mommyhood, potty training

Big Boy Underpants

Potty-trainging little T.Puzzle has become the bane of my existence. I’m giving it until the end of this week and then either I’m going to go on a huge bender (you are more than welcome to join me) or I’m putting him back in pull-ups. I can tell there has been some maturation and progress on his part (ironically, my maturation and progress seems to be diminishing). He only screams and cries for a minute or so before he starts telling me that ‘I not poop!’ or ‘the poop is hiding, Mommy!’ Before, he would just scream and cry the entire time I left him on the potty. He also told Mad Dog while we were at a movie this weekend that he had to pee. They raced to the bathroom and made it in time. So this is moving in a positive direction.

However, the pooping (oh! the pooping!) is still not clicking. I mean he still is pooping just mostly in his pants. As I was putting away laundry and fussing around the house, I came across him sitting next to his brother watching Frack play computer games in dirty, wet underpants. Apparently, he could care less about how disgusting that really is.

Thus, my huge bender approacheth!

children, parenting

The Christening

I was reading a book in my room trying to wind down so I could take a nap while T.Puzzle was taking his. Full Speed and Mad Dog were downstairs watching football and occasionally sword fighting.

I was almost finished with the book when I began to hear T.Puzzle’s bedroom door swinging open and shut. I only half paid attention figuring I would get through my last ten pages and then get up to investigate. Mad Dog beat me to it. I hear him cross the floor to T.Puzzle’s  room and then he says, “I think we have a big mess here.”

I get up and I see that T.Puzzle is pantless. He isn’t even wearing his pull-up. And then there’s the smell. The awful smell that floats over me and alerts me that whatever happened in his room was dire.

Mad Dog and I divide and conquer. Mad Dog tackles the clean-up of the bed and room and I grab T.Puzzle and head to the nearest tub. As I am examining him, my horror grows. What appears to be only a small mess of poop seems to expand before my eyes. It starts in the rear, goes down his legs into his socks and creeps all the way up to the middle of his back. I grab some wipes and start cleaning up what I can see on him the best I can. I reach over and start the tub water. Mad Dog comes in and grabs the lysol wipes from under the bathroom sink. Not a good sign.

T.Puzzle thinks this is all hilarious and he’s psyched because he thinks his nap is over. “I wake up,” he repeats gleefully over and over. Glee is the last thing Mad Dog and I are experiencing.

What we can deduce is that T.Puzzle knew he needed to poop, had started to fill his pants, got uncomfortable and took his pants and pull-up completely off. Then he must have found a comfortable spot on the end of his bed to squat and finish his business. Surprisingly, there were two positives. The first being that his bed has officially been christened. All children’s beds, cribs, whatever must go through this rite of passage. At least we had gotten this out of the way. The second is that the mattress protector we purchased was worth it’s weight in gold. The mattress was free of any of the poop fall-out (pardon my pun). Mad Dog and I were relieved about that.

After the bed was stripped and T.Puzzle was scrubbed from end to toes, I harshly admonished him for making such a mess and sent him off to Full Speed’s bed to finish his nap. No way was I going to reward his crazy, pooping behavior with a skipping of his nap.

He was sound asleep in less than ten minutes. Apparently, inappropriate pooping is exhausting.

children, health, marital blissishness, parenting

Vomitville: Part Two (It Was Only A Matter Of Time)

pb153480After some stalling and uncertainty, the decision was made. Even though it wasn’t an early start which would have been ideal, we are headed to the Jacksonville Zoo and Gardens. Before we leave T.Puzzle gets a hold of his sippy cup from the diaper bag. He insists he is thirsty and manages to splash water down the side of the bag (you’ll need this information as it relates to later in the story).

We are in the convertible headed to the gas station. Mad Dog needs an energy drink (if you had a Full Speed and a T.Puzzle, you’d need one, too). It’s a short drive, less than a mile and the entire time, T.Puzzle is coughing and hacking. I think nothing of it as his allergies have been acting up and we are in the open air. As we park and Mad Dog exits to go to the convenience store, the hacking worsens. I undo my seatbelt, turn around and am going to try to get T.Puzzle to drink some water to hopefully ease his discomfort.

Instead I turn around just about the time he lets loose a long, cascade of multi-colored vomit. I’m helpless. I determine the best course of action is to let the seemingly endless vomit run its course and then clean-up after. The good news is, it isn’t projectile so it sort of pools on him and in his car seat sparing most of the convertible’s interior. Mad Dog approaches and I tell him, “Grab the diaper bag and find me a baggie!”

Now, as any Mom knows, you can’t be mad at your poor, pukey child so the frustration you feel rising has to go somewhere. That somewhere is usually your spouse.

Mad Dog grabs the diaper bag and I just knew, I KNEW, he wasn’t going to be able to find a baggie. On his first attempt, he makes a face and says, “T.Puzzle got vomit all over the bag!” He face twists in distorted disgust and I lose it.

“No, he didn’t, the vomit is contained to this side of the car. That is WATER from his sippy cup!” I shout. I can’t believe he is freaking out over imaginary vomit when I am up to my armpits in the real thing. AND, I still have no baggie to start putting the mountain of wipes I’m accumulating in my frantic attempts to clean up little T.Puzzle.

Eventually, after what seemed like days, Mad Dog finds a baggie, I have T.Puzzle mostly cleaned and we head home to do a T.Puzzle strip down and major clean-up. The pics I have in the post today are literally FIFTEEN minutes after his endless vomit. If only we all could recover from life so quickly.