Adventures in Potty Training

There are many things I didn't think about very much while my oven was baking up a Hannah-shaped bun. Potty training was one of these things. In my mind, I sort of glossed over this section of training and went straight from diapers to pull-ups to panties. And voila! The child would be doing her business with little help from good ole' mom and dad.

Hahahahaha! I was dumb. I am dumb no longer. I did not realize the amount of emotional involvement potty training would entail. We go through the throws of anticipation, fear, terror, embarrassment, frustration, joy, and hope on a daily basis. I didn't take Hannah's opinions into account when planning our potty training action plan and crafting our "dry pants are happy pants" mission statement. I also misjudged my daughter's ability to manipulate her parents.

Do you know the fear that causes you to leap from your bed in the middle of the night? That heart leaping into your throat feeling? We experience this nightly. About 5am, we hear our cherub's lovely little girl voice float through the baby monitor and into our ears where it teases our sleep-induced brains with these words, "Mommy, I pee peed." "Daddy, I pooped." "Mommy, I peed." "Daddy, I poop." By the time our ears and brains are communicating and we've both stopped playing the, "If I pretend to be asleep maybe he/she will get up and take care of this one" game, both of us are in a slight panic. You see, we've heard the stories of relatives and children of friends who woke in the middle of the night and turned into miniature Picassos using their bedroom walls as canvas and their dirty diapers as paint. And no matter who winds up running to Hannah's room, the results are the same. She's fine. Her pull-up is intact. Her jammies are dry. She has been calling Wolf, or rather she has been calling Pee Pee. Hannah's ultimate goal in the mornings is to go downstairs and watch cartoons. She realizes we are easier to manipulate when we are tired. Our child is ruthless in her efforts and we fall right into her trap every time.

Another part of potty training I gave no consideration to was the matter of my husband, a man, participating in the process. I never thought he wouldn't participate but would in fact play a large part in her success. But I didn't think about the differences between men and women peeing in the toilet. Maybe it's because I've heard the manly rule of, "If you shake it more than three times, you're playing with yourself," enough times when my male friends and husband have educated me on Men's Room Etiquette that I just assumed Bryan was privy to the details of female urination and I wouldn't have to over-think this as I am prone to do on nearly every other subject. Wrong.

The other night, Hannah sat herself down on the potty seat, did her business and called, "Daddy, I pee peed! Daddy, I pee peed!" Bryan did what he normally does and headed back to the bathroom to help her empty the tray that catches what she lets go and to help her get dressed again. Sometimes the pants don't quite make it up over her butt when she pulls them back up. Funny, but it is winter and we have an old, drafty house.

I was in the kitchen finishing up dinner and heard their exchange. Bryan, "Okay, pull your pants back up." Hannah, "No Daddy, I need paper." Bryan, "Come on, pull your pants back up." Hannah, "Daddy, no!" And it dawned on me. When Bryan aided in her peeing process, there was no wiping involved. What!? What!? What!?

And then I stuck my head into the potty chair room and said, "Um, honey? You know she has to be wiped every single time she goes to the bathroom, no matter if it's pee or poop? That's what girls do. Have you been wiping her?" I never got an answer, but if diaper rash is seen less frequently around these parts, I won't be too surprised.

The most recent potty training episode involves a pull-up, Hannah's dirty clothes hamper, my clothes washer, and most likely, an exhausted parent (probably Bryan, but there is no proof at this time).

As we get closer and closer to the time when we'll say good bye to pull-ups forever (at least during the day), we tend to get a tad sloppy with anything other than underwears. This was the root cause of the mess I just tended to. Just to interject, I wanted to call her underwear 'panties'. I thought it was cute, girlie, and perfect for Hannah. Hannah decided she wanted to call them 'underwears'. The 'S' is NOT silent. And if you skip the 'S', she will let you know. Loudly.

Anyways, being unemployed stinks. But there are benefits, too. One of them is I can get all of our laundry done during the day so I'm not tied to the washing machine on Saturday or Sunday when I'd rather be hanging out with the family and friends. And, as we have a child who is potty training, I am never without dirty laundry. Oh, and here's a laundry tip for you: If washing urine soaked clothing, slippers, sheets, rugs, couch covers, etc. in cold water in an effort to A) save energy or B) save the clothing, splurge and buy Tide Coldwater detergent. In a 2 product test that was performed in my basement by the Pee Pee Washers Association, Tide Coldwater eliminated that pesky urine smell much better than Arm & Hammer Fresh Waterfall by the Beach on a Beautiful Summer's Day Scent was able to.

Anyways, take II. Today, on the coldest day I have experienced outside of Kalamazoo, MI, I decided to tackle the dirty clothes in order to keep our long underwear, sweats, footie jammies, and other warm items in rotation. Armed with my latest full basket of dirty clothes, I braved our very cold basement. Now, I knew I had washed a load the other day and had yet to transfer the items to the dryer. I jauntily swung the lid open and stuck my hand into the washer full of cold, wet, clean clothes to transfer them for their tumble dry. Without looking I tossed handfulls of clothes into the dryer. And then I felt something. Something strange. Something wet, squishy, cold, and silicone-y.

A pull-up had been washed. A pull-up that uses a moisture absorbing gel to trap and keep moisture away from baby's delicate skin. A pull-up that had absorbed as much water as was possible before exploding onto a load of washing laundry. A load of mostly dark and black clothes. Our vigilance in making sure dirty pull-ups make it into the diaper pail and not into the dirty clothes hamper had failed. And I am now dealing with the consequences of our laissez-faire approach to diaper disposal.

The clean up is on-ongoing and extensive. It involved vigorous shaking of each item that was in the washer, two separate sweeping-up episodes, a hot wash of an empty machine to clear the remaining gel stuff, and will, hopefully, conclude with a third washing of the clothing.

I tell you all of this not just to make you laugh at my foibles and follies in the land of potty training, but to give you pause to think. What items in life have you glossed over only to be kicked in the tushie when faced with reality? What advice can you provide for those forgotten or ignored life tests that others may soon encounter?

Please, leave comments. It's too cold to leave the house, most of my rooms are cleaned and organized and I need human interaction. Help keep me sane. No work and no play makes Stacy a crazy lady.