Disclaimer: I talk about bodily functions in gory detail. If that grosses you out, please read no further. This post has not been sponsored in any way. None of these folks even know I exist. Actually, based on my lack of skill at housebreaking pets/kids none of these folks would want anything to do with me. Frankly, who can blame them?
I am going to add some Monarch butterfly photos to distract you from the fact that this post is pretty disgusting. My apologies to my darling Mr. Smith, but this is our life and it has pretty much turned to butt talk all of the time. Feel sorry for the poor man.
Posting around here has been very light.
I have been trapped in potty training hell.
Let’s see, how do I start this?
My name is Vertigo B and I am the mother that failed to potty train her kids.
Don’t get me wrong, I tried. Okay, I tried in a half-assed (excuse the puns, but they are inevitable in this frickin’ situation) way that failed to succeed.
I lied on H’s preschool application (don’t judge me, it wasn’t perjury for pete’s sake, it isn’t like I took an oath to tell the truth to the preschool marshals or whatever) and said he was potty trained. He totally had Number 1 under control. Number 2 was shaping up (sorry) to be a total nightmare.
H ended up being WAY more neurotic than any person should be about Number 2. He would ONLY poop in a damn Pull-Up. For a while he had to be in a certain corner in the family room. So, we re-arranged the furniture to break up Poop Corner.
After that, he would poop in the bathroom, but had to be wearing a damn Pull-Up. I know what you are thinking, take the stupid Pull-Up away, problem solved.
Yeah, except that didn’t work either.
He just decided to stop pooping (for about 3 days) and I lost my nerve because it was Monday and he needed to go back to school. I gave him a damn Pull-Up that was for his sister. Yes, it was too small. Yes, it was pink and had Disney princesses all over it. Yes, he dropped a load the size of a small car and nearly pulled the thing off. Seriously.
Go ahead and laugh. I know. Just the MOST ridiculous situation ever. Heaven knows, if I didn’t laugh about this, I would be crying constantly at my complete failure as a parent.
So, about two weeks ago, I saw an ad for Oh Crap! Potty Training. I clicked on the link and started reading the sample. It made sense, so I went ahead and bought the book. It was exactly the pep talk, kick in the ass (sorry), incentive, guide book I needed.
Labor Day weekend was coming up, three day weekend, perfect.
On Friday, the kids and I made a big ceremony of throwing away the diapers. We all participated. H rang the bell in the backyard to let everyone know that only big kids live in our house.
Saturday, Baby C was naked all day (as suggested, except when we hit the beach) and she LOVED it! She absolutely killed it and had no accidents, but also did not poop all day. Not unusual for her, but still, a little disappointing.
Also, H killed Number 1, but failed to tackle the Number 2 issue seemingly without any discomfort. Stubborn son of a bitch. Hey, I can say that since I am the bitch in this scenario.
Sunday was a bit rockier, C had a few accidents and was extremely upset about it. H did great, but again, nobody tackled Number 2.
By Monday morning I started to get a little nervous about this. I wanted H to be able to return to school Tuesday, triumphantly potty trained. He was so not having it.
Mr. Smith and I went out and bought pretty much every kind of stool softener/laxative that is currently available at Target.
refused to eat more.
Monday, Labor Day, passed with no one under six pooping in this house. Again both children did great with Number 1, only one accident.
I was at my wit’s end. I could not figure out how I was going to get all of us out of this mess
that I had created.
Tuesday morning I decided to keep H home and we were going to see this through. Either he would do it my way or he would end up on an operating table.
I slipped them both a mickey in their juice (MiraLax) and waited for the fireworks. I knew it must be good because it says ON THE BOX, “Original prescription strength.” I mean, seriously,
are you kidding me? It just sounds industrial, like it is going to make poo literally fly out of your ass.
So, awesome, right?
Yeah, my son has a much tighter ass than that. As it turns out, both children do.
Around 10 am, C threw in the towel and while yelling at me finally threw in towel and pooped in the, as she says, “toy guh let.”
She was elated. Her brother was thrilled for her. It was a damn celebration in the bathroom.
Even with that, H held out.
I hit him with another dose of MiraLax.
This morning I was at my snapping point. I went to CVS and bought the much hated, “Butt Medicine.” These little numbers are as serious as a heart attack. You basically squirt glycerine into your child until something comes out. Okay, it isn’t that simple, but it is pretty hard core and has almost immediate results. This was EXACTLY what I was looking for. A Weapon of Ass Destruction, people!
As it turns out, my threat of squirting Butt Medicine up his butt until he pooped was all that was necessary. He saw that box and FLIPPED.
Butt (sorry), more importantly, he finally gave up his fight and pooped.
IN. THE. TOILET.
Not in a pink princess Pull-Up.
I actually wept with relief/joy.