Tag: potty training

mommyhood, potty training

Potty Distress

WFAM

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….

mommyhood, potty training

Double-Crossed

WFAM

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, health, mommyhood, potty training

Drive Like the Wind

WFAM

birthday hatEverything in my body hurts again and worse than it did yesterday. Fortunately, Full Speed was at school for the day (I brought in cupcakes for him to celebrate his birthday with his class – check out his cool hat) and T.Puzzle was surprisingly well mannered throughout the day.

The drop off of Full Speed was a little harried. Full Speed’s  class was heading back to the other side of the building for their ‘specials’ class (art, music, movement and such). I normally get him there well before they head out but I was sub-par today and wasn’t very timely.

T.Puzzle got nervous and confused in the melee of five year olds. He got turned around and I took my eyes off of him for a second to give Full Speed a goodbye smooch and he darted out the door into the main lobby. He attached himself to a woman who had on a similar pair of pants since that is what is at his eye level, and was ready to go with her for the day. I managed to snatch him up before he exited the building. Whew!

Grandma was entering just as we were leaving. She had to pick up Lil’ Superman (the boys’ three year old cousin) for a doctor’s appointment. As soon as T.Puzzle recognized his Grandma he drops my hand like a dead fish and says, “Bye, Mommy. I go to Grandpa’s house (he still calls her Grandpa which is highly entertaining).”

After a few screaming moments when the realization sunk in that he was going with Mommy and not Grandma, we head back home.

Thankfully, he recovered nicely and even took a two and a half hour nap! Thank, God.

sweet frickity frick

I’m almost to bedtime (boys are watching a show as I tap this out) and sincerely hope Mad Dog is home soon to assist me. Drive like the wind Mad Dog, drive like the wind!

P.S.- Mad Dog did get home in time to bathe the boys (yay!) and put them to bed (double yay!). I don’t know what was more amusing. The odd noises coming from upstairs (yelps and shouts) before the bath or a completely naked Full Speed running downstairs to animatedly tell me about T.PUzzle’s unfortunate use of my bedroom carpet as a toilet (just pee this time). Mad Dog handled it all graciously. Thank you.

children, humor, mommyhood

Oh. No.

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I made the mistake of mentioning to T.Puzzle that he was going to have a bath before I was actually ready to give it to him. I was cleaning up dinner and had a few more things to organize before I headed upstairs to start the water. Since Full Speed’s eye is still in a delicate state, I am only doing one boy per bath. Full Speed is content knowing he will have a solo bath tomorrow while T.Puzzle is at school.

As soon as T.Puzzle hears the word ‘bath’ he’s off like a shot-put and zips upstairs. Full Speed and I laugh because we can hear his little feet running from one end of our second level to the other. It’s funny because he’s so fast and it sounds like he is overly caffeinated (which he wasn’t).

I work hard to make sure my boys know their routines and are full participants in said routines. Having boys that know what needs to be done before a bath (i.e.- get undressed, go potty, dirty clothes in hamper) is a mostly wonderful thing. It helps to tone down a highly charged situation (boys love their baths and demonstrate this love through extreme physical motion that can easily spiral out of control). Routines can become a thing of fright when an unsupervised two year old attempts to go it alone.

I tie up my loose ends in the kitchen and Full Speed and I go upstairs. Awaiting us at the top of the stairs is a half-naked T.Puzzle.  He is without pants and is diaper-free. He is also grinning from ear to ear. I grab him quick as can be and place him on the potty.  He doesn’t go of course and when I lift him up I notice a small, brown smudge on the seat. Oh. No.

I examine his hindquarters to find that there is a stain of poop, not a full-blown messy butt situation, but a smear of poop just the same. After I take some wipes and clean him up a feeling of dread washes over me. I run to his room to his diaper pail praying I find the remnants of a poopy diaper in there. There is none to be found. I can’t even imagine the poop-destruction to be uncovered and where it will be discovered.

Ninety percent of the time the boys are bathed in my and Mad Dog’s bathroom. Even though I feel a distinct pit of fear, I hold my nose and bravely enter this bathroom.

The good news is I’ve seen worse (there was an unfortunate runny poop/bath situation when T.Puzzle was about a year old that will forever be known as ‘the poop soup’ incident of ’08). The bad news is that T.Puzzle has pooped all over one of our bath mats and partially on our floor. I have this moment where I feel that I’m not the mother of a child, but a pet owner with a poorly trained dog (I had one those, poorly trained and all, back in the day). I’m relieved that most of it ended up on the bath mat and scold myself for letting him go upstairs in a bath frame of mind unattended. Apparently, I need better training, too.