It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

It is seriously exciting to see one’s toddler dash to the bathroom, knocking over chairs and stepping on pets in the process, so that he can (hopefully) pull down his pants, climb up onto the toilet and go potty all by himself. The road to successful potty training has been hard and long, but we have almost made it.

Last week he decided to take his liberation from diapers to a new level when he shooed me from the bathroom with, “No, Mommy, go out,” and closed the door in my face. This makes me a little uncomfortable as I recently walked in on him trying to wring the roll of toilet paper out over the toilet bowl after it had fallen in or been thrown in.

Now comes the fun of public restrooms- the germiest places on earth. Teaching a child that there are certain places that are inappropriate to explore with his hands is always a challenge. I’m pretty sure the person in the stall next to us will be convinced of my senility after listening to me half-shriek half-cry instructions: “put both of your hands on my leg so that you don’t touch anything else” “don’t rub your eyes” “take your hands off of the toilet seat!” God help me.

Potty Party

Near the end of last week, I decided that since the baby is usually in the bathroom while her big brother uses the potty it would be an ideal time to stick her on the toilet and see what she would do. The two or three times she sat on the pot last week were mostly spent trying to stick her feet and hands through the potty seat and down into the toilet water. According to her, this is great fun and all attempts should be made to maneuver one’s way around mommy’s arms and thwart mommy’s efforts at keeping potty time clean and safe.

The long weekend was extremely busy, as weekends are wont to be, so she was deprived the practice of using the toilet. As a result, I wasn’t expecting anything yesterday morning when I removed her diaper and sat her tiny-ness on the potty; I was greatly and pleasantly surprised however, when I heard the tinkling sound of a potty-in-use. I couldn’t believe my luck! I judiciously checked my enthusiasm with a cautionary thought: “Maybe it’s just a fluke.”

Every time over the next couple of hours that big brother used the potty, little sister had a turn. Much to my delight she went every time! “Well,” I thought, “wouldn’t it be something if she’s potty trained before she can walk?” I wanted to make sure that she really did know what the potty was for, so I devised a little experiment.

When I was pretty sure she didn’t have to go, I took her diaper off and stuck her on the toilet anyway. She sat there for a second and then she started to suck her tummy in as if she was trying to force herself to go pee. Over the course of the day, I tried this a couple of times and the result was always the same. Considering the fact that she is still using the potty today, I’m pretty sure she knows what the deal is.

Now all we have to do is come up with some sort of hand signals or learn sign language so that she can communicate when she has to go. And she needs to learn that splashing in the water is for bath time, not for toilet time. It must be loads of fun though, or she wouldn’t cry every time I remove her from the potty and put her pants back on.

Updates and Musings

There is a horrible crick in my neck and my children are sure to believe that I no longer love them due to neglect, but I have triumphed over the scrapbook. No longer will it sneer at me and taunt me with the fact that I have had two-point-five years to put it all together. It is done. There will be the initial look-through during which my family members will click their tongues and awww at the tiny baby that my son used to be, and then the book will be slid onto a shelf where it will be forgotten and begin its long life as a dust collector. Yes, it will be nice to look through when my little baby is all grown-up, but so will the photo albums that only require the pictures to be slid into plastic pockets.

My husband has declared our home to be a “potty-training free zone”. This is not because my son has finally mastered this difficult chore which requires him to stop playing for forty-five seconds and go to the toilet. But rather because he feels it to be a lost cause. Apparently he has decided to take residence in the camp of “you can’t force a child to potty train; he has to be ready”; after the first frightful week I staked my tent in the “I’ve worked too hard to quit now” camp, so I’m afraid the poor child will not only be resistant but also confused.

The first day of spring always brings with it the pleasant expectation of bright flowers, rollicking at Nana’s house, and the promise of warm sunshine. This year I am even more pleased that the cold weather is retreating: the oil company delivered heating oil today. It is possible that building a fire pit in the middle of the living room floor and burning money to keep warm way be the cheaper way to go.

Vive Le Pee-Pee Dance

It is with a huge sigh of relief that I say that my family is on the mend: the cold/virus/ear infection sickness is winding down. My son hasn’t had a temperature since Monday, and the baby’s fever is almost gone as well; we all still have the remnants of considerable congestion and both the kids are taking antibiotics, but I believe the long-awaited end should arrive toward the middle of next week.

My son was the first one to become sick this time. We had been potty training for exactly two weeks when the fever hit. He was really starting to get the hang of it. There was no way I was going to drag my lethargic, feverish child to the bathroom every couple of hours when he was hardly drinking and had stopped eating so I put him in a diaper. He was a little dehydrated and he didn’t urinate often. By the time his fever broke and his appetite returned the baby had a high temperature and need almost constant care.

The baby’s temperature is almost back to normal today so I put “big underwear” on the little man this afternoon. Things are much more manageable today, I thought, it’s time to get back on the potty wagon. I felt that it should be relatively easy to get back on track. Well.

About five minutes after he put his feet into the leg holes and we pulled those pants up, my son decided he needed to poop. He never had gotten the hang of doing this in the toilet. Wipe, wipe, wipe; scrub, scrub, scrub; clean, clean, clean. And time for new underpants. I put the pot back in his toilet and turned around in time to see him squeeze his legs together. “Pee-pee on the floor?” he says. Uh, huh. In about seven minutes we’ve gone through two pair of clean underpants.

I believe it was the intent of this horrible sickness to undermine my potty training progress. It is my most dear and cherished hope that we can recover from this setback without having to start back at the beginning. In any event, I shall endeavor to keep my priorities in line: I would much rather fight with my toddler about the appropriate places to urinate than have to watch him suffer from a double ear infection.

The Continuing Saga

When your toddler informs you that he has decided to poop on the floor instead of in the toilet, it may be time to rethink your Potty Training Plan of Action. Or it may be time to tell your husband that although you can’t say how much you appreciate all of his hard work you have decided that he should stay home and take care of the kids while you go to work.

Other than the aforementioned deviation Day Five went well. The little guy even went on his potty all by himself several times. My mom had given me some good advice about requiring my son to go to the potty every hour to help eliminate accidents. Knowing how often he should be going helped to alleviate some of my stress. There were some fights when it came time for the hourly void, but he didn’t wet himself until 9:30pm when he didn’t quite make it to the pot in time. That has to count for something. Not only that, but how can you be mad at a kid who is so busy reprimanding himself that he doesn’t give you a chance to? “That was bad. That was very bad.” And he was so sincere!

Thankfully, every day has gotten easier and I hope that the little man will continue to improve. I’m still trying to figure out how to handle the challenge of going out of the house during this in-between period. I suppose I shall have to incorporate diapers or pull-ups. Or carry six changes of clothes and a roll of paper towels with me at all times. I may need a larger purse.

I Heart Diapers

It seems as though I had spoken too soon. Shortly after writing that last update there was a rather large accident that required the bed to be stripped and the sheets and mattress cover to be laundered. As it could have been much worse and it was easily remedied I tried very hard to be kind and patient (after the initial reaction, that is).

While the bedding was happily whirling around in the washer my little boy made another trip to his potty. On my way to dispose of it in the big toilet one of the cats decided to yak at my feet. I’m unclear as to why he decided this would be a good idea; perhaps he is under the delusion that I actually thrive on cleaning up other people’s messes. Who knows. At any rate, I grabbed a paper towel with my spare hand and wiped up the floor before continuing on my way.

Not to be forgotten, our other cat decided that it would be an opportune time to announce that he had snuck into the basement behind me while I was delivering the bedding to the clothes washer and was now locked in. That meant that his paws needed to be washed. Splendid.

The poor baby cried during all of this wiping, cleaning and flushing because she was hungry. Unfortunately for her peeing children tend to come before hungry ones. Just as I settled down to nurse her and quell her little tummy the washer started to bang around in the basement. (When the contents of the wash become clumped on one side of the washing basket the agitator can become dislodged and try to bust its way out of the machine.) I quickly discovered that although our agitator was still in place that won’t stop the whole basket from trying to break through the front, back and sides of the washer.

If the baby hadn’t been still crying for food upstairs I probably would have sat in the basement and laughed at the washing machine jumping up off of the floor and slamming into the wall behind it. Of course it’s really not funny to watch your expensive appliances try to destroy themselves, but one can sympathize.

Perhaps I Have Spoken Too Soon

Potty training has gotten a little bit easier everyday. There have been fewer accidents and I have loosened up a smidge. By day four the little guy seems to be doing pretty well and is wearing underpants. We did have an episode where he couldn’t pull down his pants and I found him sitting on his potty with them still on. I had to give him points for actually sitting on the toilet though. I’m not so sure what the big push is to potty train. At this age kids don’t know that big kid underwear is more socially acceptable. It really is more carefree when I can just change his diaper at my leisure instead of bolting to the bathroom every time he squeezes his legs together.

Do You Feel Wiggly?

Potty training has stalled; my son is too busy most days playing with his cars and dinos to take two minutes to visit the bathroom. String cheese worked well to get him interested initially (reference “Say, Cheese!”), but these types of bribes ultimately failed to maintain his interest. After two months of off-and-on potty training it is time for drastic action. This morning I decided to try something that has worked for a couple of different people that I know: letting the child run free with no diaper or underwear or pants. Sounds dangerous. I pulled my son’s socks up to his knees, turned the thermostat up a degree or two and hoped for the best.

When attempting this method of potty training it is a good idea to keep a very close eye on the toddler, and to keep paper towels and carpet cleaner handy. The thought of a person, no matter how small, urinating on the floor does things to a person. I spent the entire day following my son around and asking, “do you feel wiggly?” with such repetition that I wanted to choke myself so I didn’t have to hear it anymore. I was making myself crazy, but I couldn’t stop. Then I began to see things. Dark spots or any variation in the color of the dark brown Berber looked to be pee-pee stains, and I was forever groping around the floor in search of wetness. It was exhausting! I longed for bedtime when I could put a diaper on him and be able to abandon my vigil. I thought it would never come.

Thankfully all things must come to an end, even unpleasant ones. Right now it is just the end of Day One, but soon enough my son will be toilet trained and it will be time for my daughter to learn potty etiquette. I’m so tired right now that I feel as though the little guy can pick his nose all day long tomorrow and I won’t care. Besides, they grow up so fast that I know I need savor these years. I’m sure that potty training is less stressful than teaching a teenager to drive. Talk about feeling wiggly.

Say, "cheese!"

After my first baby was born I began to understand a little bit better why God requires us to go through things that are painful even though to us in our finite minds it seems totally pointless. Every couple of months up until the time they are eighteen to twenty-four months old babies receive numerous vaccinations. It hurts and they cry, but it could be so much worse in the long run for them to be spared the momentary discomfort.

During our last visit to the doctor I inquired about a shot that my son had not received yet. My husband was not expecting this, so when the doctor offered to give it during this visit the husband started to look a bit queasy. Dear old Daddy informed me that our son had been told he was not getting any shots that day and that we could not in good conscience allow him to be stuck. In other words, Daddy had not mentally prepared himself for both babies to get stuck in the same day: needles make him excessively uneasy. Truth be told, my brave little man hardly cried at all; it has been about seven months since he was last vaccinated and I believe he forgot to be scared and upset.

This happened to be the same day that my four-month-old daughter decided to roll over. Being a stay-at-home mom is great because it enables me to be present to watch my children learn new skills. Usually. I totally missed the first, and second, and third, and fourth back-to-stomach maneuvers. If I sat and stared at her so as not to miss it again she would just stare back and start to talk at me, totally disinterested in showing me her new trick.

Speaking of new tricks, my two year old has successfully utilized the potty three whole times in the last week. It is not an easy task to convince a little boy to sit still for any length of time. Especially when it involves something as un-fun as going to the bathroom. However, I have managed to bribe him with string cheese. After sitting on the toilet, pee or no pee, he triumphantly declares that he would like some, “cheese?” Whatever works.

I have found that what doesn’t work is to talk on the phone while potty training. The person on the other end of the line may not want to hear things like, “don’t touch that!” or “put that toilet paper back in the toilet!” Of course if one wants to be discreet there is always the alternate non-verbal method to communicate these things to the child: flailing, head-shaking, eye signals, etc. Bear in mind that to effectively continue the phone conversation while implementing the non-verbal method requires one to be skilled in the art of multi-tasking. For all involved it is probably best to keep the telephone out of the bathroom and simply focus on generating some excitement about the forthcoming cheese.