My Way or the Highway

Ever since my parents came to visit us about three weeks ago, my philosophical approach of “my way or the highway,” for dealing with Caitlyn has been indefinitely put on hold.

While she used to be pretty good about feeding herself and going to bed, Caitlyn has now gotten quite lazy and will now whine until the wife feeds her. She also refuses to sleep at night now unless the wife lies down with her until she falls asleep. Both of these have left me, to say the least, a bit displeased.

Whenever I bring this up, the wife will tell me to take care of things. Taking care of things in my book involves letting Caitlyn sit in her seat until she decides to feed herself and dropping her off in her bed and promptly leaving after reading a goodnight story. Unfortunately, my tactic also involves prolonged periods of crying and screaming, both of which are frowned upon by the wife and Grandma.

When I first became a parent, I vowed that I would not be like my mom and dad. If you ask me about my childhood, the first thing that pops to my mind is all the beatings I used to receive. And the thing is, I don’t even remember  being that bad of a kid. I’m sure most kids got a few licks here and there growing up. After all, if you spare the rod, you spoil the child, right? But there’s a difference between receiving a few light taps on your hand and having your bottom lit up like the Fourth of July where you end up with welts and bruises all over your arms and legs.

My parents’ favorite instrument for dishing out punishment was this feather duster whose handle was made of bamboo. I swear I despised that feather duster as a kid. I remember trying several times to break the darn thing, but never having enough strength to carry out the task. The most I could do was pluck out the feathers from it and be satisfied with that. In order to not let the neighbors know what was going on, my parents would turn on the radio nice and loud so no one would hear my screams and cries as I ran through the house trying to escape from their clutches.

I’m not saying that my parents are horrible people, in fact, they are very lovely, generous people, but their method of disciplining was definitely misguided and I’m sure has affected who I am today. That is why I refuse to hit my child. I know what it’s like and I know how it’s affected my relationship with my parents. That feeling will never go away, no matter how much I want to forgive or forget.

However, my mom commented the other day how similarly I treat Caitlyn like she used to treat me. Excuse me? I don’t see a feather duster in my hand ready to strike my child. But the more I think about it, maybe I am acting a bit like my parents. While I am not hitting Caitlyn, maybe trying to force her to do what I want isn’t the best way. I don’t yell at my child and I am very patient when it comes to dealing with her, but could I be causing a rift in our relationship by being so demanding and wanting things done my way?

I just think back to all the Super Nanny episodes I’ve watched. In the case of a child not wanting to go to sleep, Super Nanny’s advice was always to let the child cry it out, and if they happened to leave their bed, to put them back in. Even if you had to do this 100 times, you kept at it to let the child know you meant business. Of course, this was all done in a calm and patient manner. Eventually, the child would get the picture and do what was asked of them because they knew they had no other choice.

That’s the same philosophy I’ve tried to use with Caitlyn. I want her to know I mean business. I think that’s partly why she’s so much better behaved when it’s just me and her. She knows I won’t cave in to her demands. But when the wife’s there and now Grandma, it’s difficult for me to maintain this persona and it’s beginning to make me question the way I do things.

As my mom likes to say, is it so wrong to feed Caitlyn every now and then? Is it so bad for the wife to lie with Caitlyn until she falls asleep? Is it so wrong to give Caitlyn what she wants? Isn’t it better than letting her cry and get upset?

I seriously don’t know. But maybe I shouldn’t have such a stranglehold on things. Maybe it’s OK to let go sometimes. Just sometimes. And maybe just until Grandma leaves town.

Four-day vacation!

Sharing a smile

 

Who's taller?

Is my food ready yet?

 

Here fishy, fishy

Grandparents are the best

 

Taking a dip with Grandpa

Say, "Three!"

A Tale of Two Frustrations

It’s been about 3 weeks since I first became familiar with epididymitis and after 3 weeks of antibiotics and medication, there’s still a persistent dull ache whenever I move or touch my testicular region. I still hold out on the small glimmer of hope that the pain and swelling will eventually go away like the doctor said. However, forums about epididymitis paint a completely different picture. Take a look at just a few of the quotes I pulled off the Internet from various people talking about one of the worst things to plague man.

“I’ve had it for almost 2 years. 2 years of agony, depression, pain and worrying.”

“This is the WORST pain in my whole life...I have balled my eyes out for days just wishing the pain would let up...I just can’t imagine going weeks, months or even years.”

“One day, I almost passed out while driving because the pain in my left testicle was so severe.”

“OMG!...I have had this for 3 days now and now I’m scared to death after hearing you all having it for months and years...Does anyone else feel the worst pain in your lives because of this??”

“Tell you what, I’d jump at the chance of removing my testicle because it's nothing but trouble. They could always freeze sperms if you wanted children, but I don’t fancy this on and off for the rest of my life.”

“Removing the testicle may be a waste of time. One urologist told me some men still have pain. Now I just live with the pain.”

Maybe instead of feeling depressed and frustrated, I should feel thankful that my pain hasn’t reached such a level as to make me want to cut off my testicle.

Speaking of frustration, I’ve been having the same feeling when dealing with our quest to get Caitlyn potty trained. Good news is she now knows not to pee when she’s in her underwear. At first, I thought she was trying to hold her pee in because she would go hours without having to use the bathroom. But it turns out that lots of kids can go long stretches without peeing. I read online about a two-year-old who could hold his bladder from 7:00 at night until 7:00 in the morning. That is mighty impressive.

Say, you wouldn’t be interested in hearing one of my many stories about urine, would you? That's right, I have just as many stories about pee as I do with fecal matter.

In high school, my friends and I would go to the library at nights to “study.” Most of the time would be wasted chatting and horsing around. One time, I joked with a friend that I was going to ask his sister out. He pretended to get angry and put me in choke-hold. Or maybe he wasn’t pretending because he never let go of the hold and I passed out.

When I woke up, I was in a pool of yellow liquid. For a moment, I thought that maybe someone’s drink had spilled on top of me, but then I slowly realized that I had peed in my pants. Not uncommon because the bladder relaxes when one passes out. Long story short, my friend apologized profusely and cleaned up all the pee on the floor. No way I couldn’t forgive him after that.

Anyway, enough about me. Back to Caitlyn. If she does need to go pee, she’ll tell us to switch her into a diaper. When she says this, we immediately take her to her the potty. In order to get her to sit on it for an extended period of time, we bribe her with the iPad. However, she’ll just play with it until she’s tired of it and then request to have a diaper put on. Come to think of it, that’s a pretty crafty way for her to get in some playing time without actually having to go potty. Even a spiffy new toilet hasn’t really convinced her to go.

So that’s where we’re stuck now. Any helpful suggestions? 

I'll sit, but I won't pee!

Where's my iPad?