By Vanessa Shepherd
Let me just start this out by saying that I
wouldn’t wish potty training on my worst enemy.
It is my least favorite part of parenting… Bar. None. And as much as I think babysitting is a great
form of birth control, babysitting a two year- and not just any two year old
but one who is potty training- would be the very equivalent of sterilizing teenagers
for years to come. It is that bad.
I have noticed that many of the stories on
this blog have revolved around the subject of poop, and while I would love to
say this one is different we have been potty training so there’s your first
clue, and between Caitlin and I we have five boys so an epic poop story it will
be. Because let’s just be honest, boys’
love poop… and it happens on the daily.
So for us to get out our computers and document an “occurrence” is a
dead giveaway to a gagging nail biter (you’ll get that pun more as you read on).
I would like to begin this story 6 years ago
when I had my first son. I had been
clipping his nails for the very first time and slipped- cutting his little
finger. I am pretty sure I cried more
than he did seeing his finger bleeding, knowing I was the cause. Because of this I opted to bite his nails
from there on out, knowing that I could trust my own mouth to decipher between
nail and finger. So there you have
it. For as long as I have been a mom I
have only used the nail clippers once.
Both boys in fact would on occasion jump into my lap and lift up their
hand, falling asleep to me biting off each nail. It was our thing.
Fast forward to this last week. Death week.
The week I decided that I would potty train my little albino terrorist
that I love with all of my heart. The
week I started said task with my husband heading out of town on a trip that had
been planned for some time but I had already set my mind to getting it done so I
would go it alone. The terrible no good
very bad week that every parent experiences while potty training.
Jake had been doing decent at peeing in the
toilet. I mean I spent half my day in
the bathroom with him so pee was bound to get in that porcelain bowl. But poop… yea no. Jake would have none of that on the
toilet. He would hold it in, after being on the toilet
for an hour because I just KNEW that he had to go, and as soon as he’d get off
run to an inconspicuous place to do the duty.
Every. Time. For nine days I
scrubbed floors, threw away chonies (because I would rather spend a few dollars
on a new pair than wash that crap with other clothes- literally), bribed with
every candy I could imagine, and barely held myself from knocking my head
against a wall over and over. Day nine,
oh day nine, it took the cake.
After spending another hour in the bathroom bribing
my strong willed second born to no avail, I sent him off for naptime. Sometime later I heard him crying. The pain cry.
As a mom there are many cries (attention cry, whining cry, tired cry,
hungry cry, and the painful cry) and this one got me up and in his room in no
time. I swung open the door to find my son
sitting in his bed with a handful of poop.
POOP!!!! Poop in your underwear, fine, but hold it???? WHY CHILD??? I
swiftly picked him up, dumping his handful in the toilet, and sat him on his
throne in case he had more in there, while I hurried off to get a soapy wash
cloth for his hands.
It could only have been a minute that I had
been away but that minute was all it took for my child to make the worst
decision of his two years of life. I
walk in with washcloth in hand to find Jake BITING HIS NAILS. HIS POOP INFESTED NAILS. I almost threw up all over that
bathroom. What would possess you to put
the very thing that smells of crap IN YOUR MOUTH. That is the very moment I regretted ever opting
for not using those nail clippers. My
child would now be diseased because of a decision I made six years ago I just
knew it.
To my relief, he is still alive. And even better that was the last time he
ever pooped in his underwear. I may have
scared him into now going in the toilet.
Whatever works I suppose.
Children… they always copy your behaviors at
the worst opportune time… FOR THE LOVE!
