The Pooper Blooper...

Potty training. Ugh. It's not something I have been looking forward to. I had heard that boys usually seem to train a little later than girls, so I happily assumed Matthew would start at around two and a half or so... not at twenty months. The problem is that we live in a rent house with brand new carpet. I really hoped he would wait until he could communicate and follow instructions better, but he's such a fast learner... a visual learner... a task master. He gets things quickly and wants to try everything his big sister does.

And so, we retrieved the "froggy potty" from the attic... bought the Pull-Ups... and all boarded the Potty Train (as my daughter used to call it).

It's gone well so far. He's used the potty twice, and only had one accident in his clothes. We had a small poo-mishap in the hallway, but Resolve did the trick. I was reminded of why I hate Pull-Ups. They're terrible when toddlers poo and then decide to take them off. Naturally, they always run off and hide to go poop. That particular day, I didn't even know it had happened until he toddled into the kitchen to throw his Pull-Up in the trash, then turned and ran. The evidence was clear. It led to a horrific "crime scene" in the hallway.

Not too bad, though, overall. Today was tough. He refused to wear the Pull-Up most of the day. I found him naked several times, and had to clean up a few "spills" this afternoon.

But then we experienced what I like to call "The Pooper Blooper." No beating around the bush here. It's going to get dirty. If you're squeemish, don't continue. If you're curious and need a good laugh, read on. Hard to believe this all really happened, but I assure you, it did- and I have the spic n' span bathroom to prove it.

Here's how it all went down: Hubs and I were in the office. He was checking his email while I put tiny Thomas the Train Engines into their plastic bin. Matthew brought his potty chair into the office, which was no big deal. He carries it around sometimes (don't worry, I disinfect it constantly). We could see the kids out of the corners of our eyes, but didn't turn to really pay attention until Courtney said, "EEWWW!!! Matthew POOPED!"

To my horror, I turned to see my son sitting beside his potty chair with poo in his hand, smeared all over his foot, and scattered around him in little clumps. Poor guy was trying to take off his Pull-Up to sit on the potty, but he didn't make it in time.

I scooped him up, holding him face out with his legs in a V, somehow pinning his poopy hand down with my thumb- and I sprinted for the bathroom. Something warm hit my toe. Poop. It had fallen from him and lodged between my big toe and my second toe. I froze in my tracks and yelled in disgust. "AH! EWWW!! It's on my toe! Grooooooossssss!!!" Hubs ran to my aid with toilet paper and wiped my toe clean (My hero!). We all rushed to into the bathroom together to tackle Mr. Pooper. Hubs flushed the toilet paper while I looked for the baby wipes. "Get me towels!" he suddenly yelled.

The toilet was overflowing.

*SOMEBODY* had flushed a ton of TP down the toilet before we'd gone in there, so when Hubs flushed, water ran everywhere! The towel cabinet was empty, since we'd been swimming, so I put Matthew down and told him, "Don't move!" as water flooded the bathroom floor.

He held onto the cabinet with his clean hand, and held his poop-covered left foot up in the air, with a tiny piece of toilet paper stuck to his heel. The poor little naked boy looked up at me with those big blue eyes like an orphan being left out in the cold. I could read his face: "What? You're just going to leave me here like this???" I took a deep breath, swallowed my guilt, and ran to the dryer to fetch towels anyway.

After handing the towels to Hubs, I scooped Matthew back up and began wiping him down with wipes. Once he was somewhat clean, I put him down again and ran to the kitchen to get the Clorox Wipes so that I could start disinfecting as soon as possible. Hubs started the bath water.

Upon returning to the bathroom, I heard my husband's voice: "No, Buddy!" He plunked Matthew into the bath and informed me that our male child had, after all of this, decided to pee in the floor as he watched the tub filling with water. (I don't blame him- you know how it is.)

Poor Matthew looked stunned as I washed him (and washed him, and washed him) over the next 15 minutes or so. Thankfully, we got everything cleaned, disinfected and unclogged. I spent 20 minutes washing the tub, counters and floor once it was all over. Thankfully, the rest of the night went off without a hitch.

After his bath, I wrapped Matthew in a clean towel and handed him to his dad. I couldn't help but laugh to myself. Really? Had all of that just happened? Potty training is tough. It's frustrating, embarrassing, challenging and downright disgusting. But it's so worth it. I am reminded of this every time my four year old comes out of the bathroom, having pottied, flushed, and washed her hands without my help. Ahhhhhh. That gives me hope.

And so, I board the Potty Train once again for another day of great adventures. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?