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Twice Upon a Potty

It is finished. The potty training, that is. I know, last week I said that I was giving up. Throwing in the toilet paper. Tossing out the baby with the bowl.

And it felt good. The giving up. I placed the Pampers back in the changing table cabinet, while whistling a happy tune. I stuffed the super hero boxers into the dark recesses of the sock drawer. I Lysoled the Diaper Genie, just for good measure.

I had my baby back.

But then, a couple of days later, the baby walked up to me, looked me square in the eyes, and said, “Mommy. I need to go to the bathwoom.”


I sighed, popped a couple of Extra Strength Tylenol, and dutifully opened the bathroom door by squeezing the baby safe door knob thing-a-ma-jig (a technical term).

Let the games begin.

Junior flung open the door, banging into the well worn wall. He climbed upon the potty, fully clothed. “Nice try, Junior. Drop ‘em.” Before accomplishing his mission, he rolled and unrolled the Charmin Ultra Mega Roll toilet paper, knocked all of the shampoo and conditioner bottles into the nearby tub, pulled the bath mat down and flung it across the small room, and managed to pee on my foot. Then he got down to flush. And flush. Flush yet again, for good measure. And flush once more.

Please don’t get the idea that I stand idly by, manicuring my nails. This child, lickity split, can dismantle an entire bathroom facility, all while I hold his hand. He should have been born to an octopus.

And on the last and final flush, he sticks his head into the toilet. To watch the water go down. Up close. Once I pry his head out, he slams the lid down hard. I’ve warned him, more than once, to make sure he stands back far enough to avoid Mr. Happy. Something like that could set potty training back a few years. Just sayin’.

Then he loves to pretend like he’s Nakey Boy, being chased by the super hero underwear, carried by the evil stepmother. After I’ve wrestled him into Spiderman, Superman, or Bob the Builder boxers, I tell him to wash his hands.

“A dot is a lot,” referring to the soap dispenser. His definition of a dot, and my definition of a dot are not in the same dictionary. After the perfunctory splattering, showering, and rinsing, he dries his hands on my shirt.

And then announces that he has to poop again.

That’s when my head explodes, and the brain matter is scattered to the far reaches of the house. Which, fortunately is just about the only mess I have to contend with. Since he has not had any accidents. Which I hesitate to say out loud.

Fiddledaddy was blissfully working out of town during the brunt of potty training. And upon his return, he put an abrupt end to the bathroom shenanigans of his young son. Except for the sticking his head down the toilet part. Some habits are just hard to break.

Jensen is still wearing a diaper at night, since he’s trapped in his jail crib. The one with a net over the top to prevent a daring escape. And that is fine with me. Because I intend to keep him in the crib, even if I have to saw leg holes to accommodate him as he grows even bigger.

Now I am wrangling three offspring in the public restrooms. My joy knows no bounds.

I thought that when I was through with diapers, once and for all, I would throw a potty party. But alas, I’m just a party potty pooper.

Looking for a glimpse of my baby, as he dashes away from me in Spiderman underdrawers. Trailing toilet paper behind him.

23 Responses to Twice Upon a Potty

  • Okay I am not laughing at you, but with you. As a mother of 3, I can fully understand the potty training whoas.

  • Let me just say – I’m glad those days are over…for me!

    You know every mama that’s been there done that, knows exactly how you are feeling…it’s kind of a right of passage I suppose…bringing you into another realm of motherhood.

  • Once again, I feel a bond with you, stretching over the miles of cables and satellite connections. My daughter, age 4, still can’t figure out how to poop while sitting. She has to stand up, wearing a pull-up.

  • Ah, potty training. I remember it well. 🙂 I remember when my nephew had an “accident” during potty training, and tried to be helpful by cleaning his underwear in the toilet ( the whole swirl thing.) Unfortunately, when he flushed the toilet he was still holding the underwear in it and they were immediately sucked down into the abyss. The look on my nephews face was priceless. Mine was one of shock, and then immediate prayer of, “Dear God, please don’t allow this to cause plumbing problems.” He never tried to be helpful in that area again. 🙂

  • This one needs to be in some parenting magazine. 🙂

    Congrats! There’s nothing more fun than 3 littles in public restrooms. (Unless it is 4.)

  • I feel like I am right there with you! I must say that I am glad those days are behind me. Just think of it this way. No more diaper bag or extra stuff in your purse. Now you will have more room for the things that really matter. Like the extra large bottle of advil for those public restroom adventures.

  • You know as much as we all say we want to potty train and be done with diapers, I think there is definitely a small part of us that maybe wants it to fail, so they can be babies for at least one more day… ::sigh::” Congratulations though – sounds like you had a fight to the finish!

  • I just finished potty training my little guy too except I’m relieved that this parenting stage that I hate the most is OVER. Potty training is hard that is for sure!

  • You are part of the brave, the proud, toilet training momma of a boy club. You can always spot us as we have unexplained stains on our clothes, hair slightly off, and an eye twitch that can be picked up on a richter scale.
    That and we have tons of antibacterial gel on our persons at all times. Cuz eww gross don’t touch THAT always seems to be escaping from our lips.

    Just another reason why some animals eat their young. 🙂

  • Hip Hip Horray! My little guy is just now standing – found the toilet paper holder and spins it around like there’s no tomorrow! As long as we put it on the holder the right way – we’re free of toilet paper all over the floor! Can’t wait till he discovers the toilet next door……

  • Whoo Hooo Hooo!

  • Yay!

    Well, except for the public bathroom part.

    And amen! about keeping them in cribs. 🙂

  • Sounds like an adventure, but I’ve never been the adventurous one.

  • Fun stuff, that potty training. I am not looking forward to training #7, but you’d think I’d be a pro at it by now.
    It does get a little easier, but every kid is different and teaches you something new about yourself, lol.

  • I have two down and one to go. One nice thing is I have three boys. My husband comforts me when I mourn not having a girl by saying, “Just think, once you get them all potty trained, you never have to take them to the bathroom again. I’ll have to do it.” I am definitely holding him to that.

  • Loved the whole story and breakdown of your day. I could envision the whole thing through my laughter. I think you saying “Cwap” was one of my favorite parts!

    Great job having a successful potty training day – even if you weren’t sure you wanted one!

  • Make this your mantra: “this too shall pass.” this phase won’t last forever

  • I just potty trained my baby. We just got back from a dinner out. I’m not sure why I go out because I spend most of the time in the bathroom with said baby. “I need to go potty,” she says. I take 10 minutes to make a potty seat, put her on. “Acshe (Actually), I don’t need to go potty.” We go back to the table. I get one bite of food. “Acshe I do need to go potty.” Aagghhh!!! There must be therapy specifically for this! Good luck. Wish me the same please!

  • Yesterday my almost three year old came out of the bathroom with wet arms…”I peed and I washed my hands in the toilet”. Good times.

    What is it about the toilet that’s so inviting to a toddler yet so disgusting to adults?!?

  • Oh, congrats! … We are still fighting this battle. The diaper is winning.

  • Potty training is not for the faint of heart, that is for sure.

    I once had to wrangle two very curious toddlers and an infant (without a carrier) during a public bathroom visit. It was the only time I’ve ever considered (albeit, briefly) locking all three children in the car while I ran in for just a moment. Good times.

  • I giggled all the way through this post. I’m SOOOO glad those days are long behind me, gone but NOT forgotten!
    Our son had the same sticking-his-head-down-the-toilet issue. Is this endemic with boys? But he was so short that when he got up on his tippy toes to peer further in, he FELL IN. I was laughing so hard until he came back up all bloody. No stitches thank goodness. He still bears the scar just above his eyebrow. (I’d love to know if he ever made up any stories to impress the girls of how he got the scar.)
    Oh, and totally with you on the crib. We moved the son WAY too soon to a big bed. His first week? He took a red lipstick and created art — on the walls, the floors and the bedding. Lipstick does not come out completely no matter how hard you scrub or how harsh a chemical you use. Especially red lipstick. We had to paint. A much darker color to cover the lipstick residue.

  • Hi! I’ve been lurking for about a year but am finally brave enough to make a comment, I think. My daughter just turned three and my newest tactic was to buy only “boy” pullups–alas I was foiled by her love of Diego. She actually prefers him to the “pincesses.” Now when she has an accident, she is undaunted: “Uh-oh, I’ll just go get one of my beautiful boy pullups.”