***This post discusses poop, pee and other natural, albeit, gross functions. If that disturbs you, you probably aren’t a parent***
I was stolen from my slumber at an obnoxiously early hour by a very not sleepy 3 year in my bed, an almost 2 year old shrieking from her crib, and the sound of tornado sirens blaring through the neighborhood.
We’ve had constant downpours since Monday morning and this cold, wet weather paired with a set of runny noses has us under house arrest. And in perfect display of my “life on a whim” mentality, I decided today was the perfect day to start officially teaching B to use the potty.
This is monumental because there is nothing I dread more than potty training another child. While B has been showing signs of being ready to potty train since she hit 18 months, I haven’t been ready. Getting E out of diapers was the single hardest, most emotionally draining and challenging experience in parenting thus far. I still have nightmares about it. I’m not kidding. Potty training that strong willed child of mine was a nightmare.
E was out of diapers when she was a hair over 2 years old – 26 months, I believe. In hind sight, it was a little early. It didn’t take long for her to figure things out but those first few weeks were unimaginably messy and frustrating. I read the books and blogs and studied various methods. But there was no convincing E to sit on the toilet every 15 minutes or loading her up with liquids until her bladder nearly exploded. Like everything else, that girl wasn’t doing it until she was good and ready.
Even then, when I thought we had successfully mastered the art of civilized urination, E still had a few potty training disasters waiting to knock us down a few rungs on the parenting ladder.
A month or so after we started potty training E, friends of ours invited us to join them and a few thousand of his coworkers for a day of family fun, games, food, and face painting. Never ones to pass up a (free) party, we gladly accepted. We were all recovering from a little stomach bug but were well enough to join the festivities. As long as we stayed ahead of the game and were proactive with bathroom trips, E wasn’t having a single accident. Since she was cloth diapered, we skipped the Pull-Up stage and she was proudly rocking her impossibly tiny My Little Pony underwear.
Like any toddler, E loved the bounce houses. Heck, who doesn’t love a good bounce? The bounce house entrance was manned by an unsuspecting 15-year old boy scout who was probably just trying to earn a badge. Or sash. Or whatever boy scouts earn. Anyway. The line to get into the bounce house was long and tense. There were lots of kids cutting in line (and parents not saying a word, ugh) and poor E really wanted to bounce. After waiting in line for about 20 minutes – which is eternity to a barely 2 year old – it was our turn to go. And by go, I mean gooooo. E was so excited to finally get a turn in the bounce house, she wasn’t letting out a peep about needing to poo. So when she started bouncing… well… yeah. Recovering stomach bug + barely potty trained 2 year old + lots of bouncing = disaster. Messy, smelly, poop everywhere. All over her. All over the bounce house.
I was horrified. Mortified. Embarrassed beyond imagination.
I handed off wee baby B to J and with an under-the-armpit scoop, E and I shuffled/ran to the closest Porta-John. Where I discovered I had but two wipes in my bag. And the bathroom was out of paper towels. We were both crying, covered in poop.
That poor boy scout.
Am I a terrible person for not feeling very bad for the kids who cut in line ahead of us and were consequently in the bounce house with my pooping kid?
Excuse me if I’m not thrilled about starting the potty training process again.
I’m not ready to travel that road of pee puddles, smeared poop and wet beds again so soon. There isn’t much recovery time when you have kids so close in age.
So I caught myself off guard with my sudden enthusiasm towards B’s potty training. B is my compliant child. After our ordeals with E, getting B out of diapers will be a breeze! And she’s very interested for quite some time.
At 7:45 this morning, I started potty training B. We spent 30 minutes playing with a towel beneath us, 10 minutes chugging almond milk and juice, and 45 minutes sitting on one of three different toilets. In the 30 seconds it took her to walk from the living room to E’s bedroom, she peed on the floor not once, but twice. By 9:15 a.m., she was back in her diapers.
Maybe she’s not ready. Maybe she is. I thought I was ready. I’m not.
We’ll try again when I’m a bit more prepared.
She’ll probably be wearing diapers to high school.
Potty training horror stories?