Potty update

(Warning: more fecal discussion ahead, if you needed a warning after the title.)

Rachel called me at work on Friday a little after 3:00. She said she was just calling to say hi, but I heard yelling in the background. She admitted that it had been a long day; Matthew was in his room now screaming. He needed to poop but he was too stubborn to do it. After Wednesday's battle we were ready to let him stay in diapers if he felt that strongly about it, but he didn't want to do THAT either. He was miserable, and he was making Mom miserable.

I went home early and alternated with Rachel camping out in front of Matthew's room while the screaming continued. On Rachel's watch, she went in to see how things were going and there was a nice long turd laid out neatly on the floor. Silver lining: since he'd been holding it in since Wednesday, it was fairly dry and not bad at all to clean up.

Today it was more of the same, screaming and howling and hopping with rage. I guess 2 days is as long as he can hold it... This time I figured hey, if he's going to take a dump on the floor let's do it where it's easy to clean up, so I put him in the bathroom and locked the door. I set up the potty seat for him, just in case he felt inclined to be reasonable about it. Nope; after oh about 20 minutes of cranking the volume to 10, he yelled through his screams, "Dada, poo poo." So I went in to see the damage.

He was standing in a corner of the room. I picked him up and put him on the toilet; a small turd dropped off his butt. Fine, I said, There's got to be more. See if you can put the rest in the potty.

Then I looked around and saw that I was standing in the rest. A much bigger turd, with my bare heel in it. No, parenting is not for the squeamish. I cleaned off my heel and the floor and his butt, and we got ready for church.

After church, reprise the same scenario. This time, it was only about ten minutes before the call came out -- calmer, this time -- and I went in. He was seated on the potty with the business in the water below. Good boy! I wiped him up and Rachel got him a popsicle.

Finally, before bedtime, the familiar clutching of the butt and Ow Ow-ing. I didn't think the pressure in his colon would be enough to overcome his hatred of the potty, but Rachel wanted to give it a try. She shut him in the bathroom and in only 5 minutes he was calling for me. (I'm honored, I guess, but really I think the butt-wiping should be more egalitarian here.)

So, maybe the worst is over. Mommy and Daddy earned it.