Thirty-two Months, Two Weeks, and One Day.

I know that no one wants to read about this, but I'm going to write about it anyway.

Curtis Chambers, consider yourself warned.

It's official. Lola is potty-trained. For the past couple of days she has consistently pooped in her little plastic potty, and hasn't pooped anywhere else (that we know of).  Since July, she has been capable of wearing underwear day and night, without having a (pee) accident. But, also since July, upon discovering her need to do the Number 2, she has asked for a diaper.

"Manners Please have a diaper?" she would ask.
"Would you like to poop on your potty?"
"NO! DIAPER!"

Once I would put it on her, she would run behind the couch.

"GO AWAY!" she would shout.

Respecting her request, I would leave, knowing that in a few minutes, she would find me.

"Change me, please."

Simultaneously, I've been working on manners with her. As you can tell, it's working. At least, it's works when she wants a giant poop removed from the vicinity of her butt.

Then, last week, something happened.  This something coincided with her Auntie LouLou's recent visit. Perhaps Lola was having too much fun, perhaps she was too exhausted from skipping naps because she was having too much fun, perhaps she was distracted by her freshly painted Miss Piggy pink toe nails; I don't know. But, she pooped in her underwear. THREE TIMES.

As someone who rinsed poop off cloth diapers for 30 months, you would think that poop in underwear wouldn't be much different, but it is.  It's like I built up an immunity to poop in diapers that wasn't transferable to underwear because let me tell you, poop in underwear is effing gross. I'm pretty sure this inability to handle poop in underwear is pretty common because Josh had an identical reaction to the poop. Actually, Josh had an even stronger reaction. By poopy underwear number 3, he was like, hell no.

As I rinsed the poop off the underwear and into the toilet, he stood in the hallway, clutching a diaper.
"The diapers are going away! You have to poop on the potty!" he yelled. Then he walked over to the garage door, opened it, and threw the diaper inside.

"See?" he said, showing Lola his empty hands. "Gone."

As a side note, during that split-second I had a flashback.  When I was a kid, my family always had lunch at my grandparent's house on Sunday afternoons. My brother and sister and I looked forward to these lunches because my grandmother was the queen of processed sugared sweets. On Sundays, we were allowed to drink soda, and sometimes we were allowed to take home a special Little Debbie or Hostess treat. As my parents were driving us home, after an afternoon at Grandma's, my brother and sister and I were arguing in the back seat over a Twinkie. I don't remember what the argument was about or who claimed ownership to the Twinkie, but I do remember this:

My father reached back, while driving, and snatched up the Twinkie. And, as quickly as he had it in his hand, he flung it out the window. It's creamy inside smacked itself on a neighboring car.  "There!" he said. "Now, no one can argue over it!"

But, back to Josh, Lola, the diaper, and the poop.

After he threw the diaper, my initial thought was this: It was Friday, a "Daddy Day" and while Lola had just pooped in her underwear, she had indeed pooped and her bowel movements were pretty much done for the day. The next day was Saturday, and Lola would be my responsibility. She would most likely need to poop on my shift. There weren't going to be any diapers and currently, she was on a roll for pooping in her underwear. Thanks a lot, DUDE.

So, mid-afternoon Saturday arrives, and Lola begins her potty dance. It's combination of bending forward, while grabbing her crotch (with one hand, MJ-style), and grimacing.

"Do you need to poop?"
"Manners please have a diaper?"
"No. They're all gone. You need to poop on the potty."
"Please. Diaper."
"No."
"DIAPER!!!!!!!!!!!"

I carried her into the bathroom. She started crying. "No potty. Diaper." I started thinking about the diaper in the garage. About how it wouldn't really be that bad to go get it. About how Josh and I tried to take the diapers away in July and she went on a Poop Strike for 5 days. How, I didn't want this to turn into a medical issue.

"Lola, I just want you to try to poop on the potty."
"Nooooo!" More wailing.
Josh arrives. We put her on the potty and hold her there for a few seconds. Then, she looks at us.

"Go away."

So we left. Well sort of. We both peered through the space between the door and its frame, straining to see if she would actually follow through.

Plunk.

"I DID IT!"
She stood up and applauded herself. We ran inside, clapping and cheering, and this went on for like ten minutes. Can you imagine what her first piano recital is going to be like? Oh man, maybe it would be best if I just got rid of my noisemaker now.

Since the infamous poop, she's independently used her potty several times with success. As with all milestones, this one was also bittersweet.  Diapers were her last hold on babyhood. While she will always be my baby, she is a baby no more.

Yet, the upside is also pretty great.  Rinsing poop out of a plastic potty is so much better than rinsing it out of underwear. Trust me.

Lola on Potty Training

We're still plugging along on the potty training road. We're getting closer, but one giant hurdle has been trying to convince Lola to poop on her potty. She has no problem with peeing on the potty, but pooping elicits an entirely different attitude from her.

As a result, whenever she feels the need for the number two, she asks for a diaper. She's pretty causal about it, since one of her things is that she doesn't like to disclose when exactly she is going to poop.

"Mama, uh, can I have a diaper, please?"

For the past few weeks, we've complied with her request. But starting yesterday, we thought it might be best if we took a more aggressive approach and denied her the diaper. When Josh told her, "no, you're not going to wear a diaper," she looked confused.

Then she said, "Do you want to hold it in your hand?"

He got her the diaper.

Another Post, Another Poop Tag

The beginning of what could possibly be a very big battle

Right after L's first birthday, Josh and I purchased a little white potty for her. Frequently, throughout the day, we reference it.

"Lola, mommy needs to go pee on the toilet. Do you want to sit on your potty?"

"Look Lola, there is your potty. Do you want to sit on it?"

"Potty, potty, potty, sit on the potty." (I sing this one. Yeah, I know. Motherhood.)

If we are lucky, she will glance in its direction. Occasionally, she'll put her blocks in it, and then empty them onto the bathroom floor. This doesn't disgust me since urine and bowel movements have yet to meet the plastic pot.

She is almost 17 months old, and she shows no signs of wanting to potty train.

But, she loves removing her diaper. This gives me a little hope, and also some additional stress.

Which, of course, leads to some very interesting situations.