Tuesday, March 23, 2010

potty training or "not pt"


So after Claire's 6 foot fall from the top bunk onto her back knocking the wind out of her tiny lungs and scaring me to death, splitting her head open and having it glued back together after a fall off the train table, and eating a poisonous flower, which required a call to poison control, I decided toilet training was in the cards...while Claire masterminded plans of her own. She has been telling me every time she poos and pees and makes contorted purplish facial expressions with each evacuation, which with my other two children was the determining factor in their potty training, so I decided the time was nigh. Claire, however is her own creature. Although she has "gone" on the potty, all outcomes have been by accident or with heavy bribing. This child has also discovered the "inform mommy that I need to go potty (to get attention) and for the excitement of the mad dash down the hall while I giggle all the way" power. I toilet train by allowing the children to be naked to discover by seeing and feeling where their excrement comes from and subsequently leaves from. So for our family, while running around, getting ready for our spring break trip, shopping, family dinner, etc. I've needed to be creative. Using a mixture of cloth diapers, underwear, and plastic pants, while we're out, I've come up with a fairly workable alternative to being naked all the time for the first 4 days to one week. Mix that with 15 to 20 minute forced (or suggested) potty breaks and wah...lah...you have a fairly uneventful potty training experience. It seemed to all make sense to me but not to my youngest dear, sweet babe.

Yesterday we needed to go to TJ's to get some snacks for our trip. I put some underwear on Claire with some plastic pants over the top. Upon arrival we immediately made a stop by the potty to make sure we (Claire and I) knew that there was an available potty. Well that was my first mistake. Claire instantly started the wheels turning, trying to figure out how she could use this new found knowledge to her benefit. As soon as I had her buckled into the shopping cart. She looked at me, smiled knowingly and said "BA, BA", which means "potty". I left my cart, Hailey and Anna, and my train of thought and rushed her to the potty. As soon as her little chubby buns hit that cold toilet seat she put her hands above her head, twisting her wrists frantically, which means all done. After pulling up her pants, all the while deflecting little fat fingers from grabbing the trash receptacle, toilet seat, and sanitary napkin depository with lightning speed and washing her hands, I whisked her back to the cart. Buckling her once again and trying to remember why I had left the cart next to the maple syrup, I started to get into my groove of shopping for vacation. I put two items in the cart walked a total of 10 feet when Claire, grinning angelically, looked up at me and said with lips poised, "BA, BA". I again frantically unbuckled her, rushed to the potty, and left my other two children standing wide eyed in the aisle wondering how their baby sister had just gotten away with something they could so easily see through. I again crouched down, pulled her pants to her ankles, and popped her onto the seat. This time I decided to distract her with some songs, finger plays, and body part identification. I said, "where are mommy's eyes"? Claire obliged my request by poking me in the eye. Then I said, "where is mommy's nose"? An inquisitive look furrowed her brow and the corner of her mouth twisted up mischievously. She drew her arm back and slapped me across the face. I was so shocked that I couldn't help but laugh (which I'm sure helped the cause). She then leaned forward and buried her head in my shoulder, sucking her thumb, as if to apologize. After repeating this scenario about 13 more times (minus the slap) throughout the next 20 minutes (and subsequently forgetting 1/2 of my shopping list) I checked out and loaded children and groceries into the car. As soon as all children were buckled in Claire said "BA, BA". I should have said "wait until we get home", but to a 19 month old? So I unloaded all the kids took them into the bathroom and put Claire on the potty. She dripped a few drops and then signed "all done". Hailey then informed me that she needed to use the facilities for a rather lengthy endeavor. I was perturbed, but obliged the request to turn and face the wall picking up and holding Claire. As I stood there staring at the wall and contemplating the bathroom paint color I felt warm all of a sudden and realized that as I held my youngest baby in my arms the warm feeling became wet (Claire's underwear/plastic pants combo didn't quite work). Since instead of paper towels TJ's has eco-friendly hand dryers I searched the cabinet for something to clean up the pee on the floor and off my Danskos. I made a mitt of toilet paper, mopped the floor, walked to the car with wet pants (Claire and I), and changed the baby. I drove home with wet pants, walked into the house with arms loaded with groceries and a pant-less baby, thinking of the moment I could change and be comfortable. The phone rang as I entered the house and it was my glorious husband calling for me to come and get him. As I loaded the car with the kids to go retrieve my husband (his bike had broken earlier that day and so he was stranded) the kids giggling and cheering to see daddy, I thought...I wouldn't trade this life....and after we picked Mark up Claire went wee, wee, wee all the way home.