[This post brought to you entirely by my phone... I'll be back home eventually.]

I had several goals going into Saturday’s race in Disney World.

Goal 1: don’t get swept for not keeping the 16-minute-mile pace. Once I started timing myself, I figured I should be able to manage that as long as I was able to do SOME running (and not break an ankle).

Goal 2 was the one I really had in my sights: no walking. I completed the Couch-to-5K training program, but have started to get some significant leg pain after my runs. And while I finished my 30-minute run, I hadn’t yet made it to the full 3.1 miles.

I couldn’t decide if I was confident or nervous. What if I had dragged my whole family to Florida for a race I couldn’t even finish?

But then I went to pick up my race pack, in true Disney fashion, and got all kinds of excited.

That night, I got to meet my fellow Shredheads, most of whom were running the half-marathon. I got my race shirt, and set it all out for our early-morning start.

The morning was early. On the bus at 5:45. An hour before sunrise. 45 degrees. But the bus was crowded, there were costumes and tiaras all over the place. There were bright lights and a DJ pumping loud music. I jumped and danced to stay warm.

The sun started to come up. We pushed into the starting area. A few hundred feet and a few thousand people between me and the starting line.

Behind us, a preview of what awaited us at mile 3. Pumped.

Fireworks marked the start. It was a mob, but a happy one. We wound around the parking lot and entered Epcot at the one-mile mark, between Mexico and Norway.

There were volunteers cheering us along. Disney characters all along the route, and people stopping to wait in a line 8 people deep to take pictures. Not me. I had a goal.

My pace was slower than I expected. In classic Disney Imagineering, I thought I was close to the finish and the route took a few more hidden turns.

One last turn: finish line. I ran across it. 37:14. Fast? Nah. But I ran it. I ran. The whole thing. 3.1 miles. I earned that silly rubber finisher’s medallion, god dammit.

Alright, so my leg hurt like a motherf–ker for the next two days and I’m still limping down stairs. But I have an appointment with a physical therapist next week. I have another race in May. I’m looking for longer ones. Despite the stabbing pain in my right shin, I found myself jealous of the half marathon runners I saw the next day.

Bring it.

If I was picking nicknames based on their current quirks, these are the ones I’d choose.

Daniel is obsessed with coins right now. Doesn’t much matter if they’re pennies or quarters, he simply must have at least two in his possession at all times.  He holds them, he balances them on his fingers or his knees, he sticks them in between the tines of a fork (or the crack in the windowsill, or the floor heating grate, etc.).  I think, if given the choice, he would swim in a pool of coins like Scrooge McDuck.

The down-side, of course, is that he puts them down, drops them, or otherwise loses/misplaces them.  So, roughly 900 times per day, I hear “Mama, where’s my co-oines?” “Mama, I need more co-oines!”  I fricking HATE coins right now.  It’s all he talks about. He throws them, he plays with them instead of eating his meals. Yes, I take them away at times like that. But oy, it’s constant.  I’d find it a lot cuter if he wasn’t asking me to find them every six minutes.

[As a random aside, both kids have started calling me "Mama" in the last few weeks, and are sometimes calling M "dad."  We've been "mommy" and "daddy" since they started talking. I have no idea where this came from.]

Otherwise, though, I feel like Daniel’s behavior is moderating a little bit. Or, maybe my reaction to it is changing? A huge thanks to all of you for your input on the potty situation.  We had a successful weekend in underwear for him, and then a disastrous Monday morning. During which, I made my peace with putting him back in Pull-Ups. Clearly, now is just not the time for him, and I’m doing my best to back off.  And I think we’re both less stressed for it.

Rebecca, for her own little quirk, feels compelled to sing along with everything. EVERYTHING.  TV theme songs, bedtime songs, songs on CD in the car.  This is not a brand new behavior. She’s long shown a love for singing. But it has definitely ramped up, and I’ve noticed an interesting twist.  While it’s not unusual for a two-year-old to want to hear the same thing over and over again, Rebecca seems to be doing it with a clear purpose: she’s trying to memorize it.  She will request the same song several times in a row, and attempt to sing more of it each time.  She can now sing most of the first half of the Barenaked Ladies’ Snacktime album.  Particular favorites are Polliwog in a Bog (“I want the froggie song!”) and Popcorn, but she really loves to sing the entire album. As a big BNL fan, I’m so proud…

The funniest part of this, for me, is that it is exactly something that I used to do.  As a kid and a teenager, I would listen to the same song over and over and over again. I’d mentally memorize every little tone.  I’d pause and rewind and write down the lyrics or try to transpose the chords with my barely passable guitar skills.  Who knew I had managed to pass along that kind of obsession to my daughter at such a young age.  Of course, my mom talks about listening to her Joni Mitchell record over and over again, so maybe it’s just straight genetics.

Right. So. Remember when I said my kids were potty trained? Well…

Rebecca is doing great. A superstar. I can think of only one accident in the last week. She can hold it, she tells me when she needs to go, she isn’t freaking out about poop the way some kids do, and she is perfectly willing to use the travel potty when we’re out and about. No problemo.

And then, there’s Daniel.  Oh, Daniel.

Sigh.

If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll know we’ve had a very, very difficult week.  Daniel has gotten hit HARD by the terrible-two-and-a-halfs.  Much like when he went through this phase back in October, he feels the need to be contrary AT ALL TIMES.  He pitches a fit that he doesn’t want breakfast.  Then he pitches a fit that he wants oatmeal. And raisins. NO RAISINS! I WANT RAISINS! NOT ON THAT SIDE OF THE PLACEMAT!  And this is all before 8:30am.  It goes on all day long.  If I ask him something or offer him something, he has to say no. I go to put it away, and he demands whatever he just declined. He claims to not want to play outside, not want to go to a friend’s house, not want to go to Starbucks. Riiight.  Sure ya don’t, buddy.

Worst of all, this has spilled over into potty training.  He did so well the first week.  Not perfect, but really well. He’d have a tiny accident (like small enough that a change of undies was not really necessary), stop himself, ask to use the potty, and finish. Brilliant.  No longer.

For one thing, he seems to have tuned out from listening to his body.  Now he has a full-on accident, and THEN tells me he needs to use the potty. When we’re at home, when we’re out. All over the damn place.  And, of course, if I ask him if he needs to go or ask him to sit and try before we leave the house… well, you can guess what the response is. “I don’t wanna! I don’t need to use the potty!”  Five minutes later… new pants. Again.  And did I mention he’s a notorious incomplete-emptier? The kid goes about a tablespoon at a time. Ugh.

The kicker is that sometimes he does well. Sometimes he asks to use the potty before he goes in his pants. Sometimes he poops in the potty.  He is very capable.  But much of the day, he tunes out and/or refuses all suggestion.  And those who have been through this will understand how it simply brought me to tears on Thursday night. Exhausted. Defeated. Broken. Sobbing.

So, friends, where do we go from here on the potty front?  Re-boot-camp?  New incentives? Back off and put on Pull-Ups for my own sanity?  As a general rule, I want to be as consistent as possible and don’t like going “backwards.” But I would also like to not end up in the looney bin.

And as for the behavior – pick my battles and ride it out? Be extra strict and nip the attitude in the bud? Start drinking heavily?

2010 is shaping up to be a year of big changes for my kids.  As it is, we’re knee-deep (sometimes almost literally, oy) in potty training.  In September, they start preschool.  We’re considering the switch out of cribs for sometime in the early summer (somebody hold me). I’m trying to think ahead and space these things out so they aren’t all hitting at the same time.

But, now, we’re thinking about adding one more to the list: separate bedrooms.

I’ve long been one to insist on keeping my kids together.  We’ve had occasional periods where one kid will disrupt the other’s sleep, and there were always people quick to suggest that we separate them, at least for naps. For whatever reason, I always was adamant about keeping them together, and the disruptions always passed.

But there’s something about 2.5 that has me reconsidering my stance.  It’s not the sleep. Sleep is just fine, and I don’t think separating them would make it significantly better or worse.  No, it’s more of a personal space issue.

My kids are in each others’ faces all day, every day. It’s just the reality of young twins. We go to the same activities. We eat meals together, we play together, they go down for naps together.  A lot of times, they play together, and it’s great.  But obviously they also fight and argue.  And have very few things that are their own, and very little ability to take some space if they want it. 2-and-a-half is hitting us, hard.

I like the idea of giving them each their own room as a way to have space to themselves if they need a break.  As it is, the bedroom that they share is a space used only for sleeping.  They don’t play upstairs very much at all, just a bit of running around while we get ready in the morning.  What if they each had their own room, with a few toys and books and cozy places? It’s not a gender-related thing for me, but more of a personality one. I think my kids are close to one another, but not as much as some twins I know, who would not want to be apart from one another.

This is also a little bit of hopeful self-preservation as I get ready for them to be out of cribs. My big fear is that the end of cribs will mean the end of naps, and that fear is only magnified if they are still sharing a room at that point.

But even more than being motivated out of fear, this is really about having something of their own.  A concept that is not totally familiar to them. Oh, sure, they have their own clothes and their own blankets. And one or two toys that are designated as belonging to one versus the other.  But nearly everything they have and everything they do is shared.

Just for kicks, I decided to ask them what they thought about sleeping in different rooms. I talked about how their beds are in the same room right now, and what would they think if their beds were in two different rooms? Would that be a good thing, or did they like having their beds together?  I honestly had no idea if they’d even understand the question.

Their answer? A hearty double-endorsement for “own rooms!”  Daniel was quite clear that his bed would go in the “changing room” (the second small bedroom that currently houses their dressers, a loveseat, and the now-defunct changing table).  Even when pressed, “are you sure you don’t want your beds together?”, they stuck to the “own rooms” vote.  And while I know this may or may not have any relation to their actual reaction to the transition, it was nonetheless interesting.

In the meantime, I will shop for cute wall decorations on Etsy and make my shopping list for IKEA.  This time around, I’m actually going to decorate these rooms, believe it or not!

So, dear friends, what do you think? Have you or will you separate your preschool-aged twins into separate rooms? Why or why not?  Do you think they really need the space, or am I totally projecting?

At my moms of twins club meeting this week, I gave away my remaining stash of diapers. Pampers Cruisers are now gone from my house, and both kids are in underwear.

(cue heavenly chorus)

If someone asked me if my kids are potty-trained, I would say yes. Yes, they wear underwear. Yes, they do their business in the potty. Yes, accidents are more the exception than the norm.

The moms of young kids, of course, know all about the asterisks that qualify my ‘yes.’ They still require a lot of reminders. They can’t go by themselves. The bedtime Pull-Ups** are not always kept dry.  For right now (and the immediately forseeable future) it’s a MUCH bigger hassle than diapers ever were.

And seriously, sometimes having two newly potty-trained toddlers seems like it’s going to push me straight over the edge. We bolt for the nearest bathroom (or discrete corner, or back of the minivan) at the slightest mention of “mommy, I need to use the potty.” They fight over who gets to use the little potty and who uses the seat on the big potty (we have one of each in both bathrooms). Daniel is king of the false alarm and, ahem, incomplete emptying. Rebecca refuses to “try” before we leave the house, but has to go the minute we arrive at the grocery store. There are times when it is incredibly hard for me to stay positive and patient, and there are times when I fail to do so.

But, still, we’ve made it over that first big hump.  The diapers are gone, the undies remain largely dry, and the potty is in use.

For anyone wondering, I took much the same approach with Daniel as I did with Rebecca. Last Saturday, we put on the undies and ditched the diapers, cold turkey.  Daniel proved much more open to suggestion and would pretty much pee on command. A handy skill, and his only accident on the first day was right before bedtime. Hell, we even threw caution to the wind and went out to dinner!

The trick is, of course, that they actually need the accidents to start to learn to listen to their bodies.  The second day included a few more accidents, but also progress (i.e. a very small accident that then led him to finish peeing on the potty). Overall, I found this second go-around less tense and stressful than my weekend with Rebecca, I think because he could (and was willing to) go more frequently.  On the other hand, I found myself a bit more tired and a bit less patient. I just wanted this part to be over.

I’m glad I separated the kids and didn’t attempt to work with both in the same weekend. I think we benefited from the ability to focus, and had all four of us been shut in the house for that much time, we might have killed each other.

Truth be told, I really have nothing to complain about.  Both kids are reasonably reliable after only a very short period of time. Clearly, they were “ready,” whatever that might mean. That’s not to say there was a lot of talk of potty and all of that before we started.  They seem to just have been cognitively/emotionally/physically ready.  And so passes one of the last big transitions of babyhood.  My big kids.

**Yes, we are using Pull-Ups for naptime and overnight. I don’t really think of them as a useful potty training tool, but I was not willing to mess with sleep in the name of the potty. I liked making the switch to Pull-Ups so that we could, even just in name, be totally done with “baby” diapers.  We call them “night-time undies,” and while they aren’t always kept dry, Rebecca for one is quite distressed when she pees or poops in them during naptime. I take that as a good sign, and will try to ditch them for naps within a month or two.

In a scant two weeks, we are hitting the house of the mouse for a mini family vacation and my big race.  I’m pretty excited, and I think the kids are going to have a blast.  But I turn to you, dear internets, for tips on handling Disney World with two 2.5-year-olds.

We are staying on resort property (not on the monorail). We will be there basically 3 1/2 days.  I know that, as the kids are under 3 years old, they do not require park tickets and can even eat off of our plates at restaurants (thanks for that tip!).  I have every intention of coming back to the hotel for nap each afternoon. For this trip, I do not plan on leaving WDW to see other Orlando attractions.

Any spots or rides that we should make sure to visit? Just as importantly, any we should absolutely avoid?

While we almost never use a stroller day-to-day anymore, I’m thinking one is critical for the parks. Is it worth it to try to bring the BOB? I know the daily stroller rentals in the parks are pricey ($27/day if you pay in advance), but is it worth it to avoid the hassle of bringing our own?

I did go ahead and make reservations for a character breakfast. They may love it, they may freak out, but I’m taking the chance.

What are your favorite tips and tricks for Disney World with the under-3 set?

Two weeks after the big potty boot camp weekend, and Rebecca is doing very well. She is asking, unprompted, to use the potty with great regularity, and it’s almost never a false alarm.  I can think of only one single pee accident this week.  She is even willingly pooping on the potty, though that seems to be the main accident culprit.  Alas, it’s a work in progress, and it’s going well.  We are back to our normal level of outings, and she is more than willing to use the travel potty when we’re out of the house.

Enter, the twin dynamic.

Daniel has always wanted to do whatever Becca was doing (sometimes much to her chagrin, and leading to many fights over toys, etc.).  Once he realized she was getting an M&M for successful potty usage, he wanted in.  As it turns out, the kid can pretty much pee on command for candy.  I suspect that skill will come in handy.

On the flipside, Daniel has most certainly noticed that any time Becca mentions anything to do with “potty,” we drop everything for her.  By necessity, she is getting a lot of attention and a lot of praise.  And I think it’s driving him bonkers.

Oh my lord, has he been whiny this week.  Whiny and clingy, with a huge helping of attitude and sass.  On Monday, I thought it was just that he was punishing me for leaving for the weekend.  But the more I think about it, combined with a whole lot of extra “pick me up” and “can I sit on your lap?” and clearly the kid is feeling starved for attention.

I feel bad, of course.  Especially when home by myself with both kids during the day, it’s next to impossible to give quality one-on-one time to either of them.  And, since we’re still in a somewhat fragile state of potty-trained-ness, I do have to pay pretty close attention to Rebecca.  When you add in that her behavior has been much better than his, you can do the math on who’s getting the lion’s share of positive attention from mom this week.

Well, buddy, all that is about to change.  This weekend, it’s your turn.  You and me, one-on-one, all weekend long.  All the attention, all the praise I’ve got, is going to you.  Potty training boot camp, take 2.

I’m pretty exhausted just in anticipation, but I have reasonably high hopes that at least the pee-on-command bit will come in handy.  And here’s to hoping all of that attention will help to turn his behavior around.  Either we’re going to have a great weekend, or I’m going to want to kill him.

Two weeks ago, my brother’s son was born.  Charlie is my brother’s first child, and my first nephew.  So when I saw a cheap weekend airfare to Chicago, I had to pop out there to meet him (and deliver his quilt in person, of course).

A friend on Facebook teased me, “look out! Newborns are contagious!”

How can you resist the power of the yawning baby burrito?

The funny thing is that, of the various baby phases, I’m not generally a “newborn” person. Cute though they may be, they don’t DO anything. They eat, they sleep, they fuss. Meh.  Fast-forward to six months (or nine, ooh I liked nine months), and I’m all over it.  But newborns don’t do a darn thing.

Well, OK. They inadvertently make really funny faces. And that’s cool and all.

But I will say that there was something strangely appealing, or comforting, or something, about feeling so confident in the presence of a 10-day-old baby.  I knew how to hold him, I knew how to swaddle him.  I knew that all of those weird grunts and squeaks were normal, and not true fussiness.  I knew how to bounce and rock and sway.  I was calm. Laid-back.  I remembered.

Oh, sure. I have the advantage of not being completely hormonal, sleep-deprived, and freaked out by breastfeeding. I was only there a couple of hours. I got to leave. And I didn’t have two 2.5-year-olds to contend with at the same time. I know that.

But I also have the benefit of knowing, first-hand, that these phases are limited in their duration. They come and go. The days are long, the years are short.

Yes, I think I want a third kid. No, M does not.  We are, as they say, at an impasse.  And in this debate, the “no” wins.  I may or may not be able to sway him. It remains to be seen.

One way or another, in my head, I’m giving it to the end of this year. Logic being that, if I were to get pregnant at the very end of this year, that would put a new baby right around my kids’ 4th birthday. Past four, for me, is getting to be too large of an age separation.

Anyways, that’s what has been on my mind since visiting my sweet nephew this weekend. Thanks, Charlie, for giving me baby brain.

Things I have used to bribe/entice/reward my daughter for using the potty in the last five days:

• M&Ms
• Games on my iPhone
• Books
• Songs
• Congratulatory phone calls to
  • Daddy
  • Grandma
  • Grandpa
  • Aunt Rachel
• Pennies (for her “collection”)

We may be turning a bit of a corner, in that she has finally started telling me that she needs to use the potty. It is often a false alarm, but I’ve been praising her and thanking her for telling me, even if there’s no actual production.

Our first trip out of the house yesterday afternoon was not terribly successful.  We went to a playdate at a friend’s house, but it turns out to have been the most gargantuan playdate yet.  Our previous record for number of kids was 12, but yesterday was a whopping 18 kids, all but one under the age of 3.  It proved to be a bit much for Rebecca, who had two small and two larger accidents in quick succession.  She was clearly sort of trying to hold it, but also wouldn’t release when I scooped her up and sat her on the potty. Alas, work in progress.  And despite bringing a few changes, she rode home with no pants.  What can you do…

This morning, however, was much better.  She had a spontaneous ask-to-use-the-potty moment that, when I let her play a game on my phone in an effort to keep her on the potty for more than 3 seconds, actually resulted in success!  Yipee!  We then had a totally dry trip to music class (with one false-alarm potty request, and yes, I had the travel potty set up discretely in the corner), and followed it up with an accident-free stop at Starbucks.

Someday, I promise, I’ll stop writing about potty training…

O hai.

Guess what? Potty training hasn’t killed me! I’m not sure I yet believe that it has, in any way, made me stronger. But I’m not dead yet.

As I talked about on HDYDI today, we went for the cold-turkey approach with Becca.  I more or less followed the advice given in the 3-Day Potty Training eBook.  Saturday morning, we said goodbye to diapers and put her in underwear.  I was then glued to her side for the next three days.

Holy shit, is that exhausting.

So, I kind of pride myself on having fairly independent kids. While I’m obviously with them all the time, we get out to a lot of classes and activities where they can do their own thing. I don’t usually spend an entire day attempting to entertain them.

In order to really devote my attention to Becca, I sent M out with Daniel for as much of the weekend as possible.  M did a great job, took Daniel all over the place, and they really had a great time. I think it was a nice weekend for both of them, and I was glad to not have any extra distractions. I highly recommend doing the same if you find yourself trying to do potty boot camp with one kid and not another.

We did pretty much whatever she felt like doing. Stamps, finger painting, puzzles, books, an extra episode of TV here and there.  I really wanted to pick my battles selectively and not get into too many avoidable discipline situations, so it was kind of anything-goes for activities.  As long as it involved staying in the house.

Anyways, if I tell you the first day by the numbers, it won’t sound so bad: one success, three or four accidents.  Yep, that’s it.  My girl can, and does, hold it.  I suspect that, in the long term, this will prove to be a very good thing.  But in trying to train her, it doesn’t provide a lot of “teachable moments.”  It’s a lot of waiting, waiting, waiting… staring… asking… suggesting… building tension… and then an accident.  So, while there was not a lot of clean-up to deal with, there also was no sense of learning or progress.

And I had a wicked knot in my shoulder and tension headache. Apparently you hold your head in a weird position when staring at a 2-year-old all day.

Day two was, in a word, frustrating.  Again, she can hold it for hours, so it’s a lot of waiting for a single event. Still, not a lot of messes. But also not many chances for success and reinforcement.  It was particularly frustrating as I watched her squirm and dance around and stall and distract and delay around lunchtime, when I knew she needed to go. She sat on the potty several times, to no avail.  Forcing her to stay put seemed like the wrong approach, but as soon as she was happily playing with trains… accident.  Argh.

In the meantime, she was clearly a little stressed by this big transition, and/or had picked up on the fact that I was trying to choose my battles.  Her behavior went, pardon the expression, down the toilet. Sass, attitude, throwing things, grabbing things. I went back to our usual counting of poor behavior and things got a touch better.  But a late-day accident sent her into over-dramatic wails.  In a sense, I was sort of glad to see that having the accident bothered her, but the histrionics were really not what I was in the mood to deal with.

At the end of day two, I was beyond tired and frustrated and wanted to throw in the towel. After a little time to space out and cool off after the kids went to bed, I talked it over with M and we agreed that this is a no-going-back kind of approach. If we give up and do diapers again, we lose our credibility for the next time. Best to just suck it up.

Going into today, day three, I was both steeled and nervous. No longer could I send Daniel off for the day with M, so now I had both kids cooped up in the house for another day, only one of whom was potty training.  But we may be on the upswing.  Morning had two successes and no accidents.  The naptime Pull-Up was dry (yes, we’re using Pull-Ups for nap and bedtime).  There was a late-afternoon accident that I tried to prevent but didn’t quite make it, and then another success before bedtime.  Three-to-one, the balance swung back in the right direction. Plus, the kids could entertain each other, so I could simply supervise much of the time instead of constantly playing cruise director.

Still tired, but spirits improving. I hesitate to call it an unqualified win, as all of today’s successes were led by me. I have yet to have her just stop, tell me she needs to use the potty, and then do so.  It’s been a lot of me watching her for signs of pausing, agitation, or other clues that she needs to go.  Sometimes she’ll decide to give it a shot, sometimes not.

That said, I declare Rebecca done with diapers. We aren’t going back. It will continue to be a work in progress, obviously, but she is now in underwear during waking hours.

And, so help me God, we are leaving the damned house tomorrow.  All of this staying in goes completely counter to my entire parenting ethos.  Playdate, here we come.

I’ll bring a change of clothes.