That was last night, after I gave the boys a bath. I was dressing N in his pj's and nighttime diaper and M was running around like a naked shivering little cowboy when he cried, "I need to poo-poo in the potty!" something I'd heard a dozen times already that day. (Not a surprise, though, since I'd been feeding them bowel movement inducing foods due to no BM's in days)
"Okay, go ahead, I'll be right there to check on you," N was almost dressed and I was heaving my giant pregnant self up off the floor when he came running back,
"I did it!" he cried. Mmm, hmmm, I'll see it when I believe it, I thought.
Lo and behold! A miracle! There it was, big and brown as it could be, right in the bottom of the little white potty! Praise the Lord! The Lord-he is God!
"Good job! Way to go!" The three of us danced, sang, clapped, dumped, flushed, and Clorox wiped when he asked, "I go poo-poo in the potty again?" Thinking this was his clever way of getting not two M&M's but four, but not wanting to crush his victory, I told him he could try. I stepped out to retrieve his pj's and nighttime diaper and when I returned,
ANOTHER MIRACLE! The Lord- he is god! It was as big as the first!
"Wow, that's amazing! Way to go! Good job!" The three of us celebrated again, danced, sang, clapped, dumped flushed and wiped the potty again, when I heard, "I go poo-poo in the potty again?" What was I supposed to say? He hadn't pooped in three days - maybe there really was more?
Of course, two huge poos had cleaned him out, but it took another 10 minutes of trying to convince him it was over, then we washed hands and I delivered the 2 M&M's he'd earned. We called the grandmas to celebrate, I texted Hubs in JFK and they went to bed quite late due to excessive celebration.
I felt like a million bucks. N and Hubs were recovered from their weekend illnesses and now M was pooping in the potty.
Then today. Read 1 Kings 19: 3, immediately after Elijah defeats Baal, he is threatened by Jezebel. "Elijah was afraid and ran for his life. When he came to Beersheba in Judah, he left his servant there," (but if I had a servant here today I might not quite feel this bad) "while he himself went a day's journey into the desert. He came to a broom tree, sat down under it, and prayed that he might die."
Okay, I think Elijah is a tad dramatic because I'm not praying for death, but seriously?
The two of them have had so many accidents this morning I've lost count. It's only 1:30 in the afternoon. We've reverted to diapers again, I've emptied the Diaper Champs, and I'm back to potty training day 3.
I kind of want to run away. Not die, but a vacation on a nice warm beach under a palm -or broom - tree would be okay, too.
But I can't. And I won't. I'll just buck up and put the underpants back on. Hopefully that will do the trick and we'll be back on track.
|Back to square one|