Tag Archives: poop

It’s NOT OK. Harumph.

Lane’s been potty trained for awhile, about a year. She has trouble with changes and new situations… when she feels unsafe to react, she’ll just be really quiet. When she feels safe to react (i.e. when I or Frank are around) she freaks out and melts down. She *can* handle new situations well, as long as she has a decent preparation of what to expect. So, when it came to potty training, we started talking about it and reading books about potty training well before we had her try sitting on a potty.

Lane has a couple of different books about potty training. Both address the issues of accidents similarly, as in “You might have an accident. That’s OK.”

So, as (what I assume is) a pretty normal four year-old, Lane occasionally gets wrapped up in playing and doesn’t stop in time to make it to the bathroom. And she insists that it’s OK to have an accident – not in the “it’s OK, I’m not mad” sort of way the books imply, but more “it’s perfectly acceptable to have an accident”. Oh, the talking I’ve done to try to eliminate that notion… trying to explain the difference between “It’s fine and dandy to pee your pants” vs. “I’m not mad but it’s not good to have accidents”. Unfortunately I think the nuance is a bit lost on her, much to my chagrin.

I think once we’re firmly moved in to the new house and settled in, I’ll be better about natural consequences — making her rinse out her undies, stuff like that. I probably bail her out a little more than I should.


One round trip ticket, please

I found something today.

It’s pretty nondescript. It’s one of those white florist pebbles… you know, the kind you can put in a bowl or vase for ornamental purposes. I’d call it a half-inch in diameter. It’s got a shiny faux pearly finish to it, reflective enough that you can see the windows it was near when I took the picture, and the shelves, and my camera. It’s flat on one side so it can’t roll around. You can walk into any craft store and buy these things for something like $1.99 for a bag of about a hundred of them.

I know my in-laws have them in their house. They have a bowl of them in their back bedroom – the bedroom that used to be Frank’s, but now holds some assorted gadgety exercise equipment (an Ab Wheel and an ab thing by Body By Jake and a Nordic Track). My in-laws are ab-obsessed, apparently. It’s also the room that holds assorted toys for the kids to play with when they visit.

We visit once or twice a week, and my in-laws very graciously will babysit whenever I need them to. The need arose on Thursday, when I had a two hour dentist appointment. Oh yeah, two hours. You can imagine my thrill. Nothing too major, just filling one small cavity and replacing a bunch of other fillings that had gotten worn down. Not the most relaxing way to spend a couple hours, but since dentist appointments these days present an opportunity to sit in a chair with full expectation that no child will climb on me or beg me for anything or whine or cry or ask to nurse, it’s an experience I enjoy just a little more than I did before kids. Pretty sad that I require dental work to get peace and quiet, but it is what it is, and I’m really not complaining, even if really I am complaining a little.

So, I found the pebble this morning, after the kids were at my in-laws on Thursday. I guess the good news is that I found it. The bad news is that I had to clean Jake’s poop off of it to figure out what the heck it was.

So, to tell the whole tale

I’m going to get downright gross here, probably, so avert your eyes if you don’t care for such details. 🙂

(Of course this will be no surprise to SOME people who know me. You know who you are.)

As I mentioned earlier, our water went out earlier. And just about as soon as I realized it, I had to poop.

We live in the same town as my in-laws, so I figured we could quickly scoot over there and make an impromptu visit, and I could take advantage of their pink toilet. (Yes, they have a pink toilet. They have a bright yellow one, too.) My quick plan is, throw the kids in the nearest available coats, strap them into the minivan, and skedaddle over there hastily.

But then I grab Jake to put his coat on him… and he’s got a diaper full of poop. And he hadn’t pooped for three days. And he had blueberries yesterday. I’m not sure if the act of grabbing him did it, or plopping him on my lap, or if it was already like that, but he had poop all out the side of his diaper, practically down to his knee. Somehow this timely surprise didn’t end up on my pants. I carry him at arm’s length into the bathroom, and just deposit him into the tub, since that’s the easiest to clean, and normally I’d just bathe him in such circumstance rather than even attempt to clean him up with wipes.

But there’s no water.

“Lane! Bring me the wipes!”

At this point, knowing the length of time it would take me to get him acceptably clean and the number of wipes I would go through, and just owning that I really don’t want to have to do that while I got a turtle poking his head out of his shell, I just proceeded to do my business in the toilet sans water. I figured the water would come on eventually, and I could keep the door closed in there until it did.

About thirty baby wipes on Jake and a half-dozen sanitizing kitchen clean-up wipes on the bathtub, and an ounce or two of hand sanitizing gel on myself and Jake, and everything and everyone was adequately poop-free and sterilized, save the bath mat and Jake’s clothes. At least I didn’t have to bother the in-laws.

Then. I went to the mall and spent $80 on the biggest haul I have ever had the pleasure of taking out of Old Navy. I cannot believe how much stuff I got for $80. They said the sale is on until Sunday, so go check it out!!

Oh, this is even worse

Our water’s out.

And I have to poop.

And I already flushed the toilet before I realized the water was out.

Seems sort of ironic.