Going to the Farm!

Yesterday morning, Grampy, Grammy and Edward took The Ducklings on their first ever trip to the Experimental Farm - I guess it's technically called the Museum of Agriculture now, but as a born and bred Ottawan, I can't really get used to calling it that.  In any case, they all had a great time!

Colin and Evelyn looking at the chicks.  There were lots of people there; next time, we'll go on a weekday morning.

Colin and the cows.  Evelyn isn't a huge bovine fan, as it turns out, and neither is Keith.  The moment he walked into the barn, he told Grampy "Enough".  

Keith, Grampy, Grammy and Colin

Keith got to ride a tractor!!  He's still talking about it.

Of course, the main attraction.  Good thing we had splash pants and rain boots!

Talking a stroll after a passing glance at the horses

Our potty training blitz had to start a day later than planned, as a trip to the Farm takes obvious precedence.  However, we did start this morning with mixed - albeit generally positive - results.  The Smarties were a hit, but a few of The Ducklings still have to get used to the goal = reward concept.  Edward bought more underwear today, so we're well stocked with provisions for our continued battle!

More to follow, I'm sure.

Dispatch From the Front

This is just a wee drive-by post to let you know that so far, we've survived a few minor (and major) skirmishes on the Potty Training front relatively intact.  There seems to be a progressive learning curve, both for The Ducklings and for me, and while victory isn't yet in sight, I do feel we have a fighting chance.

I still haven't had to resort to the Smarties, as for the moment, hand-washing is considered an adequate reward.  But I'm planning my final battle in the coming days when I have reinforcements arriving, and chocolate will play a pivotal role.  Grammy doesn't know this yet, but she's about to be promoted to my Commander-in-Chief, and Grampy will be our Logistical support.  Once we've manned our battle stations - Friday, shortly after breakfast is Zero Hour - we're going to push through until dusk, come hell or overflowed toilets (or both).  I expect some resistance, but hopefully Smarties will win them over.

I have learned a few things along the way.  Firstly, failure is actually success.  They need to have accidents to know they don't want to have accidents.  Secondly, the great thing about struggling with undies x 3 1,868 times a session is that they know if they're damp, which (usually) prompts a desperate "Mommy!  Pee pee!".  Third, having them stay on the potty until they are completely done - which can be a challenge - is key.  Diversions are often necessary.  Fourth, it's amazing how truly and honestly thrilled I can be for them when they succeed.  They are so proud of themselves!  And I am so proud of them.  We're getting there.

Opening a Third Front

You know what they say... it's rarely wise to open a new front in war.  Especially if you're losing.  Resources and logistics are spread too thin; it's hard to successfully strategize another battle; morale begins to fade.  Well, throwing caution and common sense to the wind, I have opened not one, not two but three fronts in the potty training war.  And it's a scary, scary place.

I'd like to think I'm deep in the trenches on this one, but in fact, I think I'm still in the staging ground.  

We started one morning after desperate attempts to keep Evelyn clothed failed repeatedly.  It was suggested that we tape her diaper, or put it on backwards to foil her efforts.  I went one better - I did both.  The ensuing conversation went something like this:

Evelyn:  My diaper is stuck!

Me:  (smugly) Yep, it is.

Colin:  (coming over to investigate)  Diaper on backwards!

Me:  (less smugly) Okaaaay, now don't fiddle with it.

Evelyn:  Oh, now in back... (reaches behind her back)  There we go!

She pulled off the tape and found the tabs.  The diaper came off.  Victory was hers.  That was when I decided that if you can't beat 'em, you join 'em.  We've been doing morning toilet training sessions ever since.   I suppose the "experts" don't recommend part-time potty training, but then again, they are not experts in potty training triplets when 26 weeks pregnant.  I doubt many people are.  I do get a lot of advice, but it usually assumes that you have two arms per child.  

My sister commented that potty training is messy business, but my issue is not the mess.  I can deal with that.  It's the logistics of getting three two year olds on two potties (no room for a third) without having to lift them 1,367 times over the baby gate that's blocking the play room doorframe.   

Remember, they move as a horde and I am outnumbered.

So, after some strategizing and a lot of trial and error, I have conquered (for now) the logistics by moving the gate into the hall, blocking the linen closet, master bedroom and nursery from invasion, putting everything into the bathtub they could possible get their hands on and putting everything else behind heavy fortifications.  That's the easy part.  It takes me half an hour to prepare for the skirmish, and then I take a deep breath and prepare for the onslaught.

They burst forth, clambouring to get on and off the potties in our very tight bathroom, pushing and shoving.  There's me, alone in the fray, bending down to get undies on and off, getting walloped in the head by disassembled potty parts, wiping up pee because someone missed the potty; someone else put their foot in the full potty and is tracking pee everywhere, shooing the dog who wants to be part of the action, triple flushing the toilet before the tank can refill...  They must go at least four times each in 5 minutes.  Racing to get someone on the potty and having to breech a cunning blockade of children brandishing books ("Mummy, read this!), a toy jeep and a stuffed monkey.  Being subjected to the cruel psychological warfare tactics of being informed:  "Moooommmmyyyy, peepee!" whilst having someone on the potty and keeping someone else from playing in it.  "Do you really have to go?!"I ask, desperately, "No.  I'm okay".  "Yes, I'm not".  "Uh oh.  I peepee".  By the end of the "session", my back is killing me, the heartburn is up in my ears, and I'm sweating up a storm.  The Ducklings, however, are loving every minute of it.  

I know we'll get there.  We might be working at crossed purposes at the moment, but that will change.  I can see victory (far, far away) on the horizon.

 Our first casualty.  He got peed on.  Do not ask.

The armour.  Yes, we do go through this many undies in a session, although in Evelyn's case it's because she can't decide which to wear.  I did debate not using underwear at first, but for a bunch of reasons, this works best for us.

The battlefield.

Pushing Boundaries

Being two and a half is all about seizing every opportunity to eke out a little independence, and the Ducklings are quick to insist "I do that!" at pretty much every turn.  From getting dressed to climbing into the rear-most carseat, they want to do it all.  And you know, much of the time, they can.  Evelyn puts on her own boots (most often on the wrong feet, but hey, to her credit she can still clomp along), mittens, scarf and jacket.  Keith can snap himself into his high-chair, and Colin can climb down from the high guest bed all by himself.  Particularly with Baby Z's arrival on the horizon, I'm so pleased they're motivated in this direction.

Today, I was downstairs making a few phonecalls and Nana was upstairs getting them dressed, when she summoned me to "Come quick!".  I reached the playroom in time to see Keith and Evelyn streaking by... literally.  Not a stitch on.  Seems they've mastered that rather well, and in record speed.  So, out came the potties - which we've been half-heartedly using for a few months now - and they will now become a permanent fixture in our bathroom.  Whether I'm ready or not (and there are some draggy days where the mere thought of toilet-training triplets is exhausting), we are careening towards that big slice of independence.

Later on this morning, Nana and I helped them get ready for another new adventure:  walking down the street on their own two feet.  It was the first time we've gone outside together without a stroller, and although we've been taking baby steps in that direction for a while - little sojourns down to the corner, one on one - I was excited to see how we would do "en masse".  A few people have suggested getting a rope like daycares use for them to hang on to, but I wanted to start with us holding their hands until I'm more convinced they won't bolt.  With Sprocket in tow, we set off with the goal of reaching the construction site - a 10 minute stroller ride down the road.  It was a slooow hike, but we made there and back.  They absolutely relished the experience: splashing in the puddles, admiring the crane, stepping aside for cars and trucks (and even a bus!), and squealing at the squirrels and snowmen along the way.  It was a huge success, and yet another push towards autonomy.

It's all so wonderful to observe.  And so bittersweet.

And on a totally unrelated note, here's a brief musical medley: