With three children, that means I have changed a very large number of diapers. Poopy diapers, potty diapers, you name it. I’ve had to count the number of each per hour, and I’ve dutifully noted consistency, color, odor, you name it. Somehow, this part of parenting never makes much of an entrance in the “what to expect” books.
So, naturally, potty training is part of my world. I’ve had my hopes raised and then dashed again and again and again. As in the oldest was dry overnight at 10 months, but had tragedies in his pants (we’re talking deposits here, not puddles) until he was over three years. Then, the second decided at not quite 2 that potty training was the hottest thing since sliced bread, at least when her older cousin was over using the potty. Ah, a girl – the old wives tale is true. They are easier to potty train. Sigh, it was not to be. I had finally accepted my fate of sending her to prom in a pull-up when she decided a Dora The Explorer trash can was the absolute thing she had to have. Eight temper tantrums later I finally told her that she could have the dang thing if she peed on her potty chair 10 times. That’s all it took. Never had an accident. Of course, she was good at controlling things by then – primarily her mom.
So now we’re onto the last diaper wearer in the house. He just turned 3 and thinks big boys are overrated. Which is no big deal to this mom who learned long ago that the only person being trained in the house is the mom who dutifully sets her timer in potty increments. Except he has also entered the really fun stage of everything is bothering him.
“My shoes is bugging me!” Shoes are then removed and flung far from his little self. This happens until I lose all sanity and just haul his crabby self out to the car sans shoes.
“My pants is bugging me!” “My jacket is bugging me!” “My shirt is bugging me!” On and on and on my day goes. And now, of course, that includes his diaper.
So here we are, day 3 of the rest of our lives, with 7 stickers affixed to his potty chart. So far, no stickers for pooping, but I’ll take what I can get. As long as that doesn’t include adult incontinence any time soon.