As you may recall from this post, I have a recently 95% potty trained 3yo on my hands. No, I’m not bragging, I have absolutely no room to brag whatsoever. The fact is that he’s doing great with numero uno, even sleeping through the night without a diaper. (OK, fine, it was on accident originally… but it happened!) Unfortunately, number two has posed some serious issues. He’s been doing pretty well until the week before he started preschool.
Now, he is refusing to poop all together. We make him sit on the toilet to try to go and it just doesn’t happen. He eventually gets so uncomfortable that he starts freaking out, running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off, then disappears and comes back with full unders. I’ve tried to keep my cool, I’m a pretty even keeled person most of the time. But after the 9th day of this, I lost it. I told him that was not what “big boys” do and made him sit in TO while I cleaned the mess. I guess he didn’t like being in trouble because the next time it happened he decided to clean it up himself. Before you say how sweet, thoughtful, cute or whatever that was of him, let me tell you… it was worse!
He had been playing by himself in his room. He suddenly appeared in the kitchen without any pants on.
Me – Brady, where are your pants?
B – Ummmm, I had to go potty.
Me – That’s good, but why aren’t your pants back on?
B – Well, I pooped.
Me – Yay! Good job buddy! Do you need me to help get your shorts back on?
B – No, I need new ones.
Me – What?! Why? Did you poop in the potty?
B – …
Me – Where’s the poop Brady? Where’s THE POOOOOOP!
He turns and runs towards the bathroom. There is poop hanging from his little buns. I get to the bathroom and see a complete and utter disaster. He had taken his poopy unders off and tried to throw them away in the trash. (That’s what I do, I’m not subjecting my washing machine to that much disgustingness. But, I put them in a plastic bag and throw them in the OUTSIDE trash.) So now there’s poop in the hallway, on my son, on the ground, in and on the trash, in the toilet, on the side of the tub (I think he must have steadied himself or something), on the toilet, on the vanity, in the sink, and on the handle of the sink. It was terrible and he was told that this was a really bad idea. He had good intentions, but the fact is, he just needs to tell me and I’ll clean it.
Now, flash forward a few weeks and we are in beautiful Lake Tahoe enjoying our family time with my parents and my niece. At some point, Brady pooped his pants and tried to do the old I-can-clean-it-up-myself gag. Only this time, it was really no joke. I was away from home without all my clean up stuff. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. My husband found him first and called me in. I got there and saw my little boy with poop everywhere and on his hands. Before I clean up or anything I say, “Brady, did you try to clean up again?” Through the tears he says, “Yeah.” My husband says, “You can’t do this! You know you need to call us to help clean up.”
That’s where it all went sideways. When Brady gets scared or embarrassed he takes his hands, with his fingers splayed, and puts them right on his face. Right into all his orifices. My hubby and I did the worst thing ever. In unison, we both yelled, “Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!! No!!!!!!!!!” Brady pressed his hands tighter onto his face as we had obviously scared him… Poopy finger tips right into his eyes. I had already started a bath and put him in after I got the big pieces off him. Then I proceeded to start splashing water directly into his eye. I was so afraid he would get an infection. I got a cup and made him lay back in the tub. He screamed so loud! I was crying and people probably thought he was being murdered. After the bath, I put some eye drops in to make sure I got out as much as possible. And that’s how I learned to flush poop out of an eye this summer.
This experience really embodied the spirit of Labor Day.