Battle: Diaper!

Lately, Andy has not wanted his pajamas taken off or his diaper changed first thing in the morning.  He lets me know his disinterest in this event by screaming as if having bamboo shoots eased under his fingernails and by, usually successfully, attempting to escape from our morning changing area.  He runs around the upstairs sobbing as I waddle after him, and once I'm able to grab him, I carry him back to his room and basically straddle my screaming, fighting son while I yank his pajamas off and swap out his diaper.  Carrying him is no fun at this time of the morning since his diaper is often soaked completely through, and I've learned to not put on my work clothes first thing in the morning since showing up at the office with a circle of pee on my blouse usually results in less invitations out to lunch. 

I've been asking around as I tend to do (asking around is my not-so-secret parenting technique), and this tantrum throwing during the morning diaper change appears to be a normal thing among Andy's peers.  My co-worker K seems to think it has something to do with the kids not wanting to be rushed in the morning and wanting that cozy feeling of keeping their pajamas on until they're ready.  H thinks that the babies just want to snuggle and be held in the morning, and that's why they get so upset when we put them down for the change.  G thinks it's just one of those mysteries of toddler-hood that we'll never figure out.  And I'm leaning towards the theory that kids are just dicks who will do anything to make our already difficult mornings even more awful.

The tantrums have been out of control lately, and our mornings together before I leave for work have been stressful and miserable.  Every morning, I deal with the inevitable wresting match.  Our wrestling matches are not as exciting as the ones on TV.  There are no bells or victory belts, and all I get when I win the match is a ten pound diaper to dispose of and a sobbing child to half-heartedly console while I hurry about getting ready for work.  Andy doesn't seem to recover well after the diaper battle and will whine, cry, and cling to me while I ready myself.  "Andy," I try to beg him, "Please let go of Mommy's leg while she draws in her eyebrows!"  I can usually give in to him for just a few minutes before I have to run, and will give him the attention he wants by doing one of his two favorite things- reading him a "Maisy" book or singing "The Twelve Days of Christmas."  Go ahead, quiz me on what the true love gives on any of the twelve days.  I KNOW THE ANSWER.  Finally, I really do have to leave, at which point he will call "Mommy!" after me as I head down the stairs.  It's a pathetic call that makes me semi-believe that what he's trying to say is, "I take it all back!  I'm sorry to have been so difficult!  Don't leave me with Daddy! He doesn't know what happens on the eighth day of Christmas! Come baaack!!"

If we spent less time fighting about the diaper and pajamas, Andy, I could probably fit in a verse or two of your other favorite song, "Happy Birthday."  It's really your loss.

This morning, I woke up dreading the inevitable fight and gave myself a pep talk as I brushed my teeth.  This morning WOULD be better!  I could handle this!  As I finished up, I could hear Andy waking in his room and calling out for me.  I plastered a big old smile on my face and walked into his room to find Andy standing in position in his crib, arms already upraised in preparation of being lifted out.  I grabbed a blanket to wrap him in case the diaper was super duper full, picked him up so that he was bundled in the blanket, and held him close to me, secure in the barrier created by the blanket's fabric.  I did something daring and brought him back into my bedroom, into my bed, and put him down on the mattress- blanket still in tact around his mid-section to absorb any leaks- and snuggled with him for ten minutes while he drank his morning milk, which I'd already had waiting for him.

We cuddled and giggled, and Andy finished his cup of milk.  Thinking that enough time had gone by, I lifted him out of bed- ever so aware of that blanket- and carried him back to his room, where I started singing "Twelve Days of Christmas" about fifteen minutes earlier than scheduled. I laid him out on the twin bed in his room, the one I use for diaper changes in lieu of a changing table, and started unzipping his pajamas.

Instant meltdown.

Andy slapped at my hands, tried to roll and climb away, and pulled his pajamas back on as I tried to keep pulling them off.  He started screaming, and the tears began forming.  My blood pressure immediately spiked, and the baby inside me started kicking like crazy as if to join in on the fun.  "ANDY!"  I said sharply, "STOP MOVING!"  This only made Andy move more.  "ANDY!" I cried, suddenly desperate and in need of a solution.  "If you stop moving NOW, you can have a cookie after you're dressed."

I've never seen a kid freeze and shut up so quickly.

Now, I've bribed Andy with cookies before.  Never this early in the morning and only on a couple occasions when I was really, truly at my wit's end.  The reaction out of Andy has always been resigned compliance, which is usually good enough for me.  But this morning?  The promise of a cookie?

And B is for Bribe.

Well, once the C-word was out there, we embarked on what had to be one of the most pleasant diaper and outfit changes in the history of his existence.

After I got him changed and standing back up, he hooked his hand in mine and looked up at me expectantly.  I walked him out of his room and to the top of the stairs, where I let go of his hand and said, "Wait here while I go get the cookie."  I often tell Andy to wait in one position while I go do something.  It never works.  Andy doesn't know how to stand still- he's incapable of it.  Today, however, when I opened the gate to the top of the stairs, started walking down the stairs, and closed the gate behind me, I kept an eye on Andy while I embarked down towards the kitchen.  He stood perfectly still, a tiny soldier awaiting sugar, a sweet little smile playing at his lips as he watched me walk down.  In the kitchen, it took me a minute or two to find the box of cookies, get the box open, and dig out a single cookie.  I took a generous bite out of it (hey, I never promised Andy a WHOLE cookie), and then carried it back upstairs.  And there was Andy, standing in the exact same spot, patiently waiting for his cookie.  "Here it is!" I said, brandishing the cookie, at which point Andy's face broke out into a grin so bright it could have lit the darkest winter sky in Norway.  "Cookie!" he exclaimed, then reached out for it.  I walked into the bathroom to start getting my make-up on (first the left eyebrow, then the right), and Andy followed me in, where he sat on the floor and happily, quietly, consumed his cookie, all while issuing the occasional, joyous "Mmmm!"

I found it.  I can't believe I found it.  The ONE thing that pacifies my son in the morning- and it's a god damn cookie.  Which he clearly can't have every morning- or can he??? No, you're right, he totally can't.  Or can he?  No, that's too much sugar.  Or is it?  And it's definitely not right to bribe him in order to get my way.  I know this.  But if it works this well- THEN WHY NOT?

Parenting is hard.

I will not be offering Andy a cookie tomorrow morning no matter how difficult the morning diaper change is.  I made that promise to myself as I left the house this morning, Andy and Daddy engrossed in another, less physical battle involving teeth-brushing.  I did however, learn a couple things this morning from the whole diaper-cookie exchange.

One.  Andy is perfectly capable of laying still for his morning diaper and clothing change.  Little bastard.

Two.  Andy deals with delayed gratification surprisingly well for someone so young.  Just the promise of a cookie was good enough for him, and the patience he exhibited in waiting for it was pretty shocking, all things considered.

Three.  Bribery does work- it's undeniable, and all parents do it- so maybe I may just need to figure out how to tweak that bribery so instead of handing Andy a sugary treat, he's getting some other incentive.  Such as a banana, or my undying love.  Although he knows he has free, unlimited access to both of those things, so it may be back to the drawing board on that one.

Four.  A bite of cookie in the morning is really a phenomenal way to start my day.  Sooo- we're not making it a habit of giving Andy a cookie every morning- but maybe Mommy???

We'll see what happens in the morning.

BINKY UPDATE:

You may remember my blog post a week or so ago about the impending "tomorrow" of removing Andy's binky.  At this point, it's been over a week of Andy only having the binky at nap times and night time- and it's gone rather well except for the one time Chris, in a less sensitive moment, yanked it out of his mouth after his nap time.  Just a tip- you have to ASK for it, not take it.  Andy wants to feel like it's his choice when he gives it up, which is fine since he WILL give it up if you ask or offer a trade (like a drink)- and then it's our job to run and hide it really quick while he's distracted.  Anyway, for now, he can have his little security nub when he sleeps- I feel like I've won the bigger part of the battle, and, hey, isn't that what being a mom is all about?  We'll deal with night time binky... tomorrow-ish.