Life at the Poop Factory

When one is living with two young children under the age of five, one can expect to live with a certain amount of nastiness. It just comes with the territory.

No one said that "Toilet Learning" would be an easy endeavor, but I guess that at almost age 4, I really thought that we'd be done by now. Still the battle of wills rages on....the huge chasm between my daughter's lack of caring about being soaking wet and my frustration and, I'll admit, occasional rage at the seemingly hopeless situation. Meanwhile, there's an undeniable rapidly growing yellow puddle by her feet. "that's not mine" she says. On another day: "I smell poop" I say. "It's the baby" says my little angel, knowing full well that I am only moments away from discovering a warm odiferous surprise in her brand new Winnie-The-Pooh underpants that were purchased as a reward for finally using The Big Potty.

When it's your own children's poop, it's only mildly offensive. Strangers, on the other hand are an entirely different story.
On a recent outing with my daughter and her friend Q (same age, similar temperament) we were heading back from the aquarium downtown. As I finished buckling the kids into their car seats, I smelled an unfamiliar yet completely repulsive smell that seemed to be trapped within the car. "PEW!! Did someone step in dog doo?" I asked. Well you can imagine my horror when I discovered that, not only did my daughter's friend step in and track through the car what appeared to be poo belonging to a human (!!!) but he'd also managed to smear it (by kicking the seat) all over himself, my new car, the baby's car seat, my jacket and on and on. I know it's not his fault, but somehow I can't help but take this personally.

Recently I attended a workshop in "Potty Learning: The Ins and Outs" given for free at my daughter's preschool.
As I sat patiently listening to tips on how to begin the process, how to motivate and encourage your child, how to be consistent, loving and nonchalant, after listening to a large woman with a midwestern drawl slowly describe in painstaking detail her 3 year-old son's persistent diarrhea, I found myself suddenly choking back tears.

"What if your child knows all this, has been using the potty on her own for the last 6 months and then one day begins to regress big time?" I began to sob. "what about night-time? Should I keep her in diapers at night?"
I looked around carefully at the other parents (mostly tired looking mothers) and realized that I was over-reacting, but it was too late.

"You will just need to keep her in underpants at night and keep changing the sheets. Why, that's YOUR job" says D, the moderator.

The anger and frustration started to bubble up inside of me until I found my voice cracking, barely containing my rage,
"OK, so you are telling me that besides constantly watching a toddling baby to make sure he isn't putting his fist in the VCR, scrambling eggs at the crack of dawn, breastfeeding on demand, keeping my older child from completely destroying our house by painting on the walls, making sure that she hasn't wet the floor, the couch or her collection of Frog and Toad books, trying to keep the spark alive in my marriage, arranging playdates, researching kindergarten, planning tonight's dinner, trying to make it to the gym once a week, keep up with a growing mountain of laundry, dishes and regurgitated catfood, I am also supposed to change my daughters' soaked bed sheets every morning?!?!?"