So Lyra is 2 and sleeping in her own room and somewhat potty trained. This means she wears pull ups to bed and usually comes wandering into my room to cuddle with me around 6 am. Usually 5 or 10 minutes of intensely wiggly cuddles later she'll hand my phone to me (she used to hand me my glasses too but now I keep them out of her reach after she handed me a pair she had ripped in half) and demand that I "git up" or state that she needs to "pee potty."
On this particular morning I heard her usually loud stomping coming from the hall a little early at 5:40. She burst in through the door like the kool-aid man babbling, "pee potty pee potty pee potty," at top speed. I jumped up to comply with haste as she seemed more urgent than usual. I touched her side as we walked to the bathroom and thought to myself, "Hmm, her pull up must have leaked. She seems damp." I should have known then.
This is where I made my fatal mistake, though the situation would have been dire either way. I pulled her pajama bottoms and pull up down to her ankles before I hit the lights. Even in the darkness I could see something was amiss as soon as the pull up hit the floor. "Oh no," I gasped, "That's poop," as I switched on the bathroom light.
So much shit. Apparantly something didn't sit right with her and had led to explosive morning diarrhea. That was the first time anything like this has happened since she stopped having those not too terrible breastfed baby poops and starting having normal mini person poops. It makes a huge difference. It's so much worse when they take normal shits. Trust me on that one. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh noooooo," was my refrain for the next 20 minutes. At that point the only option was a shower for both of us, there was no saving the situation. And hand washing out clothes and starting laundry and wiping up the floor and the lightswitch. There was poop on the wall. The WALL. It was full scale decontamination before 7 am.
Not the first poo mess, won't be the last either. The other day at dinner Lyra was sitting at her little table while I finished up cooking. At one point I glanced up and noticed some thing suspicious sitting next to her on the floor. Right next to the little baby potty, I might add. Sure enough, she'd dropped a big ole number 2 right there on the floor in between bites of her noodles. Sure glad we don't have carpet.
My other favorite potty training story was the day my friend without kids was texting me about how awesome my lifestyle was and how he was kind of jealous sometimes. I was explaining it's not all sunshine and flowers. Meanwhile, Lyra peed her pants. I set her on the toilet and went to start laundry. And promptly stepped into a puddle of pee. I think a dog is to blame for that one but I will never know for sure. I cleaned that puddle (and my feet) and checked on Lyra to find her shoving half a toilet paper roll into the toilet. I sent her on her way and cleaned that mess. Immediately afterwards, Lyra came up to me, clearly wet, and I pulled down her underwear only to have poop fall out onto the floor. As I was setting Lyra on the toilet again, planning to leave her there for at least 30 minutes, and contemplating using diapers until Lyra is 6, my friend called. I answered the phone with, "You remember how you were bitching about how great my life is? Let me tell you about the last 20 minutes of my life in excruciating detail."
Despite the mess, there are upsides to a potty training toddler. Besides the obvious, like not having to use diapers, I have my own personal cheering squad. Everytime I pee on the potty I get a round of applause and a "Yay! Mama pee potty!" Followed up with an announcement to whoever is around about my victory. Travis tries to high five me when Lyra tells him "Mama pee potty." I flip him off behind her back instead. This is my life now.
