Choosing battles and winning them

As a parent, I relish in those rare and magical transformations. Like when the baby begins to sleep through the night (note that for my first two babies, this seemed to finally happen in their toddler years), or when a child begins to read and you are able to watch the world open up to them. Such changes are exciting and make the road getting there seem worthwhile. Take my past week for example...now, at this risk of embarrassing my child, I won't mention any names, but I'll give you a hint that it had something to do with this:

I strongly believe that it is important for a parent to "choose their battles" as they say and choose them wisely. The truth of the matter is that I've been choosing "other" battles with my spirited, feisty, strong-willed (these are all nice words for stubborn) boy. Over the past year we have spent countless hours sitting in the bathroom. Him on the toilet, complaining and crying to get off, and me sitting on the hard, cold tile pleading, begging and reading book after book to him hoping to encourage cooperation. Now I know that potty-training is different for each child and while it is something I've done once before I am by no means claiming to be an expert. I dread this task and promise you that you'll never see me writing a book about potty training... I'll leave that to all you mothers out there who had your kids potty-trained before their second birthday--and it sure feels like this includes all of the women I happen to know.

Well, in getting back to my story, I decided that this was the week to choose potty training as our battle. It was a LONG blog-less week and by Thursday my nerves were fried and I was tired of doing load after load of wet undies and cleaning up messes (or rather helping my son to clean up after his own messes...and wouldn't you know that he loved cleaning the carpet, wiping down chairs and starting the washing machine). At one point on Thurs. afternoon we hit an all-time low when I realized that my little angel had locked me out of the house (both front door and garage door) and was standing buck naked in our front window. The kid had absolutely won, but I wasn't about to let him think that, so I pulled the stroller out of the garage and started pushing the baby around the cul-de-sac to send the message of "see what fun we are having out here." He eventually unlocked the door and I was able to resist the urge to yell and I just went into the other room as if all was fine. Within a few minutes I heard him call, "Mommy, I did it!" Sure enough, he had taken the initiative to enter the bathroom on his own and it was a success! Friday and today have been like a dream--not one accident or issue. He even came to me while playing at a park on Friday to tell me that he had to go potty and we were able to make it in time. Now, this is a welcome and glorious transformation: turning potty woes into potty woo-hoos! Yes! Now onto the battle of keeping toys off of my kitchen table...