Jessica's Jottings:

On faith, food, family and frugality

Teaching a Two Year Old Boy to *Want* to Wash His Hands

How did I manage this?

It was absolutely accidental, I assure you.

Since our recent move to Georgia, there have been some new kid “-isms” emerging. Some of them have been fun, others – not so much.

One of these “-isms” is that Rafe, our lone son, has been having an absolute fit when it comes time to wash his hands and face after a meal. And, ahem, this is a very necessary part of our mealtime routine.

Rafe as he's eating oatmeal with his hands

Woohoo! Oatmeal for breakfast!










Rafe, after eating yogurt

Bet you didn’t know that you could eat yogurt with your hands, did you?













So…yeah. Hand washing is a rather key part of our after meal routine.

However, since we’ve moved to a new house in a new state and everything’s gone rather topsy turvy, Rafe has decided that he’s just not into post-meal hand washing. As in, he pretty much starts kicking and screaming every. stinking. time. /sigh

This morning, after eating his two bowls of cheerios and honey, scavenging around the table for anyone else’s unattended cereal bowls, begging for a piece of bread, and spilling Cassie’s water cup on the table, he was in sore need of a clean up. I was in the middle of changing baby girl’s diaper when he decided he was done, so I wasn’t able to get to him before he got to his train set and acquired the main player in our soon to unfold drama.

The pig.

Rafe and his little hard plastic pig

Rafe and his pig










After I finished with Katelyn, I, too, needed to wash my hands. I scooped Rafe up and the kicking and screaming commenced as I marched him into the bathroom. Propping one foot up on the stool (everything in this house is sooo much taller than we’re used to!), I set him on my lap and turn on the water. He’s kicking, squirming, and clutching the pig. That’s when I had the idea. “Hey, Rafe! Let’s give the piggy a bath! Don’t you want to help give the piggy a bath?”

He stops squirming and gets excited. “Yeah!”

I hand him the bar of soap and together we suds up Mr. Pig. I insure that he handles the bar of soap with both hands, he insures that Mr. Pig gets soapy, and then we both make sure that Mr. Pig (and his hands!) gets fully clean.

Hooray for Mr. Pig! Hooray for inspired ideas! Hooray for blogs to share the fun! 😉

I hope your day is blessed, friends! I also hopes this works again at lunchtime! hehe

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The Pictures Aren’t For Me

Can I bare my heart with you for a few minutes?

I don’t really like to look at myself in the mirror. Unless I’m brushing my teeth or putting in my contacts, I usually avoid it. What’s reflected in the mirror doesn’t match up to the way I see myself in my head.

I also really, really, really don’t like to have my picture taken right now. While I don’t meet the definition of morbid obesity, I’m definitely bigger than I used to be. The thought of my, ahem, largesse being recorded for posterity bugs me. And before you tell me to get off the couch, I’ll tell you that I have. It doesn’t seem to matter right now. The experts who tell us that nursing helps you lose the pregnancy weight – well, that doesn’t seem to be my experience. Am I going to stop nursing because of it? Nope. I know that this season will end soon enough and then weight will start to come off.

So…we’ve established that I don’t like to have picture taken while I’m large(r) and that I’m likely to be a little larger for a little while. Does that mean I just stop allowing myself to be in pictures? Nope.

Like so many other parts of parenting, it’s not about me. If I die while my children are still young, I want there to be a visible record of my love for them. I don’t want the only pictures they have of me to be pictures without them. Pictures that show me young, skinny, happy and childless. What kind of message would that send to them?

So, kiddos, I love you. And I want to go on the record and say:

The extra pounds? Worth it.

The sleepless nights? Worth it.

The exposure to more types of bodily fluids than I dreamed possible? Worth it.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

(I started this post a few months ago, so the pictures are a little out of date. The essence of the post hasn’t changed though. 🙂 )

Me and my girls

5, 4, 5 months and me

Me and my middle two

My middle two at 2 and 4