let the games begin!

Several months ago, I wrote that one of our children was struggling with bedwetting and I asked for recommendations on how we might curb this issue.  People came forth with all kinds of wonderful advice including the suggestion that we purchase a bedwetting alarm.

(Unfortunately, when I was trying to troubleshoot issues with my blog earlier this year, I deleted all of the comments so none of those excellent suggestions are visible anymore.)  

Since then, I've had several people ask me how things have been going.  And I haven't provided an update because the problem hasn't really been cured, despite our best efforts. 

The bedwetting alarm really seemed to work at first.  We bought a Rodger Clippo and it woke our sleeping child up with its vibrations and loud beeping noises.  So we followed the instructions as they were written and once our child was waking up before the alarm went off, we assumed we were done. 

But just about the time I was going to post an update, the bedwetting started again and we had to repeat the process from the beginning.  Over the past year, it has come to the point that our child is so desensitized to the alarm that whenever it goes off, they either sleep through it, or rip it off - throw it on the floor - and keep on sleeping. Or, they'll only partially wake up.  I've lost track of how many times I would hear stirring in the middle of the night, only to find my child peeing in a corner, closet, or on the side of their dresser.  

Charlie is a much more patient person than I am, and since he is the one that is home during the day, he is the one that carries the burden of doing laundry.  But last week, when Charlie was out of town in California for a week, that burden fell to me. And after the fourth straight day of changing sheets, I called the pediatrician and said, "I think we have a problem here. You need to either give them medication to make it stop, or you need to give me medication so I don't care anymore."

We set up an appointment and as luck would have it, our doctor is chief of staff for pediatric gastrointestinal disorders - something or other - for the northern hemisphere. 

Last week, when we first met, the doctor theorized that our child was constipated and the impaction in their bowels was putting pressure on their bladder, hence the reason they'd be springing leaks both day and night.  "This is a very common problem for children," the doctor assured us.  So she sent us in for an x-ray and the results indicated that our child wasn't just constipated, they were severely constipated. On the x-ray, it looked as though they've got poop coming up to their esophagus. 

This really surprised me because our children eat so much fiber in the form of fruit and bran, that I can't imagine how anything stays in?  When I asked our child if they go poop every day, they sheepishly shook their head and said no.  "So, when's the last time you went poop?" I asked.  My child tilted their head to the side and had to think for a few seconds before responding, "I can't really remember. Last weekend sometime?" 

Wh... WHAT?  

LAST WEEKEND?

But that's when our doctor told us that a lot of children in this age range, withhold their poop because either they don't want to go in a public place (i.e., school or camp) or they are too busy doing other things they don't want to take a REST in a ROOM that is specifically designed for such activities as voiding your body's waste byproducts. And then - because children fight the temptation so much, the rectum can become so dilated and swollen that nerve damage occurs and a child doesn't even sense that they have to go anymore.   

Today, we had a follow up appointment with the doctor and were started on a 3-day regiment that is effectively intended to pressure wash our child's colon.  There will be Fleet enemas, magnesium citrate, mineral oil and Miralax. Our child totally understands what is going on and is fully on board. And because Charlie is a great Dad, he's told our child that he, too, will be undergoing this colon blow exercise so our child isn't pooping up a storm - all alone.  Of course I'd like to join in too, but seeing as there are only three bathrooms in the house - I don't think it's a wise idea if all of them are occupied for the next three days. Which is highly likely, since according to the doctor, most people carry between 8-12 pounds of fecal matter.  

Tonight, when we poured out the first doses of medication, our child and my husband clutched their little cups of mineral oil and tapped the tops together to say, "Cheers!" Then my child yelled, "Fire in the anchor!" before they both downed their first cup with big smiles. 

(I think what they meant to say was either, "Fire in the hole!" or "Anchors aweigh!" but I got the gist.) 

The smiles didn't last long on either face. Something tells me they both thought the mineral oil would taste like peppermint candy or something delicious as opposed to something vile like ... mineral oil.  

So now ... we wait. 

Perhaps I should use this time to run out to the store and pick up some potpourri. 

this definitely comes from my side of the family

One of our children has been struggling with bedwetting.

I've heard that bedwetting beyond the age of seven can be linked to genetics. Charlie has no recollection of such events transpiring in his dry-bed free life, but I remember my brother bedwetting until he was nearly 12.  And I vividly recall soaking the bed when I was at least seven-years-old. On more than one occasion, I'd have this totally clear dream that I'd wake up, climb out of bed and go use the restroom. But once I'd start to "go" I'd realize that OOPS, I'm not actually in the restroom, I'm still in bed.

But that wouldn't stop me, because I'm mostly asleep and I've got a nice warm sensation surrounding me and it feels like I'm in a cozy bath. Ahhh. Except a few minutes later it wouldn't feel like a cozy bath. It would feel and smell like I fell in to a cold sewer. So, that's when I'd wake up crying and would try to peel my icky, stinky saturated pajamas off.

The difference between me and my child is that they don't wake up crying because they sleep right through it. When they do wake up the next day, they're always so discouraged and they'll apologize. "Mom, I'm really sorry. I wet my bed, again, last night."

We've implemented a lot of steps to try and prevent accidents. We try to limit fluids after 6PM. We wake them up at night, before we go to bed, and put them on the potty. We give tons of encouragement for nights that are accident free, and we give tons of encouragement for nights when accidents occur.

"It's not your fault. Your body is still growing and changing. You will outgrow this. Please, trust me."

Unfortunately, none of those things have really helped and the discouragement lingers. Although our child had protested the wearing of nighttime Pull-Ups (those are BABY diapers!), and we stopped using them for a stint, after changing bed sheets at least three times in a week, for four weeks straight, we offered them no choice in the matter.

They're certain they are the ONLY CHILD IN SCHOOL who has this issue. Which I've tried to reassure them, they're most definitely not. Then, I'll point to the child on the Pull-Up box who looks to be at least two or three years older than them.  But they're still not convinced.

"How do you know they're not an ACTOR?"  

They very well could be. But would it make you feel any better to know that your mom - a few of her sisters - and your grandmother cannot be trusted with a really funny story and no bathroom in sight?

So, I'm currently looking at other solutions (not including medication) that might help get them through this phase. I'd recently heard about bed alarms that can be used to help train a child to wake up as soon as "wetness" is detected on a sensor that is clipped to their undergarments.  But there are so many varieties on the market, I'm at a loss as to whether the ones that are priced twice as much - are really worth the additional expense?  Does anyone have any experience on this, they'd be willing to share?

Me and my little puddle prone pal would be most appreciative.

potty training the second ...er, fourth time around

Have I mentioned that Henry, who turned two-years-old less than a month ago, is now potty trained?

It's true.

Granted, he can't go to sleep without a diaper and if he is dressed in anything that resembles a onesie, he might have trouble. But if he is wearing clothes that he can easily pull off, he is a potty using SUPERSTAR.


Considering it took me over four years to obtain potty training success with the triplets, I am amazed at how fast my two-year-old has grasped the concept of voiding in a pot. Although I still believe that children will potty train when they are ready and not a moment before - as I'm watching Henry learn - I can't help but wonder if there was anything that I could have done differently with the triplets.

With the triplets, I think I missed out on their readiness cues, and hence, a window of opportunity. When the triplets were Henry's age, they were almost always dressed. I had so many reservations about having naked children running around. So, I would wrestle to put them in a diaper and a onesie, or thick cotton potty training underwear.

Or a costly swim diaper when they were in our own private backyard.

In hindsight, I think part of the reason toddlers are so keen on being naked is Mother Nature's way of helping nurture the potty training process. With Henry, I am much more willing to let him strip down to his birthday suit. Although I initially resisted having a naked toddler running around the house all day, I soon realized that when he was stark naked, he was consciously aware of his bodily functions.

Sure, I had to clean up the rug a few times, but very quickly, I noticed that Henry would run over and plant himself on his small potty seat. Now, whenever we are home, he is naked (by his choice) and he is consistently going both poop and pee in the potty, throughout the day.

All told, I would say that this entire process took less than a weekend to sink in. There was lots of praise. But there were no timers, no potty training books or videos, no reminders, no tears (mine or his), no flooding his little system with hydrating agents, no candy, no stickers, no rewards.

The most beautiful part of this whole experience, for me, is that whenever Henry does go in his little potty seat, his triplet siblings go crazy with excitement. Then, once Henry jumps up to see if he has left a deposit, one of his siblings will bring his potty seat in to the bathroom where they will dump the contents in to the toilet, rinse out the potty seat with water, and flush it all away while saying "BYE BYE PEE PEE!" or "BYE BYE POO POO!"

I'm hardly doing anything.

But this is my reward for struggling through potty training three children at the same time. It is my reward for chocolate syrup laced with laxatives. Enemas. And poetry.

Now that I have four children who know how to successfully use the toilet, my advice to those who are embarking on this milestone is simple: allow your child to run around naked.

And if all else fails, find a family with four-year-old triplets that your potty-trainee can understudy. (We are now accepting applications.)

the bad samaritan(s)

I took all four children in to a public restroom today.

Upon our entry, it was evident we were the only ones in there. Which is a good thing because I like having a public restroom all to myself. Or ourselves, as the case may be. But while we were in the stall - someone came in and took up the stall next to us.

And well.

They had gas.

A lot of gas.

If you haven't spent time around a four-year-old lately, you might not know they are extremely observant and they enjoy talking. A lot.

So there I am. With four little children. Three of whom are very loud talkers and they ask me in a startled tone, "What's THAT noise?!" Almost immediately, they realize what THAT noise is and they begin commenting on the person in the stall directly next to us.

"Mommy! Someone is going TOOT TOOT on the TOOT train!!"

Followed by the four-year-old symphony of, "Beans, beans, the magic fruit! The more you eat, the more you TOOT!"

Instead of shushing my children, which really wouldn't have had much effect, I did what any other horrified mother, born of the 70's might do. I burst in to singing some totally random Carpenters song as loudly as I could to try and drown out my offspring.

"SUCH A FEELING'S COMING OVER ME! THERE IS WONDER IN MOST EVERYTHING I SEE! NOT A CLOUD IN THE SKY GOT THE SUN IN MY EYE AND I WON'T BE SURPRISED IF IT'S A DREAM!"

I finish lifting three children on and off the toilet, while trying to keep the toddler from pulling used feminine products out of the small wall-mounted trashcan and we make, what I hope, is a very hasty exit to the sinks.

While I'm standing at the sinks desperately trying to wash my children's hands and thinking that perhaps a squirt of Purell might do the job just as well because I've never been in such a rush to get out of a public bathroom, the occupant of the adjacent stall joins us at the sink.

Now I will go to my grave wondering why this woman couldn't have waited 30 seconds for me and my brood of chatters to leave before she came out. But there she was. Next to us at the sinks. And while I expeditiously tried to get the excessive amount of soap off my children's hands that they had squirted up to their elbows, one of my children looked up at this woman and sweetly inquired if she felt better?

And gosh, what did she eat?

I know that our children will one day soon learn that talking about someone's flatulence in a public restroom is inappropriate. But I didn't feel it would be appropriate for me to give them that lesson - at that very moment in time. Just like I didn't feel like it would be appropriate to give a lecture on anatomy in the public restroom at Costco.

So, I just kept smiling and singing and trying to appear oblivious to the conversation taking place two feet below me. All the while my children looked up at me with confused expressions as I tried to encourage them to stop! talking! and! start! singing!

"I'M ON THE TOP OF THE WORLD LOOKING DOWN ON CREATION AND THE ONLY EXPLANATION I CAN FIND IS THE LOVE THAT I FOUND EVER SINCE YOU'VE BEEN AROUND, YOUR LOVE PUTS ME AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD!"

I'm hopeful that one day, I'll look back on this and think it's hilarious.

Today, I'm just really thankful that I'm so good at remembering song lyrics.

mommy needs prozac (seriously)

Let the record show I have tried quite a lot...
To teach our children to correctly poo in the pot.

Now I'm reverting to poetry and rhyming prose...
Can you feel the desperation - who out there knows?

I probably should not write all of this or put it in verse...
For soon my words will be the subject of an adolescent's curse.

But I am desperate and do not know what to do...
How to convince my child that the potty is where you go poo-poo?

I have tried stickers, presents, candy and gum...
I have tried timeouts, scolding and a spank on the bum.

I have tried time and patience, understanding and praise...
I even created a video montage that became an internet craze.

Then there were suppositories, laxatives and an enema one day...
Surely that would solve the problem, at least that's what the experts say.

I know that telling my children the police would take them away had to be a sin...
But I was feeling rather hopeless and thought I'd soon be in the loony bin.

Last week I thought we were in the homestretch - heading for the final mile...
When suddenly my child has regressed and is now peeing on the tile.

Calls were made to specialists, behavioral therapists and more...
This is primarily about helping our child - and secondarily, saving our floor.

Is this a crazy power struggle or developmental delay?
Is it physical or mental, or variable each day?

If this is four, my body shakes with fears...
For what lies ahead in the teenage years.

I know I need to give up control, so please help me Lord!
Because I am tired and frustrated and going completely out of my gourd.

Daily I repeat the Prayer of Jabez and ask God to please bless me indeed...
A divine guiding hand on my heart is what I really need.

I have fully surrendered and am now waving a white flag of defeat...
I have resigned myself to poopy diapers and have retired the enema Fleet.

The appointments aren't until next year, mid January I think...
But at this point, *I* am the one that really needs a shrink.

As tides rise and fall and the day is filled with the sun...

Potty training, no - being a good mother, is the toughest job I've ever done.

all aboard the poop express

When I brought Henry in for his one-year-checkup back in July, I had a long talk with our pediatrician regarding what to do with a child who refuses to go poop in the potty.

He told me what I already knew, which is that some children take longer to train than others. But if I was concerned, I should bring her in for an evaluation.

Which I did.

That was four months ago.

After his evaluation, he determined that this was a behavioral issue, not a medical issue and he suggested that I put her on the potty throughout the day and reinforce that this is where she needs to go.

When that didn't work, and after I had that one particularly regretful incident where I put her on the potty for four and a half hours one night (I really don't recommend that), I called our pediatrician and asked what other advice he might offer.

Maybe there was a pill I could take and I'd automatically wake up when it was over?

Unfortunately, no. But he suggested I contact a pediatric psychiatrist.

So I did.

Twice.

But they never called back. And maybe I should have just driven the one-hour north to the pediatric psychiatrist's office and stood outside of their door and demanded an appointment, but something told me that this was something that she would outgrow.

I just needed to give it more time and have more patience.

In the meantime, I talked with her teachers at school and told them the struggles that I was having and perhaps they could help to encourage her. And I talked to her at length about why she wouldn't go. And for that matter, why she wouldn't put forth the effort to get dressed by herself or buckle her own seat belt or a host of other things that her same-aged siblings were chomping at the bit to do on their own. And for all of these things and more, she would tell me, "I'm afraid!" or "I can't!"

So when I received a progress report from her swimming instructor that said "You need to have more self confidence and not be afraid because you can do anything you set your mind to!" it just reaffirmed that the challenges that I am facing on so many fronts are entirely psychological.

All the while, at night time, whenever we would put her in a Pull-Up before bed, she would poop. If not at night, than early in the morning before school. So I would give her a bag of wipes and she would go in to the bathroom, take off her Pull-Up and clean herself up. Because I told her that I wasn't going to do it anymore. And she was fine with that.

If it was only that easy, it would be one thing.

But it wasn't.

If she was a little younger and I could put her in a onesie or her pajamas on backwards, that would be another thing.

But she isn't.

And more times than I count, I have been faced with sheets, pillows, blankets and walls that have poop smeared on them. And the poop! The poop! The poop! was starting to drive me a little crazy, despite my best efforts and staying calm and practicing deep breathing.

So this past weekend, I decided to help her. Not by punishing her, but by showing her that she can go poop. On the potty. I was temporarily assuming control of a situation that had grown completely out of control. So I gave her the enema on Saturday and she has never pooped so much in her life.

And last night (two days later), I told her that I was going to give her another enema. But the words no sooner left my mouth and she RAN in to the bathroom and in less than a minute, created yet another poop masterpiece.

Everyone was so excited about the pooping and the peeing and how grown up they are, against my better judgment, I caved to the pressure of letting the four-year-old children in this house go to bed sans diapers, wearing only underwear beneath their PJ's.

And of course, despite placing three groggy children on the potty before I went to bed at 11:00 PM, I woke up at 3, 4 and 5 AM to three different children that were crying and crying and crying because they were WET! WET! WET!

Everyone was miserable. So I figure I'll put everyone back in Pull-Ups until they are at a point where they wake up at night to use the potty. Or, they wake up dry. Which ever comes first.

I suspect that by the time Henry is transitioning out of diapers, I will be an expert. But as for now, I am figuring it out as I go and washing an exorbitant amount of laundry in the process.

next time, it's charlie's turn

Tonight we went to Costco.

One minute we are having fun chattering in the freezer section, the next minute I am informed - very loudly - that one of our children needs to go poop. As in, NOW. THIS VERY SECOND.

Charlie has one cart loaded with groceries, I have the other, partially loaded with children and more groceries. Our eyes briefly connect while our child is dancing around our feet, clutching themselves and yelling, "I NEED TO GO POOP! I NEED TO GO POOP! I NEED TO GO POOP! POOP! POOP! POOP!!"

As our children are rapidly approaching the age of four, their language has become much more articulate than it was just a few short months ago. No longer are we the only ones to understand the words that they use. Now when they speak, anyone who has any grasp of the English language would know exactly what they are saying.

There's no covering this one up, so we do our best to ignore the fellow shoppers who have stopped their shopping and turned to stare. My husband actually attempted to feign oblivion to the situation and looks around, saying aloud to no one in particular, "Oh would you look at that! Raspberries are still in season and they're on SALE!"

Meanwhile, I abandon my cart and taking my child's hand, lead them to the restroom - all the while praying that they don't drop a load somewhere between the absolute back corner of the store and the very, very front. As we are walking away at a brisk clip, I notice that my other two three-year-old children are running behind me yelling, "I need to go POOP too, Mama!! Wait!! WAIT!! I GO POO POO TOO!!"

To all the people who had stopped to stare at us as we trotted along the 1,000-foot corridor from where we had been standing in the freezer section, to where we were going in the latrine section, I smiled and nodding my head to the back of the store declared, "There's a great deal on raspberries! They are on sale and going fast in produce!!"

We make it to the bathroom and there is a long wait. And while we wait my children are chanting in unison, "I need to go POOP. I need to go POOP." Which very soon causes a stir because in the land of three, when you have to go poop, only YOU have to go poop.

No one else dare lay claim to that bodily need.

Yet because more than one of my children purportedly needed to go poop, there was bickering, "You not need to go poop. I NEED TO GO POOP!" Followed by, "NO. YOU NOT POOP. I GO POOP!!"

And on.

And on.

And finally, after what seemed like 15 minutes, after much shushing and mouth covering, a stall opened up. One of the standard small stalls, not the over sized handicapped stall I had been hoping for. I ushered the kids in to the small space and then tried to corral them in the corner while I closed the door. They are trying to kick the trash can which is piled high with who knows what. They are trying to pull seat covers out. They are trying to flush the toilet. They are touching everything and attempting to squeeze in behind me and open the door.

"HOLD STILL!!" I bellow.

"PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR ELBOWS AND DO NOT MOVE!!"

I wipe off the seat and put a seat cover on before depositing the child who started the mad dash to the bathroom. Only to see that their request to use the bathroom came about ... uh ... five minutes too late. They finish what remains of their business while their siblings crowd around the back of the toilet and inquire, "You go POOP? Lemme see the poop. Where the poop?!"

I put the next child up. While they are trying to do their business, two other children are crowded around the back of the toilet inquiring "You go POOP? Lemme see, lemme see. Lemme see the POOP. OHHH!!! I SEE POOP!!!!" and then grabbing at their noses, "OH, it's STINKY!!!"

The second child is taken down and the third is put up. They don't have to go poop. They just like all the attention and fanfare, so they sit for a while, soaking up the excitement, reveling in the moment.

The third child comes off the potty and I decide that while I'm there, heck, I may as well go, too. As I'm preparing to sit down, one of my children kneels down in an area where only a three-year-old could fit and demands, "Hey, where's your PEANUT?"

My other two children stop talking long enough to hear me respond, "Girls don't have peanuts." Now although I believe it is important that children know the correct nomenclature for parts of their body, the public restroom at Costco is not necessarily the place I want to give the kids a lesson in anatomy. KWIM?

In that time that I was talking to the children, I noticed that the bathroom was eerily quiet. For a brief moment, I thought that maybe everyone had vacated and we were left alone in the restroom. But when I peeked out underneath the stall door, I could see that there were at least 20 pairs of shoes - standing in line - and the stalls on either side of me - were occupied.

Great.

One of my children saw me look under the stall and dropped to their knees to see what I was looking at. The other two children were attempting to cluster around the back of the toilet. "Mommy, you go poop? Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see. Do you go poo-poo, too MOM? Where's the poop? I don't see any poop? Mom, you go poop or you go pee-pee?"

I pulled the child off the ground who who was now attempting to crawl under the stall, and as they stood up, they exclaimed, "HEY MOM! You have a BIG bum!! Look at your big bum!! Turning around they pointed to themselves and continued, "I have a wittle bum!! See my wittle bum?! It's WITTLE!"

Chuckling I replied, "Yeah, but you know what? You have a BIG mouth!"

I'll be darned if everyone wasn't eavesdropping on us, because the whole restroom erupted in to laughter.

finding grace

Before they were born, while they were still fetuses entirely dependent upon my body, my daughters have had distinct personalities.

The baby that the doctors referred to as "baby C' was my smallest and the most active girl, flip flopping around and kicking her siblings on their heads with her tiny feet. "Baby B" was always larger and very rarely moved. She was content to lay still while her sister did tumbling passes in the adjacent placenta.

Yet while they were in utero, I had already determined what they would be named and had deciphered my daughter's personalities.

Baby C would have a bubbly demeanor. She would be constantly on the move, never content to sit still. She would smile at everyone she meets and be the life of the party. She would be the first to crawl, first to walk, first to do everything.

Baby B would be more laid back. She would be slower than her sister to do things. She would be more withdrawn and have reservations about every one that she meets. If there was a party raging poolside, she would be more content to stay at home with me.

When our children were born, it really surprised me that "baby B" was the smallest of the trio.


It surprised me that she was so active, even as a 3-pound preemie, whereas baby C, the baby that I thought would be so active, was perfectly content to sleep.


I thought for sure it would have been the other way around.

The notable difference in their size and personalities continued to puzzle me as we brought our children home from the hospital. Baby B - Elizabeth Jeanne - would hardly eat and squirm constantly; whereas Baby C - Carolyn Grace - would polish off all of her bottles and sleep soundly.

Several months after they were born, when we were comparing their growth charts, Charlie and I confirmed, without a doubt, that our girls had been switched at birth.

The baby that in utero, we knew as baby C - the smallest and most active of the trio - was born immediately after her brother. Once we discovered that they had been mixed up, I realized that the predictions I had made about my daughter's personalities while they were in my womb, could not have been more accurate.

Elizabeth is a social butterfly and it downright scares me how she will talk to anyone. As she was active on the inside, she is active on the outside. This child never stops moving. She rarely eats, and yet is a ball of energy. She has a gentle demeanor and adores her baby brother. She was the first to crawl, first to walk and first to potty train. I think that if William had not been blocking her exit, she would have been the first to be born.

Carolyn is very shy and withdrawn. She is extremely cautious and will not approach any one that she doesn't know. Whenever we go out, she will stay by my side, and frequently, hang off my leg. She is jealous of her baby brother and will snatch toys away from him. Where her sister will eat two bites and ask to be excused from the table, Carolyn will sit and eat every last morsel on her plate ... before asking if she can have what her sister didn't finish. She is four-inches taller than Elizabeth and 12 pounds heavier. She was the last to crawl, last to walk, and still shows no interest in being "fully" potty-trained.

That last issue, the issue of potty training, has been very difficult for me. Almost as difficult as the way she hides under my shirt in public and knocks her baby brother down whenever he comes near.

Because Carolyn has been so adamantly opposed to going poop in the potty, her refusal is beginning to negatively affect my attitude towards her. I simply don't have the same level of patience or compassion that I once had, and I find myself saying and thinking things that are less than kind.

I am frustrated beyond belief.

Now if someone were to tell me about their stubborn child who refuses to potty train, I would tell them to relax. I would say that it will happen when it happens and until then *shrug* there's not much you're going to do about it.

But when I've got two other children, the exact same age, that have been potty trained for several months ... and one that is going through a regression of monumental proportions ... it's difficult to stay level headed. It's difficult to not want to pick your child up and compress their belly like a tube of frosting - squeezing that poop clean out.

Six people have now told me that the key to having a stubborn child have a successful evacuation on the toilet, is to put the child on the potty and keep them there until they poop.

I tried that once before and after a solid two hours and a tiny poop, I hadn't done it again. And since I've got so many activities happening on any given day and I'm often managing my time in mere seconds, I don't want to sit around waiting for hours and hours for a child to defecate.

But one day last week, I was at my wits end.

So on Wednesday night - and again Thursday night - I sat my daughter on the toilet.

The first night it took an hour. The second night it took four and a half hours. I suspected that Child Psychologists the world over would tell me that this approach is WRONG. I suspected that my callousness in ignoring my little girl's pleas of "I'm tired!!" would land her in therapy. I suspected that the vast majority of the civilized population would say that this is a cruel thing to do to a child.

But, there I was.

She was doing this holding-of-the-poop thing to spite me and I was NOT going to lose. It was a war of wills and I would triumph. The poop that had been daylighting since earlier that morning, was no longer longer poop, it was sh*t, and I was tired of cleaning it out of underwear, seeing it, smelling it, and otherwise thinking about it.

I was determined that it was coming out in the pot.

Not in a diaper.

Not in underwear.

Not in pieces on her hand - which she might then wipe on our linen shower curtain.

Thursday night, I put her on the potty at 8:00 PM. Four and a half hours later at 12:30 AM, my daughter finally did go poop. It came out once she fell asleep.

All weekend I was upset over my actions on Thursday night.

I was upset that I would force my little girl to sit on a potty to go poop, when it was clear that she absolutely did not want to. I was upset that I would tell her the next time I see her knock her baby brother down - or hit him with a block - I was going to do the same thing, to her. I was upset that I have been so disappointed with her in almost everything that she does.

I was upset that I had less than favorable feelings about my daughter as a manifestation of the frustration that she was not doing this one thing that I really wanted her to do.

When our daughters were born, it didn't matter to me who was named what. But I find it interesting that the child that I always thought would be Carolyn Grace, my baby C, is in fact baby B.

After some soul searching this weekend, I'm certain that it was no mix-up that my daughters were born when they were. I have decided that it was a case of divine intervention that my girls came out when they did. Because if Carolyn was born when she was "supposed" to be born, she would have been named Elizabeth Jeanne. But because their names had been picked out well in advance of their birth, the angels on high must have known that the child that would really need her mother's grace, was baby B.

My Gracie.

I have decided that instead of being frustrated with her, I must shower her with love. I must spend more one-on-one time with her and not completely lose my cool whenever she does something that I think she knows is wrong.

Above all, I must show her grace.

I have also decided (again) that pooping in the potty isn't going to happen until Gracie decides that it should happen. I can only hope that it will happen before I am eligible for the AARP. Until then, I am putting her in diapers - all day every day - because she and I have both cleaned enough poop out of underwear to last a lifetime.

all I need is a larger dog door

I noticed that our children have been squatting down and peeing whenever they go in the back yard. When I saw them doing this yesterday, I asked why they weren't using the potty chair that I had put outside. All three of them started bouncing around, barking and excitedly exclaimed "Cuz' we are DOGS!"

Because I think quick on my feet, I told them that if they were dogs, maybe they'd like to eat dog food for dinner. Surely, they would take one bite of Molly's lamb and rice formula and decide that no, maybe being a dog wasn't a good idea, after all.

Of course they loved the sound of this. And as it would turn out, they loved the taste of kibble. Now, that's all they want to eat. For breakfast, lunch and dinner I hear, "Mommy, can we have DOG FOOD?!"


Because the potty training isn't going too well for one of the trio, I took someone's advice from a few months ago and recently handed my child a packet of wipes to clean up their own poopy bottom, after they went in their diaper. I thought that they would be dismayed at the thought of cleaning up their own mess, but alas, they enjoyed it.

So, I took someone else's advice and told my child that the next time they went poop in their diaper, I was putting them in a cold shower. I didn't believe that I could actually do this, I mean, it seems so cruel. But when I was awoken early in the morning one day last week, by my daughter who was laughing about the HUGE poop that she'd just made, I caught a glimpse of my desperate and frustrated self in the mirror with crazy hair and crazy eyes and was a little surprised that I was beyond excited about creating serious discomfort for my offspring.

Turns out, she loved the cold shower and has been asking to take one every day, since.

I've since decided that my life would be a whole lot easier if I just left out a big bowl of kibble and let them do their business in the yard.

progress report: potty training

We have had another regression in the potty training arena.

The same day that Elizabeth was reunited with her princess bike, William started pooping in his diaper at nap time. This, from the child that was showing his sister how it should be done. I was completely befuddled with his setback and asked "Why William? WHY?!"

His response - the response that I hear to almost EVERY question that I ask these days?

"I dunno."

After cleaning up dirty diapers from both Carolyn and William for the past week, I started to go batty. These kids no longer fit on the changing table and it feels like I am cleaning the bum of a grown person, not a baby, whenever they come running out of their rooms after a nap with a full diaper and stench that makes me positively weak.

So, yesterday during our walk, we saw a police man that was responding to an alarm that went off in someone's house. Because our children are very excited about any one in public service that wears a uniform - he stopped to talk with us and when I asked if the reason he was in our neighborhood was to tell our children that they need to go poop in the potty he laughed and said "YES! That's exactly why I'm here!"

While the kids looked at him with eyes like saucers and their mouths wide open, the police man kneeled down at their level and said "It's very important that you go pee and poo on the toilet. The big toilet, the one that flushes!"

How about that?

The poop police.

They really do exist.

But less than an hour later, just before their nap, two of the trio went poop in their diapers. So, I did what any loving parent would do. I told them that I was going to call the policeman and he was going to come back to our house and take them to jail.

Now, the only reason I said such a terrible thing to my three-year-old children is because a little bird told me that I'm on track to win "Mother Of The Year" and I really don't want that prestigious award. Where would it go in this small house?

Truly, I have no place on the wall to hang it.

the student becomes the teacher

William has definitely got the hang of how to use the potty. Even the three month poop strike has been resolved. He will poop at least once every day. Sometimes two or three times, just because it's so much fun.

One if his sisters, however, is not yet prepared to go poop on the potty. Whenever she wakes up for the day - or from her nap - it is guaranteed that I will have a dirty diaper to change. Even though I ask her before she goes to sleep to "just try" and even though I run in and whisk her out of bed as soon as I hear her start to stir.

Yesterday morning, after I changed a particularly messy diaper, I suggested that maybe William could better help her understand how to use the potty.

Without hesitation, he jumped down from his seat at the table where he was eating breakfast, ran to his potty chair, dropped his britches, plopped himself down and after a few quiet moments, hopped up and pointed to his masterpiece. He summoned his sister over and said "LOOK! See, right there? That's poop. Poop goes IN potty, NOT in you diaper." And then to further illustrate, he turned around, pointed to his backside and said "No mess. I nice and clean. Oh, it feel good!"

Meanwhile, I was laughing so hard I nearly choked on my scrambled eggs.

mark this date

As of 2:00 PM, Pacific Standard Time, on this date, Wednesday, February thirteenth, In the Year of Our Lord two thousand and eight ... the only dirty diapers I have yet to change belong to my seven-month-old son, Henry.

After the little "talk" that Charlie had with William last week, he has been using the potty almost exclusively. Not only is he using the potty during the day, he has been waking up dry whenever he goes to sleep. Minus the small set back we had yesterday when he thought that he was making beautiful music - and instead was making the largest underwear disaster I've ever seen, he's done an exemplary job.

Elizabeth, seeing the praise that her brother has been receiving, has decided that maybe gracing the potty with her poop isn't such a bad idea. And Carolyn, who has never once gone poop in the potty, went poop on the potty just today.

And then Elizabeth, who loves praise, climbed up and went poop again.

And then William, who also loves praise, climbed up and went poop again.

And then Elizabeth, who clearly loves praise the most, climbed up and went poop for the third time in 30 minutes while I stood by wondering how in the world a child that weighs so little can poop so much.

Now that my three-year-old children appear to be using the potty successfully, the only obstacle is how to get the girls to sit down when they need to go. Since William has embraced standing up and likes to pretend he is putting out a fire, the girls are trying to figure out how they, too, can stand up and pee. After catching them standing on top of the toilet seat and trying to *aim*, they aren't yet convinced that this elimination stance is limited to boys.

Meanwhile, the time I'm saving from changing diapers, will undoubtedly be spent cleaning the bathrooms.

an amazing trip trick: poop goes in the potty

I hesitate posting this as an amazing trip trick because although I might have one of my children completely potty trained during the day, and one of my children completely pee-pee potty trained during the day, I still have one child that will only poop in diapers and one child that doesn't care what they poop in or on, so long as it isn't a toilet.

Even though I may not be the most knowledgeable person about potty training a child ... I believe it is important to share the wisdom that I have gained thus far in the toilet training arena. So without further delay, pull up a chair, potty or other, and let's discuss.

First, children will not potty train until they are ready, even if you do pump them full of fluids and leave them pantless. Try as you might, potty training is all about control. They have the control. You do not. You know that saying "You can lead a horse to water..."? Same concept applies here. The sooner you come to terms with this simple fact - the easier it will be for everyone involved and the cleaner your floors will be.

Second, rewards may or may not work. One of our three-year old children is completely "day" potty trained. As a result of her potty training prowess, she has received a pair of princess shoes and a two-wheeled princess bicycle. She also receives a standing ovation and much hoopla every time she goes. Even though our other two three-year old children would love nothing more than fancy new shoes and a two-wheeled bicycle and exhausting praise, and they know what they need to do to get such favors, they are not willing to bid their diapers adieu. This is their choice. They and they alone, are in control. Refer to #1, above.

Third, the effect of peer pressure on potty training is overrated. People have long told me that once one of our children is potty trained, the other two will follow closely behind. Maybe I'm confused on what the term "closely behind" means, because after three months, I would think any kind of peer pressure would have been exerted by now.

Fourth, just because our children see how we - or small visitors to our home that do not mind having observers in the restroom - use the toilet, does not mean that they will want to hop up and try going themselves. Regardless of how much I plead with them to just try and hit the Cheerio.

Fifth, I'm not entirely convinced on the benefit of Pull-Ups or Easy-Ups or anything that remotely resembles the cross between diaper and underwear. The only reason that we use them is because sometimes, I find that they are easier to deal with when we are on the go. We have one child that will hold their poop until they are in a diaper. We have another child that will come up - holding a clean diaper and wipes - and instruct me to change them before laying down on the floor and sticking their feet straight up in the air. Both of these children are fully capable of going to the potty and have done so at some point in the past. But both of these children, if pressed, will go in their underwear and not mind in the least. When your child is ready to go potty, they will be terribly dismayed if they have to go in anything other than a toilet. At least if they are a girl. By the name of Elizabeth.

Sixth, a good potty training chair is a necessity and more than one potty chair is necessary if you have multiples. Fortunately, I only purchased one type before realizing that it was the wrong type and the best type is the kind that has little to no parts. I now have a fleet of Baby Bjorn potty chairs. I also have a smaller low-profile Baby Bjorn potty chair that I take with me in the car and on walks. The reason I love these potty chairs is because they consist of a small pot that is easily removed and (this is the most important part) easily cleaned. Now, if someone writes to tell me that the Fisher Price variety with the faux roll of toilet paper, lid, music box and flushing sounds actually worked for potty training their head strong child - I will eat my words, before rushing out to the store to purchase one. Until then, I'll also mention that from the research I've done, it appears that Once Upon A Potty also makes a chair that meets my stringent criteria for minimal parts.

Seventh, once you are feeling courageous enough to venture out of the house with your potty trainee ... make sure that you have a clean change of clothes with you. Also, try not to forget that you have a potty trainee in tow. I have been known to forget and am reminded only when a child with dripping wet pants comes up calling me Mommy. I try to encourage our children to use the potty before we leave the house - once we arrive at our destination - while we are at our destination - and before we leave for the car ride home. I also have with me a small foldable potty seat that I keep in my diaper bag that works great for public restrooms. After 36 years on this planet, I am convinced that there are few things in this world more horrifying than watching your youngster collapse bum first in to a public toilet.

Eighth, there are a lot of good books on the subject of potty training. I'm fairly certain we own them all. The favorites in our library include:

A Potty For Me!

Once Upon A Potty Note: we have both the Prudence & Joshua versions AND the movie.

It's Potty Time

Zoo Poo

Everyone Poops

Where's the Poop?

Ninth, relax. Even though I have a platoon in diapers and spend a small fortune every month, I know it won't be like this forever. Although, recently one of my children has told me that they love their diapers and plan on wearing them "Ahways." Of course this is the same child that was the very first to use our new potty chairs - but hasn't gone since - and nowadays, won't go poop without a fight. I've let go of the belief that potty training for all of my 3-year olds is going to happen in one day. Or over a weekend. This is a process and if anyone tries to tell you differently, just nod your head and smile. Remember that many children aren't completely potty trained until they are 3.5 or 4.

Tenth, as much as possible - keep it fun and try not to get frustrated. A few months ago, a woman named Allison sent me a song by the band Over the Rhine. (Hi Allison, if you're reading. I hope your pregnancy is going well!!) In my attempt to make using the potty an event that our children should excitedly embrace, and also to remind them where their poop should go, I set OTR's song to a few of our pictures that I show to our children frequently. Make sure your volume is up.



Now, I'm off to buy more diapers. Because even though our children know where the poop is supposed to go, not everyone is entirely convinced they want it there.

he's full of ... well, you know

We're going on day ... 40 maybe? ... of a poop strike.

Our eldest has decided that he isn't going to go poop. At least not without a fight. The expression that crosses his face several times a day might lead one to believe that he is creating a huge poop masterpiece. But upon examination of his diaper, all that is visible is a small skid mark. Evidence that the poop daylighted, but only for a moment before being violently withdrawn in to the bowels of my child.

This morning, after watching him struggle after eating a huge breakfast, Charlie plopped him on the potty despite his desperate cries. Five minutes later, the prize was a poop no larger than a quarter. Since that time, I've watched him stand in the corner in apparent distress, on his tippy toes, with a bright red face and a blanket shoved in his mouth.

He will vehemently tell me, "I NOT GO POO-POO!" And he means it. It's his choice alone to refuse the poop and he will exercise that right.

Usually he's got control. Until he is standing in our bath tub and the diaper that catches the poop before it rebounds, is absent. Or, there is so much mass that has accumulated he doesn't have the capacity to store it all. But he sure does try. Doctor Arnold Kegel himself would be impressed.

Little does he know, the spoonful of Hershey's chocolate syrup he just ingested was 75% laxative. I plan to continue this regiment until he realizes that his resistance to poop is futile.

Because although he may not give a sh*t about how pooping is a good thing and will improve his life considerably, I do. I'm his mom. And I care. But mostly, I'm tired of looking at him grunt and groan.

the potty training shuffle

Shuffling around the entire house this way is cute ...

But only if you are three.

potty training boot camp

Potty training boot camp (PTBC) started last weekend.

We went cold-turkey on diapers. Essentially, putting them completely away except for when the children took a nap or went to bed for the night.

Very soon - pretty much immediately - we could see that potty training our trio, with the possible exception of Elizabeth, was going to be no easy task. I suspected that there were going to be problems when after pumping fluids in to them for an entire morning ... they would throw a fit if I so much as suggested they sit down on the potty for a few minutes.

There have been a load (no pun intended) of people tell me that they had their child potty trained over the course of a weekend. Other people have told me that one day, their little child no longer wanted to wear diapers - and that was that.

Since potty training wasn't entirely successful during the time my mother was here, and since none of our children have come out and told me that they are ready to bid farewell to their diapers ... I thought I'd give it a little more time.

Because I've heard that (most) children will embrace potty training at around three years old (which we almost are), I had really high expectations that our trio would be through with diapers - once we went cold turkey - in a matter of hours. That was before I fully understood the attachment that our children have to their Pampers.

Although there was once a time that our children's digestive systems were totally synchronized and they would all have dirty diapers at about the same time every day - in the past year, that synchronization has gone the way of the Dodo bird.

It always seems to happen that someone will have a dirty diaper during our morning walk to the park. And then, I would just be ready to load them in to the car and drive somewhere, when I would notice that someone else had a dirty diaper. And then, just as soon as I'd put them to bed for the night someone else would need to be changed. So instead of having three dirty diapers once a day - it seems like they are scattered throughout the day.

I am constantly changing diapers.

CONSTANTLY.

However, since we've started PTBC, all three of them will go at precisely the same time. Because, as it turns out, they're holding on until I put them in a diaper for bed. And then, they have the audacity to lie about it.

When I ask them "Did you go poo-poo in your diaper?" They'll shake their head vehemently and point to everyone else in the room. They'll thoroughly deny that they dirtied their diaper, even though visible fumes are emanating from their back side. These children are oh, so smart. They might have some people fooled in to believing that they are totally naive, but NOT ME.

They know darn well when they need to go, when they are going, and where they went.

As for yours truly, ever since PTBC has begun, it's a guessing game once I see dripping underwear to figure out where and when they went. Usually, I find the spot once I start slipping across the floor. It's a darn good thing we no longer have carpeting because I would have ditched this whole potty training effort the day it began.

But I am steadfast and determined.

Which is another way of saying stupidly stubborn.

Yesterday, while Charlie was at home sick in bed battling a fierce head cold, I loaded up all four children and took them to out. The purpose of the outing was to purchase a third, matching potty chair ... because although we had three potty chairs ... they weren't all exactly the same ... and unbeknownest to me it is impossible to sit on a chair that is not completely white with a little bear on the front.

I also purchased a much smaller, completely white potty chair with a little bear on the front, to put in our car so I would always have one available.

Assuming we ever get to that point where our children go in a potty.

We then headed over to another store where I purchased $56.00 worth of character underwear. My logic is that if the children had some say in their underwear selection, and if they had a specific character that they like all over them, they would be less likely to get them dirty.

So, with these goals in mind, and with mounting desperation for the sake of our new hardwood floors, I took all four children shopping.

Although I remembered to grab my camera, I completely forgot to grab the straps for the safety harnesses. In case you didn't know, safety harnesses do absolutely NO good without a strap attached.

It's like trying to fly a kite without a string.

Or, being 20 feet underwater and having a scuba tank without a regulator.

But I had my camera. How's that for priorities?? Don't think for a minute I don't care about you people in blog world.

Once William picked out his Shrek underwear ... Elizabeth had her Dory & Nemo underwear ... and Carolyn had her princess underwear - they all were so, so very happy. They told me over and over and over again just how happy they were. We weren't in the house for two minutes, and they were trying to pull their new underwear up and over the clothes that they had on.

When I asked them if they would keep their new underwear clean and dry, they all nodded in agreement. Of course they would!! How could they possibly dirty their favorite character?!

That would be sacrilege!!

But apparently, it is acceptable to pee all over the floor and then deny that the puddle they are stomping around in, came from them. Or their sibling.

William repeatedly told me "No poo poo on da ogre!" So I'm guessing one of two things are going to happen. Either the kids will embrace their new potties and learn to "let go" in a parental approved location ... or, they'll hold it from the time they wake up until the time they go back to sleep.

I think the fact that I took all four of the children to two separate stores by myself to get the proper equipment, shows just how desperate I am for this to be a success. With one week of PTBC behind us, the one piece of equipment I really could have used is a pair of boots with no-slip soles for myself.