Horror upon horror upon horror

Remember when a certain member of this family did this awful thing?  And then remember when she did this other awful thing?  Remember, too, this weird episode?

Why is Lucy so feral?  We ask ourselves this all the time.  I don't know the answer.

Things have been on the upswing since she was potty-trained a year ago, and although I still haven't replaced the hall bathroom rug (she sometimes over-shoots her mark if you get my drift, something I was not formerly aware was even possible with girls) I was starting to think that it might soon be safe.  However...

Actually, let me back up.

I sometimes buy Nutella for the girls to have with their morning toast or bagels.  They love it, but it can get messy.  I can only take cleaning up so many chocolaty messes, so it isn't a regular pantry item.  When we do have it, though, I can count on finding chocolate handprints on the doors, streaks around the bathroom sink (where they go to wash their hands after breakfast), all over the counters, the table, the chairs....You name it.

Okay, so back to Miss Lucy.  Can you see where this is headed?

I noticed brown marks all over the shower curtain one morning, and since it was a Nutella day I made the obvious assumption.  I took the curtain down and washed it, and for a few weeks all was well.  Then more marks appeared.  It was another Nutella day, so this time I was lazier (knowing that we had a good three days left until the Nutella jar ran out) and didn't bother taking it down for a while.

Then it happened again.  Only this time, there was no Nutella in the house.  I had a moment of doubt, but then I told myself - the girls had chocolate muffins today, surely it was just melted chocolate chips! It was a busy day so I didn't take the curtain down until the next morning.

That very  morning, with the still-damp shower curtain hanging, it happened again.  This time, though, the door was not closed and I was within viewing range.

I am sure you can guess what I witnessed.    I would really rather not spell out what I saw, if that's alright.  I am surprised that my eyes weren't actually seared blind by the sight.  Let's just put it this way, for those who don't have kids, or for those who have managed to raise their kids with civility:  the shower curtain is right beside the toilet.  Directly opposite the toilet paper roll, easily accessed by anyone sitting on the throne looking for alternatives.

I have heard of this thing happening before, but before it was always somebody else's kid.  I cannot believe that I made it through four girls only to get hammered like this with the fifth.  And I cannot believe that I ever thought a white shower curtain was a good idea.  Although, it does bleach well.  That's actually a pretty major plus, all things considered.

It all comes down to this:  this thought that I have so often, mostly in a joyful way, but sometimes...not so much:  I cannot believe that this is my life.

Seriously.  I cannot believe it.

disturbing. disgusting. weird.

We've finally found potty-training nirvana.

Lucy hasn't had an accident in almost a week! She is using the bathroom for everything and hardly ever needs reminders to go. She is also using the big potty (hooray!) and doing all the clean up (both her bottom and her hands) on her own.

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!

The only thing is.......... she names her poop. Late last week, as she was cleaning herself off, Lucy looked into the potty and declared to me, "That one looks like Bob!"

"Who is Bob?" I asked.

She pointed to a specific hunk of poop. "That is Bob," she said.

A few days later, as I was toweling her off after her bath, she noticed a piece of construction paper that had been left on the floor, and was covered with wet splotches.

"That one looks just like Bob!" she declared.

"Who is Bob?" I asked again, really curious.

"My poopie," she said.

Today, as she was cleaning up after using the potty, Lucy glanced into the bowl before flushing it. "That one is not Bob," she said.

I have no idea where this is coming from. At first I thought - maybe Bob the Tomato? But, ah, the specimen she specifically said was not Bob was the only one that looked even vaguely tomato-ish. Bob the Builder? We really don't watch that show, though. ( Handy Manny has totally left Bob the B in the dust.) My father's name is Bob....but I'm pretty sure Lucy doesn't even know that.

It is an absolute mystery. A really gross mystery. But intriguing nonetheless. (Maybe that's just me, though.)

Perhaps a litter box is the answer?

How goes the potty training? Well, there are two distinct way of looking at it.

On one hand, it is going almost perfectly. Lucy never wets herself. We were out and about all morning, and worrying about whether she might wet herself or not never even entered my mind.

On the other hand, however..... it's not going well at all. She poops her pants just about every afternoon. At first, she just held in it. As the days passed, however, I started to worry about her little belly so I began spiking her orange juice with laxitives. It worked like a charm...but not in the potty. We've had some pretty horrific messes, to put it mildly. I've now stopped the laxatives, but that has only translated into firmer loads in her underwear. In fact, Lucy is sitting in the bathroom at this very moment, as filthy as can be, while I am trying with all my might to compose myself here in the living room before confronting her.

The killer is that she is predictable in when these incidents occur, but not too predictable. It's never in the morning but while today she pooped her pants at 7:45, two days ago when we stopped by a friend's house, she had her "incident" at 3. There is never any warning - in fact, she seems to be capable of waiting and watching for a chance to sneak off privately. Usually, it happens when I am distracted by something - dinner is burning, or someone has an urgent problem with homework, or I run the garbage outside....I've tried keeping her on the potty for long periods of time - but thus far nothing has worked.

I am at the end of my rope, and I really do not know what to do about this except ride it out, and hope that she eventually gets it.

So, there we are. I have planned to go into Pittsburgh for a quick visit this Saturday, and as the days tick by my concern about this whole potty-dilemma increases. I hope my family appreciates the hell that I am potentially about to walk into.

I hate this stage. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

I really hate it.

backsliding on the potty training....

The title of this post can be taken literally, unfortunately.

I do not deal well with excessive amounts of uncontrolled feces in the house. (By "excessive" here, I actually mean any amount whatsoever that is not in a diaper or in the toilet where it belongs.) I don't do well with it. I recognize this in myself.

I'm afraid that recognizing my shortcomings does not always translate into....uh, controlling them. So, long story short: the hallway bathroom is now really, really clean but I was kind of a jerk while making it so. And nothing makes you feel more lousy that realizing that the person you were being a jerk to is three years old, and still wants a hug when you calm down.

Parenthood: mortification in every way possible, combined with the constant reminder that you need it, you idiot.

Opinionated little girl

Potty training is continuing to go well. She's had a few accidents, but nothing too terrible. The biggest problem, really, is her attitude about the whole thing. I can tell that she has put some thought in to this whole situation, and has come to the conclusion that diapers are just a better way to go. So while she is does well with running to the potty when she needs to go, she'll often argue with me about putting her in a diaper. It's an issue every morning when I take her nighttime diaper off, and it's an issue several times a day, whenever the mood strikes her and she wants to relax her vigilance. We're going to a little festival at the school this afternoon, and she is already trying to convince me to put her in diapers when we go. (For the record, she is going in underwear.)

Meanwhile, here's an insight into the mind of this kid:

For years and years, I have put the kids to bed by saying a little prayer over them and then repeating the phrase my mom used to say when my sister and I went to sleep, "Dream about the angels!"

It is one of those things that the girls now "need" in order to feel fully tucked in.

Last night, as I turned out the bedroom light and was about to close the door, Lucy's little voice suddenly piped up.

"You can't choose my dreams!" she said.

At first, I had no idea what she was talking about.

"I choose my dreams!" she went on, "I am dream about Daddy or the new baby in Mommy's belly."

"Uh, okay," I said, still not sure what she was talking about it. But then she clarified it for me.

"I am NOT dream about angels!" Lucy said, "I choose my dreams!"

Training Day - day 2

We are almost at the end of Day 2 of our potty-training boot camp, and so far so good. Lucy has only had 1 accident today, and by the early evening she seemed to finally be getting the connection between feeling the need to go and going.

Yesterday, she was clearly afraid to poop on the potty and she was clearly holding it in for a while there. After I put her in a diaper for bedtime, she ran downstairs to kiss Chris goodnight. He became suspicious when she instead went behind the couch and he asked her what she was doing.

"I think I will make poopie now," she told him.

Today Chris brought home three very cute-looking chocolate candies, to be eaten only once Lucy made "poopie on the potty." Low and behold, about half an hour later, things began to (ahem) move forward.

Lucy was doing so well by this evening that I let her run around outside some and she stayed out there for a solid hour without any accidents! I am hoping that I will be able to relax my vigilance tomorrow (I have literally done nothing all day but track her around the house, and for most of the day we were spending 5 minutes out of every 10 in the bathroom.)

In just a few minutes I will begin the nightime routine, and as long as nothing disastrous happens I will declare this day a victory. I don't want to count my chickens before they are hatched, but so far this has been a relatively painless process. Don't get me wrong, I would still rather do almost anything else other than potty-train, but.... if we can continue on in this vein, it will be entirely liveable. I never thought I'd even be tempted to refer to potty-training in those terms.

We are potty-training today

Gah! I hate this. If I had known that raising children would include having to house-break them, I never would have....

Well, okay, I guess I did know. But if I am honest, my internal dialogue every time I discover that I am pregnant again goes something like this:

We are going to have a baby! Hooray! But, crap, that's one more time I'm going to have to potty-train.

Well, here we go again. Thus far today, Lucy is not taking this very seriously. She thinks it is kind of funny. I am increasingly of the opposite opinion. We'll see who wins this round.

Because I'm sure you're dying to know how potty-training is going

Much better! That one horrible day seemed to be what we needed to get on track. Abbie has been doing great since.

She did backtrack some yesterday (with very good reason), though, and we had a very busy day today so I've kept her in pull-ups all day. Hopefully we won't have lost too much ground when we go back to underwear tomorrow.

Abbie had her routine MRI yesterday, and we haven't heard anything yet, so that's a good sign. She did amazingly well keeping her pull-up dry - she even kept it dry through the sedation! (Although the required fasting was probably responsible for that. ) She stayed dry throughout her recovery and the entire drive home, as well, though. She was very loopy and couldn't keep her balance after the sedation (perfectly normal), however, so we just kept her in a pull-up and gave her the day off.

Here's hoping tomorrow goes smoothly!

Go figure

I gave up today around 3pm.

This was the third day of potty-training, and by far the worst. For the past two days, Abbie has had very few accidents, but I suspected that she was just holding it all in until the evening when we put her diaper back on. So I stopped at the store this morning and bought a mega-jug of apple juice, and a pack of fiber-laced Pediasure.

It worked. It worked on the carpet, on a blanket, all over several outfits, and on those foam child-chairs with the cloth that can't be removed.

Abbie told me that she didn't use the potty because she didn't want to stop playing. At least she recognizes the problem. My (usually tried and true) method is to go straight from diaper to underwear (so no pull-ups) and make the child clean the mess themselves when they have an accident. I sneak in my own cleaning, of course, but the kid is given some paper towels to soak up the water and a bucket and scrub brush. They usually decide that it is less work to use the potty like a civilized human being, but it isn't working this time because Abbie thinks that the clean-up is fun. Meanwhile, I feel like I've been swimming in urine all day.

So I gave up after accident #umpteenth and put her in a pull-up. Not ten minutes later she jumped up and ran into the bathroom, executing her duties like a pro. Her pull-up was bone-dry.

I need a drink. (And I do not mean applejuice!)

I haven't been posting because

We are potty-training.

Pray for us.

And please avoid the hall bathroom.