Diaper Wars: You Can't Negotiate with a Two Year Old

In the early days of parenthood, we'd been told to watch for signs of speech and language delays for our little man.

Determined to give him the best chance possible, we did all that we could to encourage language from the early months. We took him to the Infant Development Program. We read him stories throughout the day. We named EVERYTHING we came into contact with. We incorporated sign language so that before his first birthday, he could express that he wanted "more" or was "finished", if he needed a bottle, and (we hoped!) would be able to indicate if he was tired. (We're still waiting for an intentional verbal or non-verbal expression that he'd like to sleep, but that's another story.)

As luck and determination would have it, the speech delays that had been forecast never materialized. In fact, he's so chatty most of the time that I catch myself wondering where the off switch is. At two years old, his vocabulary is snowballing rapidly, and the depths of our conversations have increased so much that I sometimes have to stop and remind myself that he's only two and I need to respond more age-appropriately. 

The scary part is, he has enough wit and wisdom about him that he thinks he can negotiate with me. It's a terrifying realization for any parent, particularly of a two year old.

One day, just before nap time, Noah whipped his diaper off again in some randomly inappropriate way. (Is it ever appropriate unless you're changing it?) I caught myself trying to rationalize with him:

"Noah, if you take your diaper off you'll pee all over the floor. Then you'll slip and break your neck."

I even went so far as to recount an episode that actually happened to my youngest brothers when they were two and three years respectively:

"Noah, when Uncle Connor and Uncle Cory were little, Uncle Cory peed on the floor and Uncle Connor came running along and slipped and fell and got a concussion. Do you know what a concussion is?"

He stared at me and shook his head slowly, feigning comprehension. 

I continued, "A concussion happens when you hit your head very hard. It's a, big, big owie inside your head. Your brains bounce around like a soccer ball. Uncle Connor fell down and got a concussion."

Noah blinked "no ca-cusion, Mommy. Get a big time out instead. Please?" 

Sigh. He thought I was threatening in him with a concussion. I felt absolutely terrible. So I tried a different approach. 

"Noah, you need to keep your diaper on. Your bum is going to get cold!" 

He just stared up at me and said. "Mommy, I don't like my diaper. Gonna take it off. Gonna get big time out. Den I pee da bed."

We were at an impasse. I was trying to rationalize with my two year old, and he was rationalizing right back. He knew what he was doing. He hated his diaper, so his diaper was gone. He recognized there would be a consequence, and he was going to wet the bed anyways.

What have I got myself in for? "Well, Noah, since you won't keep your diaper on, Mommy has to put you in your backwards jammies, even for your nap. And I know you like to wear your big boy clothes during the day."

He got a look in his eye. THE look. The look that tells you he knows his parent feels defeated. "Okay mommy. I wear my jammies. Den I get a chocolate chip?"

I shook my head NO very firmly. The US government does not negotiate with terrorists. And I do not negotiate with two year olds. "You will go to sleep in your backwards jammies." I whipped a pair out of the closet, taped his diaper on as snugly as I could, wrangled him into his backwards pajamas, and tucked him into bed. "Good NIGHT, Noah."

I turned off the light to his room, rounded the corner into the hallway and pretended to walk away. I stood and listened to him try to wrestle himself out of his jammies. After a few minutes of "Ack! Ack! ACK!" and tossing himself about the room, he finally proclaimed to himself. "I is stuck. No get diaper off. No be naughty. Oh well. Good try, Noah. Maybe next time. GOOD NIGHT MOMMY!"

Lord help me. And Lord help me when we try to toilet train him!

Help for Haiti

The earthquake in Haiti has had a devastating impact. That devastation extends to many families in British Columbia. For those families who are in process - who have had a proposal for a child and are waiting to bring them home, the news is especially heart-wrenching.

AFABC has created a special page devoted to Haiti. It includes ways you can support the rescue and relief efforts, and includes links to the Canadian Embassy and other crucial information sources for those that have family members or friends on the island.AFABC Help for Haiti Links.

AFABC will be releasing a special *enews* bulletin to our membership regarding the earthquake. If you have children in Haiti, (if you haven't already), please contact your Licensed Agency who may have information for you and will offer specialized supports for your family. AFABC has five Adoption Support Coordinators throughout the province (including myself!) and we are here to offer our support to you as well. 

Our thoughts, prayers, and love are with everyone affected by this tragedy. 

Little Meeting, Big Impact

Sometimes it's the little things that make a big impact in this world. 

A few weeks back I got a client call requesting we run a support group meeting for waiting parents. I pulled out my calendar, we chose a date, and I sent an invite out to our relevant membership.  

Today was support group day, and when I woke up I was feeling a little reluctant to leave my son at home. He was an extra snuggly monster this morning, and the days when he wants to set up "snuggle camp" are becoming fewer and further between.

But the meeting was this afternoon, and by the time I left at 1pm, I'd already rescued six breakables from certain death at the hands of my toddler. I'd endured three tantrums, four time-outs, and successfully scrubbed maple syrup out of said-toddler's curls. By 1pm, I was ready for a little break!

The support group meeting ended up having a small turn out, but a big impact. We had just six people in attendance. As prior experiences have taught me, sometimes the more intimate groups have the best conversations and become the most effective means of touching people. Today was no exception to that rule.

I went to the meeting expecting to facilitate a group that is dear to my heart but to which I don't personally belong. My plan was to facilitate but not participate except when relevant or when requested. 

As it turned out, I got to witness and chat with a remarkable group of really caring parents and prospective parents. I got to revisit the time in my life not so very long ago when my husband and I were taking those uncertain steps towards the big leap into adoptive parenting. Hearing their stories and sharing those hopes reminded me that even the littlest meetings can have a very big impact.

After handing in the keys to the workshop room and walking back into the rainy city streets, I felt absolute gratitude to have had the opportunity to be a part of a group with such a wonderful, caring dynamic.  

Thank you to the five friends who came to share their time today. We may not have filled the room, but those two hours went further than you may have realized - at least for this Adoption Support Coordinator.

Dare I Say it... Success??!!

At the risk of condemning myself to another vicious cycle of terrible bedtimes, I'm going to go ahead and say it: Houston, we have a sleeper.

Last night was no miracle. I think Noah finally drifted off to sleep at around 10:30pm.

But he didn't crash the gate.
He didn't rip his backwards pajamas off.
He didn't bounce himself off his bed or ricochet off the corner of any piece of furniture.

He didn't bleed, pee, vomit, or cry on anything.

Of course, he tried the usual tactics:
"I want anudder story!"
"I want a bath!"'

And our usual (arguably cruel response) of "And I want a unicorn!" was met with a rebuttal of "ACK! Ack! ACK! No UNICORN!" but he quickly realized his Napoleonic demands would go unheeded.  

It was actually NOAH that called out "Close your eyes, no noise. Good Night!" to us instead of the other way around.

Huh.

So my hubby and I headed to bed while he was still chirping to himself at 10:15. We left both the doors wide open in case he executed an escape plan.

Instead, he sang himself to sleep:

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear POTATO, Happy birthday to you!" Whatever makes you happy, my son. And whatever gets you to sleep. :)