This post is titled part deux because Nash's first love affair with the toilet came just after we moved on to West Clover. For a walk down memory lane (and maybe a tear and a sniffle seeing how much my baby has grown) you can giggle at that post here.
This love affair with the toilet is completely different this time. Thankfully there is no standing inside and stomping (that I am aware of that is...this year for Lent I am working on self control and just letting things go, so unless he is drowning upstairs during his "quiet time" in the toilet - whatever works, right?) but instead just pure business. Big boy potty business.
Remember how I just said in the last post that Nash was so unmotivated and was going to be that kid starting kindergarten in diapers? Well, I do. And I am still wondering who read that to Nash and explained to him that it was a really good idea to decide the week before a trip to Disney that now was the time to use the big boy potty. Possibly the same person that encouraged me to choose my Lenten voyage of letting it all go and rolling with the punches? If not the same person...it is very coincidental. Hey Karma - I see you. :)
Anyways, Nash up and decided he was ready to potty train and while I cannot possibly think of a worse time than right before Disney (Disney during spring break is one thing, Disney during spring break with a freshly potty trained child might require an extra adult beverage each night), we all know as moms that once they start - it is a terrible thing to discourage. I've talked before about how potty training scares the snot out of me. I was so incredibly lucky that Louisa up and trained herself one day. So one easy one down, I knew this next one would be a doozy. But I must say, the first few days went GREAT.
However, the day that I woke up and found Superman head first in the return register...I should have taken the hint.
Things were about to get interesting. And interesting with children is a whole other ball game.
Might I mention that on top of the whole potty training ordeal, Nash is also working on giving up his nap. The thought along makes me want to crawl into the corner and sob. So, we have entered the world of "quiet time" with him now. The phrase quiet time always gives me a good laugh as it was always so NOT quiet time with Louisa. Pretty much the same thing for Nash so far too. My sewing room is directly under Nash's room and with the lack of insulation between the floors it sounds like a heard of buffalo up there. Just a Lego Duplo dropping makes me feel the need to duck and cover as it sounds like something is being bombed overhead. So, on this particular day that was foreshadowed by Superman, I was working in my sewing room and listening to World War III play out overhead. When I noticed over 10 minutes of quiet, I suddenly panicked. Repeat after me: quiet with kids is NOT golden. So, I make my way upstairs to make sure that all is well and I find that he has actually fallen asleep in bed. Sweet boy.
All curled up with a book about animals - be still my animal loving heart! It was so sweet that I almost overlooked the destruction.
I knew immediately that if anyone found the humor in the toy baskets that I literally just organized and labeled the day before, it was Byron. He is so not a fan of the organization. He actually giggled when I told him that I organized it all and asked me if I expected Nash to keep it organized. I explained to him that his school toys were set up this way and he certainly was of the age to learn about putting things away. (A side note - I am a bit of a freak about a place for everything and everything in its place) So, my first thought was this, "Crap. Byron is going to have the best time laughing about this one." Then, I got over myself and had to smile when I saw that Mickey Mouse and Pete were watching over my basket labels. Pete even reminded me not to cry because it is all good.
As I turned and was leaving the room, I decided that I smelt poo. Nash is a nap-time pooper and I knew this was going to be a hard part of the training. So, I would put him down for "quiet time/nap" in a pull up to avoid any sort of a mess.
Well, that was before I realized that poop and pull-up don't mesh well. When he woke up, we had a major code brown on our hands. I mean major. All sheets, duvets, pillowcases, bed friends, etc. got hauled downstairs to the washer. It was like he pooped in his pull-up and then a bomb went off in it. I found poop on the bottom of his socks. The poop was so stuck to his skin that I had to scrub with a poof (now trashed) to get it off. His skin was so red. Look at those red chunk-legs in this mid-cleaning picture. Poor kid.
And yes, I totally posted that picture. It's okay, most of us are moms here and poop is an everyday occurrence.
It was in the next hour or so that all sorts of potty training went downhill and with it my sanity went out the window. I wanted to quit. It would be so much easier to just quit. So, I did what I do every other time I lose my faith in my mothering skills. I text my most trusted expert on children. My old pediatrician. Dr. Bill Smith is always right. Every single time. When I worked for him I gave him such a hard time about it. But it is true. I told him I was ready to quit. I told him I was afraid we were going to enter a battle of wills. I told him I was scared. He told me 3 simple words that I almost already knew he was going to say.
Stick with it.
The man is a genius. So, with that pep talk, I did what needed to be done. I put on my big girl panties and decided from here on out, it was big boy undies unless we were asleep. Surprisingly enough (KNOCK ON WOOD), it has been smooth sailing ever since. He loves his big boy underwear, and let's face it...is there anything cuter than some chunky legs in tighty-whities?
Today is day 3 of undies and so far, so good. I have regained what is left of the sanity that I still possess and am feeling optimistic about potty training and the trip. One of my biggest flaws as a mother is forgetting that they are just kids. I lose my patience and expect 20 year old behavior from a 3 year old. It isn't pretty and I am certainly not proud of it. It happens, and I feel like such a troll when it does. Thankfully when I go to sit down with my kids and apologize for losing my patience and not being nice my kids are such sweet souls about it and tell me that they love me and everything is okay. I only wish I could practice their level of grace every day!
When I started this blog post, my little helper was sitting beside me painting.
Midway through I told him it was quiet time and we went upstairs to his room. I just now realized it was cease-fire upstairs and found this, thankfully void of the poop smell.
Curled up today with his paper from gymnastics the other day. Sweet, sweet boy. I think that being a big boy and potty training is wearing him out. :)
On another note...Nash was studying doctors at school the other day. I couldn't resist my twins modeling their head mirror things. Sorry, as the wife of an ENT I should probably know what those are called, but I am afraid the functioning side of my brain has been taken over by the poop-cleaning side.
Now it is time to get my other fireball from the bus stop. Crazy how fast these kids grow. We are off to the happiest place on earth next week and hopefully this year I will actually sit down to post pics and blog about it when we get back. :)