The Tovsky Tribe

Chocolates, Cocktails, Friends, Babies...A Girl Should Never Have Just ONE!!

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Is this how Peter North was as a Toddler?

Turner is hilarious.   He has a personality that will certainly precede him as he gets older.   He can be the  entertainment in the room or be red-faced and shy depending on who is around.  One area where Turner is not shy is below the belt.   It must be a boy thing since I know he is not too different from his brothers, but he is obsessed with his penis.  He loves to put his hand in his diaper and he loves to pull his penis out.   He loves to question me about it:
"Mommy, why is it sticking straight up?"  My standard answer is that he must have to pee, but I want to tell him that if he continues to touch it all of the time it will always stick straight up.

The other day we were having dance party he stopped mid-stride to say "ok, now take your pants off!"

Of course I laughed but I can't help but be mildly concerned that this is how Peter North may have been as a 2 year old.

Big Boy Bed

Around the time Turner turned 2 he started asking for a bed.  Like his brothers.   On many nights he would beg his way out of his crib and would sleep, happily, in the guest room bed.  

I was in no hurry to get him out of his crib, nor out of his diapers, but I thought a little motivation would be a good thing.  So, I told him that when he started using the potty he could have a bed.   This shut him up for a while since he had no interest in the potty, at all.  Except  maybe to stand at one, which I think had more to do with his interest in his penis than in the potty itself.

On August 1st Todd began working from home again.  Which means our guest room became his office and the bed....was moved to Turner's room.  No big ceremony.  No potty peeing.  No hyped up excitement.   He just went to bed in a crib on July 31st.  And on August 1st he went to bed in a queen-sized bed.  He wasn't upset about it but didn't seem overly excited, either, about giving up his crib.   He did great on the first night, and every night since.

My original plan was to paint his room and give him the bed as a surprise when he was trained.   So, now, we tell him when he is trained he can have his room painted.   This is actually exciting to him.

Here is what his big boy bed looks like:

6 weeks later he sleeps well, he naps well, and he has learned that a bed that big for a boy his size is perfect for jumping on!!!

Potty Training....Again!

I am in no real hurry for Turner to potty train.   This is probably a continued attempt at holding on to his babyhood with a death grip, but I convince myself it is because it is easier.  And, it is.

About six months ago Turner showed an interest in underwear.  And, in standing at the potty.  He showed absolutely no interest at in in actually peeing it.  Since then, there has been nothing.   Until the other day.

We went out for our traditional birthday dinner show to celebrate Todd's last year in his 30's.  I took Chase to the bathroom and, as usual, Turner insisted on coming.  Once there, he told me to change his diaper.   I had sent Todd to the car to get me a diaper and the one he gave me was resting on top of the toilet paper cannister because at that moment Turner decided he wanted to sit on the potty.  I knew it would be a useless cause but....I layered the seat with too thin toilet paper and set his toosh down.  He sat there for a few seconds,  then said "Mommy, this just isn't working out!"

His phrasing had me laughing so hard that, as you'd figure, the only diaper we had fell into the toilet.


Turner wanted me to fish it out, which I did as to not clog the toilet, but then threw it away, of course.

Turner is a good boy, he follows instructions and doesn't want to cause too much trouble.   Most of the time.  I got down to his level, I  looked in his eyes and said, "Turner, you're going to have to go without a diaper until we get home.  Try not to pee in your jeans.  If you have to go pee-pee, just tell mommy, and I will take you to the bathroom!"

These instructions seemed so simple and easy and then it dawned on me I was talking to an untrained 2 year old.

"Ok, Mommy!"  Was all he said.

We returned to the table where he told his brothers and his daddy, with a laugh, how mommy dropped his diaper in the toilet.   We were at the restaurant another 30 minutes and had 3 return trips to the potty.  We had exactly ZERO pees in the potty and the same number in his pants.  That was a win for me.

When we returned to the car I found another diaper.  I put it on Turner and we headed home.  He peed in his diaper and announced it, then he apologized for not peeing in the potty.  Curiously, I looked at him and thought, perhaps we are on to something.

When we got home he went directly to the potty, sat, and peed.  He was so excited he showed all of us, gave us each hugs, and chewed happily on his m&m's.   A part of me thought we were done.  He was trained.

It is 5 days later.  Turner is using the potty with an increased consistency and seems to have good control of his bladder.  Sometimes he wants to pee in his diaper, sometimes in the potty, and it seems he is working up to a level of comfort for himself that will make him give up the diapers all together.  He still gets excited each and every time and does not want to wear underwear at all.  He seems to be scared, or uninterested, or both, to have an accident of any kind.  Turner is the type of kid that when he decides to wear the underwear he will be ready.  No caution to the wind in that boy.

Although I am not really in any rush, it would kind of be nice to NOT have to buy another case of diapers when I run out of these last 44.

Keep you posted.

Friday, September 16, 2011

2011 Portraits

These are my tough guys.  All wife beaters and macho.   You should be scared.  But, not really.   Anyone who knows them knows they are harmless.  But, still, this picture cracks me up.   This was the favorite shot from this years portraits.   Chase and Ryder are 5, Turner is 2 1/2.   See below for other photos.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

First Date

Ryder took me on a date.  Really.  Just he and I.

Let me back up.   Not too long ago Ryder said:

"Mommy, is 12 old enough to date?"

Intrigued, I answered "Yes.  5 is old enough if there is someone you want to date.  Is there?"

He smiled, his eyes got big, he nodded his head, "Uh-huh!"

I blushed a little, thinking it was his adorable new crush at school, when he said with a pointed finger, "you, mommy!"

I couldn't deny my boy his first date.  And, admittedly, I was flattered and happy to still be his first love.
So we went.   I used this opportunity to teach Ryder about the ways of dating.   I am not old-fashioned nor am I conservative.  When I was dating acts of chivalry were not that high on my list of expectations, but I do feel the absolute need to raise the boys as complete gentlemen.  Farting, burping, pooping gentlemen.

He wanted to go to Jakes, a local favorite.  He wanted me to drive because, "I am too little to drive, mom!"  On our date, and after appropriate instructional prompts, Ryder opened the door for me.  He pulled out my chair.  He asked me what I wanted to eat and then ordered for me first, then himself.

We ate, we laughed, we listened to the music.  He was thrilled that Jakes played both Neil Young and Michael Jackson over their system.  We had a great time.

When the bill came, he took my credit card and handed it to the server and waited patiently for the receipt, which he signed with his near perfect penmanship just before I did.

We walked out of the restaurant holding hands and I thanked him with a great big hug and a kiss.

I know it won't always be this way, I know he won't even want my advice, let alone want me around.  So, I will hold on to our first date with fond memory.  I hope he continues to want to charm the ladies with gentlemanly and respectable ways.  He will certainly break some hearts!

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Ten Years Later....

Photo courtesy of Photobucket

The media reminds us incessantly.   Storefronts have their advertising.  Flags are being raised and red, white, and blue is coloring the streets.

Ten years.

It has been a whole decade since the eleventh day of September became 9/11 and I don't think one of us actually needs a reminder because none of us could ever forget.  We won't forget.   We remember where we were and what we were doing with detail, and yet most of us can't remember why we opened the fridge.  OK, maybe that is just me!

I know that everything changed that day.  I know that each of us that lived through it has a visual tattooed in our minds;  A perma-chill in our spines;  A stashed tear ready to shed.   I know, if you are like me, you can't go to the top floor of a sky-scraper without thinking: "how did they....?;"  or "what if...?"  I know we see the New York skyline and know there is a hole where towers once stood.  I know that flying will never, ever be the same, even if they do, someday, provide meals and allow our luggage to fly free.   I know all of this is true.  Yet, really, did everything change?

Not for me.  Not for most of us, the fortunate majority, who didn't lose a loved one.  We continue on with our lives.   But there are children who will turn 10 in the next 12 months all of whom were born into this world without a father.  There are wives who are raising their kids alone.  There are parents who were forced to bury children.  There are families mourning heroes who survived the attacks but not the search and recovery.  These lives were altered, impacted, terrorized, in a way that I could never understand.

Where I live the talk of the town is the Eagles and their highly anticipated season opener.  Between discussing the over-under and the Superbowl potential there is the quick and casual mention of 9/11 and the "Where were you?" conversation.  In 2002, nobody would book a celebration on 9/11.  Ten years later there is no need for a discount in order celebrate on that day.  Today I alone have a township fair and a birthday party and we will go on with our day as if it is any other.  We will have some morning fun, we will watch football, we will eat too much cake.  We may take  moment of silence to remember, and I hope we all do, then we will, likely, return to the beer we are chugging.

And, I suppose, that is OK.  Because if 9/11 didn't change everything it did make us keenly aware of how a seemingly perfect day can be the farthest thing from.  It did teach us, or it should have, that in several seconds everything you ever knew can become something you never knew and all you can do is cherish what you have.  NOW.

Today, and every day after, just like every day since, I want to hug my loved ones, cherish their smiles, capture their laughter and realize that nobody, nothing, can take this moment away from me.  Away from my heart.

Friday, September 2, 2011


I am not usually a basket-case.  There is a long list of things you can call me: forgetful, sarcastic, late, to name a few.  But I am normally not a basket-case.  I don't tend to get worked up over little things and I often assume things are going to work out as they are supposed to.

Chase and Ryder started Kindergarten on Tuesday.  It was one day late due to the aftermath of Irene.
The night before (really, weeks before) the excitement started to build.  The boys went to bed hours past their bedtime because they couldn't stop jumping on their beds.

They picked out their clothes.   Ryder had picked out his clothes weeks in advance and was so excited that he could wear a tie on his first day.   Then laid in bed, together, apart, together, apart.   They did finally fall asleep.  I don't know what time.  They did sleep in separate beds.

The morning of I had a glimpse of what high school would be like since I had to wake them up.  When I did, Ryder rolled over, pulled his blanket over his head and gave me a groan that sounded like a dying frog.  Chase took a moment, a slow moment, then smiled and jumped out of bed, needing to be the first one ready.

The boys dressed themselves, wet, combed and gelled their own hair.  Their hair looked much better than my bathroom.  After a breakfast they didn't eat they ran outside for some pictures before heading to the bus stop.  The bus was the biggest part of their excitement.  Riding the big yellow school bus that, somehow, still, in this day and age, you can get away with riding without seatbelts, is a a huge milestone into big boyhood and that was, probably, the thing they were most excited for.

They rushed onto the bus, in front of the big kids, they never gave me hugs, not kisses, not even goodbyes (though, Chase did turn around and Todd!)  And, they were off.

And something didn't sit right for me.  Maybe it was that my babies were now in Kindergarten.   Maybe it was that they, for the first time, were being separated in school.  Maybe it was that my son was wearing a tie to school, on his first day of Kindergarten, and I feared he may get beat up.  Maybe it was knowing my boys were growing up, quickly, and didn't want to hug their mommy anymore.

In the end I think it was mommy's intuition for the fiasco that was about to happen.

The bus stop to school is right in front of our house.   This is a convenience that I know will prove its worth time and again as the years pass.   Their bus stop on the way home is at Ohev Shalom.  This is because you can only choose one stop and the boys will be doing enrichment there three days a week.  Ohev does not start until next week.  I told the boys several times that they were to go there after school and that I would meet them.  Yet, I was nervous.   I called the school to verify that this was the proper arrangement.  That they would, indeed, be dropped off at Ohev even though school was not in session.  They told me that was ABSOLUTELY the case.  In an out of character moment, I called twice, not convinced this was going to run smoothly.

I arrived at Ohev at 11:05.  The bus was not expected until 11:50.  I wasn't having a dyslexic moment...I was just nervous and arrived early.  Very out of character.  While waiting for those 45 minutes I paced.  Paced.   I was starting to think my body had been taken over by someone who didn't fly by the seat of her pants.  It turns out, I had reason to be nervous.  I knew what was going to happen before it did.   The bus driver did not drop the boys off at Ohev.  Even after I called a third time and they told me to stay put.    
It was 1.5 hours before I found my sons, my new kindergartners.  It was 1.5 hours later that I picked them up at Richboro Elementary School.  It was 1.5 hours later that I turned into a complete basket-case.

Like I said, I am not usually like that.  Perhaps it was the final straw on the not-so-great year we have been having.  Or it could have just been that my kids were lost for over an hour when they were under the care of their school.   It's just not supposed to happen that way.

In the end, we are all over it.  The boys recovered much faster than I did, as usual.  I had never been so grateful to have twins as I was during that mess, thrilled that they weren't alone for what they said was a "very long bus ride!"

Although this is a first day of Kindergarten I will not soon forget, for them it was an otherwise great day.  They both seemed happy with their teachers and their classes.  Neither of them seemed to be upset that they were separated.  They each made a new friend.  And, they both came home telling stories.  Particularly Ryder, who had much more to say on the topic than chatterbox Chase.

I hope they have a fantastic year.  I hope they make new friends and learn a lot.  I hope they carve their own paths and mold their own interests.  I hope that there is never another bussing snafu again.  I am not sure I can handle it.

Boys, you may be the little guys in the big school but you'll never be the little fish.  I have no doubt of all that you will be and all that you will accomplish and this is just one small step towards all that you deserve.  I am so very proud of both you and I love you so!!!

Not sure if this video portrays their actual excitement, but.....