Saturday, October 27, 2007

Into the Toilet Bowl of Death Rode the 7


It is time---Raffikki-Lion King

Oh...My...God... we're finally going down the road toward potty training the girls. The school has begun to put pressure on us. After all, they ARE 3 and 5. But we've been out of the ballgame for more than 1/2 dozen years, it's more frightening than a guy name Jack coming through your bathroom door with an ax! Be forewarned that the proceeding program is rated 'G'...for Gross.



With the exception of a 1-2 year hiatus between our first and second, we have been changing diapers for 13 years now. I always say that I personally have changed more diapers than most women. OK, I hear you women, putting your hands on your hips saying "Well...you daymn well better have." I admit that I probably only changed between 30 and 35% of the diapers on my children; my wife, probably 60% and the rest by the nameless faceless friends, relatives, caregivers and therapists who have crossed our path. But 30% of some 10 years is twice as much as 80% of 2 or 4 years. I have the pick the childs' butt up by the feet with three fingers thing down pat to where I can, almost literally do it in my sleep. But enough of my braggin'...


With Liv on the spectrum, we never had even considered seriously going on the potty wagon and Grace has kinda went along for the ride; we probably could have started on her a year or so ago, but our heart was never into the struggle. We lately have had some incidents that have made us look at it a little more closely (eewww, it's really yucky). Liv had a MAJOR blowout in the waiting room of the speech therapist; Linda was beyond traumatized, as was the carpeting in the office. So much so that the seating arrangements have been reconfigured henceforth. Plaques should have immortalized to commemorate the 'spot' but alas, not many share our views.


That event and several other 'Top 20 Grossest Moments in Diaperdom' that have occurred, so that when Liv's teacher said "We should try to potty train her", we realized that ours wasn't the only suffering out there. On top of the poop (or maybe just before it), Liv also holds the distinction of having THE smelliest flatulence in the Northeast. She far surpasses me, which family members can attest, is no small feat. She is probably the only child in the school that illicit calls home to proclaim that "she was sent to the nurses because they were afraid something may have gone wrong inside". I think it was more the same as people fleeing from Mt St Helens (she's gonna BLOW any minute!). Even non verbal kids in her class will hold their nose and say "peeeeewww!"

But seriously, Liv has had a long fight with GI issues, which had made potty training next to impossibly in the 3-4 year range. Now that we have her 'settled down' in that area, we now have to work on the coordination. Grace will be easy; just preschool and one therapy session a week will be a cakewalk to get everyone on the same page. Her echoic tendencies should also make it easy to brainwash her, I mean, get the point across about the potty. Liv will be another story, with a full day school and no less than 3 therapists to coordinate with. I hate to waste therapy money on potty breaks, but what can you do?

I just get this feeling that she's going to look at us cross eyed. On the few occasions that we've put on the potty, she's given the reaction that we are trying to dispose her in there. The battle plan is to put her on the potty every 10 minutes for 5 minutes until the blessed event happen, then give her praise as if she has solved world hunger. Great plan with the exception that we barely HAVE 15 minutes to implement it. With this schedule, Grace also on the same and the 'normal' traffic in the bathrooms and I am anticipating a full blown potty war. Accidents, impatience, out and out defiance, exhaustion and of course, comical situations and a few new entries into the Grossest Top 20 are expected.

Wish us luck, we're gonna need it!

2 comments:

Casdok said...

Yes good luck!!

mcewen said...

R.I.P. the end of the Rank In Poop era. The beginning of a new stage R.I.P., Revel In Pants.
Best wishes