All hail the nappy

This week Mr S did something for the first time. He told me he needed to poo, he then got to the potty and did the poo in time. He normally falls short and has already done it in his pull ups by the time he has told me and we’ve got his pants down. But not this day, this day he made it. My gosh was he proud of himself and I was proud of him.  He stood up cheering and dancing and I was cheering and dancing along with him.

Then came Mr S favourite part of potty training. Taking it to the toilet, tipping the number ones and number twos in and then flushing. I don’t know why he loves this so much, I imagine because he sees grown ups use a toilet so it makes him feel like a big boy. Once we had finished the dancing we turned to get the potty and do the toilet run.

What happened next happened in slow motion.  THE DOG ATE IT! Yes you read that correctly. George my cheeky ‘overweight’ Jack Russell ate the shit. He didn’t even chew. He clearly knew what he was doing was wrong and that if he got caught he would be told not to eat it, so as quickly as he could he practically inhaled a toddlers turd.

I spent the next hour reliving the traumatic experience and dry heaving. I also spent the next hour listening to Mr S throw a tantrum because ‘Gorge’, which is what he calls George the dog, had eaten his poo and he didn’t get to flush it.

Potty training is so bloody stressful.

If the poo eating incident wasn’t bad enough there was more

1. Chasing after a toddler, waving a potty like a mad woman because he has a log hanging out of his cheeks and in his words doesn’t want it out.
2. Having your little boy sat at the side of the toilet, sobbing, because you flushed his wee in the toilet and he wanted to keep it.
3. Your younger child celebrating his older brothers use of the potty by picking up the potty and drinking piss.
4. Your toddler carrying a piece of poo too you because it came out on the floor.

It’s ridiculous.  When you have a baby and you change that first overly gross mustard nappy with only teeny wool balls and warm water , you  think to yourself this is it. This is the worst it can be. It can’t get any worse than  this, and it doesn’t, it actually does get better. The poops start to solidify a bit, you even get the odd cheeky one wipe. Then it happens the health visitor/grandma/friend mentions potty training. You get a bit cocky, I can do this you think, how hard can it be you think. You buy a potty, storybooks about a little boy who craps in all the right places, you Google tips on potty training. You got this mama bear.

Then you start trying, you get pissed on in the first hour and there’s a poo in your shoe. throw away the books, delete your Internet history, it’s all garbage. The only tip when it comes to potty training, persevere, buy a couple of mop heads and start finding poo funny.

Good day to you.

Mama bear and the pot pot

Mr S is currently in the midst of potty trying. It’s so easy and I’m enjoying every minute of it....... if you haven’t already realised I’m being sarcastic. Potty training is hard for both me and Mr S. I’ve read blogs, books and forums but I’m still not very good at it. 

 

 I’ve tried several tips which haven’t worked and some which have. My greatest fail was when I bought a toilet seat potty thinking he could go straight on the toilet. Before it even had its debut performance Mr S got his head stuck in it. My dad had to wedge it off because I couldn’t move for laughing. My health visitor suggested I do a wee on his potty to demonstrate. Since I left my pride and sense of embarrassment in a delivery suite 2 years ago I gave it a go. Mr S looked at me like I was stupid and then ran away and peed on my rug.

The only positive too trying to teach, (or should I say force), my difficult little man to go number one and two on a small plastic bowl is it gives me some stories to tell and laugh about.

When we first started the process Mr S would start shouting pee pee, I would sit him on his potty and wait......and wait and wait. Nothing. He didn’t quite get the concept, he thought it was just an excuse to sit down and have everyone’s attention. Because of this experience I wasn’t paying that much attention when he told me he needed it anymore. Big mistake.

Mr S was saying poo poo. I carried on dressing Mr B in his pyjamas and off Mr S went. I thought nothing of it. When I had finished getting my youngest ready for bed I got the potty and headed to Mr S room. I found him inside his pop up tent looking at his picture book. “What you doing baby” I said as I popped my head into the tent. He looked at me and smiled, I was thinking how cute he was, then I saw it. The floor of the tent was showered with puddles of liquid poop. I stopped and simply starred for a minute, I had no idea how to even begin this clean up mission. I did what any good mother would do. I got Mr S out, told him it was OK and we would try the potty next time, I picked the tent up, ran straight to the wheelie bin outside and then ordered a new one online. No amount of cleaning could have saved that tent, trust me. 

So we’re now at a stage where he has done a few number twos on the pot pot and we’re trying to master the pee pee. He is finding this hard as he doesn’t seem to be able to judge when he needs it. A few nights ago the boys were playing after bath time while I got everyone’s p.js ready. Mr S looked so confused when he started weeing, Mr B looked even more confused, but then he was sat in the line of pee pee fire. I had to take my little pee stained chunk straight back to the bath. Poor kid.

It gets worse than this though, if that’s possible. A couple of nights ago Mr S finally did a wee on his potty, which would be great, except I didn’t know he had done a wee on his potty. Poor Mr B didn’t know either and must have thought it was just a large mug of apple juice, that’s the only explanation for why I caught him drinking it. I couldn’t do anything but shout for hubby. I was dry heaving and shouting, “do something with him, brush his teeth, I’m going to be sick”. Poor poor kid. 

I’m not too worried because I know Mr S will get there eventually and I just need to persevere and keep up the praise. I’m also not too worried that Mr B got peed on as I’m sure he will get his own back in a few months when it’s his turn to potty train. In the meantime, I will just have to keep up my stocks of carpet cleaner and mop heads.

Good day to you x

The 'gross day'

 Some people won't do anything gross in a day, some people don't do anything gross in a month. I am not 'some people'.

I am a mother of 2 boys under the age of 3 and an 8-year-old stepson. I have a husband who can't, (or wont) clean up after himself and I am also a doggy mama, doggy auntie and doggy sister. All 3 dogs are here this week as I'm dog sitting. Oh the joys. All of this information basically boils down to the fact that gross is a daily occurrence for me. However today has been renamed 'gross day', not very catchy but gets my point across.

It is now 1.40pm and I have already been forced into doing 9 gross things. That is, I believe a personal record, maybe even a world record, (I can't prove this I'm just guessing).


1. I took Mr S’s nappy off this morning and before I could get a fresh one on he bolted. He then proceeded to pee on the bathroom floor, cue me wiping up pee at 6.45am. Great start to 'gross day' I'm sure you'll agree.


2. Mr B had pooped, I say pooped it was more melted chocolate consistency, up his back and into his hair in his sleep. My second job of the day was cleaning him up and stripping his soiled bedding. I'm starting to think my hands will never be clean by this point.


3. I came downstairs singing "things can only get better". How wrong I was. As I said earlier we have 3 dogs in the house this week, who I'm sure are trying to out shit each other! I sorted the kid’s cereal then went out to clear up all this poo. That's when number 3 happened.  I stood in one......barefoot.

4. I proceeded to pick up the doggy presents with poop bags. My finger went threw one. I now know my hands will never be clean. I washed my hands with practically boiling water and as much soap as we had left, it wasn’t enough.


5. The next few hours went really well until I decided to restock the nappy bags, which hubby was last to use. I found one of Mr B's bottles, it had been used and still had remaining milk in. I'm sure I don't need to tell you it’s been warm.  I swear the milk inside was starting to grow and smelt like an unshowered armpit. I enjoyed cleaning that bottle.


6. Someone, I'm guessing Mr S, threw my toothbrush in the toilet. With the day I'm having fishing a toothbrush out of the toilet seemed not so bad to be honest.


7. Mr B woke up from his nap. Basically repeat step 2.

8. Our front door is self-locking, therefore when I take rubbish to the bins I take my key, just in case. Due to the heat and damp we have had recently our bin is like the new cool hangout for every fly in the Manchester area. Put this information together and what do you get. Me taking the rubbish out and dropping my key in the bin. Rummaging through that hot, fly ridden, stinky rubbish was the point I decided today would be known as 'gross day'


9. Last but not least Mr B sneezed in my mouth.


Ladies and gentlemen I give you 'gross day'. Enjoy I'm going for an extremely hot bath and a gin. Not necessarily in that order.
Good day to you x

LINKY'S