This Holiday Season Empower You Children To Say No

Holidays are a time when we see a lot of family and friends -- people who are happy to see our beautiful, growing children. People who are excited to meet them for the first time and people who are thrilled to see the smallest family members again. The scene is typical; outstretched arms, little cheeks being pinched, lots of requests for kisses, bellies rubbed and tickled... it's the perfect time to teach our children about setting boundaries with their bodies, a to begin an inoculation of sorts against molestation. 

Yes, the holidays are perfect time for a child to practice saying "no." As in "No, I don't want to kiss her... No, I don't want to sit on his lap... No, I don't want to be tickled anymore." We all want to protect our children from being molested. If you are like me, you talk to your children about not letting people touch their private parts and not touching people's genitals. I also role-play with my children, but nothing prepares us for life better than life itself. Having the opportunity to stand before an adult or another child and say "no" is a great experience for children. Most importantly, being respected by adults, rather than ignored and forced to give kisses, hugs, or be passed from lap to lap, teaches a child that his/her boundaries must be respected. It empowers them and builds a trusting relationship between a parent and child where the child knows mom and dad will back them up, support them and stand by them even when their "no" is embarrassing or uncomfortable for others. 

I can tell you from personal experience that this approach will not make you popular. I've heard it all "You should teach them to be polite... You let them get away with being rude... I can't believe they won't give me just one kiss!" When these comments come as I pull my child away from an overpowering (though loving) family member, I pretend I'm made of Teflon and just let the words slide right off. My children are not brats, they just know they can say no to anyone, any time, and that my husband and I will always support them and stand up for them. 

It surprises me how many contradicting messages we send children in our society. We tell them not to let anyone touch areas covered by clothes, but then we do exactly that; a gymnastics teacher putting a stamp on a child's belly, a swim coach tickling a tummy or an acquaintance lifting a child onto their shoulders. As parents it's important that we stay on top of things and not let down our guard. When I say "No, please don't put a stamp on her belly... Please don't tickle his stomach," people are taken aback and I get the "wow, what-a-crazy-lady" look. But I know I'm empowering my children, teaching them to say no and protect themselves. 

So this holiday season don't send your children mixed messages. Don't force them to kiss anyone, hug anyone, sit on any one's lap. Give your children the best Christmas gift you can give them -- the first of many vaccines against being sexual abuse. Let them say no. 

 

Born To Be Wild

My husband and I recently took our children, Camila (4) and Mateo (3), to see their first IMAX movie, Born To Be Wild. We sat at the very top so we wouldn't injure our necks looking up and that decision resulted in one of the most adorable questions from my son once the movie began; "Mommy, are we inside the movie?" For the remainder of the film he and his sister asked, "Where are we going now?", every time there was a scenery transition. These questions from my children encompass their innocence, vulnerability and ability to just believe and be in the present -- I love any experience that reminds me that I have much to learn from my kids.

Born To Be Wild is the story of two women, one in Africa and the other in Indonesia, who have dedicated their lives to saving orphaned elephants and orphaned orangutans respectively. We meet the teams of people who support their work by actually living with these animals and caring for them twenty-four hours a day.

You know how they often use the word heartwarming to describe a film and it can mean little or nothing at times? Well, this movie truly is heartwarming. I was moved and inspired by the humanity shown to these animals and by how very similar their needs are to ours. I am not one to equate humans with animals, but this movie really captures why every being should be respected and valued. Though we are different from them, our needs and our journeys are quite similar. My children even self-identified with the orangutans; Camila said she was the one who ate the soap while bathing, and Mateo said he was the little one sitting in a woven basket.

The film is narrated by Morgan Freeman and the IMAX screen truly swallows you into the amazing jungles of Indonesia and the unforgiving African terrain. My children were mesmerized the entire forty minutes and have not stopped talking about it. I was truly astonished by the dedication and love demonstrated by the people who rescue, rehabilitate and prepare these animals to return to the wild with a greater chance of survival. And just like we can learn from small children, we can learn from these elephants and orangutans how to relate, love and empathize with each other.

Amazing, inspiring and moving. A must-see for the whole family!


Official movie site: http://www.imax.com/borntobewild/

Arthur Christmas - Movie Review

One of my favorite family traditions is going to the movies the day after Thanksgiving. This year I watched Arthur Christmas with my mom, my sister, my husband and my children, Camila (4) and Mateo (3).

I must say, when I saw the previews I didn't have the slightest interest in the film. We went to see it because the show time worked with the kids' schedule. To my surprise, I loved it from beginning to end. Actually, the beginning was my favorite part -- I found it to be creative and exciting, reminding me a lot of movies like Mission Impossible.

The story is realistic... I know what you're thinking, "It's about Santa Claus and elves Karla!" But I allowed myself to be immersed in the movie and chose to believe in Santa Claus for the duration of the film. The family dynamic was credible and the characters were developed enough for us to be cheering for certain ones. Plus, after watching how Santa and the elves deliver all those gifts at the beginning, it really all makes sense!

The theater was packed with adults and children of all ages. Throughout the movie there was a lot of laughter coming from the adults and the movie was dynamic enough to keep the children entertained. (There wasn't a bunch of walk-outs like I saw during Cars 2). I'm really good at figuring out the mystery or the punch line in a movie, but this one kept me guessing till the end and almost made me cry. Almost.

I definitely recommend this movie -- it's one both you and your children will enjoy!

Official movie site link: http://www.arthurchristmas.com/

I've Decided to Stop Poisoning My Family

Yes, I was poisoning my family. Isn't that horrible?


When my husband and I got married we bought a nice set of pans at Macy's. We didn't know anything about cooking so we were led by brand, appearance and price figuring the more expensive, the better the pans. Since we didn't know hot to cook we figured we should go with ease and chose the non-stick pans. Little did I know we had started poisoning ourselves. See, at high temperatures, non-stick cookware releases PFOA's, a toxic chemical that is a carcinogen linked to low birth weights. 


I hate cooking, but when my daughter was born I started cooking a lot more and simultaneously learned all about the evils of non-stick cookware, threw them out, and bought a set of stainless steel pots and pans. The next morning, when I made... tried to make scrambled eggs I almost cried. One of the few things I'd always known how to cook just right, was all stuck to the pan. I washed it and tried again. Same result. For a week I tried the stainless steel pans, even "treating" them with oil salt and whatever else the Internet said. After a month and a lot of frustration I went to Costco and bought a new set of non-stick pans. Ahhh, the sweet relief of scrambled eggs sliding right off that pan! 


I used those new non-stick pans for four years. I cooked delicious (okay, acceptable) meals for my husband and my children, feeling pangs of guilt that didn't allow me to fully enjoy our meals... Was I making my child infertile or giving them Cancer with those meals? 


But I have corrected course -- two weeks ago I purchased a set of Green Earth Pans...

These pans by Ozeri Ceramic, though non-stick, don't contain PFOA's or any other toxic chemicals. 


I've been using the pans for a week and so far I love them. Being careful never use metal utensils on them so as not to scratch them, I can make scrambled eggs, pancakes and crepes without any of it sticking. Yay! Cleaning the ceramic surface is super easy too! 


I still don't enjoy cooking, but I can finally enjoy watching my family eat! 

http://www.amazon.com/Frying-Ozeri-Ceramic-Non-Stick-Coating/dp/B004AMUELO

Thumb-Sucker!

One of the most beautiful memories for me is that of my daughter, a tiny baby with a mop of shiny black hair, sucking her thumb in her seemingly giant crib. I have to thank that little thumb for helping my Camila be such a good sleeper. She has always be able to soothe herself to sleep because of that thumb.

That now calloused thumb is causing some serious problems now that Camila is four-years-old though. For a year her dentist has been telling me she has to stop sucking her thumb. We started off talking about it with her, "Honey, the dentist says it's important for you to stop sucking your thumb. It's bad for your teeth." Each time she sucked her thumb we reminded her gently, "Camila, your thumb honey." For some strange reason, this gentle approach worsened the situation. While she only sucked her thumb at nap and night time before we started telling her to stop, after our conversation, she started sucking her thumb during the day.

Six months later her dentist recommended Mavala Stop -- I call it truth serum because it's potent and disgusting enough to make you confess all your secrets. I know because as a loving mom (and evil wife my husband would say), I put a drop of the stuff on my tongue and on my husband's tongue before brushing it on Camila's nails like the dentist suggested. The result? Instant tears and gagging which lasted for four days (seriously) because the flavor reappeared any time we put food in our mouths. Still, as a strict and committed mom, I went ahead and put the awful stuff on Camila's nails while she was sleeping. The result? More tears... from me. I couldn't help it. I watched my unsuspecting little girl gag and examine her thumb again and again, never giving up and eventually sucking all the evil taste off her nail. I cried of guilt and pity. But her dentists was clear, her teeth were being pulled forward and out by her thumb sucking. So I brushed on some more Mavala Stop on her nails only to see her suck it right off, this time knowingly and determined.

My husband and I both sucked our thumb until we were four or five-years-old and our moms swear we stopped on our own. Our teeth are fine -- my are perfectly straight actually. So I put away the Mavala Stop. If Camila is so determined, and so in need of that thumb to soothe herself, who are we to get in the way? "She'll stop eventually" I said to my husband, as images of that thirty-something guest on the Dr.Phil show asking "is this normal?" while she sucked her thumb in her corporate office flashed through my mind and bit of doubt entered me.

That was almost a year ago. When we visited her dentist again las month, the news was really bad. Her teeth are crooked and her jaw is actually sliding to the right because of the strong suction she uses to suck her thumb at night. Yikes! She has to stop, the dentist warns. "If not, we'll have to put in an implant on the back of her front teeth that will prevent her from sucking her thumb." Double yikes!

So today I ordered this device:

It's not cheap, almost $75, and to be honest I am weary of the design and effectiveness. How bad can thumb-sucking be really? She probably would stop on her own at some point... But I have to trust her dentist.

I know I'll probably cry watching her unable to suck her little thumb, unable to soothe herself the best way she knows how. And I have a terrible feeling I'll be getting some middle-of-the-night calls from her. But I want her to have nice teeth and to be able to bite off and chew her food. So we'll see how this goes... it's better than oral surgery.

Gratitude Makes Us Happy!

I wish Thanksgiving was every day. Not so much because of the turkey, the mash potatoes and the fruit salad, but because it's a day when people express their gratitude.

Like everyone else, I've had some difficult experiences in my life. Of those, there are two that have affected me profoundly. The first was a three-year period of debilitating pain that preceded major back surgery at the age of 20. The second was the loss of our first baby when I was three months pregnant.

Both of these experiences were devastating and frightening. You can imagine, a young college student, active and athletic, on some days unable to even crawl to the bathroom. I was on strong pain medication that didn't take the pain away but made me sick to my stomach pretty much every day. Before entering the operating room for my emergency laminectomy, the surgeon greeted me and expressed amazement at my positive attitude and the smile on my face.

Our first baby was much desired and planned. My life-long dream of being a mom was shattered when I was three months pregnant, and this time there was no smile on my face before entering the operating room for a D&C. The months that followed consisted of many appointments with the doctor and more devastating news. But through it all, just like when I was suffering from a ruptured disc in my back, I was saying "Thank you for this God."

Being grateful, even in these difficult moments, kept me positive and hopeful. I was able to remain happy because even on days when I fell to my knees and cried, my gratitude gave me the strength to stand up and the ability to see that though it was awful and painful, my experience was a blessing.

Every morning when I wake I thank God for each blessing I have. Throughout the day, I look around and feel so grateful for the little things -- clean clothes, a pair of earrings, toothpaste, a quiet neighborhood, and for the big things -- food, clean water, a loving husband, two healthy children, my mom, my life. And at night, when I close my eyes I give thanks again -- for the day's triumphs and mistakes, for my warm blankets, and for little toys, found hidden under my pillow or in my bed.

When my children cry without true reason, when they are in a bad mood and whiny or just complaining, I sit with them and make them list what they are grateful for. They always start reluctantly, but after naming a few things and people, a smile always creeps onto their face and soon their attitude changes because giving thanks helps us see all the blessings we have. Especially for a young child, it may be difficult to realize they have arms to hug, legs and feet to walk, ears to listen and learn, eyes to see, a mom and dad who love and take care of them. But by asking them every day what they're grateful for and sharing with them what I'm grateful for, my children learn to be grateful for every little thing. The most difficult thing to teach them is that even those bad, sad, frustrating and hurtful moments are a blessing. But I know that will come with life experience.

The research shows it -- gratitude leads to happiness. People who show gratitude are healthier and more satisfied. We'd be a much healthier, happier nation if we made every day a day of thanksgiving.

So even when Thanksgiving day has passed and all the turkey sandwiches are gone, keep on giving thanks -- you'll be grateful in the end. 

Celebrate!

Camila and Mateo have been in swimming lessons for about three years now. We started in the mommy-and-me program and now they're both swimming independently with their coaches. Each time they complete a level they receive a ribbon reflecting their swimming abilities; tadpole, fish, jelly fish. These meant nothing to me or to my kids when they were tiny, but now that my daughter is four-years-old and my son is three-years-old, the ribbons have come to have some significance for them.

Today my daughter advanced a level and received her ribbon. When I met her in the shower she had a gleaming smile on her face and was holding her ribbon up for me to see. I hooted and let out some "woo-hoo's!" I had the camera ready and snapped away. When Mateo finished his class he met us in the shower area and squealed loudly and with glee upon seeing his sister's accomplishment. I gave Camila some high-fives and Mateo started screaming "You look beautiful sister! You look beautiful!" We were in a celebratory mood.

I turned, still smiling, and met some very disapproving eyes. Apparently some of the other parents thought our much-a-do about a ribbon was inappropriate or in bad taste. The same thing happened last week when Mateo advanced a level -- the hooting, squealing, and the disapproving eyes...

For me it's really important to teach my children to be grateful. Every day we list people and things for which we are grateful. Today they gave thanks for daddy, clean water, each other, our friends, for all of their toys, and for me. And I believe celebrating falls right in like with being grateful.

So we celebrate the usual things; birthdays, Christmas, the 4th of July, Thanksgiving. But we also celebrate small victories like cavity-free dental exams and yes, ribbons. I think it teaches them to enjoy life and builds their self-esteem through important, personal achievements. It also helps them celebrate each other, bringing them closer together.

My children didn't notice the dirty looks we (I) got and I'm glad. They were too immersed in their joyful celebration. We went to lunch with daddy to celebrate, and when Mateo asked Camila "Sister, do you feel very good about yourself?" and she answered "Of course, I feel very good about myself brother because now I'm an octopus!", I felt pride swelling in my heart, not for the ribbon, but for the two amazing people I have the honor to parent.

And it's true, now we've got two octopuses in our family. That's two healthy little people who can listen, follow directions, hold their breath, stay in position, receive correction and criticism and get themselves out of the pool if they ever fall in. And that is much to celebrate about my friends. Woohoo!

Sometimes the Best Thing to Do Is Nothing

Tuesday was a rough day. It was the third day Camila woke up on the left side of the bed, with the wrong foot, upside down and backwards. Everything was wrong; she didn't want daddy to dress her but me. She cried when I put on her t-shirt "I don't want short sleeves, I want a long sleeves!" She cried some more when I told her she could change. She put on a long-sleeved shirt and pushed the sleeves all the way up to her biceps. The fork was the wrong color. The plate was the wrong material, her seat belt didn't feel right... 


I took her and her brother to a local theme park for a change of scenery and some fun... I thought. But Camila was still in a bad mood. She didn't want to get on the rides, pet the animals, wait in line, or let anyone else have fun. I kept my cool for about three hours. Then... it's so hard to stay calm and not lose my patience when I have four consecutive days like this! 


But the other day I read this quote by Tony Humphries; "They're not trying to make life difficult for you, they are only trying to show you how difficult it is for them." ‎I kept reminding myself of this all day. It's not about me, it's about them. 




But... "something must be wrong", I think to myself. I have to do something. I give extra hugs, extra attention, gently ask "what's wrong?" The crying, whining and annoyance doesn't subside. So I do the opposite -- give her space, walk away, tell her it's okay to cry in her bedroom. Nothing. Actually, more tears and screaming. 


I went to bed feeling bad that night. For hours I rattled my brain wondering what I did wrong, how I could do better... Then, yesterday, I tried something new; Camila started to have a fit because I brushed her hair in the bathroom instead of in the living room (a preference she apparently developed this morning), and I felt my shoulders climbing up my neck and my breathing getting shallow. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and knelt next to my daughter. I was going to say something but instead I just looked at her and put my hand on her leg. She stopped (fake) crying for a second and then resumed. I kept my hand on her leg and said nothing. A minute passed and she turned to look at me, stared and grunted. I said nothing but tried my hardest to project nothing but love. "Mommy?" She sat up and stared at me with big round eyes. I said, "I love you." She looked down, stood up and waited. "I love you," I repeated. "Do you want a hug?" She nodded yes and hugged me. I allowed her to control the length and strength of our embrace. She pulled back and said the most surprising thing, "I love you mommy. I'm not going to fight with you anymore." 

Today she said "Mommy, I know how much you love me." I asked, "You do? How do you know?" And in her usual brilliance and amazing understanding of herself and life, she responded, "I know with all of my voice!" And it turns out that sometimes there is nothing for me to do but stop, sit in silence and wait. And in that silence she feels heard and feels all of my love. 

The Dream is a Reality

I was so excited to hear that the Dream Act passed in California! This bill will allow California high school graduates who have no legal documentation, to attend college and apply for financial aid. This is a great step in the right direction -- more college graduates means more productivity, more creativity, more safety and more financial stability for our state. 

As we have more college graduates we will have more small businesses and more job creation -- something California is in dire need of with a 12.1% unemployment rate. Giving bright high school students the chance to attend universities and colleges will give them the opportunity to create, innovate, and help California remain the eighth largest economy in the world. 

I don't understand why there are people who would rather create a second-class citizen who has fewer rights and options. A second-class citizen who cannot contribute fully to society. I don't want to live in a place where youth is angry because they are being punished for their parents' actions, retaliating through violence or becoming a true burden on society because they are unemployable. 

The Dream Act tells elementary, junior and high school students that there is hope, that they have options. Despite their parents bringing them to this country without their knowledge or consent, they can make something of themselves and contribute to our society. This is a far different message from what these undocumented students received before -- what was the point of studying and doing well if they could not attend college and have successful careers? 

As long as they are not criminals; gangsters, violent offenders, drug dealers -- in some way a detriment to our society, why not let them be an asset? 

Some argue that the Dream Act will encourage people to cross our borders illegally. What these people fail to see is that the parents who brought their children here illegally didn't expect their children to be able to attend college. They came anyway and they would continue coming because a lack of college education is the least of their concerns. People risk their lives and the lives of their children to come into this country because staying where they were would be a certain death for them all. Their children would literally starve, suffer and die if they didn't come here. 

People come to the U.S. and will continue to come here even if no services are provided for them or their children. What brings them are jobs and what keeps them here are jobs. In Mexico, 47.4% of the population lives in poverty, according to a report by the Government of National Assessment of Social Policy Development. In Guatemala, 75% of the population lives in poverty, 58% in extreme poverty, according to The World Bank. And according to The World Bank, 20 percent of Nicaragua's population, "fall below the extreme poverty line and are food poor; that is, they cannot meet the daily minimum caloric requirement even if they were to devote all of their consumption to food." Really, a college education is probably amongst the last things on these parents' minds. 

In the end it doesn't really matter how these students came to be here. What matters is that we give them a place to go and a way to make our state and our nation better through continued hard work and dedication. The Dream Act will allow them to achieve this. 

It All Makes Sense Now!

Last week I was at the park with my children enjoying a beautiful day. Most of the children present were young -- under five-years-old. There is a tall structure at this park and a lot of the children were climbing it. Every time one of them climbed up us moms did a little coaching, a little warning -- "One at a time! Be careful!" A few moms walked closer to the structure to be within reach in case their child fell off. All of a sudden five boys around 10-years-old appeared and immediately started climbing the tall structure, two at a time, and jumping off! Again and again they jumped off and landed not on their feet, but on their backs and sides. I just kept thinking "God, please don't let my son ever do something that dumb!" 


I've seen images like those I saw at the park before; boys jumping off roofs, loosing their teeth after skateboarding off a handrail, setting themselves on fire to get a laugh, trying to "surf" on top of a moving car. The thought "How stupid can you be?", always crosses my mind when I see those thing. Why do they do it? It makes no sense to me! Well, it made no sense to me...


However, I recently learned that the prefrontal cortex, located behind our foreheads, and in charge of controlling the ability to differentiate between good and bad, foreseeing future consequences of actions, predicting outcomes, and good social behavior, amongst other duties, is not fully formed until we are well into our 20's. Yes, the area of the brain in charge of decision-making and good judgement, is not fully formed until we reach the age of 25! It all makes now, doesn't it?


Knowing this, I can't think of those boys as dumb anymore. I can't blame them for their immaturity and lack of foresight (how many bones could they have broken jumping off that structure so many times?). Now I know that it truly is just an issue of immaturity based not so much on personality, but on biology. And I also see how much our son will need us to guide him and teach him until he is well past what some parents consider the age where they should stay out of their kids' lives and let them make their own decisions. 


So for now, I will keep reminding them, "One at a time! Be careful!" And hoping (against hope maybe) that my son will never do something so dumb. 

The Mommy Curse

If I had known how much guilt is envolved with being a mom I would have never reproached my mom for anything. I would have known she had already beaten herself up for every single misstep in raising me.

Every night, when I go to sleep I review my day and give myself a grade. I don't know when I started doing this. Maybe I did it from the beginning. But I've noticed that I'm just like those teachers I hated who would never give students an A+ no matter what.

No matter how good a day I create for my children
I seem to always find fault with my parenting. 

It can be anything; having missed naps, not cooking enough fresh meals, having spent too much time in the kitchen instead of playing with the kids, having uttered too many "no's," having put them to bed late, not having read more than two books, and on bad days (mine or theirs), having yelled at them or threatened them with a spanking.

That could be me, lying sleepless, judging myself
while my husband rests peacefully. 

The thing is, I think I'm a really good mom. I love my children to death, and having worked so hard to become a mom, I protect them and cherish them. I love being a stay-at-home-mom and no amount of money could pull me away from my position. My children are happy, loving, intelligent, polite, kind and healthy. They are the kind of kids who sing while they play.

So why am I so hard on myself? Why do I focus on my mistakes instead of the things I do right as a mom? Why do I beat myself up every night? The guilt does me no good and it does my kids no good. And the guilt about feeling guilty is even more useless.

What I recently learned is that I'm not the only mom who does this. In fact, it seems this condition of self-inflicting flagellation is very common amongst moms. More than two friends have recently shared with me stories of self-grading and self-flogging to the point of tears. I wonder if it's an innate action that somehow forces us to scrutinize everything we do in order to be better parents and keep our children safe, or if it's some sort of mommy curse.

Either way, what I realized as I listened to one of my friends share a self-grading episode with me, is that if we are this harsh with ourselves, when we're really good moms, we will be just as harsh on our children, making them feel the same guilt and self-hate that we bring on ourselves. Listening to her, there was no judgement on my part. It was actually like watching myself in an out-of-body experience and it could've been me telling that exact story. But watching from the outside, what I wanted to say most was "Be kind to yourself. Have compassion for yourself." If we are able to do that then we will be able to be kind and compassionate with our children. If we are able to overlook our mistakes and focus on the 98% good instead of the 2% bad or just "not good enough," we will always be able to do the same with our children.

When my children do something wrong I don't say "You get an 'F'!" I say, "You are learning and mistakes are part of the process." Yelling "You get an F!" would not help them grow or become good people, it would probably have an opposite effect stifling them and killing their spirits. And just like there is no manual titled "How To Become A Human Being And Learn Everything You Need To Know," there isn't a manual titled "How To Be The Perfect Parent For Camila And Mateo." So at the end of the day I can't review the events and cross and circle everything with a red pen, lest I stifle myself with guilt and kill my spirit. Nor do I want my children to grow up being so hard on themselves... or on me. Compassion begets compassion.

What I'll do the next time I start berating myself for not
doing every single thing perfectly every day. 

Sign Language Leads to Spoken Language

When I was a student at the University of California at Davis, I took a course with professor Linda Acredolo, whose research lead to Baby Signs: How to Talk With Your Baby Before Your Baby Can Talk, a book that preceded and probably sparked the baby signing trend. I was fascinated by the idea of babies being able to communicate in infancy and promised myself to teach my children sign language. 

My daughter's first sign -- "more"

When my daughter was born I got a few books and attended a few signing play dates but I had difficulty figuring out the signs from two-dimensional drawings. Still, I used the simple ones; milk, mom, ball, car, dog. I had a total of about twenty words I used with my daughter. The mistake I made was not being patient or persistent. I stopped signing when my daughter was about seven months old because she wasn't signing back to me. I should've read the literature which explains that most children start signing back at around eight months. 


When my son was born the following year I decided to give it a serious go and signed up for an ASL (American Sign Language) class with my husband. It turns out ASL, real sign language, is much simpler to learn than what some call "baby sign language." In the first day of class we learned about thirty words and I felt comfortable enough to start using them all day, every day. My daughter started signing right away too. Though she had started speaking at ten months, she seemed excited to be able to sign and be understood by us more often. To my surprise, she immediately started speaking a lot more words too. Signing expanded her vocabulary and her confidence.  

My daughter's favorite sign. 

My son started signing for milk when he was five-months-old. At six months he started speaking -- "mama, papa, avion (airplane)." By the time he was just over one year-old my son was speaking in complete sentences. People thought he was a midget because he spoke so well. I credit his fluency and ease with words to genes of course -- his dad and I are geniuses. Ha, ha! In all seriousness, I truly believe both of my children started speaking early because we signed with them. 

"Hurt" - one of the most helpful signs
for babies and their parents. 

It seems the act of signing helps children "get" words more easily. Something clicks in their brain when they see mom signing and speaking at the same time. I also believe the ability to communicate long before they are physically ready to formulate spoken words, encourages them to communicate more and to actually speak earlier. 




Seeing my children's excitement and the positive effect it was having on our level of communication, I purchased the Signing Time DVD series. I had seen other signing DVD's but this is the best I found (and it was recommended by our ASL teachers). 


I love the fact that the Signing Time series was created by a mom whose child was born deaf -- a true labor of love. It's easy to learn signs from these videos because they show multiple examples of each sign. My kids love watching them because the signs are taught not only by Rachel, the creator, but by babies and children as well. The songs are cute and pleasant and I love, love, love that the videos are also available in Spanish. 

"Thank you," one of my favorite signs. 

I'm happy and proud that we taught our children sign language and believe their ability to communicate with us decreased the number of tantrums and the level of frustration experienced by both them and us (my husband and me). Now that they speak fluently we don't use signs as much but there are a few, like "be careful," I love to use at parks instead of screaming, and every once in a while we watch the Signing Time videos and review so as not to forget it all. 

"Careful." 

Product link: Signing Time - http://www.signingtime.com/
Image credits: abcmesign.com, athensparent.com, littlesignersclub.wordpress.com, www2.ljworld.com, lifeprint.com

Must-Have Booster Seat

New moms often ask "what are the things I really need for my baby?" One easy answer for me is "the Fisher-Price portable booster seat."

When my daughter was six months old and started eating solids, she was a tiny little thing weighing about fifteen pounds. Her high chair practically swallowed her up and her chin barely made it over the tray. We tried pillows but they slid out from under her and the seat belt was too big to hold her in the center of the seat. 

So we sold the high chair and bought her the Fisher-Price Healthy Care Deluxe Booster Seat

What I love about this booster seat : 

* It's the perfect width to keep baby from sliding from side to side. 

* It has a removable tray for easy washing, as well as a tray cover to keep it clean during travel. 

* It snaps on and off easily. 

* It has adjustable heights so you can lower it as your baby grows. 

* The two exterior seat belts keep it safely in place on the chair. 

* The back folds down so you can carry it with ease. (We used to take this seat with us to restaurants when our kids were babies and I've seen other parents walk into restaurants with the same seat). 

* Once your child is tall enough to sit at the dining table you can remove the tray and continue using the seat. 

Camila and Mateo, now four and three-years-old respectively, still use their booster seats at home. Besides their cribs, I can't think of any other baby product we've used for four years -- it's a definite must-have! 

Product link: http://www.fisher-price.com/fp.aspx?st=2002&e=product&pid=27475&ncat=thumbnail&pcat=bgh

It's Rough Being a Boy

When I was little I wanted to be a boy. Well, not really. I just hated wearing a skirts and dresses and figured if I were a boy I could wear pants every day, even to my private school, parties and church. I was a tomboy and to me it seemed like being a boy would be so much cooler, more exciting and easier. Even as an adult, well past my tomboy stage, I thought men had it easier than women. Clearly, they have more powerful positions, get paid better than women for the same job, and can generally discard being sexually assaulted from their list of things to worry about. But now, as a mom to a little boy, I realize being a boy is really rough. 


My children are only eleven months apart, so it's easy for me to compare the way they are perceived and treated by other people. Both of my children are sweet, kind and loving. They both love babies and are drawn to them. But since the beginning, when Mateo was just one-year-old and Camila two, I saw the different reactions from people. When my daughter approached a baby the mothers would smile and welcome her saying things like "You like the baby? Say hi baby... Your daughter is so sweet!" Even when she would accidentally tumble over the baby or lose her balance and push the baby's head let's say, the mothers would smile and say "It's okay." But when my son would approach, sometimes the exact same baby, the mother would warn, "Be careful with the baby. Be gentle," and usually lift the baby out of Mateo's reach. I saw this happen again and again and each time I saw confusion and sadness in my little boy's face. 


I teach my children to be kind and gentle with those younger than them. I teach them to touch a baby's foot instead of the hand or the face, and to protect smaller children who might need help. When my daughter squeezes a baby's foot with love and excitement the parents say nothing and smile, or they might encourage her to touch the baby's head. When my son does the same the warnings come "Not too hard. Be careful." I see the unease in the parent's face and my son does too, often backing away. At parks where he might approach another child to hug them, hold their hand or help them, he hears "No pushing! Be nice!" 


On the rare occasion when my daughter pushes someone the other child's parents quickly let it go saying "It's okay." When my son pushes someone it's assumed he is starting trouble and for no good reason. Just this past week we attended a gathering with many moms and children. A woman approached me to say my son was "Hitting all the boys" and a second woman added that he was "not letting any of them play." I walked over to find him crammed into the corner of a small play house, surrounded by four boys taller and probably older than him, about to cry. My daughter was outside. I asked what was going on and with tears in his eyes he said "I don't know." "They're hitting him and pushing him mom," my daughter explained. "I hit them so they would leave him alone but they won't stop." After some questioning from me, the boys admitted things had been as my daughter had said. I expressed my pride in my daughter for defending her brother (it's the first time I know of her hitting someone), and helped my son get out of the play house. I thought it interesting that my son was hit and pushed and my daughter did some hitting, but it was my son who was labeled the aggressor.


The fact is, my son is more aggressive than my daughter. He has hit other children and when he gets mad he really gets mad. But I can't recall one single time when he was being aggressive before a mother or father treated him in a defensive way, rejecting his friendly approach towards their child. 


In their book Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys, the authors Dan Kindlon and Michael Thompson, talk about how boys' emotional lives are suppressed. The book focuses on school-aged and teen-aged boys, but I see now that the process begins in infancy. I don't think my son's experience is unique and it saddens me to see that boys, from the beginning, are treated with suspicion and even disdain. We complain that men don't express emotion, that they're not nurturing like women, but now I see that as a society, we turn that switch off in them early. My son is now three-years-old and I see him approach babies with hesitation now, watching the parent's face and often briefly touching a foot or a leg before turning away quickly. I know he still loves them because he admires them from a distance and says "Mommy, look at that baby. He's so beautiful. He's so little mommy. I want to carry that baby." 


I believe we're failing boys in this way. Not allowing them to develop into their full human potential. How can we expect them to be loving fathers and husbands? My friend's son was excluded from a class project and reprimanded for writing a story about a superhero who used fire to save others. The story (and thus the boy) was deemed "too violent" by his first-grade teacher. When I heard what happened I recognized it as the same knee-jerk reaction my son gets when he has the intention of being kind but adults focus on the fact that he is a boy and assume the worst. 


In his book Incognito: The Secret Lives of the Brain, David Eagleman explains that 98.4 percent of those on death row are male and writes "It seems clear enough that the carriers (of the Y chromosome) are strongly predisposed toward a different type of behavior..." But having witnessed events like the ones I've shared with you, on so many occasions, I wonder if it's not the genes that predispose men to violence, as much as the way males are treated and presumed guilty from such an early age. 


Perhaps if we change the way we view boys, simply by giving them the benefit of the doubt. If we force ourselves to focus on their kind intentions; wanting to caress a baby, to hug or help another child, to be a superhero who saves others, rather than on our preconceived notion of what and who boys are, we will end the self-fulfilling prophecy of violent men who cannot nurture. 

Dr. Seuss Habla Español!

It wasn't until I became a mom that I began to read Dr. Seuss' books. The first movie my husband and I took my daughter to see was "Horton Hears A Who!", and I instantly fell in love with the way Dr. Seuss' stories are able to convey a strong message to people of all ages. So I was thrilled to find his work translated to Spanish!


I love "Huevos verdes con jamon" (Green Eggs and Ham), because it helps me remind my children that it's important to try new foods at least once. Often, when they turn away from a new food I recite a few lines from the book. They laugh and usually try at least one bite.









"Yoruga la tortuga y otros cuentos" (Yertle the Turtle and Other Stories), is my favorite Dr. Seuss book. So many wonderful lessons including the perils of being power-hungry and the importance of accepting our bodies as they are.

"Oh, cuan lejos llegaras" (Oh, the Places You'll Go!), is a beautiful book that any parent might have written, or would like to write for their child. It's a story about life that I know I will continue reading to my children for many years to come and pack it up in their suitcase when they move away to college.


My kids love these books and I love that they are available for parents who are raising their children with the Spanish language!

I must say I have read a few other translated Dr. Seuss books and found the translations to be subpar, so I always borrow his books from the library before buying them. 

My Children Don't Speak English

One of my commitments to my children is to pass our language on to them. Being fluent in Spanish is one of the most important educational goals I have for them.

My family and I moved from Venezuela to the United States when I was eight-years-old. At the time we lived in Irvine, California, where there were few Latinos and I was the only Spanish-speaker in my ESL (English as a Second Language) class. The other students spoke Chinese, Korean or Vietnamese. The sounds I heard, especially while we were doing math assignments, when everyone would count out loud, were deafening and I wanted to be a part of it, so I started to pretend I spoke Chinese just to feel like I fit in. My classmates found it amusing and funny and the situation made my initial school days lonely and a little frustrating, but turned into a do or die for me -- either I learned English or Chinese. I was young, but the advantages of choosing English were clear to me.

Within three months I was transferred to a regular classroom, with English-speaking students. Soon I was chosen to work at the school snack bar and the cafeteria, coveted jobs by all fourth and fifth graders. I told my classmates that I had gone to the "bitch" instead of the "beach", and I couldn't understand why the school was so religious (they promised harsh punishment for "swearing"), but over all I made huge strides.

My fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Beachum, valued me and encouraged me to read by allowing me to stay after class to choose books from her "treasure cabinet." I read too many books to count and by the end of the year I was a better speller than a lot of my classmates. In high school I was an an honor-roll student, graduated at the top of my class and later received a double degree from the University of California at Davis.

Some people are surprised to learn that my children don't speak English. Others are not surprised, but alarmed to learn this fact about my kids. After all, my husband and I are college-educated professionals who actually feel more comfortable speaking in English ourselves. But I want Camila and Mateo to favor Spanish for now. I want them to feel strange speaking to my husband and me in English so that they will always hold on to our language which is the portal to our culture. I want them to tell and understand jokes in Spanish. To argue, sing, dream in Spanish. I want them to read Cervantes, Borges, Neruda, Garcia-Marquez and to savor the beauty of our language. And I believe that by speaking to them in Spanish, and only in Spanish, I am giving them an advantage from which they will reap benefits for the rest of their lives.

I have to admit, at times I want to speak to them in English. Especially when I see them struggling to communicate with other children and adults. On occasion I question myself and wonder if I'm setting them back. But I think of all the people I've met who have said to me "I wish my parents had spoken to me in Spanish/Chinese/Tagalog/German/Vietnamese," and I push away the impulse and the doubts. Having lived here most of my life I feel more "me" when I speak in English and in all honesty, the easiest thing for me would have been to speak to them in English from the beginning. But being a parent isn't about what is easy for me, it's about what is best for my children. And I know the only opportunity my kids have to learn Spanish well is by learning it from my husband and me.

They will learn English... they are learning English everywhere already; at school, at the park, the supermarket, at story-time in the library, in swim class and gymnastics, from the radio, and from members of our family that don't speak Spanish. I was able to learn it at age eight, in three months. I have no worries about Camila and Mateo being English-speakers... soon.

So when my family from abroad speaks to my children in English again I will smile and explain that my U.S.-born children don't speak English. And when I see my children struggling to communicate with others I will smile and think ahead to when they'll be able to communicate with a multitude of people in not one but two languages. I will take pride in how competitive they will be in an ever globalized job market. I will peak into their future and hear them speaking to their own children in Spanish.

For now I will continue to explain "My children don't speak English... yet."

Lessons From My 4-Year-Old

I'm well aware of the enormity of my responsibility as a mom and primary care giver. My job is to teach my children how to sleep on a schedule, how to eat solids, how to walk, how to talk, to get dressed, to tie their shoes and to use the bathroom. It's my job to teach them how to socialize, how to interpret jokes, to distinguish between good and bad, between right and wrong. It's up to me to teach them to be polite, how to converse, to cooperate, to negotiate, to be kind but not a push-over, to be honest but careful with people's feelings. From me they learn the importance of being on time, giving a gift, sending a thank-you card, exercising, eating right... packing a suitcase, dialing 911... everything. 

But sometimes the lessons are learned by me and taught by my children.  

Case in point, Camila, my four-year-old. A few months ago a friend invited us to her house. It was a warm day and she told us to bring swimsuits in case the kids wanted to get wet -- the sprinklers and water toys would be on. I packed a bag with swimsuits, water shoes, sunscreen, hats, extra clothes, and we were on our way. Three blocks from my friend's house I realized I had left the bag at home and let out a loud "Oh shoot!" My daughter immediately asked "What's wrong mommy?" I said, "I left the swimsuits and everything at home!" I looked at the time and started looking for a place to make a u-turn. My kids would be the only ones not able to get wet -- I couldn't let them down like that. But my daughter interrupted my thoughts, "Oh it's okay mommy. Don't worry. Look, I don't want you to drive all the way back home, get us out of the car and hurry to the house to go look everywhere for the bag, okay? It's okay. We just won't get wet. We'll still have fun." I looked at her through my rear-view mirror and saw her beautiful little face, happy and serene. She really meant it. She wasn't mad or sad about it. I said, "All the other kids will get wet. We could go home and get everything really fast and come back." She put her little hands casually behind her head and smiled "I know mommy but then we won't get so much time with our friends." I was struck by how right she was. We went to my friend's house and no one got wet after all. My kids had a great time and I learned a great lesson; it's more important to have time with loved ones and to take life in stride sometimes instead of running around in a hurry trying to make everything perfect. 

More recently, I went to Macy's to buy myself some clothes. Now, Camila and Mateo usually behave so well that I get compliments from other people. The truth is they are well-behaved children everywhere we go, but on this particular day Camila was in a feisty mood. She was bothering her brother and kept getting moving away from me. I grew up watching America's Most Wanted, After School Specials, Oprah and Lifetime movies, so I'm terrified of my children being kidnapped and killed, or worse. You can imagine the terror that entered my body when I turned around to say hi to the cashier and looked back to find only my son sitting in the stroller. I scanned the area quickly and called out "Camila." I carried my son and started moving away from the register, "Camila!" I looked towards the dressing rooms, the escalator, the exit, "Camila!" I kneeled on the floor and looked under the clothes racks "Camila!" My heart was beating so hard I thought I would die but knew I couldn't until I found her. "Camila!" After about four torturous minutes she popped out of a clothes rack, laughing. My fear turned into relief and quickly into anger. 

I forgot my usual get-on-my-child's-eye-level and reassure them I love them despite their mistakes. "Camila! Come here! Do not ever do that again! You scared me, I thought someone kidnapped you! Someone could kidnap you if you leave my side like that! Why did you do that? Do not ever, ever --" I wanted her to feel bad. I wanted to scare her so she would never do it again. I wanted her to see how mad I was so she would remember and reconsider the next time. I could see my screaming had made her laughter and her smile disappear and I felt horrible but wanted to make my point. 

"Mommy, you know what? ... Mommy, you know what?"

My voice still raised I asked "What?"

"I forgive you mommy." I dropped to my knees. "You forgive me?" All the anger left my body. "Yes mommy. I forgive you and I love you." She held my face in her little hands and I could see the tears welled up in her eyes. I hugged her tight and kissed her over and over. "Thank you my love." 

At that moment, I learned how to forgive a person in the midst of being attacked. Camila taught me that I can forgive even before being asked for forgiveness and that big, big lesson from someone who is just figuring out how the world works makes me a better mom and a better human being. 

You Want How Many Kids?!

I want four children. I know-- gasp, schock, horror! I've yet to meet a person who smiled and said "How cool!" in response to my declaration. Maybe it's because we live in Silicon Valley and life here is expensive... The thing is, I'm being flexible and reasonable. Really. I used to want eight children. Yes, eight. 

I'm the second of three children and as far back as I can remember, what I wanted most was to be a mom. I can see my three-year-old self naming all of my kids and dreaming of being a mom. I don't know how the number eight came about, but it seemed to me like the perfect number of children. 

Months before my husband and I were to wed, I treated him to a fancy dinner in San Francisco with the purpose of clarifying something... "I want to make sure you know I really want eight kids." He smiled and held my hand. "I'm serious. Four biological, four adopted." He kept on smiling. "I'm serious! You can't change your mind. If you change your mind it'll be grounds for divorce." Now he leaned over and kissed me. "I know. It's fine. Whatever you want. Just become a rich author so I can be a stay-at-home-dad." Seven months later we married in my hometown of Petaluma. 

In 2007 we were blessed with our beautiful Camila. She was an easy, happy baby. My dad told me ask the pediatrician if he thought everything was alright because Camila never cried. At five months she let out her first wail and even after that, crying was a rare thing for her. But I was tired and I told my husband I had changed my mind. Six kids would do. Carlos and I were 31 then and it seemed unlikely we would manage seven more kids before turning forty -- a self-imposed cut-off age. 

The following year, our son Mateo was born. He was a more demanding baby from the beginning. He wanted to be carried all the time, woke up to nurse every hour and a half and he didn't start sleeping through the night until he was 18-months-old. I continued nursing him until he was two-years-old and by then I had again revised my plan. Four children would do. My husband only smiled upon hearing my announcement. 

They've been holding hands from the beginning.

Undeniable true love.

Camila is now four and Mateo is three-years-old. (Hard to believe). We're starting to think about baby number three and just today a member of one of my moms' groups expressed her ambivalence about having a second child. To my surprise, most of the responses were from singletons who say they loved being only children growing up. 

For me, the most important relationship (aside from the one with my husband) is the one I have with my sister and brother. They are the only people in the world who experienced everything I've experienced. My sister, four years older than me, has more memories of me than I do. She is my strength, my hero, my advocate. My brother, though eight years younger than me, has always been my best friend. Talking about our childhood, remembering daily, sad and funny events is important for us and something we have fun doing. My life would be completely different had I been an only child -- I can't imagine it being as rich, joyful or... complete. 

Now I watch Camila and Mateo play together, laugh together and learn to navigate the world together. I listen to them talk nonstop in their room every morning (and on some nights). I watch them taking care of each other at the park and laugh when I see them wrestling each other. I remember doing the same things with my siblings. I also remember family parties with over fifteen kids dancing, laughing, telling jokes, because none of my aunts and uncles had just one child. Those were great, rowdy parties and I loved being with my siblings and my cousins. At a recent family gathering we sat around my dad's dining room table singing together as he played the guitar and I can't imagine that happening if I were an only child. 

The relationship between siblings is the longest we experience in life. For me, being with my sister and brother is amazing and I'm glad my children get to experience that unbreakable bond. Great friends come and go, cousins move away and are loved but more distant, but my brother and sister are my constant. It makes me happy to know that when Carlos and I are gone, Camila and Mateo will be there to hold each other's hand and keep moving forward together. So hopefully Mateo will have the chance to be an older brother soon (twice over), Camila will get that little sister she prays for every night, and both will have another little hand to hold, another friend for life to love. 

Shhh, the Babies Are Sleeping!

Like most guys, my husband loves technology and likes to have up-to-date electronics. So the box TV we got when we got married wasn't satisfying his male... needs if you will. After saving up his money, researching TV's and comparison shopping for what seemed like three years, he finally bought a beautiful flat-screen. We enjoyed watching shows and movies every night until our daughter was born. Suddenly I found myself saying "Shhh, the baby is sleeping!", to my husband, every time he turned on the TV. The following year my son was born and my complaint turned into "Shhh, the babies are sleeping!"

My husband likes to not only watch TV, but to also feel it in his eardrums. This didn't bother me much until the babies were born and it became a point of contention between us. My husband was frustrated and so was I.

Until... my friend recommended the most wonderful thing -- wireless headphones! Aaahh, peace at last. No more blaring TV, no more nagging. Now my husband can listen to the TV as loud as he wants and the kids sleep peacefully. It's the best Christmas gift I every got my husband (for myself).

These Ablepanet Linx Audio headphones are comfortable to wear and the equivalent to the bed that lets each person set the firmness of their side of the mattress... technology helping couples maintain marital peace.


Link: http://www.google.com/products/catalog?q=able+planet+linx+audio&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=shop&cid=9434709715884014855&sa=X&ei=T9VVTqbPNMfkiAKu5u2pCQ&ved=0CD4Q8wIwAw

How I Potty-Trained My Daughter in 3 Days and My Son in 1

When my daughter Camila was 18-months-old she was very interested in using the toilet. She would tell me when she went pee and when she had to poop. We got her a potty and set it up in the bathroom, but my son was only 7-months-old at the time and I couldn't imagine myself running around looking for a bathroom in public places every time my daughter had to go. Everything I read and the expert talk on potty training I attended said if you miss your window of opportunity, the time when the child is interested in using the potty, they may lose interest all together and you will regret it... But I was exhausted and the little potty we got my daughter started accumulating dust.

One year later, when my son was 18 months-old and finally sleeping through the night, I felt ready to tackle potty-training. By this time my son was speaking in complete sentences and would tell me he was going to pee or poop. He hated being dirty and would ask me to change him after each time he wet or soiled his diaper. So I thought "let's kill two birds with one stone." We bought a second potty and I cleared my schedule for a week -- we weren't leaving the house for seven days.

My approach: 


1. I went cold turkey -- put the diapers away and put cute underwear on both of my eager and excited children (I prepped them for about two weeks by watching a video my mom found that has two panda bears singing goodbye to diapers, and reading The Potty Book for Girls and The Potty Book for Boys every day), and gave them lots of liquids (Jell-O, tea, popsicles, water, smoothies, you name it).

2. Every five minutes I said "If you need to pee or poop let me know, I'll help you go to the bathroom." I never ask my kids "Do you have to go to the bathroom?", because the answer is always no. Even now that they are four and three-years-old the answer is always no.

3. If Camila or Mateo forgot to tell me they had to go and I noticed they were going, I scooped them up and ran to the bathroom so they would get at least a few drops in the potty. Then, I made a big deal about how they were able to use it! I sang them a little song, lifted them up in the air, spun around and sincerely celebrated with them every single time.

4. I had a six-pack of Brawny paper towels and was ready for many, many accidents. I also scheduled a carpet cleaning for the following week.

5. When they had an accident I never scolded them or made them feel bad. I just said "Oh no, you had an accident. Let's clean you up and put on some clean underwear. Then asked "Where do we pee and poop?", just to confirm they knew they were supposed to use the potty now.

Day 1

My daughter had one accident. One! I couldn't believe it. She was a pro on day one! My son on the other hand had many, many accidents.

Day 2

My daughter had about 3 accidents but liked her potty and even pooped in it. My son on the other hand had many, many, many accidents.

Day 3

My daughter had no accidents. My son... oh, the poor kid. He had more accidents than I could count. The accidents didn't bother me though, what broke my heart was his frustration and tears. Mateo is a very intelligent child. He is good at things and he knew it even at 1.5-years-old. The problem was that he would tell me he had to pee right after he peed. He did it consistently and no matter how fast I ran to the bathroom with him he didn't seem physically ready to hold it. Celebrating a few drops in the potty wasn't good enough for him. I saw how hard he was being on himself and called potty-training off for him.

I told him that I knew he really wanted to use his potty and his underwear but that we were going to start using diapers again. He refused. I said "When your sister was one-and-a-half-years-old she didn't use the potty either. We will try again in a few months." I promised to leave his underwear where he could see it and the diapers went back on and he was a happy child again.

My daughter was done. We stayed home a total of 5 days but she was done after three. Five days was enough for me to realize that cleaning a soiled potty is no fun though. So my husband bought a Bjorn toilet seat trainer and a portable step and I told my daughter the potty was now only for pee and that poop had to go into the toilet because it was too stinky and dirty. Luckily she agreed and stopped using the potty completely by the end of the week.

Camila had accidents at parks every once in a while for about three months but it was generally when she was really engrossed in a game and when I forgot to say "Camila, let me know if you need to use the bathroom!"







Wait, the title says I potty trained my son in one day, what's up?

Well, the truth is that I didn't potty-train him at all. Five months after his initial attempt, my son turned two-years-old. We were on our way to a birthday party at a park and he declared "I'm not going to use diapers anymore. I want my Thomas underwear for the party." I tried to persuade him to hold off until after the party, but he wouldn't budge. The diapers came off and the Thomas (the train) underwear went on. We went to the party with five changes of clothes in the diaper bag and I prayed for him to be successful. At the park he asked to use the toilet two or three times all on his own and never had an accident after that. He essentially potty-trained himself!

I'm horrified at the prospect of potty-training a child for six months or longer. I think if the process takes longer than a week (expecting accidents every now and then after that period of time), then the child is simply not ready.

I believe my kids were successful because they were ready for potty-training and because I didn't make it a power struggle. I didn't bribe them or give them prizes. I simply told them what was expected of them, helped them get excited about getting rid of hot, bulky, uncomfortable, dirty diapers, and celebrated every success with them.

Now that Camila is four and Mateo is three-years-old I need to tackle night-time dryness training because they still wear diapers to bed. Are your children diaper-free at night? How did you do it?



Links:

Baby Bjorn Large Potty & Baby Bjorn Toilet Trainer: http://www.bjornpotty.com

The Potty Book for Girls: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-potty-book-for-girls-alyssa-satin-capucilli/1008266929?ean=9780764181283&itm=1&usri=the%2bpotty%2bbook%2bfor%2bgirls

The Potty Book for Boys: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/potty-book-for-boys-alyssa-satin-capucilli/1100303868?ean=9780764152320&itm=2&usri=the%2bpotty%2bbook%2bfor%2bgirls