Tag Archives: potty training

Pooping for Prizes


Destroy wouldn’t poop in the potty. We were pretty sure it wasn’t a gastrointestinal issue. So by the time we’d reached the dosage of two full adult servings of Miralax per day, it was time to take a stand.

There is no doubt my son is stubborn beyond his years. But so is his mother – who also boasts 30 years additional practice in the art.

The decision was made to keep the boy home from school. He would stay home and experience the full effects of Miralax. There would be no TV, no park dates, no fun – not until poop plopped into the potty.

Being 4, he fought against physics. He would not poop. Would. Not. Poop. It was then that Jon and I learned Destroy’s issues were purely a control issue. He would hold it, hold it, then hold it some more. Ultimately it would no longer be a decision (two adult doses of stool-softening powder will do that to a 38-pounder) and the Pompeii of poops would rock the afternoon.


The weekend arrived. I told Search to get ready to go. One of his preschool girlfriends was having a birthday party. I don’t think Destroy actually thought we’d leave him behind.

We did.

Search and I had a blast.

There was a pony.

There was a pony.

We decided to continue our one-on-one date – Search needed new shoes, so we headed to the mall where the ever-growing little man picked out light up Spiderman shoes. We then decided to stop by the Disney Store.

(Yes, I’m a horrible mother who was trying to play brothers against one another.)

Search got a new toy train. “Mommy, I think Destroy needs a helicopter.” (Cue being shamed by my 4-year-old. He is a better person than I.)

He is also smarter than me. Within in minutes of walking in the door, his brother high on the rush of birthday cake and pony boasts, Destroy announced, “I don’t poop in my pants now. I poop in the potty and I need my helicopter.”

Two days later we were still accident free! Prizes and celebrations abounded.

Four days later we were still accident free.

GrammaJ: Did he poop today?
Me: No.
GrammaJ: He pooped his pants?
Me: No.
GrammaJ: So he’s still using the potty?
Me: No.

On the fifth day we experienced a full-blown proper muppet meltdown. He’d been ornery all day at school, even starting a few fights. I wasn’t surprised. His tummy probably hurt. I strongly encouraged him to spend some time on the potty.

This was not a well-received statement.

As he flailed about, crocodile tears flowing, fists clenched, feet stomping, he finally shouted a semi-coherent statement.


(This kid was so full of shit.)

Alas, due to his behavior, there was no consumption of cookies that evening.

Morning didn’t go any better. However, during the fight to clothe the kid, he discovered swim goggles purchased for our upcoming beach trip. These were much more exciting than the prospect of pants.

“Poop first,” I demanded through clenched teeth.

Destroy decided he wanted those goggles. Bowels were cleared. We were creating a monster. He needs a bribe to poop every time?

It was a reversal of monkey’s flinging poo. Instead he apparently planned to hold it until Mom broke down and made with the bribe. But then again, we were saving a lot of money on the underwear that we no longer threw away daily…

Apparently he didn’t get it all out with that morning bribe though. When I picked him up, he’d started poop #2 in his pants and was trying to convince his teacher he still deserved a prize from the poop chest. (This is a thing.)

He didn’t get a prize. He wouldn’t be allowed to watch his coveted Disney Jr. Octonauts. And he didn’t take his nap; he’d participated in a preschool dance party instead. Because his tummy hurt, he refused to eat his snack.

All effects combined, my constipated hypoglycemic kid was about to stage the prequel to the hunger games. MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN MY FAVOR.

Just before bath time, I heard a blood curdling banshee wail. “I got all wet!” (This was problematic since we hadn’t yet started bath.)

He’d raced to the bathroom to pee. Then decided he needed to poop. He spun around to sit his little tushy down.

He fell into the potty.

But he pooped!

I think I won.


Incident at the Park


The sultry siren song of a summertime weekend made me do it. It was 5 p.m. on Friday night and still 80 degrees out. Music in the Park was calling our name. It was the perfect recipe for an evening out – we’d hit up the local sandwich shop and run the energy off on the slides.

And as in an environment as such, the more the merrier – some friends decided to join us. Continue reading


Devil’s in the Diaper


The true parable of Adam and Eve does not detail punishment by banishment from a literal utopian garden. It is an allegory illustrating the evolution of man; the development of human brains to combat the elements by donning clothing, thus leading to the invention of potty training. Continue reading


California Dust Bowl


California needs rain. And I know the upcoming drought is going to be bad. But oh how I’ve been enjoying the mid-winter sunshine. (Sorry to gloat polar vortex people, we’ll be paying for it soon enough.)

I never thought I’d find myself wishing for soggy weather – but we could really use a good El Nino in these upcoming months. Because I use a lot of water. A lot. Continue reading

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Up Shit Creek with only a Single Pack of Pampers Sensitive Wipes (or a day in the life of potty training twins)


Morning begins with a cry for Mama (oh who are we kidding – the cry is for waffles). One of the little men is awake. Except he doesn’t want to get out of bed. (Maybe if he hides under the covers no one will notice him.)

The adult of the house least able to feign sleep entreats the sleeping muppet to get up and get dressed. The real motive behind such excitement to start the day? No one knows how well the Nighttime Pull-up has held up against the unwilling bladder of a 3-year-old.

To the potty! Continue reading

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Down and Dirty Preschool Pickup

White Flag

Preschool pickup could have gone better today. Read ahead at your own risk.

I got the day’s rundown when I went to sign the boys out. “Destroy’s in a pull-up because he asked for one to poop in.” Hey! That’s great! Smooth sailing sign out and just another day for the books.

If only that were the end. Continue reading


Talk Dirty To Me

Toilet Paper

My phone buzzed. And like the Pavlov’s dog response the text indicator has now created in me, I looked down at my phone.


Continue reading


The Terror of Public Restrooms


Our tour of every public restroom in the great state of California has begun.

As much as I’d like to just hide at home during the (glacially slow going) training phase of potty skills, after a certain amount of peepee mopping, you’ve just gotta get out. And this requires asking/encouraging your little potty rookies if they have to use the facilities every 32 seconds. Continue reading


When Potty Training Goes Poorly


The odds are good that in just a few short weeks you’ll stumble upon a news headline shouting, “Family Receives Million Dollar Water Bill.” And it won’t be one of those billing error issues – it will be the result of a washing machine running non-stop for 30+ days. (Not to mention the constant flushing.)

We’re potty training. Continue reading


Putting up with Pullups


Destroy marched proudly into his classroom with a new pack of pull-ups for summer session at school. Search followed clutching the brown paper bag with breakfast – bananas and yogurt.

His teacher laughed at me when I arrived later for pickup. Search wants nothing to do with this potty training gig. Continue reading