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The Turd that Broke the Camel’s Back

If you’re a regular Mommin’ It Up reader (and really, why wouldn’t you be?), you know it took me just shy of 493 years to potty train my son Joshua. I gave up a couple of times, and re-started, but the FIRST time I gave up, for the longest period of time, was last September when Joshua was about 30 months old and I was about seven & a half months pregnant with my daughter.

Let me tell you about the day I finally realized the boy just wasn’t ready. I was preparing to take a shower, and I thought I’d be a genius and bring his little potty chair in the bathroom and remove his pants in case he had to go while I was getting clean. I did just that and then got in the shower. A few minutes into it when I’ve got shampoo in my hair, I hear him say, “I don’t have to go potty.” Translation: “I REALLY have to go potty but I don’t want to sit on the potty.” I stuck my head out of the shower. He had “that look” in his eye. You know, the look that signifies that a bowel movement is imminent and unstoppable. Here’s how it went down:

Me: Joshua, do you have to go potty?
Joshua: No, I don’t have to!
Me: Joshua, sit on the potty!
Joshua: No I don’t have to!
Me: JOSHUA SIT ON THE POTTY!
Joshua: I don’t have to go potty!

Joshua then proceeded to brace himself against his play table that we kept in the bathroom to entertain him, get wide-eyed and red faced, shake, grunt, and push out the biggest turd I have ever seen. I mean it was like, half the child’s body weight. It shot out of him with incredible force and broke into several pieces on the bathroom floor.

Did I mention I was 7.5 months pregnant, and soaking wet, with shampoo in my hair?

It was at that moment as I gazed with soap-filled eyes upon the many pieces of turd on my bathroom floor, and my little boy’s astonished face, that I realized this child was NOT going to be potty trained before the second child came along! So I rinsed my hair, jumped (okay, lumbered) out of the shower, toweled off my ginormous body, and cleaned up the turd. Then I put a diaper on my son and put potty training on the shelf, deciding I’d much rather clean poop off my kid’s behind than off my bathroom floor!

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My hero

Andy and I seem to wait til the last minute on really important things. For example, we completed our required pre-marital thingy exactly two weeks before the big day. I can still see the looks on the faces of the other couples when introductions were made, and I can hear the leader squeaking out “June 30th? Of this year?” So no one should have been surprised when I scheduled our childbirth class right around my 38th week of pregnancy.

The classes were pretty good, really, but I can only remember a few bits of the information we learned now. I do have a vivid picture in my mind of the moment Andy learned the meaning of the word “episiotomy,” though!

My favorite part was when all of us pregos had to get down on the floor (which is no easy feat) and pretend to be in labor so we could practice all the pain relieving techniques we could use if there was a catastrophe and the hospital ran out of drugs or something. One thing that the teacher told us was that the partner pressing on the mother’s hip during labor somehow eased the pain (don’t ask me how).

My husband was apparently really paying attention when the nurse demonstrated that technique.

Not long after that, I woke up in the middle of the night with a terrible charley horse. Like the charley horse to end all charley horses. I was in serious pain and I couldn’t do anything about it. You know that trick where you’re supposed to pull back your big toe to stretch out the muscle? Well I was hugely pregnant and couldn’t even reach my toe. And I certainly didn’t have the five minutes it would take to haul myself out of bed. So I tried to wake up Andy.

I was screaming “Andy! Help me! I have a charley horse!” But, after a few too many cold ones with the boys, he was out for the count. After what seemed like another hour, my yelling finally pulled him out of his slumber enough to help me.

So what does my knight in shining armor do to relieve my pain?

He pushed on my hip.

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Now, we have a favor to ask YOU……..
Our story, “When Motherhood Meets HAZMAT (aka MY LIFE) was chosen as a top 10 “Dirty” Story in Karen’s contest at PediaScribe. Starting tomorrow at noon, you can go to PediaScribe and VOTE FOR US!!!! (Ok, read all the nominees and vote your conscience. Or, just VOTE FOR US!!) You only have until NOON Monday, July 23rd, to vote, so please don’t delay! Vote from NOON Friday July 20, unti NOON Monday, July 23rd. Dont’ worry, we’ll remind you again. 🙂 Click HERE to read the stories and vote!
Thanks!!!

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Small Prices… Post-Partum

Since childbirth is the gift the keeps on giving, we’ve extended our list to the post-partum days.

Post-partum Small Prices to Pay for a Miracle

• Night sweats – It’s like taking a bath in your own sweat every night no matter the season. Thanks, hormones! I love not having to wash my hair in the morning! (ummm…just kidding I promise).

• Crying jags – Another gift from the ol’ hormones. Andy told me it was a good thing the childbirth classes prepared him for the “baby blues” (sounds so innocuous, doesn’t it?) because if not he would have thought I was seriously cracking up.

• Sleepless nights – I guess I don’t really need to explain this one. Of course I didn’t get a lot of sleep when I was pregnant either, but no tiny, needy person was screaming at me then. The grass is always greener…

• The six-week long period – Kind of makes up for not having a period for nine months.

• Bad hair days – my hair fell out in such abundance that I thought I was going bald.

• Jello belly – here’s a snippet of an actual conversation I had with a friend about six weeks after Kate’s birth.
Friend: So, are you back to normal?
Me: Kind of, but I have NO stomach muscles at all!
Friend: Oh really? As opposed to the six-pack you had before?
Me: (comment deleted for inappropriate content)

• Rock hard leaky/squirty boobs – I will spare you the details.

• Stretch marks – and lots of them.

• Either A) having something the size of a grapefruit come out an opening the size of a lemon OR B) having a ginormous hole cut in your gut!

But of course, all these wonderful trials are worth it. They are. Really.

Remind me of that when and if I ever get up the nerve to go through it again, ok?

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