The big girl bed

This week, we finally went to get the big girl bed for Jocey.  We converted her 3-in-1 crib to its final stage--a headboard for a full-sized mattress.  Other than having some issues with taking the former crib apart, the transition went fairly fast.  We set it all up with her new sheet, and she has a ball putting nearly every stuffed animal she owns (including "Pinto" the horse who is nearly the size of a real Shetland pony) on her bed with her.  She is happy to say the least.  Formerly, they would have to sleep on the floor next to her bed.

When it came to bedtime, Jocey the routine addict, isn't so sure she is happy anymore.  She tries for more books.  She tries for more milk.  She tells me she is hungry.  She wants to pray some more.  She wants me to snuggle with her just for a little while.  "Please?!", she begs, "please?!"

I am firm, but gentle, with her because I know this is a slipperly slope with a child who thrives on routine.  If I give in to any of these demands too much, it will become the expected norm.  I give extra hugs and kisses, and reassure her it's the same room as before, just a different bed.  I tell her she will be okay.  She tries one last grasp at getting me to stay, "...but I'm scared."  This is the one she knows will tug at me.  How do you leave a child alone in a dark room when she is telling you she is scared? 

I tell her to look around and see all the friends she is surrounded by.  She has two turtles, a seahorse, a snake, an elephant, a monkey, a horse, and a pillow pet ladybug.  I ask her how she could be scared when all her friends are with her.  It seems to calm her, and she's ready for night-night.  I give another hug and kiss and head for the door.

"Mom," I hear her call for me.

"Yes, honey?"

With the most seriousness she can muster, she asks, "do you think I'll make it?"

I want to bust out laughing at my little drama queen, acting like she's about to embark on the most dangerous adventure of a lifetime, but I don't.  "Yes baby, I think you are tough, and you will make it.  Goodnight." 

And with that, I smile and close the door behind me.  And she doesn't make a peep for the rest of the night.

Something's screwy!

On Friday when I went to my mom's for lunch, I found Jocelyn playing under mom's table with her cousin Callie.  Jocelyn sees me and sits up.  She coughs a little, and looks nervously at me.  "Mommy, I just swallowed a screw."

Oh jeeze.  We made in through more than three years of her putting everything in her mouth without an incident (that we know of).  So it comes down to an accidental swallowing because she likes putting things in her mouth?  Really, kid?

I ask her and her cousin details about the screw, and whether it had a point or not.  I highly doubt there would be a pointy screw at my mom's, but I have to ask.  I try to ask how big it was.  I'm not getting any good answers that make me feel better, so I call her doctor's office.

A couple hours later, we head in for x-ray number one.  First, they check her chest, and thankfully it's not there.  That means it's cleared the esophagus and it's not in a lung or something.  Second, they check the belly. 

There it is!  It looks like it's in her stomach, and it's a half inch blunt-tipped screw.  Thank goodness!  The doctor checks her out, she seems otherwise fine with no pains in her stomach.  So we are instructed to watch her and bring her back tomorrow.  They will do another x-ray to make sure the screw is moving.  Also, a doctor will check her out to make sure she's not showing any signs of blockages.

We are to watch for fever, vomiting and bad bellyaches.  If any of those happen, we should take her to the emergency room immediately.  I am hoping and praying it won't happen that way. 

We are also to check her stool (ewwwww!) so we can verify she has passed it.  Just what I always dreamed of!  Checking my daughter's poop for a screw.  Thank you, Jocelyn, for the gift that keeps on giving!

No poop on Friday.  The next morning, Jocelyn is still feeling fine.  We take her to the Prompt Care since it is Saturday, and her regular doctor's office is closed.  We wait for the doctor who comes in and checks her out.  Everything seems normal, so we head back to x-ray.

This time, we get a nice, clear picture of the screw and where it's located.  It's made it down into her intestines, maybe to her colon.  We are relieved to know it's moving along.  The x-ray tech tells me her intestines are full of...hmmm...I can't remember exactly how she told me Jocelyn was full of it, but she did.  She said that it was probably slowing down progress.  I was still hopeful, based on it's location, that it would come out in poop #1.

Later that afternoon after her nap, poop #1 happens.  I can almost tell right away, it's not there.  I check anyways (yuck!) and verify what I already know.  Only a mother's love can make a person do these things, I swear.

Even though the second doctor suggests we come back each day until the screw shows up, we decide to wait it out another day at least.  I will call her doctor's office on Monday if we have nothing by then. 

Sunday brings poop #2.  Similar to the first poop, I could almost tell right away a screw would not be in there.  But I check anyways.  I have to be sure.  And I'm right.  No screw.  Ugh!  How much longer can this take? 

Monday comes, and I'm hoping for something.  I decided to wait until after the next poop to call her doctor's office, but I watch her closely for signs of problems and feel her belly every day for any pain or hard spots.  As of Monday night, no poop.  By this time, I think she's trying to avoid pooping.  She's a little nervous it's going to hurt when it comes out.  It's starting to frustrate me.  Halfway through her bath, she tells me she has to poop.  I do a little happy dance because I'm sure it will come out in #3!  Yes, I just did a happy dance for poop...the first time since potty training.

She sits on the little Elmo potty that I've set up for poop collection.  After a while, she says she's done.  She also tells me there's no screw.  I ask her how she knows, and then I look.  There's only a few tiny rabbit poops in there.  Sigh.  I guess we're going another day.

Tuesday.  If it doesn't happen today, we head back to the doctor.  Nothing by lunch time, but when I go back to my mom's to pick Jocelyn up, she hands me a folded papertowel and says, "Mommy, I have a surprise for you!"  I unfold it, hoping that it will be what we have been waiting for the last four days. 

It is!  It's the screw!  It looks just like I thought it would.  I am so relieved, and we do a little happy dance together.  We've had many conversations since that screw was swallowed, and she promises me she will never do it again.  I want to believe her, but as always, I never say never--especially with this kid.

So, in this case, it take approximately four days and two hours for a screw to travel the entire digestive system of a three year old.  Thankfully there was no real damage, and hopefully there will be a lasting impression and lesson learned.  I will certainly have a good story to embarrass her with one day when she's a teenager--and great pictures to prove it.

Stop! In the name of love....

The other day, we were driving along and went through an intersection with a stop sign.  Shane was driving, and slowed down, but didn't come to a complete stop before proceeding.

Jocelyn:  That was a stop sign.
Daddy: Yes, it was.
Jocelyn:  But Daddy, you didn't stop.

Oops!  I guess she is watching and learning from our every move.  We better be more careful with what we teach with our actions. 

What three year old knows what you are supposed to do at a stop sign anyways?! 

Jocelyn does.

What did you say?!

Jocelyn makes an observation this morning while I am standing next to her dad getting ready for work. 

"Daddy is bigger than Mommy."  We're the same height, so I know she talking about his shoulders being broader than mine. 

I say, "Yes, boys are usually more wide across than girls are."

She asks me, "Then what are girls more than boys?" 

I think for a second, and say that girls are prettier than boys.

"Girls are greedier?" she asks.

Daddy says, "Yes, they are, honey". 

And we have a good laugh.  Freudian slip by a three year old? 

{No, I am not damaging her self-worth or psyche by not degrading my husband for making a joke at the expense of women.  And yes, I could have sat around and thought of something else besides focusing on physical appearance of women, but it was just a simple moment.  I hate that I even have to point this out, but I know somebody will think it.}

How did I get in there?!

We have a baby book of Jocelyn's first year which includes some ultrasound pictures and baby bump pictures of me.  Sometimes she asks us to read the book as her bedtime story.

Right before nap time the other day, Jocelyn starts telling me about how she was in my belly when she was a little baby.  Then, a serious look comes over her face as she evaluates the situation, and she asks, "Mommy, how did I get in your belly?  Did you eat me?"

"Uh, no baby, I didn't eat you," I say with a smile.  I turn off the light and tell her we will talk about it later.  Hopefully, MUCH later....

First day of preschool!

Jocelyn and her cousin Callie (left)
on the front steps of school.

Here she is!  All set to head into school with her sassy backpack (a/k/a packpack) that her cousin Ashley gave to her (see below).  I have no worries that Jocelyn will do okay.  It's really the teachers that I'm worried about.

We walk in to her class and she sits on the carpet area.  Her teacher, Mrs. Shaner, and the teacher's aid, Mrs. Cavanaugh, are each trying to console hysterical kids.  Full-on, red-faced, top-of-the-lungs, screaming meltdowns are going on! 

Jocelyn sits down and is interested in her book and the monkey card sitting on top of it with her name on it.  She's good for a minute, so I say my good-byes and get ready to leave.  She covers her ears and asks me why those kids are screaming so much.  She's clearly irritated by them.  I tell her that they'll settle down in a minute, just to sit here and look at her book.

She decides she's had enough, hops up and takes off.  I go after her.  She says she wants to play over here by herself.  I told her she has to go back to the class and that she'll be allowed to play later.  She tells me in whiny-voice, "...but I want to play NOW!"  Oh, no.  Please don't pick up on their vibes!

Modeling her sassy zebra print packpack Ashley
gave to her.

I take her back and sit her down.  I give her another kiss and head out the door.  The teachers are still trying to settle the kids down, but if I don't go now, I'll probably never leave.  They're experienced teachers.  They'll deal with it.  The first day is probably always a mess for three year olds.

When I head back to pick her up, she's laying on the carpet in the group.  She's oblivious to the fact that I've walked in.  She finally sees me, yells "Mommy!" and runs up to hug me.  I love those hugs!  They almost make being apart worth it.  Almost.

Mrs. Cavanaugh approaches me and tells me that she did really well and was telling the other kids their ABC's.  She also tells me that I have a "really confident three year old".  I'm wondering if that's a good thing or bad.  I'm guessing a little of both.  She said she has her own idea of what she should be doing.  They asked her to sit down at one point, and she told them no. 

I am glad that Jocelyn is strong-willed and independent, I wouldn't change that for the world.  However, we have a talk at lunch about how she needs to listen to her teachers just like when mommy asks her to do something.  She agrees. 

Why do I feel like she just agreed to shut me up?  We'll see how that goes on Thursday.

New experience: peeing outside

This is about the look I got when asking
her to pee on the rocks: "Whachoo
talkin' 'bout, Mama?!"

We went camping in northeast Minnesota last weekend.  Real camping.  Tent camping.  We've been spoiled with a camper for years, and we haven't gone tent camping ever since we got it. 

Up until we were getting ready for night-night, I didn't even think about the fact that it would probably be hard to explain to her why we are not peeing on a potty.  She tells me she's tired.  I say okay, but she has to go pee on the rocks before bed.  She looks at me like I am growing a third eye out of the middle of my head.  To make her more comfortable, I demonstrate how to do it.  She looks intrigued, but still very skeptical that this is for real. 

I pull her pants down, hold her under her arms, and ask her to act like she's sitting on an invisible potty.  She bends at the waist and dangles there for a while.  She tells me she can't--more like she won't.  I begin pleading because I'm starting to panic about how this night is about to go.  She says no more firmly this time.  I pull up her pants and head back to the tent.  I let her know that we can't go to bed until she goes potty.  She hasn't gone in nearly five hours.

She has some milk.  I'm hoping it will put her in the mood.  I'm starting to get mad about the camping arrangements and lack of information I received.  I didn't know that there would not be at least pit toilets on the beach where we were camping.  If I had known, I would have brought her little potty chair.  I knew this was going to be a struggle.   Daddy takes a turn at trying to convince her.  No dice.

Ultimately, we got directions to a lodge three miles away, and drive her there to go potty.  We were defeated, but not for long. 

The next morning, I wait her out.  She finally exclaims that she has to go potty!  I know that look--it means there isn't much time.  I tell her that we have to go on the rocks.  She knows she has has no choice.  She has to go bad enough that she doesn't argue.  I dangle her bottom over rocks again and this time she goes.  She's almost excited hearing the pee hit the rocks.  And she's pretty proud of herself to boot.  "Daddy, I peed on the rocks!"

New experience over.  Turned out better than expected.  Thank goodness.