Tag Archives: potty

Things not to do in public parks: A Guide

'Mummy! Daddy said I could!"

 

So today I assisted my son in committing a crime.

A crime of public urination.

I had no choice though, I had to assist him. He couldn’t get his pants off by himself. Oh, and we were 20 minutes away from the house on a walk and there (obviously) was no public bathroom nearby.

And this is how it all went down:

Vince: Mummy! I have to go pee! Can I go pee outside? Daddy said I could.

(interestingly, Daddy was nowhere to be seen, mainly because he was at work many many miles away… But I digress)

Me: Ummm….

Vince: Daddy said I could…(and this was the point where he started pulling down his pants while walking away from me, so clearly whatever Daddy says {whenever it was that he said it] goes)

Me: Um, ok. Well, let’s go over here, in the bushes.

And just to clarify, we were at a park a little bit from our house and there was NO way that we would make it back in time to not have an accident. And also, isn’t this just what men do anyways? Pee everywhere both in and out of doors? So this is training. Right?

So I led him over to this little copse of trees by the lake and helped him get his pants down and he let it go. His pants had to go down all the way of course, so there just was no way at all we could even pretend to be discreet about the whole thing

All I could think about was that every single person in the neighbourhood was, right at this very moment, standing at their living room window with their faces pointed in exactly our direction. Judging us. Even that squirrel was judging us, judging us with his beady squirrel eyes…(also, I cannot spell squirrel to save my life). I honestly thought I was going to get some irate person barreling down the park sidewalk to harangue me about my public behavior. I was judging me too, if that makes you feel any better. I’d never done anything like this before.

Ok, let me clarify…. I’VE done things like this before, but that was when I was much, much, much younger. And silly. And probably camping or something. Or drinking. Or whatever, anyways… the point is that I’d never done this with my son before. I kept wondering things like “Gosh, I wish he didn’t pull his pants all the way down to his ankles. At least if he just pulled them down a teeny bit, we could be more discreet.” and “How on earth did he not go before we left the house?” and finally “Where is he keeping all that pee?! It’s a floodgate!”

Of course, the whole time he was saying things like “Daddy said I could” and “Daddy says it’s OK”.

Oh! I get it! It’s a new stage! Aha!

I discussed this with Edward later and he agreed that Vince was busting out the ‘Mummy says it’s OK’ with him too. And Edward, being Edward, believed him. Lesson: Don’t believe the majority of what your almost 4 year old tells you. Because he has learned to lie and he will lie through his teeth. Endlessly and forever. About everything.

But also he told me that he’d let Vince pee outside before when they were at that park. So Vince was, in a way, telling the truth. He just neglected to mention that Daddy had said it was OK quite awhile ago. And hadn’t said it since. To my knowledge anyways. And I am not even sure if I want to know that answer. I think I’ll leave it between the guys… (like penis cleaning, that’s the kind of thing I don’t really want to be involved in. Just about as much as Edward wants to be in cleaning his daughter’s ‘bits’)

Anyways, he didn’t have an accident in his pants so as far as I’m concerned it was a win!

xoxo a.m.

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Dirty pants

Girls? Lets clean these up all sparkling!!

My Mum has always been rather good about surprising me with knowledge, insight and random hands-on examples just when I didn’t think I needed it. One of the things that I love about her.

One that really sticks in my mind is the day after Vincent was born. There I was, extremely sore (don’t worry, I won’t get into any detail about that. You, for sure, don’t want to hear it and I don’t want to relive it) and just kind of… for lack of a better word…stumped.

The first time was about poop. Vincent was hanging out in my little private room, Mum was there and I think the last time I had changed a diaper might have been when my sister was little. And that’s a BIG ‘might’. I just honestly don’t remember.

And there he was, with a dirty bum and me kind of going “Um. So I guess I just… umm…take this off?” I had no idea what I was doing. AND it was meconium, which is the poop equivalent of tar. I dabbed at it gently, not wanting to hurt my 1 day old baby.

Mum practically pushed me out of the way and efficiently and properly cleaned that little bum until it looked like a freshly mopped floor. It sparkled.

Thanks Mummy.

So this past visit, while lovely, has a little star-mark next to Mum’s latest nugget of wisdom. Which just happens to be about poop too. Surprise!

V came home from school with a teeny bag containing on pair of dirty underwear. While practically potty-trained, he does tend to hold ‘it’ until he gets home. And surprises us with the gift of poo a short while after we get home.

Tonight, I even thought I would derail the poo-pants by giving him a stat-bath and then leaving him naked for the rest of the evening. And as a result? There was not only no poo, but he peed on the potty all night long and resisted all attempts to sit on it. Or discuss poo. Or poo.

*gah!*

Pretty much I am resigned to an awful awakening tomorrow.

Back to my Mum… She taught me this nice little trick.

Have pants with poop on them? No worries!! Just wash them out IN THE TOILET.

At first, I was just like ‘Huh. Right. I’ll just try that when you are not around.’

And then on of the days she was here, there was an incident and she just (pardon me Mummy and my language) balls-out swept those dirty pants out of my hands and proceeded to scrub them out in the potty. WITH HER BARE HANDS.

I watched on in awe…

What else could you really watch with??

And then I got a mini-lecture about how to clean dirty pants in the potty, how this is the best way, how it was done in the 70’s with cloth diapers and how it was a great way to deal with poop-underwear.

So, this past weekend, I thought I would deal with the problem as my mother did (does) etc. And so, Sunday, that is how Edward caught me. Sitting on a wee stool (ha!), in front of a potty, scrubbing 2 sets of pants (or underwear, whatever you want to call them) in the toilet bowl.

I think he was coming up to ask me a question. Upon seeing the ‘situation’, he back right out, picked up Vince and took him straight to the tent… The tent being located in one of our upstairs bedrooms, filled with V’s toys courtesy of V’s Grampa.

Meanwhile, I gagged away, as I scrubbed out the poop out of those little pants. Man, was I ever trying. I WILL not throw these pants out. I WILL keep them!! I WILL scrub them until you can see no streak marks!

And then 2 days later, my resolve failed me after a particularly messy, wet and just plain ol’ gross ‘deposit’.

I threw away 2 pairs of underwear because I could not deal with the ‘package’. I am a wimp. Just in the last 3 days. I lasted that long. But honestly, it was a wee bit of a fail. Vince announced the arrival and, once I pulled down his pants to deal with it, well, I just couldn’t.

No amount of swishing them around in the potty would be happening. None would be happening, actually. I looked at them, removed them and put them in the Diaper Genie. Kind of hoping, actually, that the throwing out of his most favorite underwears would be some sort of violation and he would suddenly feel compelled to go to the potty from now on…

And when that didn’t happen the second time, I felt a bit cheated. And sort of like I had had a fecal-chastisement. A kind of “Oh you thought so, did you? Well, think again!”

Lord is potty-training ever frustrating. Especially with all of these little curves that get tossed at you. It’s always one thing or another, both literally and figuratively speaking.

Please, lets all pray that its nearing it’s end… You know, ‘end’… Ha!!

xoxo a.m

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Regret-ish

You know how sometimes you immediately regret what you just did?

Like perhapsĀ  talking about ‘male parts’ in a hardware store. Or letting your very small dog sleep with you in bed. Now that’s the only place he will sleep at night. Or letting said small dog bully you and your husband into not hugging or kissing in sight of that dog. He barks until we stop.

M has nicknamed him the ‘cockblocker’.

I am sure you have you list of regrets. I know there are more on my list, those were just a few to tease you with.

My recent regrets:

Regret #1

V’s introduction to the ability to make the toilet make items go ‘bye-bye’. What was I thinking!

Actually, what I was thinking was that I would try and get him more interested in the potty. I sit him on it naked after the bath (for 2 seconds and whisk him off before he gets squirmy). So I thought I would combine that with taking a little piece of toilet paper, crumpling it upĀ  and flushing it ‘bye-bye!’. I might be the stupidest person in the world.

I might as well have taught him how to start the car.

Regret #2

We had a can of whipping cream in the fridge from Thanksgiving. Now I am a sucker for things like that. I have been known to stand in the open door of the fridge and fill my open mouth with it. Yum.

So, the other day while V was sitting in the fridge (just ignore that part of the sentence), I grabbed the can and squirted some in my mouth. He looked up at me with a curious expression.

Without even thinking, I bent down with the can. He immediately opened his mouth (just like a baby bird) and I squirted some whipping cream right in there.

The look of surprise was just priceless. Followed by a look of delight. Followed by a small moment of panic when I thought I heard M coming down the stairs. How can I explain V sitting in the fridge with a mouth full of whipped cream and me red-handed with the can?

I would never hear the end of it, just like I never hear the end of the time he caught me in my underwear, standing in front of the open freezer with a container of Cool-Whip and a spoon at about 6:30 in the morning in his parent’s apartment. That was 6 YEARS AGO! For the love of god!

Anyways, happily he did not appear.

V and I hung out in the fridge for a little while longer. A few more little squirts of whipped cream, several delighted and messy grins from my Little Man.

And now an unending fascination with the whipping cream can, its bright red lid and the bottom shelf in the fridge where the can lives.

Maybe I should move it? Nah… then he wouldn’t sit in the fridge anymore…

xoxo a.m.

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