Toddler Tricks - 91: Story Time

Problem: Your child doesn't want to sit still long enough to take care of business in the bathroom. They'd rather play, or read, or watch TV, and they'll hold it. Bathroom time is a low, low priority. You don't want them in there stressed out or sad because then they'll associate negative feelings with the bathroom, but you have to get them in there somehow, and keep them in there until they go.



Solution: Make a fun activity specifically for bathroom time. For us, it's reading stories. Not actual books since I read them books all the time and I wouldn't want to limit out reading time to just on the potty. When I read them stories in the bathroom, it's more like, telling them stories. Anything they want to hear. They know if they're going pee, they can pick one story for me to tell. If they're going number two, they get two stories to pick. The not-going sister will usually sit next to me to get in on the story-telling action. They're favorite stories include The Three Little Pigs, The Little Red Hen, The Little Mermaid, Rapunzel, and Snow White. They can choose anything they like. Sometimes they'll even make me make up a story about Caillou.

When I was little, my parents used to do rhyming and counting games with me. Any activity you choose should work, so long as it's something your kids enjoy. It will take the boring edge off potty time.

Five Petty Things to Hate about Parenting

There are a lot of things to hate (and to love) about parenting. I could go on all day about giving up my independence, losing my freedom, hanging onto my identity with the skin of my teeth, but the important thing to remember is that these things are all passing. They are as fleeting, in fact, as the five things I'm about to list here...the five petty things I hate about parenting at this very moment.

5) I hate the neverending monologue, the only purpose of which is to build up to a tantrum. You know the one. Where they want you to repeat what they said back to them, and then do it, even if it's impossible. And if you don't respond, or respond in an undesirable way, the chant continues on and on and on. They're like Energizer bunnies. Until, finally, they, too, have have enough. Then they melt down. There is hardly ever a happy ending to this particular type of babble.

4) I hate begging them to eat. I know, I know, I'm supposed to put the food out and let them eat it if they want. But I just can't do that. I mean, I can, but it's almost as hard as begging them to eat. They're so skinny anyway, you see, and now that they talk well, they're always telling me, "I'm hungry, I'm hungry." I don't know what that could mean other than...I'm hungry, but apparently it means something else. Anyway, I hate the games we play, the stories we have to tell, the pleading to get them to take one more bite or just stay in their seats until their father and I are done eating.  Enough. Just eat, okay?

3) I hate the theme songs that constantly run through my head. When I get a moment alone, the last thing I want to find myself doing is humming along to "Dora, Dora, Dora the Explorer." My mind even makes up words to fill in the gaps. Like, I guarantee you the nexts line is not "Boots has super shoes so sayonara," but I put that in, every time. I want to sip my coffee in peace, thank you. At the very least, give me the latest Ke$ha bullcrap or something. But, no. It's always, "this is the song, la la la la, Elmo's World!" Argh! And how do I even know "Whoooo lives in a pineapple under the sea?" My kids don't even watch SpongeBob. Enough, brain, enough.

2) I hate never being able to consume anything at its intended temperature. I happen to like my coffee hot and my ice cream cold. I also enjoy sitting down to eat at a leisurely pace. I do not particularly care for standing in the corner of the kitchen in the dark, scarfing down a handful of sugary cereal so that the babies won't see me and complain about their cheerios. I also am not a fan of eating my dinner cold and alone after everyone else is finished because I had to stop a million times to redirect a child and remind her to put food in her mouth...oh, and then swallow that food.

And the number one thing I hate about parenting at this very moment:

1) The proximity of my face to poop at any given time. One of my daughters is having a bowel movement problem. Unlike baby poop, which I never thought smelled that bad, or even toddler diaper poop, in which my hands were doing the dirty work, but my face was still a good two feet away, a potty seems to exacerbate excrement smell by about 20 times. Seriously, how much stench can come out of one little thing? And it wasn't so bad when they were doing their business, and I was called in at the last minute for cleaning and disposing. But now, my poor daughter needs comfort on the potty. She needs to be hugged through it. She needs to put her little arms around my head and force it down toward her stomach so that my eyeballs and nostrils are mere inches (if that) away from the seat itself. I get a front row seat to the sounds, the smells and the movement of a long, hard pooping extravaganza.  If that isn't love, I don't know what is.

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We're All Stopped Up

One of my daughters hasn't pooped in two days.

I've been trying to think of an interesting blog topic for everyone today, and I can't because over and over in my mind I hear myself worrying. I hear the same sentence.

One of my daughters hasn't pooped in two days.

First, this can't be good for her little intestines. She's acting normal and happy, running around, playing, and yet, she must be full up.

I haven't changed her diet at all. I have no idea how this could have happened. Did she hold it because she didn't want to interrupt playing for potty time? Has her body chemistry changed so that her normal diet is insufficient in some way?

Before the stoppage, she was clearly having trouble for a few days but still going.

The doctor told me to give her Miralax. Great idea in theory. Have you ever tried to get a toddler to drink a chalky disgusting mix, though? We've not been incredibly successful with it over here.

The implications of this are dire. I assume I'll eventually fix the problem, so right now I'm not worried about her long-term health. I know a lot of toddlers go through this. My mother consolingly told me that I went through it as a toddler, too. Only, that wasn't consoling at all. This could set us back months in the almost completed potty training. This could put us back to square one only worse because she'll be fearful of pain while going.

My daughter has not pooped in two days.

If you need me, I'll be at the grocery store, stocking up on prunes.

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Potty Palindrome

Toddlers are gross. As parents, we tend to forget that this statement applies even to our little ones, especially if they have, thus far, avoided certain disgusting behaviors that we’ve heard others complain about. At least, I know I do. We say, “oh, you poor thing!” We think, my baby would never do something so base, thank goodness. But the joke is usually on us.

Yesterday, I heard my little angels waking from their nap in the late afternoon. I thought I had time to make a trip to the complex dumpster before rousing them completely. I was wrong. We’re in the middle of potty training, you see, and while I still put a diaper on them for naps and sleep, they now know that a diaper isn’t permanently attached to their bodies.

I walked into their bedroom. “Hi!” I was greeted. “Hug, hug! Up! Outside! MUAH!”

I walked out of their bedroom and took a few huge gulps of fresh air.

What had greeted me on the other side of that door was a monstrosity I wasn’t sure I had the heart to deal with. I opened the door again, with grim determination and not a little disgust pasted on my face. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. I certainly didn’t hug or kiss them. I looked at my two naked babes, hands caked, feet smooshed. I looked at the room itself, brown streaks on the cribs, on the pillows, on the carpet.

“No.”

“No, no. This is very bad. This is very very bad. No. Don’t move. Don’t move!”

In my misplaced pride, I’d thought this could never happen to me. Since most babies who are going to experiment with this usually do so at around a year of age, or 18 months at the latest, I thought my babies too high-brow for such shenanigans. At least by waiting until age two, they gave me the advantage of having children who can actually listen to the word no and the command, don’t move.

Okay, so how to clean this overwhelming stinky mess:

First, find the big piles of the culprit, pick them up and put them in a bag you can seal. I picked them up using the dirty diapers from which they had been tossed. Second, do a thorough search for laundry. Look at blankets, loveys, washcloths, sheets, toys - anything that you leave loose in the room is suspect. Put all of it in a pile on top of a clean blanket.

Next, soap up a rag and a small towel - really soap them up. Using the rag, scrub the carpet, walls, doors, changing tables, anything that may have been sullied, but be sure to remember where the offensive material was. This is a job that requires more than soap.

Now, turn to your twins (or singleton, as the case may be), and using the towel (a washcloth is too small, trust me) vigorously scrub them down from top to bottom. (If you have a baby younger than 2, you should do this step first. Mine were decidedly not moving at the time, and I wanted them to see the clean up. It wouldn’t behoove a baby to see such a clean up, and a baby wouldn’t know not to move and could further soil himself or put the stuff in his mouth. Clean babies are happy babies.) Remove everyone and every soiled thing from the room. Start a load of laundry; use bleach.

Get the tub ready, and toss in babies. Give a good scrub down and a good rinse. In my case, I left them naked (we live in Florida) and instructed them to sit on their potties. If you have a younger baby, or it’s cold where you live, suit them back up.

Now, turn your attention back to the room in question. Open the window and turn on the fan (if these are possibilities.) It is very important to disinfect the area. You can use hydrogen peroxide, or any cleaner with an enzyme. I further cleaned the carpet using Oxy-Clean.

I can’t tell you how to prevent this in the future. Some parents fully clothe their kids at all times, put footy sleepers on backwards, pin velcro diapers shut, or put socks on their babies’ hands.

I, of course, gave mine a stern talking to, and am taking no further action, still convinced that they will not do this again. How much do you want to bet that the joke, again, will be on me?

(A proud postscript: I was able to write this entire thing without using the word poop. Oh, shoot. There it is.)