Building a Log Cabin
Changing diapers can be a daunting task, not to mention a financial strain on the good ol’ wallet. So you can imagine how thrilled I was the day that Mason was fully potty trained. He was not even two, and ahead of the game. I rejoiced over the fact that I would not have to change a diaper again, until we were ready to have another baby. What I did not realize was that potty training came with a whole other set of issues.
[This is Mason just before turning two and just after being potty trained]
Let me begin by saying that my son has an impressive digestive track. He poops after almost every meal, which makes for a lot of butt wiping during the day. While this is wonderful for his metabolism, many problems arise when nature calls. No matter where we are, pooping becomes an emergency.
Sometimes I think my son saves his poop for when we are in public. It is as if the Bowel Fairy waves her magical poop wand the minute we step foot in a public establishment, and Mason begins screaming out, “Mama, I have to poop, RIGHT NOW!” Naturally, the question that always follows is, “Can you hold it?” And of course, you guessed it--the answer to this question is always an emphatic, “No!”
[Mason pooping in a restaurant bathroom while we were out to dinner]
In order for you to fully understand my distress you must know the type of pooper my son is. First, he likes his privacy. He hates being watched and always begs me to leave him alone. Of course if we were at home this would not be a problem, but while we are out, I can’t leave my three-year-old alone in the bathroom alone (Lord only knows what kind of shenanigans he could get into while I’m not watching). The only way for me to stay in the bathroom with him during this time is for me to “not to look (Oh, the things we do for our children).”
Second, he does not like to be rushed. Mason loves to sit and read, or sing, or chat with himself while on the John. It’s a relaxing time for him. A time where he can block out the stresses of the world and just be himself. Again, not a problem in the comforts of our own home, but when we are at a grocery store, on a time crunch with a hungry-breast fed baby in tow, this becomes hell on earth. If at any time during the pooping process Mason feels rushed, he will then get stage fright and we could spend anywhere from 10-20 extra minutes just waiting for his poops arrival.
Last, but not least, he is an independent pooper. He wants to do the whole shebang on his own, including wiping. This always results in a fiasco. Somehow he isn’t able to get the toilet paper just right in his little hand and manages to wipe his butt with a finger or two instead. I am always horrified by this and race quickly to the diaper bag for a wipe before he can touch anything in sight.
Now that you have the background on Mason’s bathroom style, I can now share his latest pooping emergency. Last week we went shopping at Trader Joe’s and Mason began farting. They were the nastiest, smelliest farts I had whiffed in quite sometime. I knew right then it was all over. Despite the fact that we had a full basket of groceries, I had timed Malia’s feeding perfectly, and we were nearing the check out line, I knew we were about to have yet another public pooping adventure. After pleading desperately with Mason to wait until we got home, he gave me a look of utter distress and I caved. I parked the cart, pulled Mason out, grabbed Malia’s car seat and headed to the back of the store to let him take care of business. A kind man held the door for me, looked me in the face and said with enthusiasm, “Good luck in there!” Thanks, jerk.
We entered the bathroom and Mason immediately asked for his privacy, and I obliged. There were a good five minutes that passed before Malia began frantically crying due to hunger. What was I to do? There we were in the tiny, one-stall bathroom in the grocery store stock room, my toddler pooping, and my infant starving. I had to make a decision, and fast. Knowing Mason, and his pooping style, I knew I really only had one choice. So, I took Malia out of her car seat sat my butt on the dirty floor and fed her in the newly scented bathroom. I briefly turned my head to check on Mason, as I could hear him pulling on the toilet paper roll quite a bit. What I discovered was that my boy had become distracted from the task at hand, and was now making a ninja bandana. I kid you not; I could not make this stuff up.
[Mason making his ninja mask on the toliet]
From start to finish this pooping excursion lasted twenty minutes. I was so glad to have finished nursing Malia in time so I could assist Mason in his butt wiping before things got out of control. We finished shopping and checked out without any more hiccups. Driving home I reflected on what had just happened and laughed when I thought about having my own reality TV show. I am sure a million viewers would have loved watching what had transpired. Overall I am grateful to have made it out alive, and will now pray nightly that girls are easier in the bathroom department than boys.
