mommyhood, potty training

Potty Distress

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I officially started potty-training T.Puzzle. He pooped three times. Not one of these episodes made it into the toilet.

Fun.

You can see by the photo that it is going awesome. This post is short because I have much to do. I have to start brainstorming fundraising ideas to cover future costs. I figure either at some point little T.Puzzle will sue me for emotional distress or I will need to pay for the scores of therapists to repair the damage that potty-training (and his mother) caused him. Or, I just might invest in a winery and drink the profits….

kids, mommyhood

Really Bad

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In our house there is much discussion as to what constitutes a bad word. Both boys have had their share of saying naughty words at the worst possible times. I will spare you the details.

This is how Full Speed kind of understands it. “A bad word is okay if you use it to name a thing but if you use it to call someone a name, then it is bad.” For example, if you sneeze and you get snot on your arm and are simply identifying the grossness all over yourself as snot, that’s fine. However, if you see your little brother, smack him on top of his head and call him a ‘snot,’ then you are in trouble. I know this seems like an odd rule but it works in a few instances like with bottom or poop. Believe me, we’ve run the of gamut this rules’ possibilities.

This all came into play on our ride home from school today. Little T.Puzzle is singing and being generally silly. Full Speed says, “You’re weird, T.Puzzle.”

I intervene. “Please don’t refer to your brother as weird. It isn’t nice.”

“Mom, I was just saying it as a thing; I wasn’t actually calling him weird.”

The only word that came to my mind was bad. Really bad. No matter if you named it a thing, a person or a highly confounding situation brought on by my five year old.

mommyhood, potty training

Double-Crossed

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I was feeling smug. I had Full Speed’s completed homework ready, the extra wipes needed at school for T.Puzzle and I was ahead of schedule. It felt good to be back in control after being heavily medicated for so long. The boys were in their shoes and jackets and I said, “Head to the truck, guys!”

Wouldn’t you know it? I couldn’t find my keys. I looked in all the usual spaces and places and found nothing but anxiety. I picked up my pace because the minutes were ticking and I had to get the boys to school. The faster I scurried, the more distraught little T.Puzzle became because he couldn’t keep up with me. He starts yelling in protest and keeps shouting, “Mommy, where are you!?!” over and over. This does not help my anxious state. All my smugness is tossed out the window. I’m starting to feel like I’m never going to gain mastery over my life.

I go back to the starting point of my search and look in the box in the cupboard I usually keep the keys. Turns out, they were there all along just kind of shoved over to one side. I’m relieved but chastise myself endlessly for adding so many needless minutes to our morning.

I finally get the boys shoved in the truck and buckled. I’m about to shut the door on T.Puzzle’s side and climb in the driver’s seat.  He looks and me and says, “Mommy, I have to go poopy!” Since he’s never said that to me in his life I figure I had to seize the moment.

“Full Speed, undo your buckle, we are heading inside so T.Puzzle can go potty!” I command.

“Mom, that’s going to take FOREVER.” Tell me something I don’t know, kid.

With much effort, we tumble back inside with haphazard abandon. I rush T.Puzzle to the potty, plop him on down and…, he looks up at me, smiles and proceeds to do absolutely nothing.

“All done, Mommy,” he says before he even attempts to do a darn, tooting thing on that potty. I chastise myself again for being a sucker this time.

When we FINALLY have Full Speed at school, I use the ride home to encourage T.Puzzle to go on the potty. “If you poop on the potty Mommy will give you a cookie.”

“I not hungry, Mommy,” he replies.

Double-crossed again.

children, humor, mommyhood

I Forgot

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I had wrangled the boys up from school and we were on our way out. The receptionist is a kind woman and since I am constantly craving adult conversation, when she made a comment about the weather I was more than happy to chit-chat with her. It seems that I forgot myself for a moment. I guess I thought I was an independent entity that can make my way in the world (or chit-chat) without consequence.

Before I realize what is happening (believe me this happened in a matter of seconds), Full Speed has T.Puzzle in a chokehold, leaps up with T.Puzzle in his arms and lands artfully on top of him. Hence, a crazy, out-of-control wrestling match in the school’s entryway has begun.

The receptionist is stunned into silence. Eventually, she manages to say, “Whoa, guys. Sure is a lot of testosterone on the loose here.”

A semi-circle of spectators has formed around them and I believe even some surreptitious wagers took place (i.e. – ‘my money’s on the little guy!’).

I shrug my shoulders. It was my own fault to think my boys could exhibit the comportment of well-mannered children without my constant supervision.

I never did get to finish my conversation with the receptionist but I made twenty bucks. I’m not telling who won the match, but dinner was on him that night.

children, parenting

The Christening

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I was reading a book in my room trying to wind down so I could take a nap while T.Puzzle was taking his. Full Speed and Mad Dog were downstairs watching football and occasionally sword fighting.

I was almost finished with the book when I began to hear T.Puzzle’s bedroom door swinging open and shut. I only half paid attention figuring I would get through my last ten pages and then get up to investigate. Mad Dog beat me to it. I hear him cross the floor to T.Puzzle’s  room and then he says, “I think we have a big mess here.”

I get up and I see that T.Puzzle is pantless. He isn’t even wearing his pull-up. And then there’s the smell. The awful smell that floats over me and alerts me that whatever happened in his room was dire.

Mad Dog and I divide and conquer. Mad Dog tackles the clean-up of the bed and room and I grab T.Puzzle and head to the nearest tub. As I am examining him, my horror grows. What appears to be only a small mess of poop seems to expand before my eyes. It starts in the rear, goes down his legs into his socks and creeps all the way up to the middle of his back. I grab some wipes and start cleaning up what I can see on him the best I can. I reach over and start the tub water. Mad Dog comes in and grabs the lysol wipes from under the bathroom sink. Not a good sign.

T.Puzzle thinks this is all hilarious and he’s psyched because he thinks his nap is over. “I wake up,” he repeats gleefully over and over. Glee is the last thing Mad Dog and I are experiencing.

What we can deduce is that T.Puzzle knew he needed to poop, had started to fill his pants, got uncomfortable and took his pants and pull-up completely off. Then he must have found a comfortable spot on the end of his bed to squat and finish his business. Surprisingly, there were two positives. The first being that his bed has officially been christened. All children’s beds, cribs, whatever must go through this rite of passage. At least we had gotten this out of the way. The second is that the mattress protector we purchased was worth it’s weight in gold. The mattress was free of any of the poop fall-out (pardon my pun). Mad Dog and I were relieved about that.

After the bed was stripped and T.Puzzle was scrubbed from end to toes, I harshly admonished him for making such a mess and sent him off to Full Speed’s bed to finish his nap. No way was I going to reward his crazy, pooping behavior with a skipping of his nap.

He was sound asleep in less than ten minutes. Apparently, inappropriate pooping is exhausting.