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  • A Potty Training Saga

     

    Well, we did it. We survived our hardcore 3-day  potty training weekend. And we've got two little big girls in underpants to prove it. It was such an intense and dramatic event, I feel like I should be writing about it in epic poetry form. Or rhyming couplets or something. But I am a writer of prose, not poetry. And I guess potty training isn't quite on par with the Pelopennesian war. Almost, but not quite.

     

    The important thing is that, we -- like the Spartans -- triumphed. To anyone out there who feels like they're not getting anywhere with the gradual approach to toilet training, whose little ones seem perfectly content in diapers and who (like us) haven't been particularly proactive or consistent about making the move to a diaper-free existence, I'd highly recommend this cold turkey training approach. 

     

    There are lots of books and websites -- not to mention recent commenters on this blog -- who sell books and eBooks on the subject. We followed the guidelines in one lent to us by a friend. But you don't necessarily have to drop $49.99 on some kind of Guaranteed As Seen on TV Top Secret Potty Training Method with FREE bonus DVD and -- if you order now -- Handheld Diaper Shredder, to do this. It's pretty simple.

     

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  • Big Girl Beds: A Trial Run

    The girls and I are up here in Maine with my parents for the long weekend, and since the bedroom the girls stay in has a pair of twin beds, we thought maybe we'd give them a try, and see how the girls fared. Granted, they're already a little out of their element being away from home, but I thought it might provide some insight into what might or might not happen if we attempt to make the crib-to-bed transition for good. Here's the play by play:

     

    Last night, 5:30 pm.

    We realize that the bedrails my mom bought for the purposes of this experiment (and for future visits -- the beds are on the high side) are not as easy to assemble as we'd assumed: things to measure, about a dozen different parts, a packet of screws, and one of those instruction manuals in five languages with lots of big WARNING! boxes throughout. My parents are on their way out the door to a neighbor's BBQ so there's no chance we're going to get the things put together in time for bedtime.

    I am about to go out to the car and get the Pack-n-Plays (brought just in case) when my dad, who is sort of like a domestic MacGyver, goes down to the basement and returns with two card tables. He unfolds one pair of legs on each of them, shoving the legs between the mattress and boxspring of each bed, so we have ourselves a couple of rather unsightly but perfectly serviceable and sturdy improvised bedrails. Go Dad!

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  • Is it Time for Big Girl Beds?

    Over the past two weeks, the girls have discovered how to climb up into their cribs by themselves. It's easiest for them to do it when the side of the crib is lowered, but they've also successfully done it a few times with the sides up, with the help of a step-stool. They get their feet up onto the mattress, between the crib rails, then swing a leg over the side and basically somersault into the bed. (Is this unsafe? It looks harmless to me, since they're they're only tumbling from a few inches away, onto a soft surface, but Alastair thinks they're going to break their necks. Please advise.)

     

    In other gymnastic news, last weekend while staying over at Abu and Jacye's, Elsa climbed out of her Pack-n-Play at five in the morning. And today at naptime, when I went in to try to get the girls to settle down after 10 minutes of gabbing and gigging and bickering, Elsa was standing in Clio's crib. I don't know if she got all the way down from hers and climbed up into Clio's, or if she did a crib-to-crib transfer (their cribs are perpendicular to each other, in a corner), but either way -- it doesn't bode well.

     

    Pic after the jump

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About the Blogger

Jane Roper

Jane Roper in Boston

One baby? Piece of cake. Try two. This working mother gives you the inside scoop on the ultimate in extreme parenting: twins.

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