

“M&Ms.”

Really? I had always heard you weren’t supposed to use food as a reward when potty training, despite the fact that one Momtourage member (whose name has been hidden to protect the innocent - and the guilty) bribed her kid with her favorite, blue licorice. It worked like a charm, both in getting her potty trained as well as in turning her poop turquoise.

“Yes, you generally shouldn’t use sugary sweets,” he said, “but in this case, you need a jump start, and I think he’d be motivated by the reward.”

I wasted no time picking some up today - little Halloween snack packs that can easily be thrown into my purse. I picked up some extras for myself, my motivation to endure - literally - more of this crap.

When discussing this plan of attack with another child-development professional, she echoed my brother-in-law’s advice. “Honestly, would you show up to work if you weren’t getting paid?” she said. Point taken. “Don’t worry,” she reassured me. “Really, he won’t be expecting M&Ms when he’s 4.” Let’s hope not.

When I think about Michael’s M&M advice, it makes perfect sense - especially in the case of potty training. I guess kids sometimes need that extra goal - whether it be a piece of blue licorice or the ability to push the real-life vacuum as Momtourage member Sloane offered her son while training him. So, I’m trying the M&M trick, and hoping for the best.

I just hope I don’t reward myself with them too often. 

This past weekend, my parents came in town and watched the boys while my husband and I got the hell outta Dodge (a.k.a. Chevy Chase, MD). As much as we love the little critters, Little Bro’s 6:00 a.m. wake-ups and the stresses related to potty training Big Bro were seriously taking a toll, and we were both so in need of a break.

We went to fairly nearby St. Michael’s, MD and stayed at the GORGEOUS Inn at Perry Cabin. Interestingly, a good part of the movie “Wedding Crashers” was filmed there. Remember the senator’s house where Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn’s character’s go stay? It was this hotel, actually (check out the web site - you’ll totally recognize it). It’s right on the Chesapeake Bay, and wow, it was beautiful. We slept late, got massages at the hotel’s spa, hung by the pool, ate some amazing food at 208 Talbot, read the paper by the water and caught up on the first season of “Mad Men” (which is major league amazing - if you haven’t seen it - you must rent the DVDs). Neither of us wanted to leave. It was Heaven.

When we returned to D.C., we were all rejuvenated and happy to see the boys. What a difference a weekend away makes.

Big bro has been going through a period where he prefers that we call him by a name other than his own. The name changes weekly, and most are plucked from things he sees on television. There was a five week-long “Backyardigans” phase where he was “Pablo” for one week, “Austin” for two, “Tasha” for another and then “Pablonator” (from the “Cops and Robots” episode, naturally) for the final week. After that, he wanted to be addressed as “Mr. Diego”, which I am assuming is some sort of Dora/Diego reference, though I have no idea from where the “Mr.” originated (because really, shouldn’t it be Señor ?). Up until last weekend, his name choice was “Pony”, one of the monster trucks in “Meteor and the Mighty Monster Trucks”. Interestingly, Pony is the only girl truck on the show - and just happens to be purple. As much as I’d like to use this selection as ”Maybe my son IS gay!!!” evidence, I actually think he likes her because she’s purple, his favorite color (which, still, is not totally masculine, right?). Anyway...presently, he’s “Remy” from the movie “Ratatoullie”. He’s even gone so far as to dub Little Bro “Emile” (the big brother rat in the movie, but whatever....), my husband “Daddy Rat” and me “Mommy Rat”.

When he chooses a name, we MUST address him as such. Calling him by his actual name gets you a swift admonishing ("It’s Remy."). He gets into it by referring to his newly-monikered self in the third person ("Remy wants a cookie!”, “Remy does not want to take a rat bath!"). If you want to get him to do something, the only way to be successful is to call him by his new name. Apparently, this goes on at school too. After requesting that she call him “Pony”, his teacher, who also happens to be Grandmomtourage member Debbie, mother of Momtourage member Jen, assumed this was my pet name for him, and asked Jen to confirm her suspicion. “No, I thought it was Mr. Diego,” she replied. Of course, I had to explain that no, in fact, he’s actually so obsessed with a purple, female monster truck (which part of that is the most objectionable?) from television that he feels compelled to take on her identity. “Ohhhhh...” they replied.

What’s funny about this story is that apparently my husband went through a similar phase. In the first grade, the school called his mother to tell him that he had been writing “Pelé Kaplan” as his name on all of his assignments.

His teachers were not amused. Neither was my education professor mother-in-law when they called her in for a conference and tried to tell her to make him stop. “Why don’t you just worry about teaching, okay?” she told them. “He can sign his name however he wants.” Oh, snap! Of course, she knew he’d eventually grow out of it, which he has. For the most part.

Of course, just like my mother-in-law, I know this little role-playing thing is a harmless phase. I just hope that when he’s tempted to dye his hair blue or pierce his nose to “express himself” in high school, he just asks to be called “Pony” instead.

I am so sick of seeing stories about how celebrities lost their baby weight that if I read one more, I think I’ll puke until I lose all of mine. It’s neither original nor all that funny anymore to complain about how unrealistic the rates as which celebrities lose their baby weight are. Obviously, it’s their job to do so, and because they’re multi-millionaires whose job is to look amazing, they literally spend all day and millions of dollars ensuring that within 4 or so months after popping out their kids, they’re lean and mean again.  Certainly, if you and I had Jennifer Lopez’s money, we’d have nannies caring for our kids (b.s. to her and Skeletor’s claims that they don’t employ nannies, by the way) while our personal chef, trainer and nutritionist (according to this week’s US Weekly) literally worked our butts off. And then, of course, we’d be rocking bikinis four months after having twins, just as she was recently seen doing.

For us real gals, the real way to lose weight is the un-fancy “eat less and exercise” program. I’m no health expert, but I know (and, naturally, hate) the simple truth that when you burn more calories than you consume, weight comes off. When I finally decided to lose my weight after Big Bro was born, I lived on BALANCE Bar Bare Sweet & Salty bars. They come in Chocolate Almond and Peanut Butter flavors, but my favorite was Yogurt Nut. What I like about these bars is that unlike other nutrition bars, they actually taste good and not all artificial and cardboard-y. They’re the perfect combo of salty and sweet, and they really do keep you satisfied for hours (note to Weight Watchers devotees: they’re four points each).

This go-’round, I’m still on the bars, but I’ve added Momtourage member Alicia’s not-so secret secret: drink lots of water. Because I find drinking loads of plain water rather boring and therefore somewhat painful to actually do, I’ve been guzzling this new water beverage called twist. I’m freaked out by most things artificial in my drinks (my food, not so much - see above), so this stuff has none of it. Essentially, it’s an organic, low-calorie (less than 10 per serving), preservative-free water flavored with juice and organic agave nectar for just a touch of sweetness. They come in six fruity flavors: Lemon, Mandarin White Tea, Mango Acai, Pomegranate Blueberry, West Indies Lime and Peach (my favorite, because I’m from Georgia like that).

Seriously - these drinks are awesome. If you need inspiration to drink yourself come water - you must try them. You can get these waters for around $1.29 for 19-ounces at specialty grocery stores (like Whole Foods) around the country. If you’d like to try them, I’ve got a set of all six flavors to give away to 10 winners each. To be eligible to win, you must be registered for The Momtourage’s mailing list, so if you’re not, click on the green “Join Our Mailing List” box at the top, right-hand corner of this page to register. 

15 (okay, 20) pounds to go......

Here in DC, my Momtourage and I are in full-on potty training mode. Some of us have all but accomplished fully potty training our kids (Dana), some are well on their way (Alicia), and some are just beginning to introduce the idea (the rest of us). Regardless of where we actually are in the process, it’s all on our minds, as most of us have kids who will be 3 between August and December.

I fall into the “just beginning to introduce the idea” category, as Big Bro is no where near being fully ready. He is, however, interested in the subject, which is promising. He loves sitting on his little potty before he takes a bath at at other times during the day, and occasionally, as luck would have it, he pees in it. My husband and I make a huge deal of it when he does, he feels happy, and all is good in the world. Now he’s fixated on pooping in it, which I consider a sign of progress. He’ll sit and sit and grunt, hoping to make things happen, confused as to why “the poop’s not coming out!” each time he wants it to. Despite this frustration, a few days ago, he actually was successful. My husband and I were freaking out, we were so excited (never thought we’d be those parents, but, of course, we are), not to mention proud of him. It hasn’t happened again since then, but he keeps on trying, and that’s all we can ask for at this point.

To maintain a child’s potty training momentum, a lot of professionals and books recommend instituting some kind of reward system - you know, a sticker a star or some sort of treat each time they go, as incentive. My kid’s not into stickers, but he does love hand stamps, so I’m using Melissa & Doug’s Happy Handle Stamping Set as his bathroom bonus. Each time he goes, he gets to pick one stamp (current favorite: the paw print, which he says is a “clue” as in a “Blue’s Clue’s” clue). They’re easy, convenient and economical, and, best of all, he really feels like getting one is some special sort of treat. Therefore, in my opinion, they’re the perfect potty reward. And if you’re one of those folks who gets all concerned about the psychological ramifications of rewarding your kid each time he poops or pees on the potty, chill. Do you honestly think he’ll be 13 and still expecting a sticker each he poops? Glad we’re clear.

You can get a stamping set of your own for $9.95 at divasanddrooligans.com. For 15% off your purchase of the stamping set and anything else you find on there that you must have, enter code MOMTOURAGE15. The site is also running a cool promotion where if you spend $35 or more on merchandise, you can purchase any of their screen tees or onesies for $1 when you enter the code DOLLARTSHIRT.

Now go forth and potty train!

Heather from Sarasota, FL writes:

“My kids will eat nothing but the typical kid-fare: french fries, mac and cheese, fried chicken fingers, PB&J, etc. They like fruit, but hate vegetables. Should I be concerned that they’re not getting enough vitamins? Should I give them supplements? Will they ever like good food?

The Momtourage’s illustrious pediatrician, Dr. Reva Snow, answers:

When my older son was 3 1/2, he gave up mac and cheese (which, by the way, could only be Annie’s white cheddar with shells; any other pasta shape was anathema).  Priorto that he had given up pretty much anything else he used to eat including spaghetti, all vegetables, most fruit and anything dairy. My irritation level spiked: now what the heck was I going to feed him? Now he’s 6, and while his diet is still quite limited compared to many of his friends, he now eats an assortment of fruits, a few vegetables, and a
fair variety of proteins and carbs (I’ve given up on dairy; thank goodness for calcium-fortified orange juice). And once in a blue moon he’ll even try something new without gagging.

It’s normal for children to go through a sometimes prolonged picky eating phase, usually beginning between their first and second birthdays. At least in part this is a result of wanting to exert some more independence and control. And because it’s about independence and control, fighting or forcing the issue will make things worse, not better.  Plus, you never want to set up bad or confusing associations with food (or with pooping, but that’s for another “Ask the Pediatrician").

Your best bet is to remain low-key and model the eating behaviors you want your kids to acquire.  Easy to say and hard to do when feeding your kid is a basic tenet of mom-dom.  Here’s some tips to hopefully make that job easier:

1) Whenever possible, eat meals together and let your kids see you enjoying a variety of healthy foods.

2) Keep treats as treats, not as bribes or substitutes. I promise your child will not starve even if she seems to refuse to eat anything but potato chips and you don’t give them to her.

3) Know that children - toddlers in particular - will grow and thrive on what to an adult is a remarkably small amount of food.

4) In addition to putting out foods you know he’ll eat, put out a small amount of something you wish he’d try (like a vegetable).  Repeated exposure will actually, over time, make these hated foods more acceptable.

5) Even though you absolutely do, act like you don’t care what your child eats or how much. Calmly encouraging or mildly offering verbal positive reinforcement for tasting new foods is fine.

6) Teach older children (3 or so, and up) about “growing foods” that make them strong, fast, big, etc., and involve even younger kids too in choosing (and growing, if you’re so inclined) and preparing food.

7) When your young toddler starts refusing previously acceptable foods, don’t give up altogether on offering them. It might just be a “food jag” or phase that will pass fairly quickly.

8) Try different forms of the same food - cooked, raw, with sauce, with cheese, spicy, mixed with other foods, whatever you think will work.

9) Encourage your child to physically explore preferred foods, even if they don’t actually ingest them. Use zucchinis and peppers as stamps, or bang a drum with carrots! Again, the more familiar the food the more acceptable it will become.

10) Know that it’s actually pretty uncommon for American children to be significantly vitamin-deficient (assuming you’re not feeding them exclusively Cheez Curls and Pepsi), so they don’t really need vitamins.

11) Take the long view on their intake - if they hit all food groups over a week, rest easy. And if you are concerned enough that you can’t at least pretend to be relaxed about their eating habits, or if their diet is exclusively white, by all means give them a multi-vitamin.

12) All of us were once, to some degree or another, picky eaters. And all of us, to some degree or another, learned to eat and enjoy a variety of healthy foods. Someday, and it will probably be here before you know it, so will your strong-willed, chicken-finger-lovin’ finicky kid!

[NOTE: There are some kids who have significant sensory issues relating to foods and textures, medical issues that show up as severely limited diets or overall intake, or who are not gaining appropriate weight. If you are concerned about any of these, or feel like your child is significantly more picky than typical, please talk to your pediatrician.]

The other day I was in a department store restroom, changing the diaper of my two and a half-year old. He’s big for his age, so he was sprawled out on the table, and we were chatting away, my strategy for keeping him from flailing around. A woman, most likely in her mid-60s, comes up next to me and in an exceptionally disapproving tone goes, “That boy looks old enough to be going to the bathroom on the potty!”.

Um, excuse me?

A few responses immediately came to mind:

1) “Are you (expletive deleted) kidding me? Who the (expletive deleted) do you think you are, you (expletive deleted expletive deleted)? Mind your own (expletive deleted) business!”

2) “Gee, thanks lady! I never considered that at two and a half, potty training may be something I should consider doing with my son. Thank God you suggested that to me, the reigning Dumbass Mom of the Year! I will forever be in your debt. Because of you, my child will go to college knowing how to defecate on a toilet! What would I have done if I had never met you?”

3) “Wow, I had no idea that someone who’s never met my child has a more keen awareness of his potty training readiness than I, his very own mother! Since you do, here you go! (Hands child to obnoxious lady) I’ll pick him up from you in a month once’s he’s all trained. Thanks so much - you rule!”

It’s a good thing I was in the middle of wiping his butt, because I would have loved to have said one of the above. Instead I ignored her and went about my business cleaning up my son’s business. I was, however, fuming.

No matter who they come from, unsolicited advice and/or obnoxious comments - especially when they have to do with your parenting, can be pretty infuriating. Perhaps some people are able to let it roll of their backs, but I am not one of them. Parenting is hard, and when someone questions your choices or fitness...well, that’s what we Jews call “chutzpah”: nerve. Don’t. Go. There.

So I’m asking in hopes that I can find comfort in your similar experiences....what are your worst obnoxious/unsolicited comment experiences? 

Momtourage member Alicia recently did the unthinkable.

Oh yes, she got a minivan.

“It’s really nice,” she explained, as the Momtourage listened, eyes wide as she confessed her recent purchase to us. If she had told us she was joining the circus, we probably would have had a greater understanding of her decision. “The doors open automatically, and it’s so roomy!” she said, giggling at us. I, for one, was not laughing. I didn’t care if the doors opened automatically to reveal George Clooney, who would then massage my feet each time before I put the keys in the ignition. No. Effing. Way.

You see, The Momtourage (with the exception of Alicia, naturally) is decidedly anti-minivan. Vehemently, passionately so. Jen, Dana, Alison, Amy, Courtney and I are all SUV folks, and I think it’s safe to say you’d probably sooner find us walking than behind the wheel of a Town & Country. Though we’re aware that our SUV ownerships aren’t going to win any kudos from Leonardo DiCaprio anytime in the near future, we love them; you can fit a couple of kids, a bunch of crap from Target and your stroller in them. They’re mom cars, but not Mom cars; when you drive an SUV, few would argue that you’ve succumbed to uncoolness in the vehicular department.

The minivan, however, represents just that. “I don’t care how many kids I have,” Dana always says. “There is NO WAY I will ever drive a minivan. Tahoe, Suburban, Yukon...even a pimped-out Escalade - there are so many acceptable alternatives.” Jen echoes, “Minivans are for our generation the equivalent to the station wagons our moms drove. Those were awful then, and minivans are awful now. My mom never drove a station wagon - she schlepped my brother and me around in a sedan, and I applaud her for setting a good example for me.” In the interest of full disclosure, with the exception of Courtney, none of the Momtourage members have more than two kids. Even she, though, squeezes 3 car seats into the back of her Volvo SUV, refusing to make the move.

When I think about what our real problems are with the vehicle-that-must-not-be-named, I know it has less to do with the car and more so with what it symbolizes.  I’ll admit, I checked out Alicia’s new ride and it was nice. In fact, I am sure anyone else who saw it would agree with the fact that it’s seriously practical and far more roomy than any SUV. What it isn’t, however, is sexy. Or cool. Minivans are just so mom, and not in a good way. “To me, minivan screams ‘old mom’”, Jen said, as we discussed our mutual distaste for them. “See, when I think of minivans, I think of some dirty, crusty interior with sticky toys, spilled juice and smashed crackers all over the floor, with a bunch of sweaty kids inside listening to some God-awful tween pop band on the radio,” I replied. “I don’t want that life - literally or metaphorically, and to me, that is what minivans represent.” You know the Mom Jeans mom? In my mind, she drives a minivan.

The irony of Alicia being the only Momtourage member to cross over into the Final Frontier of Motherhood is that Alicia is hot. If there ever was a mom who was not a Mom, it’s her.

“When I bring up Alicia, my brother goes, ‘Oh, your hot mom friend?’ No offense, of course, I mean, that was before I knew you....” Alison once said to me. No offense was taken, and there was no need to add that little bit on the end. All was understood.

When I first met Alicia, I realized she was from the same small New Jersey town as E., my closest guy friend from college. When I asked him if he knew her, he started sweating, and got all nervous like he was back in 10th grade, hormones raging. “Um, yeah, she was only like the hottest girl in school. Everyone knew who she was, and all my friends (I’m gonna delete this part because I get that you see where it’s heading)....”. After I removed my hands from my ears, he went on to say that the cool thing about Alicia is that she was always super sweet and nice, despite her obvious attractiveness. “She was the kind of girl who could have gotten away with being totally nasty to everyone and people probably still would have been enamored with her,” he explained. “This wasn’t who she was, though.” Not much has changed, it seems. Nearly 15 years post- high school graduation, Alicia is still one of the prettiest people I know - inside and out. She’s one of those friends you can always count on to make you feel good about yourself, and to be generous and understanding; everything she does is kind, good and sincere.

So, I imagine, if anyone - mom or otherwise - can pull off a minivan, I guess it’s Alicia. If she starts wearing light jeans with an elastic waist, though, I’m staging a serious intervention.

I’m not even going to pretend that I enjoy household cleaning chores. I know there are some people who get some serious satisfaction from making the house all spic and span (my mother, Momtourage member Alison), but I am sooooo not one of them. Finding the perfect shoes? Exhilarating. Scrubbing the countertops until they glisten? Akin to a bikini wax in terms of enjoyability.

I do, however, actually like performing one household cleaning task: doing dishes. For whatever reason, I really enjoy getting dishes sparkling clean. For me, it’s a very Zen experience - the warm water, the lemony smell of dish soap, the bubbles and, most of all, the methodical, rhythmic scrubbing. The only thing that sucks about it is that it’s hell on your nails - especially if they’re painted. Wearing gloves is one way to prevent ruining your manicure, but in my opinion, they’re the condoms of washing dishes: necessary for protection, but ultimately a barrier that makes for a slightly less pleasurable, numbed experience. But I digress.....

I thought that the act of dish washing was perfection until I recently came across the O-Cel-O Expressions line, a collection of decorative sponges, scrubbing mitts, dish wands and bamboo cleaning cloths. Perhaps it’s because I grew up with a mom who is an interior decorator, but I just can’t resist cute home goods, and these are downright adorable. For some reason, washing dishes with fun, fancy accessories makes it all the better.

Momtourage member Amy sent me an email the other day with the information on “My Beautiful Mommy”, a new children’s book. Sounds sweet, right?

Uh, not so much.

This book, by Florida-based plastic surgeon Dr. Michael Salzhauer, is billed by its author as “the first book that explains plastic surgery to kids”, an issue with which he says many of his patients struggle.

“More than half the women that come in for procedures bring their children with them,” he said. “And most parents go into denial about the surgery with regard to their children.”

OK, seriously....who brings their KIDS to a plastic surgery consultation - or worse, procedure? People other than The Real Housewives of New York City?

The book’s story focuses on the journey of a mother and her child as they visit the “fictional” office of the “fictional” “Dr. Michael” for cosmetic surgery. The mother explains her impending nose job and tummy tuck to her young daughter, but oddly chooses to hide the fact that she’s also springing for some double D’s. That’s right - Mama also gets a boob job, but Salzhauer is “judicious” enough to use only illustrations to bring that piece of the story to life. “She does get a boob job, but I skirt that issue because I think that’s the parents’ choice whether they want to address that particular part of the operation with their children,” he explains. Because talk about breasts may freak kids out, ya know? The idea of tummy tucks and nose jobs, however, don’t, apparently.

“Why are you going to look different?” asks the daughter of her mother in the car ride back from the doctor’s office. “Not just different, my dear — prettier!” exclaims the mother.

Ick.

When prodded by her daughter as to why she’s getting a small home’s value worth of plastic surgery, Mommy explains how her clothes don’t fit properly anymore because of her stretched-out stomach. You know, all as a result of bringing her daughter, the little wench, into the world. Sweet message, Mom. “I’m going under the knife because you wreaked havoc on my body, sweetheart! If something - God forbid - happens to me, don’t spend too many years in analysis trying to get over it - especially since we won’t have any money to pay for it after I spend it all with (the fictional) Dr. Michael!”

By the end of the story, you can bounce quarters off of Mommy’s abs and her nose looks like a Swiss ski slope. And, of course, even though it’s not addressed explicitly (discretion, y’all), her ta-tas are Playmate of the Month-worthy. It’s a happy ending akin to Cinderella ending up with the prince.

For the record, I don’t think plastic surgery itself is ridiculous at all. If you want it, Sisters (or Brothers, for that matter) - go forth like the wind and get it, I say. I’ve always felt this way, but especially now that my “I’ve had two kids” body is sag-alicious. I wouldn’t rule out a tummy tuck, but would I ever buy a book to explain it to my kids? Um, no. I certainly get the need for children’s literature that explains illnesses, death, the impending arrival of baby siblings, etc. to kids, but plastic surgery? Really?

To this question, Salzhauer answers:

“When mom goes down everyone in the house is affected — especially the kids,” he says, adding that many kids get upset when their mother seems sick or too tired to play. “They know something is going on and she has bandages, so they start to ask, ‘What’s wrong with mommy?’”