Potty Boot Camp


Yesterday morning I pulled up my boot straps and strapped them tight. I called the day, and what I imagined would continue on for many thereafter, Potty Boot Camp.  My goal was to get my smart and capable 18-month-old out of diapers.

First adventure of the day was taking care of our morning pee.  We both sit down side by side (as has been the custom for about 6 weeks) and sure enough we both pee.  Maisy praises me (because I finished first), “job!” And gets up to look at my handy work any way she can get a peek.

Maisy:  “Job!” “Job!” “Job!”

Me: (laughing) “Well thank you!”

Maisy:  “Job!” “Job!” etc…

Eventually she sits back down and does pee herself.

Me: “Good job!  You went pee pee in the potty!”

Maisy: “Job!”

Me: (holding my hand out) “High five!”

Maisy: (giving me a high five) “Five!

I then try to give her a short speech about being a big girl and “big girls don’t wear diapers” followed by a demonstration of “throwing the diapers away.”  She threw one in the bag and was done.  Oh well, takes more than that to discourage me!

Soon enough all the day care kids have arrived and it was time for Maisy’s nap.  I set the other girls up with a movie to watch though they are entirely engrossed in playing with all the new Christmas presents Maisy got since the last time they were with us.

Shortly into the nap routine with Maisy my gut sinks with a gross realization, I forgot to leave a potty in the room with the girls.  Sure enough, when I ditch Maisy in her dark room for a moment, I encounter Eleanor trying to get out of the play room.  I move a potty into the room and don’t look back as I’m desperate to get back to my now hysterical little girl.  Upon picking her up I realized she peed all over.  The underwear and wool shorts largely did nothing to contain the inevitable potty training sleep accidents.  I strip everything and throw any soggy stuffed animals in with the rest and get back to work.  After much coaxing she does finally ease into sleep and I head back downstairs.  The playroom wreaks of poop.

Eleanor stands up and I see an empty potty but a poo smeared backside and pull up.  Yup, the reason this potty pro couldn’t hold it is because she had a case of the squirts.  I clean her up with lots of wipes, change out her clothes, and press on.

Maisy wakes up with poop in her underwear. I tidy that mess as best I can without moving her then we cautiously proceed downstairs to take care of the rest.  I set the potty (my receptacle for holding the poo and toilet paper I used to wipe Maisy down)  just outside the bathroom and get to work wiping the poopy mess all off Maisy’s backside, feet included.  I’m feeling pretty good about my handy work until I turn around and see Sam munching on Maisy’s poo.  He had taken care of all the big stuff and was nearly done licking off the toilet paper than was now strewn across the floor.  I take a deep breath, crouch down, and shovel the toilet paper back into the potty to dump it.  Mid task I look up to see Harper looking at me.

Me: “This isn’t going so well is it?”

She smiles wide and nods.

Confidants even lie in children.  Love that girl!

In the end, I threw in the towel on Potty Boot Camp, to be taken up another day.  Not because of this mess though actually!  Potty training with the flu?  No sir.  Yup, came down with it last night.

My Dog Peed All Over My Bed

On the eve of Wednesday, January 30, 2013 I walked into my bedroom to snuggle up and read before getting some rest when my hands grabbed a wad of soaked pillow.  Thankfully I did not sit in the mess, but my littlest dog, Sam, thoroughly drenched the top half of the bed.  Also, thankfully, we keep a mattress pad on the bed so even though he drenched every layer of bedding he did not succeed at penetrating through to the mattress.

I find it ironic how things like this happen at the worst of times.  In this case I was in the middle of readjusting to having someone living in my house.  I have found that whenever Josh comes home from any music venture that lasts more than two nights I am fumbling to readjust to marriage when he gets home.  This day counted in that category as he had only been home for a couple of days after a week and a half away so we were re-navigating conversation as husband to wife, and visa versa, rather than boy to boy (in Josh’s case) and me to no one – see, Josh had spent that week and a half in a van of boys and I had spent that time mostly in isolation (sitting here at my desk with the dogs lingering around me).

So we were in the middle of some passive aggressive stand-off about something I can’t remember when I discovered the wreaking mess.  And, since I was the fateful discoverer, I was the one to cover my hands with pee as I stuffed the washer full once, then again as I merely hoped against complete destruction of the feather pillow. Worst part was I couldn’t even properly scold the pup because I didn’t see him do it (and dogs aren’t the best at associating a good nose rub in pee with a “do not ever do again” message  and he’s just so pathetically adorable I find it impossible to stay mad at him for long.  In fact, I ended up just taking his picture instead.

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