One Step Forward, Poo Steps Back

Warning: This post is not for the weak hearted.

It is important that you understand that I hate everything and anything that resembles bathroom humor or bodily functions.  I don't talk about it, I don't want to hear about it.  But unfortunately I have found the past two nights have had highs and lows all surrounding one thing: poo.

First, I want to start on a very high note.  Although Rocky is not quite two, he is very verbal about his potty habits.  The books always say that if your child can tell you that he is poopy, etc., then he is ready to potty train.  Well I've found that to be a bit of crap (pardon the pun).  Max never told us anything and he potty trained just fine.  And it was fine with me because I really didn't want to talk about his potty needs.  I don't want to hear about size, shape, smell.  Peter, well, he is more than willing to discuss these details with Max.  I typically leave the room.  Anyway, last night Rocco looked at us and said "I poop on potty!" and then ran for the bathroom.  We obliged and took off his diaper and put him on the potty.  And sure enough, he actually pooped.  Despite my aversion to bathroom stuff, I did a full dance with clapping.  Everyone was singing, I texted the world and called my parents. I was so happy about this first positive potty experience for Roc.  It literally made my night.

So tonight we are still riding the potty high, but have heard nothing from Rock about needing to use the potty.  No matter, I was happy that it happened once - obviously my child is gifted, which I have always known.  Peter and I were busy - very busy - in the kitchen doing important parent things like talking to Pete's mom on the phone and doing dishes.  This is a crucial detail so you don't think we are just lazy parents that let our kids run amuck.  Max hollers out "I think someone has a poopy diaper in here."  I go to inspect and something definitely is not right.  I look over and there on the floor is poo.  And more poo.  I look over at Rocco, who of course has it all over his hands, just in time to see he has developed an itch on his nose.  And he of course scratches - I'm not going to give you the graphic details because 1) I don't like talking about this stuff and 2) I've already said too much.

It's funny that in a moment of poo crisis, while Pete and I are looking frantically around, waiting for people in hazmat suits to come sweeping in, Max only looked up briefly from his dsi to survey the scene and kept on playing.  Long story short, it took two of us to wipe the exterior poo issues enough to take care of the interior poo issues and Rocco ended up in the bathtub with a strong warning that poo is never a toy. 

And as I sit here typing, still recovering from this traumatic night, it is not lost on me that poo brought me total elation last night and complete panic tonight.  And Rocco has found two "fun" ways to get attention.  Let's hope from now on he chooses the former rather than the latter.  But knowing him and his little personality, I'm just going to be grateful for the nights that I don't find a bathroom in the living room.  And I'm going to keep the box of wet wipes within an arm's reach at all times.