Archive for the ‘potty training’ Tag
January 03 2012
For the first time in 8 years, I do not have the overwhelming feeling of dread when I smell the air only to realize someone needs changed. There are no more wipes, no more rash ointment, no more plump saggy bottoms. Just a toilet that has seen its use triple in this past month and a toilet paper roll that can’t seem to ever stay full. Charmin is making a fortune off of my family alone.
We are diaper free. During the day, anyway. Because Abby still doesn’t stay dry at night. That’s a small hurdle that we’ll jump over in time.
I would like to say that it’s a relief, this new-found diaper freedom. Except I am still an integral part of my children’s bathroom activities. They call me in to show off the product of their hard work, like I’m supposed to be impressed. Reminders have to be given, public restrooms scouted at first entrance, extra clothes packed just in case. I still have to wipe to make sure bottoms are clear. After 8 years, my hands remain far from clean.
The last thing I need is another kid that poops its pants.
My daughter made this past Christmas the year of the doll. She asked for 2 baby dolls from the big jolly guy, and her wish was granted. And then some. My mother noticed the easy opportunity in front of her, and took it.
“I couldn’t tell, is that one of those dolls that wets itself? Because I was hoping it is”, my mother wondered with a clever smirk as Abby covered herself in unwrapped paper and I glared her down with a look of pure evil.
My mom thinks she’s so funny.
She’s not.
September 14 2011
With 3 kids in this house, you would think I would own a step stool.
I do not.
It is now at the top of my need-to-get list.
Abby is 3 years old and showing interest in using the bathroom like a big girl. I’m sure she would be completely trained in that area by now if we gave it a couple days of just lounging about in her underwear. It’s I who is holding her back. Because didn’t I just do this with another kid?
So she’s taken the task upon herself.
The other night, a mere hour after she was scrubbed clean in a bath, she made mention of her need to relieve herself. Up until then, her bathroom use has been only for urinating. This time, however, called for the other. While we have a training potty, she’s never taken to it. So she climbed on top of the big girl commode, her feet dangling in mid-air, still too small to reach the floor. I faced the other direction to give her privacy until it sounded as though the deed was done, when I turned back to my daughter’s beaming smile.
I praised, like any proud mother. Until the situation turned dire. “You did awesome! Give me 5! That’s such a good gir…. What’s that? On the seat? What is that brown… Oh, Abby! Gross!”
Poo. Smeared. Everywhere. On the toilet. On her. Because her feet can’t reach the floor, she can’t lift herself up. And so she has to slide on and off. And did she ever slide. Like a slip ‘n slide. In poo.
Clearly, the time has come to buy a step stool. And sanitizer. Lots of sanitizer.
May 20 2011
“Would you like some chocolate milk?”, I asked Buzz, fully acknowledging it as a bribe.
He wasn’t taking the bait, however. “Go poopie!”
Here I am, running a mommyblog and posting about poop. Which I actually try to avoid. Though this isn’t about the act itself, but my son’s insistence that he must go when he clearly doesn’t have to. Because I’ve spent more time waiting at the bathroom door this past week than Arnold Schwarzenegger’s spent with his housekeeper. And we all know what happened there.
“How about a movie? Do you want to watch a movie?”, it’s an honest attempt, though not enough to alter his position.
“Go poopie!”
“We’ve just been in there for an hour. That’s a good boy going on the potty, but there’s no need to stay in there for so long. You do your thing, you come out. You do not go in, play for an hour, then go back in 5 minutes later. No one needs to spend that much time in the bathroom. Unless you’re Mommy and it’s the only chance you have for a break.”, I try my best to calmly explain.
“Go poopie! Go poopie! Go poooopie!”, morphing into an anthem.
Like every instance before, I oblige his need for the bathroom, just in case. After 20 minutes with nothing to show for it, I say enough, time to come out. I even offer up a pony. Buzz, however, is indignant.
“No! GO POOPIE!”
I thought having the kid out of diapers was supposed to be easier.
March 17 2011
Buzz, my 4 year old son who will be 5 next month, has had a hard time with the whole potty thing. This is kind of embarrassing to admit. I’d like to blame his speech delay and behavioral issues, but it’s probably also just as much my fault. He gets it, to a point, as long as he’s completely sans clothes. As soon as I put so much as a pair of underwear on him, he thinks of it like a diaper. He’s better, but I still wouldn’t leave the house with him without protection.
We’ve been working on it diligently this past week though, with much progress made, along with my daughter who has to follow everything her older brother does. So they’ve been running around the house pantsless, like a couple of drunk on milk college kids. At least it saves on laundry.
Yesterday, my parents came over to help watch the kids for a few minutes while I did some things. Of course, my son spent the duration of their visit completely carefree in all his glory. On their way out, I realized my parents left their newspaper behind and went to run it out to them. I told Buzz to stay, I’d be right back, don’t come near the door without clothes on.
Oh, he didn’t come near the door. He opened it. And ran out. Streaking through our yard and in front of the neighbors until I basically tackled him and dragged my exposed and barren child back inside. Hello, neighbors. How’s your day been? I’m sure it’s better than mine. This, oh this is just my son. Please stop staring at his butt.
I’ve never liked potty-training. Who does? But this was one hazard of the job that I never saw coming. Until it streaked like a bolt of naked lightning right in front of me.
October 05 2010
Abby peed on the potty the other day.
This would be cause for celebration. I even called my mother immediately after to brag, because who better to commemorate the occasion with than the doting grandma? We whoo’d and yay’d appropriately. But then I began to contemplate the situation I was in. What did I just start?
My daughter may be ready to potty-train, but I’m not.
Now, being a house without diapers would make me ecstatic. However, there’s the matter of getting there. Of spending hours in the bathroom, again. Of keeping hands out of pee-tainted toilet water, again. Of wiping up accidents and scrubbing carpets, again. Of piles of stained, smelly laundry, again. Of potty parties, which aren’t nearly as fun as they sound, again. I’m not even 100% with Buzz, since we’ve had some major regression issues. I just… I can’t… I won’t. You can’t make me! Not again.
I hate potty-training. Nothing else in all of parenting makes me feel as inadequate. Because forget development of the kid, this whole thing, it’s all about ME.
Abby has only had that one successful potty incident so far, which was only positive because it required no direction from me in any way. All I did was pull her pants down and feign glee at the end result, she did the rest. I’m not going to force it. I’m just not ready. I’m more inclined to hide in the closet and let someone else deal with it. While they’re at it, they can help Buzz with his issues, too. Takers? Anyone? No? Shit.
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
