All Aboard the Poo-Poo Train

by Jennifer G.

I can see it coming... rising in the east like the beautiful sunrise I’ve been longing for. I wait. I stare. And then “BLAM” it hits me square in the eyes and I'm blind. My third and final child, Maddox, is ready to be potty trained. Oh, how I have longed for the day when diapers would no longer increase my grocery bills, smell up my trash cans, and fail to catch poo that ends up under my beautifully manicured finger nails.

I have experienced this twice before with my older kids and am fully aware of the ride on which I will soon be boarding. Poop on the walls, the tub, the ground. Poop on mommy. Pee on the tile, the carpet, the clothes. Pee on mommy. I can see my sweet, 20 month old boy preparing me for these upcoming trials. Only yesterday he dropped trou in the front yard and yelled,  “I tee tee!”   - and did in fact tee tee in the grass. He was so proud of himself - to wild pee in the yard like 3 year old big brother Jake does. With no such warning might I add.

Maddox does attempt to drop the deuce in the porcelain train on occasion, but mainly tears toilet paper and plays games with the spring in the toilet paper holder. And I patiently tolerate these occurrences, knowing they are all a part of the process and eventually I can cease this 4 ½ year run of diaper-dom I am currently residing in. But this morning sweet Maddox did something even I, the seasoned potty training mother, was not prepared for. Something that made me want to back up, freeze and deny any and all signs that potty training was in my near future.

 It was the usual doo-doo potty moment. Toilet paper here. Toilet paper there. No toilet paper in the potty. Sing a song. Play with willy... play with willy some more. Then finally he got to business and completed the mission with satisfactory cleanliness. Big brother and sister joined in as we clapped and made a ruckus of his accomplishment. He flushed the commode and stood with hands on naked hips then headed out while I put the bathroom back in order. I followed him with clean diaper in hand only to find he had apparently not finished his job on the john, but rather while sitting on a soccer ball in the living room. There was pee and poo all over the floor, the rug and the poor unsuspecting soccer ball. Then being the boy that he is he stands up and proceeds to roll the excrement covered ball across the living room floor and under the breakfast table, until it stopped at it’s final destination, my kitchen floor. Let me paint a picture of the path of destruction laid out before me.... pee, poo, pee, poo, pee, poo, so on it goes. I think you get the picture.

What was I thinking, hoping for this?  I don't want to potty train another kid! I hate this!  I am seriously fighting the urge to jump ship here. Kids, go to the neighbors, mommy is leaving town   Mommy is so sick of other people's waste ending up everywhere but the toilet she might muster up the strength to rip the toilets up from the floors and break them across her thighs!

So, did I head for the woods? Did I scream and throw a fit with empty punches flailing? No, of course I didn't. I grabbed paper towels and Clorox wipes and became modern day Cinderella. On my knees, scrub, scrub, scrub until I could see my traumatized expression staring back at me in the wood floors.  I can do this.  I can do this.  I can do this. This child and his lack of bladder/bowel control will not defeat me.  So rise up final sunrise of potty training!  I have seen a rolling ball of sh** and I came up fighting!

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