Oh, how I hesitate to talk about this….I love my kids, but you might not. Let me start by saying that Emma(2) is THE most mischievous child I have ever met. The kid can make messes in 30 seconds that take me 2 to 3 hours to clean up. If she is missing for more than 60 seconds, I can guarantee she is doing something she is not supposed to. That being said, potty training with her has been QUITE the adventure.
Last week she came to me and told me she had “poo-pooed in Baby Sadie’s room”, and sure enough, there were 2 not so little surprises waiting for me. Complete with a trail of toilet paper from the bathroom all the way to Sadie’s room. Lovely, right?
But it gets worse. About 3 months ago, when I was so pregnant I was about to pop, Emma came crawling into the bed with Zeb and I in the middle of the night. Normally, unless you are truly hysterical, you go back to your own bed. But I was too pregnant to pick her up and carry her to her room and she was being really still and quiet. So we snuggled. I was laying on my left side and she nestled up against me, I’m kissing her little cheeks and she says ” ‘cratch my arms, Momma,” and of course I do. About this time I notice a smell. Not a poop smell. A strep throat smell, you moms and nurses out there know EGG-ZACTLY what I’m talking about…I thought to myself, “Poor baby, her throat probably hurts so bad she couldn’t sleep. We’ll have to go to the doctor first thing in the morning.” As I’m feeling sorry for her and scratching her tiny little arms, she opens her fist and puts something in my hand. Something small. Something round. Something slightly sticky. The scream that issued forth from my lips could have gotten me a speaking part in any horror movie. Zeb sits straight up in bed, looking for an armed intruder, I am in shock, totally grossed out…my bed has been violated. After a 3 AM bath for Emma, some VIGOROUS hand washing on my part and a quick sheet change we all got back into bed.
So you would think that after all this, I would be prepared. I couldn’t possibly be shocked or disgusted any further. You would be wrong.
Yesterday, I am cleaning the kitchen and Emma comes in and says “Momma, I poo-pooed in the sink.” *Blank stare* Excuse me, what? “What did you say Emma?” “I poo-poo in the sink Momma.” No, no, no, no, no. She didn’t. She wouldn’t. Why would she take her pants off IN THE BATHROOM and NOT go in the potty? She’s making—–“MOMMA, EMMA WENT POO POO IN THE SINK!” Aubrey(4) screams. She did. I go to the bathroom to find poop in the sink, where they wash their hands and brush their teeth. Gross. GROSS! GROSS! (I’m an ER nurse, trust me when I say I have seen some sick and disgusting things in my life, but this had me gagging…) Emma was IMMEDIATELY disciplined and sent to time out. And while I’m scrubbing every surface of the bathroom with bleach and trying to figure out what I could possibly have done to deserve this, Emma is singing the blues from time out….”I’m sorry Momma, I ready be nice now. I not poo-poo in the sink anymore.” I’m afraid to even guess where she’ll go instead!