I just read Jamie Jung's post from April 23 about potty training. Personally, I'd never even consider trying it with a 2 year old, unless they took off their diaper, and came to me and said, "You know, I'd really rather do my "business" in a toilet, like a civilized human." And then, I'd be skeptical. 2 year olds aren't that well known for being compliant on ANYTHING, and while I understand that incredible desire to not have to change those nasty diapers that 2 and 3 year olds produce, well... that's just a bit young.

Of course, I had 2 boys. Boys are an entirely different creature from girls, (well, DUH!) and they have a harder time with the whole muscle control thing, AND they tend to speak a bit later than girls do as well, making it difficult to communicate their needs. My oldest one WAS day time toilet trained by the time he was just over 3. But the minute he'd fall asleep, ANY time he'd fall asleep, the shut off valve would malfunction, and he had an instant water bed, if you get my drift. That took a long time (only till he was 4, but it felt like for EVER) to get him over.

Then came Andy. That boy has been a struggle from the minute we found out he was on the way! OH I was sick! And I retained water better than the Hoover Dam ever could! My feet and legs were so swollen, I had stretch marks that oozed liquid on the tops of my feet. MAN that hurt! One of my older brothers, who isn't normally the "warm and fuzzy" type, said, "Gawd, it makes me want to cry FOR you just to look at you. Does it hurt as much as it LOOKS like it hurts?" And then when I was about 30 weeks into the 40 week pregnancy, they did an ultrasound and told me that he'd probably weigh between 11 and 15 pounds. Yeah, you're going in after him, Doc... no WAY I'm pushing out something the size of last year's Thanksgiving main dish! C-section went fine, Al came back out to say, "9 pounds 15 ounces!" and I said, "Is that ALL?" They thought I was insane! Fine, they may have thought that for other reasons, but still.

So he turned 3 on June 16, 2005. He got a potty chair long before that. I even put the potty chair in the living room, so he wouldn't have to walk so far. I was going to use the puppy pad method. Get him to use the potty chair out in the living room, and then slowly and methodically move it down the hall to the bathroom, and eventually, he'd use the toilet. Well, that didn't work at all. The seat became a hat. I think he DID actually use the potty chair for its intended purpose once or twice, but he just wasn't "into" it. I was fairly sure that he'd be wearing diapers to kindergarten.

Then one day, November 22, to be exact. At 5:16 pm, He was on the couch doing one of his "shows" that he used to do all the time. He'd grab a hair brush, a spoon, whatever he could find that was microphone shaped, and he'd take a deep breath, and say, "DAYDEES AND GEMMALIN! IT'S DA ANDY SHOWWWWWW!" MAN those were the days! Anyway, I digress... he was right in the middle of his introductions of his "guests", who, by the way, were all him, but with different names, and different acts, and he said, "OH! I gotta POOP!" and he ran down the hallway, stripping off pants and diaper as he went. He got up on the big toilet, did his thing, asked for help wiping his butt, and we were potty trained. That simple. That easy. When HE was ready, THAT's when he's going to do something! He'd been dry all night since July, so I knew he had the control part down. It was just a matter of not being told what to do. And THAT's why I dye my hair, and see a family counselor! My 4 year old can't be bothered with listening to the voice of authority. UGH!

Well, I was told today that it's been far too long since I blogged last. I kind of wanted to keep this blog light hearted and upbeat, and honestly, there's not been much lightheartedness going on around here lately.

My mom's had more setbacks, and spent the weekend in the hospital, where they determined that she had pneumonia, which was caused by aspirating liquids into her lungs when she drinks. In other words, she's starting to hold liquids in her mouth too long, and some trickles down the back of her throat, and she inhales it into her lungs. So now she's on thickened liquids. Don't know if you've ever encountered thickened water, milk or coffee, but I'm here to tell you, it's not the most pleasant of sensations. But she really seemed to like the thickened diet sprite. It was kind of cool to watch the bubbles get suspended in the thickener, and work their way to the top, and then go "Bloop!" And it didn't taste so bad, but still, "drinking" water or anything that is the consistency of runny, not quite set up pudding is kind of icky.

She was turned down to go back to the assisted living facility that we moved them both to back in January, because they said that they didn't think they could keep her safe enough there. I'm not convinced that THAT is the reason they didn't want her back, but I've decided that it is what it is, and now I need to just move on from here. She's been admitted to an area nursing home, after 2 days' wait in the hospital. Not sure what the problem was, but they said they were all full, or at least that there were no beds for her.

I've been very impressed, so far with the staff and almost everything about this place. SHe's now been a resident of all 3 of the nursing homes in the city, and surrounding villages, and this one is by far the best of the 3, from my first impression. We'll see if I remain as impressed as time goes by here, but so far so good. And the thing that's the real kicker is that Mom has not once said, "Well, let's get our stuff and go home". That was her steady "mantra" while at the hospital back in Feb., at the nursing home while she had rehab, and then back at the assisted living with my Dad. None of that was home for her, I guess. I'm bummed that the first place she's felt like staying in 4 months is a nursing home, but what the hell. If she's happy and content, that's all I can ask for, right? As messed up as her mind is these days, happy and content at a nursing home is FAR better than pissed off at the world, somewhere else.

The staff here doesn't look all angry and burned out, either. The one CNA that was working tonight when I was there visiting, said she'd been there since 8 this morning, and it was after 8 tonight, and she was still smiling, and good natured, and friendly and caring. The last home she was in, even minutes after they came on shift, the aides all looked pissed off at the world. There was one nurse that worked there that showed true caring and concern, and I made sure that the head of nursing knew about her. The rest of them, they were just there to get a check.

Mom would say, "well, this place is...." and that's about as far as any thought goes these days. She starts out good, then about 4 words in, the thought just kind of fades away. So I said, "This place is nice?" and she said, with clarity in her eyes, "Well, I'd say YES!" SO that makes it easier for me to sleep at night. I can't tell you how heavy my heart was, and has been for the last few days, knowing that I was going to have to put her in a nursing home, most likely for the rest of her days. Unless a miracle happens, and she comes out of her "fog" again, but we had that miracle once, back in '04, I can't even begin to think that God would bless us with another turn at clarity. Besides, the decline back to this phase is just so incredibly heart wrenching to watch.

For anyone in their teens or 20's who may be still reading at this point, I really want to say something to you. You know how at times, these days, you look at your parents and think, "They are just SO stupid! I wish they'd just keep their opinions to themselves!" Well, I was that way too. And looking back on it now, I sincerely wish that I could turn back the clock, and NOT feel that way, so that I'd be able to ask her all those things that I still need to know. Things like her BBQ sauce recipe. Things like, how to fix a tear in the seat of a pair of blue jeans, so that it won't rip again in the same exact spot. Things like, how do you keep from stringing your 4 year old up by his toenails when he's just poked the screen out of the window and let the dog, and one of the cats outside, where they both ran off, and you can't find them? Nearly every day, something comes to mind, and I think, "I need to call Mom and ask... " and then I get incredibly sad, because she doesn't even remember that I'm her daughter anymore. She thinks I'm her sister. (In her defense, I DO look a bit like her sister did when she was younger, but still) The other day, she couldn't think of my Dad's name. She said, "Why would I even know that" when the nurse at the hospital asked her what his name was. She wasn't even sure she was married to him. When the nurse said, "That's your husband!" She looked at me like she thought the nurse was completely off her rocker.

So when you're thinking your Mom is just kind of stupid, stop and realize that you may not have her around for long, and some day, all that information she's gathered about the world will be stuff YOU'd like to know, and if you don't pay attention now, you may never get the chance to find it all out.

Some days, it truly would be easier for me if she'd just pass away. It's so hard looking at her, and yet, when she looks back, it's not "HER". It's a shell. She LOOKS like my Mom. She SOUNDS like my Mom, but this person doesn't have any of the wit, intelligence, candor, or sense of humor that my Mom has. It's like someone went to the trouble of making a replica, but didn't give it any of the necessary background information to pull off the switch. Every day, I have to accept the fact that I've lost my Mother, but yet, I have to go see her, and make sure she's being well cared for, and is as content as she can be. It sucks. And it stinks that I feel this way, which is in DIRECT conflict of what I'm taught, and that I truly believe, based on my faith. Life is prescious, and needs to be preserved. And yet, I look at my Mother, and when I say my daily prayers, I pray that God will take her home to heaven quickly. Either that, or that He will make her mind so that she does not realize where she is, and that she can find peace in her daily existence. Make it so that no matter how little of her family she remembers, that she can be content. That's all I want. Peace for her. The last few months have been anything BUT peaceful for her. She's been angry, upset, and scared for so long. Maybe God has answered my prayers already, and I'm just not seeing it. I hope so.

On Monday, we (Andy and I, Daddy had to work) went to see our family counselor again. She had said last meeting, that this time, we'd put together Andy's behavior chart, and she'd give me "the rules for time out"... SO I was really quite excited about this particular session. We put together his consequence/reward chart, and it seemed ok at the moment. But as awesome as an idea seems in the development phase, once you put them into real world application, things go south rather quickly. This chart has our "goals of behavior" in the center. For Andy, the goals are, "Obey the first time." and "No hurting the dog on purpose". Pretty straightforward. We figured that the "obey the 1st time pretty much covered everything, and the dog one needed specific attention. ON the rewards side, if he was successful for a whole day, he gets to take a bath for as long as he wanted to in the evening. If it were up to him, he'd be in the tub for more than an hour. So that's a good reward. If he is successful for 4 days, he gets a new hotwheel car. Another good reward. If he succeeds for a full week, he gets a dollar for his bank, and if he succeeds for an entire month, we will go swimming. Either at the pool, lake, or in the winter, we can always go pay to swim at one of the local hotels that has an indoor pool area. SO we're all set on the rewards!

Consequences were a bit more frustrating to come up with. She kept suggesting things like sweeping the floor, or washing dishes, scrubbing the tub, and these are all things that I have to try to KEEP him from doing. He LOVES doing that stuff... and when he sweeps in front of himself, then there's stuff falling and breaking BEHIND him... so it's not real good for MY nerves to have him do it! But she said that because he's a "Lion" one of the 4 basic personality types, giving him stationary or static consequences will not work, because he's an "Active" personality. He has to be DOING... he's going to be a mover and a shaker some day. That IS, assuming he survives childhood... UGH! SO... the consequences we came up with were... the first time he doesn't do what is asked, or is mean to the dog, he has to clean the toilet. If he refuses to do that, then he moves up the ladder, to folding clothes. And then, when he's done folding clothes, he has to clean the toilet. IF he refuses to fold the clothes, then he has to go put away all the clothes already IN his room, and then fold the ones down here, and then clean the toilet... and the last, worst thing on the "bad" side is, if he refuses to do that, then he has to put away ALL his toys for at least 2 hours, then put away his clothes, then fold the clothes, and then clean the toilet. Each time he gets back down to the "ground"... he has earned his right to take one of his long baths... SO in other words, he COULD "lose" and "earn back" his bath privileges several times in the course of one day.

Ok... so, I come home, and I'm just ALL kinds of excited to try my new strategies! I hang his chart on the fridge as instructed, and I'm armed with the rules for time out. If there's something that he does spontaneously, that's naughty, but not necessarily disobeying a command, or harassing the dog, like... Throwing a hard chew toy across the room, and beaning Mom in the back of the head, that's time out territory. Time outs are to be one minute per year of child's age, and at this point, he gets 4 1/2 minutes, since he'll be 5 in June. AND the time out does not start until he is quiet and calm.

SO I'm all armed with this new knowledge, and I'm all excited, and then I get beaned with that darn chewy, and "TIME OUT!" it is! We discussed previously where the time out spot is going to be, (the front corner of the living room) so he actually headed there. Then he was sitting on the mat, and was just being squirrely. Not agitated, just squirrely. I reminded him that his time out didn't start until he was quiet. The therapist mentioned that she'd had some kids tak up to an hour or two to quiet down, and ONLY then did the time out start. SO I took a deep breath, and prepared for a wait. She had said to remind him every 4 minutes, (the time of his time out) that his time out wouldn't start till he was quiet, and that if he'd been quiet, he could be done by now. So I said, "remember, your time out doesn't start until you're quiet, and you COULD have been done by now, but you're squirreling around." And he looked at me, through those little magnifying glasses he now wears, big brown eyes made even bigger, puts his hands over his mouth, and says, "Shut UP, mouth! You're gonna get me in TROUBLE!"

HOW am I going to survive this kid's childhood??? He is BEYOND intelligent, and I'm truly scared what Junior high, and high school is going to bring! I may have to tie him under the basement stairs, and home school him after he leaves Good Shepherd at the end of 8th grade! HELP!

So yesterday was Easter. It's MY favorite time of the year, actually. "Holy Week" has, in the last 5 years, become the best time of my life. And it's because of the incredible good news of Jesus dying, and taking all the weight of MY sins onto himself, and making sure that I can go to Heaven when I die. My 4 year old has been going to church 9 Sundays out of 10 for his entire life. And for the first 3 years, we went to the mid-week service too, just because. He's been in Sunday school, getting a lesson for 2 years now, and until this year, I honestly was wondering if ANYTHING was sinking into that little skull of his. Then this last week, on Thursday, despite the fact that he was on Spring break, he remembered that it was Thursday, and said that "Today is the day that Jesus gave the bread and wine to his 'sciples, you know!"

And then on Friday afternoon, he said, "The whole world shook when Jesus died, you know!" And on Sunday afternoon, when my parents came for lunch, he kept saying, "He's risen!" And today, when we went to the counselor, the one we saw that's going to help us figure out how to handle him more effectively, he walked in and said, "HE's RISEN!" and when she said, "Who's that?" He said, "JESUS! You heard of Him, right?" And she said, "yes, I have!" And he said, "Jesus is my best friend! He got himself hurted, so I can go to heaven!"

Today, or rather, I guess yesterday, I went to the Boy's and Girl's club to watch my oldest offspring get "slimed"... OR as the 4 year old corrected me, "puddinged". Ben has worked at the club now since just before Christmas.

He's had several jobs in the past year and 1/2 or so, and he's always beat himself up over not staying with them, etc... but I honestly feel that he was just not cut out to be in customer service jobs. SERVICE jobs, yes... but something where he's helping, making a difference, that sort of thing. Not "would you like fries with that?" type service. And he fell into this job through his schooling at Mid-State, and it's the best thing that's happened to him in a long time. He just "fits" there. If you read his blog here, you know how much he loves it. I don't usually post things about Ben, because he's pretty self-conscious, and I don't want to say anything that will embarass him. But this, I HAVE to share!

Go check out his Blog, (Ben Holberg) for March 21, to see the video I took of his "sliming". Despite the fact that he said it was INCREDIBLY cold, and stunk, he had a big, googly grin on his face the whole time. There was a time in his life, where if he'd been voted on to receive something like that, he'd have walked out. But those kids love him. You can see it in their faces.

When I walked in the front door today, there were about 8 or 10 kids standing around the desk, (Most of 'em girls) just looking at him. I asked him if he does tricks if they stare long enough. He kind of looked like a bear in the zoo. WOnder if I got some marshmallows to toss to him, if he'd do tricks, or if he'd just take the marshmallows over in the corner and eat 'em?

His little brother was SO anticipating this today! Even managed to overshadow the whole "when are we going to dye Easter Eggs?" kick he's been on all week long! We finally did the eggs this afternoon, after returning from the club. Andy calls it "Ben's club". His big brother doesn't think so, but for a certain 4 year old in my house, the sun rises and sets on his big brother's butt. That kid adores his brother! Ben called me to ask a question this evening, from the girlfriend's car, and when I hung up, Andy said, with the biggest, saddest eyes EVER, "but I wanted to talk to my brother!" So I dialed Ben's phone again, and handed Andy the phone. I just wish Ben could have seen the look on his little brother's face when he answered his phone. It was awesome. They conversed for about 4 minutes, and then life was good in the Bunt house again.

There was a letter to the editor in today's paper that got me to thinking about when I was growing up here in Wisconsin Rapids. The letter in today's paper said that a family with young children was stopped at a stoplight in town, and a group of teenagers was in the vehicle next to them, and the kids were yelling and hollering, and swearing and cursing at this family.

Apparently, these kids do not have moms like mine. Love her to death, but when I was a teenager, I was scared to DEATH of the woman! Not so much that I thought she might do me physical harm, but I just couldn't bear the thought of seeing that look of disappointment that would cross her face when I screwed something up and got caught at it. I mean, it was one thing to be disobedient and obnoxious at HOME, but I'd never, EVER have considered doing something out in public that might embarass her if I got caught at it. Call me sappy, boring, whatever, but my old friends can tell you, they all thought my Mom was the strictest Mom on the planet. And I really didn't have any "rules", so to speak, but she had taught me right from wrong, and then left it up to me to decide. So when my friends wanted to do something that might not be in line with what Mom would want me doing, I'd quick look at my watch, and say, "OH CRAP! She's going to KILL me!" and run off home. Then I'd tell them at school the next day that I was grounded for a day or two, just to make it sound good, so that they might forget about doing whatever it was that we had been discussing doing.

Mom only, as far as I remember, ever really used "corporal punishment" on me one time. I was upset with my sister for something, and winged a shoe at her, one of those big, clunky wooden clogs that were so popular in the late 70's and early 80's. I missed my sister, and caught my Mom in the back of the head. I knew the second it left my hand that I was about to die a slow and painful death at the hand of my mother, so I set out running to get up to my bedroom. I figured if I could get up there, and get the door closed, and keep it closed long enough, she might calm down, and only maim me. I slipped on the rug at the bottom of the steps, and that was just enough of a delay, and she caught me half way up the steps, and just whacked me with that shoe. Yeah, today, that would be grounds for a child abuse trial, but back then, it was simply teaching me that it was not a good idea to throw things when you got angry. It's a lesson I've held close to my heart ever since.

Honestly, I think that if more parents took a "hands on" approach with their children, and quit worrying when the little cherubs said, "I'll call the cops on you!", society would be a much nicer place to be. Now, before I get a bunch of hate mail, I'm not advocating beating your children for sport and entertainment, but a well placed swat on the tush when they're acting like animals is NOT out of line. My oldest son didn't "need" spanking. All I had to do to calm him down was to shut myself in the bathroom to count to ten, twenty, or sometimes a hundred, and he'd be SO upset that I "ran away" from him, he immediately calmed down, and stopped whatever behavior it was that prompted my being upset. Now, the 4 year old on the other hand... HOLY COW! That boy is a completely different kid! No amount of talking, time outing, reasoning, or bribery will make him stop doing what he's doing. The ONLY thing that gets his attention is a swat on the butt, followed by a reminder that if he REPEATS the behavior, the board is hanging on the wall by the kitchen, and WILL be used the next time. Haven't had to use that one but once. And he remembers that. And the promise of a future use usually calms him down enough to be redirected to some less destructive behavior.

So, as is written in my bio, I have the two kids, and the husband, and I've got guardianship of my Mom. Mom is 81, and has dementia issues, and has had for 4 years now, and Dad has macular degeneration, and there's not much more that they can do to help him keep his vision. He has the "wet" type, which robs people of their vision fastest, and most thoroughly. It's very scary for him, and I've been watching him pretty closely, looking for signs of depression, because he can't read the newspaper any more, he can't really enjoy watching TV much, because what he DOES see is jumping around in his field of vision, making it not really that relaxing of an activity. He can't see to play cards, or board games, so he says he doesn't like them. Guess he'd rather be thought of as a grumpy old codger than as "the blind guy". I don't know how to help him. It's frustrating, because whenever I suggest something that might be helpful, it's always too expensive for him. I suggested that we could get a magnifying screen for him to be able to read the paper. Medicare would help pay for some of it, I've got brothers that belong to the Lion's club, they could probably help get him one, but he won't do it. I've suggested other things that might make his life easier, but he won't do it. UGH! Like he's said all his life, you can sure tell an old Norwegian, but you can't tell him MUCH! He's also got hearing issues, AND he's not remembering things like he used to, either, so when you tell him something, he only hears about 3/4 of it, if you're lucky, and then he'll only remember half of THAT, so OY!

We moved them into an assisted living facility back in the beginning of January. They'd actually moved out of that physical building 20 years ago in May, when they were offered the position of Care Takers at the Huntington House apartments by Bob Thompson, the director of the Housing Authority in town. They moved out of this duplex and into Huntington house, and now, we've moved them back there. It had been owned by a good friend of Dad's, and we lived there for Oh, I don't know, 2 or 3 years, back in the 80's. Between then and now, the OTHER half of the duplex had been involved with a fire, and the Woman who owns another Home based assisted living facility around the corner bought it, completely gutted it, removed the dividers between the two halves, and turned it into a 4 bed adult family home. When I got wind of the place, I was SO excited! Took my oldest brother, and we went to look at it, and other than the fact that Mom and Dad have separate bedrooms now, it's as close to ideal as we could POSSIBLY have found! The place is perfect. Or almost perfect. There are a couple of things that might be "better" for them, but really, is ANYplace EVER perfect?

The day we moved them to the new place, Mom fell in the bedroom at the old apartment. Don't know how she got in the room alone, with so many of us there, but she did, and whammo, down she went. Then she fell again at the new place mid-month, and then fell again on the 31 of Jan. That one resulted in a bleed on her brain, and a week long hospital stay, and now she's in a local nursing home for rehab. I try to get there every day, because I know that residents of nursing homes who have regular visitors get better care. I also don't ever go at the same time, two days in a row, so that I'm never "expected", so that I can get a good sense of how she's being treated.

Well, Monday, we decided that since there's a possibility that she'll be going home sometime next week, that we should maybe take her back for a visit first, to see if the caregivers that work there think they'll be able to "handle" her now that she's got even more cognitive issues, etc... so I went to pick her up at 10 in the morning. I got there a little early, but only like 5 or 10 minutes. Didn't expect anyone to rush around and accommodate me because I was early. I'm just like that. When I was coming in, the CNA that usually works in the wing Mom is in said, "oh, she's down in therapy right now." So I figured they wanted to get her therapy done with before she left for the afternoon. No big deal. I went to the therapy room, and she wasn't there. OK, maybe we missed her in the transit, no big deal. SO I head back to her room, and the CNA is about 30 feet ahead of me in the hall, and she says, "Well! Delores! How did you..." at that point, she realized I was behind her, so she quit talking. I get down to her room, and she's on her bed, and her wheelchair is nowhere to be seen. I turn around, and one of the physical therapy workers is literally jogging up the hallway with Mom's chair. At the time, I figured, "Oh, there was something wrong with her chair, they brought her back to her room, took the chair, fixed it, or replaced it, and were now bringing it back to her"

On Tuesday, Mom had a doctor's appointment in Marshfield, with the Orthopaedic surgeon who did her shoulder replacement a couple of years back. It showed that it was dislocated on her films from the fall, so he wanted to look at it, and see if there was anything more HE could do to "fix" it, or at least make her comfortable. She's not in pain, it's just dislocated, because she refused to follow through with her therapy, and there are virtually no muscles holding it in place at this point. the only thing to do would be to re-do the ENTIRE surgery, and that wouldn't guarantee anything. She's not in pain, so they're going to leave it alone. (THANK GOD!)

When I took her back to the home after her appointment yesterday, the nurse and the CNA just casually brought up the fact that Mom had, "the other day", but they MEANT on Monday morning, she had slipped away from PT, "walked" her wheelchair down to the door to the stairway, got OUT of the chair, pushed open the door, WALKED up the steps, Opened the door at the TOP of the stairs, and walked down the hallway to her room, and laid herself down, without anybody knowing she was on the move. I have to assume, after watching her walk, that she HAD to have been unsupervised, and on her own for at LEAST 10 minutes. THAT, to me, is COMPLETELY unacceptable! And when I talked to the ombudsperson, she said that unfortunately, stuff like that happens all the time. And because she DIDN'T get hurt, there's not a whole lot I can do about it. It's VERY frustrating. And there are so many other things that have happened there, like medicine errors, and just generally not for them knowing where she is when I go to visit. One person will say she's in therapy, they'll say she's getting her hair done, they'll say she's back in her room. It's very frustrating!

Thanks for listening.