Pee & Poop

We were first inspired to start this journey early on by another parent we know who was doing “Elimination Communication” which is in essence leaving your child with no nappy on and watching their faces to learn cues for pee and poop! For us that sounded like to much work, especially in winter in a cold house, and especially with newborn poop, but it got something triggered in our head. Both my mum and Steve’s grandmother were grand advocates of the idea that babies aren’t really too young for the potty, and that there are specific times when they will almost always pee (and/or poop) and that you should put them on the potty at these times.

So here we are with a 19 month old who is basically dry through the day and night, and we aren’t really sure how it happened!! We are by no means experts in this field, but so far we have had a successful and unstressful adventure with potty training, and after some requests we thought it might be helpful to share some of our limited tips:

Positivity

We are an over-zealous and enthusiastic family at the best of times, and this has been encouragement overload!! Pees & poops get rewarded with praise and high fives, and when there have been accidents or she’s gone in her pants, we’ve explained “Try next time in the potty ok?” but not said “Bad Zella” or told her off. In part that’s because we recognised she was super young to be catching on to it, but also we wanted her to rejoice in her successes and never feel like a failure in this area as that could have put her a step back and created fear/anxiety.

Potty

Have a potty in your house from as early as you can. A lot of kids seem to be scared of potties, but it’s harder to be scared of something that is presented as friendly and presented early on in your development. We have had one in our house since 4 months old. We got a cheap one for a quid from Tesco, and when we moved house we got another one as we had an extra bathroom. Again, this was just a cheap one from Ikea. In addition we have a step stool to reach the toilet, and two of those seats that you add on to the toilet for little ones to do their business. So in each bathroom there was a comfortable toilet solution for Zella, and it was always at easy reach/could be moved into the living room if needed.

Pick & Put

We all as adults have those times we always go to the toilet – first thing in the morning, last thing before bed, just after drinking a massive bottle of water, right after a meal… Pick one time daily (we started with after dinner/just before bathtime when she was naked/getting changed anyways) and spend a week or more putting them on the toilet at that time. Chances are they will pee and it will get them more used to it. Then gradually add another time in (for us it was first thing in the morning). As she progressed and got it, we added more times in, and started to get to the point where she was giving us cues to go, or simply walking to the potty/bathroom herself.

Parade around

It has the potential to be messy, but embrace nappy off time as much as possible. If you are planning to be inside for a few hours, or it’s the evening before/after dinner, or at the weekend, and you are just chilling watching tv/playing with toys, then let them go free! It’s less disconcerting when you have wooden floor, but even with carpet, you could put down some plastic sheeting/a blanket if you are worried! Put the potty in a visible place and explain to them if they want a pee, then go there (pointing, being enthusiastic) and see what happens. We have had both pee and poop on our floor (have some antibacterial spray to hand), but it really wasn’t as bad as I thought.

Parental Peeing

Because its always important to model the behaviour you expect ;O)

Palm-Greasing

Zella is rewarded with chocolate buttons and we have no shame in that.

Public Praise

We all have a need in us to be loved and affirmed. As much as possible we have praised Zella in front of others. When in the house, if she has had a successful trip to the toilet, then we get her to tell the other parent who praises her. This works well in teaching the child to articulate to a grown up what they have just done. Zella doesn’t use words, but she points to the front if she peed and the back if she pooped, so she is developing the language of bathroom etiquette and communicating her needs. This obviously is useful when you go out in public, are at someone else’s house etc. She gets so excited telling other grown ups besides us when she has done something and getting a high five from them too, and means she won’t be scared to tell someone else when we aren’t around and she needs to go.

Finally, some interesting sociology/history for you:

In 1957 the average age for beginning potty training was 11 months old, with 90% of children being dry during the day by the age of two.

Fast forward to now, and the average age that parents say children show an interest is 24-25 months (2 years old), with 90% dry by age 3, and most dry all day by age 4.

How have things changed? Why such an increase in age?

In part, it is due to nappy types. Disposable nappies at their very nature are made to keep baby/toddler as dry as possible, drawing water away from their skin. Children therefore don’t feel wet, thus it makes it harder for them to discern needing the toilet and those various cues. We are great advocates for cloth nappies, gNappies being our only and preferred brand, and we think in part the use of cloth has meant Zella is more aware of it all, we change her a but more often, and she has learnt earlier on what it means to be wet and dry. The conspiracist side of me says, nappy companies want your money for as long as possible, and as the market has increased, and their absorbency has increased, so has the mantra of “waiting until the little one is ready” rather than leading as a parent. I’m a cynic, but I think there is some truth in that statement. The average child now wears 5000 nappies from 0-3. Imagine the hundreds of pounds you could save by cutting down that gap, even by a few months!!

I think in part, our culture has gotten a little lazy, and we don’t like too much hard work, and we are being trained to let our kids lead, when sometimes we need to be the grown up. Reports are showing that kids are increasingly starting nursery, reception, and even year one still wearing nappies. That isn’t because of medical issues, it is simply because time hasn’t been put in it at home. Life gets busy, and it has taken a decent chunk of time to train Zella, to take her to the toilet in the middle of playing at friends houses or at playgroup rather than just leaving her in her nappy, but I feel like it’s worth it.

(And I’m saving money and I like that feeling best of all!)

Steve wants me to reiterate that
(1) we aren’t experts

(2) we only have one child

so these aren’t hard and fast, tried and tested rules.

However, from conversations with older generations, and from research with a few early potty training parents and online, I think these tips could be used and really positive results could come from it!

Good luck with your potty training endeavours!!

Ceasefire

A comment I recently posted in a mum’s Facebook group received more than 50 "likes" in the hour following my scribing of it.

At my last check of it, it had exceeded 100.

We are a lazy bunch in the Miller household.

Steve’s alarm goes off at 6am (when he actually gets up is debatable) but Zella and I are only awake before he leaves if thereis a feed to be done or a poop explosion to clean. Some days 8, some days 9, on the lucky ones 10am is the hour we make it downstairs.

I still breastfeed Zella, in spite of her clamouring on top of me as if I were some gymnastics apparatus, and the occasional nip from the four teeth she has recently acquired. I am more than happy feeding her in public: on the bus, at cafes, at others houses, in parks, and, if the moment arises, while running to catch a train.

Some days, we hang out and play with the toys, some wooden, some with batteries. Often the only toy she’s interested in is my phone or the video baby monitor. I know I use technology around her too much because she can swipe the Mac and change my screens, and enjoys sitting back and looking through the morning’s Instagram offerings. I do try and do reading everyday as well, to make sure she is a book geek like me.

Sometimes we head to the park, or go on the swings. Yesterday we did this on the way to Tesco. That Tesco trip where I brought more than I could carry, and had to pile the buggy high and carry Zella home. Which wasn’t a problem…until it started to rain and I had to fashion a covering for her out of the shopping trolley seat cover I have because I don’t want her to get germs. Because for me, the germs in Tesco on the carts are far worse than the germs from the raisins I let her eat off our living room floor. I have also unknowingly taken her to this den of bacteria when she had a viral infection. I'm clearly going for mum of the year. 

Often we go clothes shopping. I often get caught out and spend far too long shopping and socialising in town and am suddenly faced with a screaming babe. I hastily feed Zella the baby snacks and pouches of puree, trying not to condemn myself for not preparing an organic feast fit for The Savoy. At home, dinner times are a happy chatter amidst of baby-led mess; our kitchen tiles’ the loser, splattered with the disregarded and thus flung regurgitations of our child.

And on our favourite days, we hang out with other mums and babies. A year ago, I didn’t know anyone in Birmingham with a young child, but classes and playgroups have grown our circles wide. One mum and her son live nearby so we often meet spontaneously and talk about cloth nappies. Another mum teaches and is full of advice for Steve as well as support as she has carried on full-time breastfeeding. One mum is ten years older, a classically trained musician and a highly disciplined individual; on paper we should have nothing in common, but she makes me laugh hilariously and we have great conversations.

The reason my comment on that post

Seemed to resonate with so many others

Was because I attempted to speak out

Against, what I saw, as an unfair judgment of amother

Breastfed vs Formula

Baby-led weaning vs Purees

Co-Sleep vs Cot

Cloth vs Disposables

Baby carrier vs Buggy

Pacifiers vs Thumbs

Staying at home vs working outside of the home

In our attempt to make ourselves feel better about our choices

Often others are put down for theirs

We draw battle lines and the mama wars begin once again

With angry and judgemental words

The media provoking and antagonising

This fervent fire

A fire that causes another mother to weep

Pushing back the waves of post-natal depression

As at her most vulnerable

One hand cradles her babe

While the other shields her heart and mind

Why do we choose “versus”

Rather than “and”, “with” , “or” ?

I am more than aware that I’m not theperfect mother

I write my daily choices to show they are

Both good and bad

But am learning

Steadily

To rejoice in the fact

I am a mother

With healthy child

Who delights in my face

Who delights in our life

I look at so many of you and think you are thriving

Although you may only see your flaws and failings

But the truth is

We are all doing our best

Serving them best

Teaching them best

Loving them best

And our best is more than good enough

Though we act like these decisions

Are life and death

Denying child a place at Harvard or Oxford

In countries near and far

The abuse of children is far more abhorrent

Than the outcome of these differing views

For my friends

With babes unborn

Uncreated

Unfertilised

Dreams in your head for the future

May you carry the baton

Of freedom in motherhood

And support and love

In the face of this torrential storm ofwords

May we be free from the judgement

Free from the lies

Free the tangled webs of the enemy

That would convince us otherwise

Of the simple fact

You, my precious fellow mother, are doing a phenomenal job.

And as gummy smiles and toddler eyes reveal

That we are succeeding

May we take these words

And be a blessing to others.

Poop

I've never been one to do things in order.

I can distinctively remember being in one of my favourite places in the world, Whole Foods grocery store in Arlington, Texas, perusing the aisles, when they caught my eye.

Steve and I had been married little over a year when I came home declaring that I had found "it." The items that we did not need at all, but I tried in vain to tell him we needed to buy in advance:

The nappies we were going to use with our baby.

Previous to that fateful store trip, I had never been particularly interested in cloth nappies. I'd always thought of them as old fashioned, bulky, stinky...but you know me: put something in bright colours and make them sleek and fashionable, and I'm all up in its grill.

Roll on three years, lots of convincing of a husband, immense researching of the site, testing out at The Baby Show, and one gorgeous princess later, and we are avid users of gNappies: gParents, cloth nappy people, the hippies who buy disposable inserts to go in them that we then add to our compost heap for extra roughage.

Feel free to come over in the summer to sample veggies fertilised by Zella.

It will be better than when we served salad to a guest last year, and we discovered we served her an earwig.

Rather than the simple throwing away of disposables, after each change, time must be spent in a more labourious cleaning up job.

As I leant over the bath last night, showering off the mess, the colours swirled amidst the waters, revealing more of my very self.

Cloth humbles me.

I take the soiled, wet, stained garments, and with bare hands scrub, rub, and make new.

Regardless of how I feel, how the day goes, I have to put the effort in; laying aside my self to provide for my child's most intimate need.

This mess is none of my doing, but it is mine to sort out.

My pride must consistently and constantly be pushed to the edge, as I endeavour in the dirtiest job in my house (besides the bins).

And I needed this.

I need to be humbled.

I need to be put in my place.

I need to know there are others needs beyond my own.

I need to know that I'm not above anything.

I need to be reminded that there is more than "me" in this world.

I need that quiet time of pondering to evaluate who I really am throughout the day.

Do I think that everyone should use cloth nappies?

Yes, because landfill sites are filling up, nappies create a lot of waste, it can save you lots of money, they are great with sensitive skin babes, and there are some really awesome options out there.

Will everyone?

No, and that's ok because each family needs to make the choices that works best for them, and that's the way it should be.

Do I think everyone needs to be humbled?

Definitely.

Consumerism rages.

The customer is always right.

We push and fight and wrestle to be top dog.

Not realising the importance of the worker bees.

We all need a place of self-reflection.

A place to serve others.

A time when we aren't first, second or even tenth.

By the nappy bucket

with soap suds and poop

is mine.

Where is yours?

Beautiful Responsibility

She doesn't scream, but I still hear her

Hand sucking in crib

Voice quietly and aimlessly chattering

When picked up, arms envelope my neck

And sudden head bobbing begins

So sudden, head clatters with my lips

I taste blood in my mouth

My body feels tired

Wondering why I have forsaken

Our favourite time of rest

Clammy fingers reach up towards my neck and fall in submission

As large gulps begin

The wild animal is tamed

And so I lie

For ten

Or twenty

Or thirty

Too often more than 60

Minutes with

No words

Just her heavy breathing

Cutting through the silence of night

Minutes with

The quiet knowledge

That to her

This twilight exploration

Is like manna from heaven

Full fat organic goodness

Her only way to survive

Without me,

she is weak

A responsibility that shatters my selfishness

Breaks my wants

Shows me so much of unfailing love of Father God

Physically, you tire me

Spiritually, you revive me

The burp rudely juxtaposes the silence

Your mouth accidentally drips its excess

Head flops over my shoulder

Body waves white flag

As slowly I lay you back down

My beautifully exhausting responsibility

{written in 30 mins during a 5am feeding session. feeding zella hasnt always been an easy journey...thankful that I have come to the place where I can celebrate it}

Waiting

I have many great traits.

I’d get tired if I wrote them all, but these are my favourite:

My spontaneity and creativity, throwing myself into the new and different, 

desperate for another crazy adventure.

My ridiculous organising skills, 

planning incredible and detailed events at the drop of a hat.

Combined, I’m a fireball of life and activity.

I’m also the least patient person I know.

My ever-increasing belly, shovelling sweets like the Oompa Loompas my husband so affectionately likened me to, weighed heavy on my frame, making me desperate for escape.

Desperate to end the nine months of puking

Of being restricted in my own skin

Of reluctantly slowing down my pace

 The messages piled in:

“Happy Due Date!!!! Any twinges ....???”

“no sign yet?! booooo xx”

Due day came and went…

“Where are these babies??????”

“Dear baby miller,

I am writing to officially give you an eviction notice. Please vacate your mothers womb by 12am this evening before the overdue cranky woman hormones go crazy ;) “

Everyday waiting for something…but yet nothing came, not even a hint…

“You not blown yet? Milking this whole pregnancy thing abit too much aren't you?”

“Ok, I'm done being patient for you!!! Go jogging or climb some stairs ... or ... OTHER things ... and get that baby moving! “

You were “done”?!

I was done.

Overdone.

Completely spent and exhausted from being patient.

Dogs and cats wait 60 days.

Rabbits wait 33 days.

Mice only wait 20 days.

Humans?

271 days.

Why forced to have so many bloated days?

What reason is there behind this torture?!

Texts of encouragement came in, but none spoke more strongly than this:

“These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance.

That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother.

We are enlarged in the waiting.

We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us.

But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.

Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, 

God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along.

 He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.

God knew what he was doing from the very beginning.”

{Romans 8}

We wait

For that spouse that never comes

For that job promotion they say is just around the corner

For the day we will earn more

For that relationship to be fixed

For the house of our own

The morning the contractions started

Painfully waking me at 5am

Faithfully pulsing every 20 minutes

Five hours later

As my mum arrived panicked and scared of missing the birth

They remained still 20 minutes apart

My pudgy self bounced frustratingly on the exercise ball

Netflix choices blurred into mundane viewing

My time had come

Labour was imminent

But yet Father God was still calling me

In a place of patience

We wait

For the marriage proposal

For the big break into the industry

For the manager to appreciate our efforts

For the fertility treatment to work

For acceptance on a course

For healing

The sickness came back.

My “friend” vomit that had consumed each week of my pregnancy

Overwhelming took over my labour

Contractions ranged from 1 to 7 minute gaps

Each painfully convulsing my body

A disjointed 10pm walk to the hospital

A delusional time on gas & air

A two hour grueling stint in water

And there she was.

The words of the friend rang in my ear:

“Labour doesn’t matter once it’s stopped.”

Those things are coming.

Those dreams deep in our beings, with heartbeats and kicks and pains

Have life within them

They are cooking, developing, growing.

It may not be happening to you as quick as the dog

Or the cat

Or the mouse

As quick as your sister

Your friend

Everyone else

But it’s coming.

It was relayed to me, that I spoke these words to my precious Zella, 

as her wrinkled grey body lay wetly on my exhausted chest:

“I did this for you. I did this all for you.”

All the waiting

The agony

The stretching

The pushing

My reward, my prize, the end

Was truly worthy of the waiting

My heart has softened

My soul has learnt patience

My character has developed

Truly, I was enlarged in the waiting

Dear Baby Miller - part 2

Dear Baby Miller,

Sweet merciful Zeus, you are due tomorrow!!

And by due, Mummy means this is the expected day of arrival, marking exactly one year since Mummy and Daddy arrived back from America, and Mummy will probably ball her eyes out and be devastated if you don’t come on our special day.

Welcome to the world of Miller family pressure.

There’s so much Mummy feels she wants to impart to you, teach you, brainwash you with on your arrival, but this little letter contains one of the most important lessons you’ll need:

“Don’t take things on face value.”

Mummy is the one people usually meet first.

When Mummy enters a room, people know she has arrived. Her loudness prevails, alongside her over-friendliness and penchant for inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times.

Mummy is the crazy, charismatic, over-zealous one with a wooing tendency.

But wooing people only gets you so far.

People need consistency, character, faithfulness, and endurance.

They need sensitivity and understanding, and genuine love.

And that’s why we have this guy:

People make jokes about “pre-Mummy” Daddy:

Wild, curly hair, a wardrobe consisting entirely of baggy jeans/cargo shorts, red t-shirts and baseball caps.

Don’t get Mummy wrong; she is aware of the high standard of work. She single-handedly transformed Daddy from a vagabond band roadie to a professional looking hottie:

But the truth is, Daddy has done a deeper transformation on Mummy.

Teaching Mummy to listen.

Showing Mummy how issues can be dealt with without extreme confrontation.

Learning to enjoy the quiet.

Becoming more patient with people and their issues.

Truly putting Father God first and seeking after Him in everything.

Being someone of true integrity.

Genuinely loving others.

Not being afraid to trust and open up to people.

Every step of Mummy’s difficult pregnancy, Daddy has been there.

Supportingly taking Mummy’s hand to walk her everywhere.

Rushing from work to get to midwife and scan appointments.

Reassuring texts of love throughout the day.

Pulling back Mummy’s hair to puke in the mornings.

Bringing breakfast in bed when Mummy was too weak to go downstairs.

Waking in the middle of the night to readjust the duvet each time Mummy returned from the toilet.

Buying Mummy skittles, ginger beer, Chinese takeaway and anything else random she craved/whined about.

You are blessed for so many reasons, with an amazing family and so many people praying for you and eagerly awaiting your arrival; for the fact you have been so healthy so far; for the hand of God already showing itself upon your life providing for you in miraculous ways.

But Mummy weeps at how blessed you are by the amazing Father you have been given.
Because I know how powerful a thing that is a child’s life, and it will change the trajectory of your life.

Some people look and think that Mummy is the boss, the head of it all.

Like I said, don’t take things on face value.

The truth is, while Mummy has carried you, Daddy has carried Mummy.

See you tomorrow.

xxx