Soooooooooo FRUSTRATED!

This is probably what I get for waiting until the very last minute to do what I wanted to do for Father’s Day, but this week has been cuh-razy… hence the whole no posting situation. So tonight I told my husband to go lie down, he is exhausted and wasn’t feeling great, and I’d stay up with Bella. So that we could…

Bake COOKIES!

Chocolate chip cookies, to be specific, because those are my husband’s absolute favorite. I don’t make them often because, hey… I love them too, and I’m trying to lose here, not gain. Also, self control? I haz none. So. Cookies! I made this recipe, and if I may say so; this is The Cookie Recipe. Oh, my gosh. They came out AMAZZZZZING. To die for, really, and I have made many a batch of cookies before for Charlie. But they just came out so big, so soft, so chewy, so perfect in every way! And I swear, I am not that great a baker.

While the cookies were cooling, I took Bella upstairs to her room to play. While there, she ran into the bedroom to poop on her little potty in there. (In our house, “her” room is her playroom, and the bedroom is all of our bedroom, and her upstairs potty is in there.) She had a ginormous poop, then ran back to play. I got everything cleaned up, went into her room to check on her. Lately, she’s gotten very very scared of our dog. This seems unrelated, but it’s not; every time she thinks she hears him coming, she runs to “hide” from him. Which is crazy because it is not like he comes up to her; but he is a big dog, and has accidentally run over her one time too many I think, in spite of my best efforts at prevention. Anyways, hearing him coming or thinking he is coming is really stressing her out lately.

I decided to run downstairs to plate up the cookies and make her a bedtime bottle, and closed the door to the bedroom before I went. I wanted her to know Tramp would not come and bug her in her room while I was gone for a few minutes. Just as I turned to go downstairs, she let out a HUGE fart, and I had this very brief flash of “Oh, maybe she needs to poop again.” But I knew she had just gone a HUGE one so decided she was probably just gassy.

Famous last thoughts.

I ran downstairs, made a gorgeous cookie tower for my honey, put his card there, and got her a bottle. I kept listening, but did not hear any hollering, shrieking, stomping, or other assorted panicky or distressed sounds. I even called up once to let Bella know I was almost done. I was only gone for about five minutes.

As I went back upstairs, I heard whimpering type sounds coming from the bedroom, and then as I reached the upstairs landing, Bella came running out to me saying “Mommy, I so FRUSTRATED! I did a poopy on the floor Mommy!!!!” Oooooooh, my! I said, “You did? Can you show Mommy?” She showed me, and. Well. It really wasn’t that huge a deal, honestly, but it was a pretty messy poop. Kind of adorable how there were a few specks on one side of the room and then the big end result in the corner, behind her playstand, like she went to go hide and poop in the corner.

This whole time I am thinking that this is my fault; I closed the bedroom door, so she literally had no access to her own potty. And I was having flashbacks to being about 3 or so and for some reason pooping on the floor right next to the potty, and getting spanked, and feeling so ashamed. So with all that running through her mind, I got things together (wipes, got her cleaned up, etc), and told her that it was not her fault, it was Mommy’s fault, and I was sorry, and that it was ok. She just kept saying “I so FRUSTRATED Mommy!” As I picked up the mess, she said “I feel better now, I’m happy now Mommy!” My sweet angel!

Then I put her on my back and attacked the carpet with the carpet cleaner, and now she is snoozing peacefully upstairs. My sweetie. I feel terrible that I put her in that position, but also so proud of her and that she was not ashamed, just frustrated, that she was not scared to tell me what happened, that she knew she could ask me for help. Those are all amazing, wonderful things. So much of the way I parent has to do with things that happened to me as a child (ie: aforementioned spanking), and the way those things made me feel, and the fact that I don’t ever want my child to feel those things.

The other thing running through my head is that I am a lucky lucky lucky Mommy to not have a child interested in painting with poop!!!!

Edited: June 20th, 2009

Potty antics

There is a huge difference in the way an adult uses the bathroom and the way an almost-two year old uses the bathroom. An adult goes into the bathroom, closes the door, does what they need to do. Then they wash their hands and leave the bathroom. The end.
The toddler, on the other hand. The toddler walks into your field of vision and just stands there, quivering with expectancy. (Or something.) You meet the toddlers impenetrable gaze as your mind races through the options: hungry? hurt? needs me? needs to pee? “Oh honey, do you need to sit on your potty?” you exclaim, encouraging said toddler to walk the final four steps to their potty and sit down.
“Whew,” you think. Toddler is seated, all is well. But it ain’t over yet.
Toddler then proclaims, “Poop!”
“Oh! Did you go poopy?” you ask.
Toddler gazes at you with a very odd look on her face.
“Oh, you’re going now. You want me to leave you alone?”
Toddler nods.
“Ok!”
You leave and go into another room but you don’t want to go far because that is just a recipe for poop-disasters of epic proportions. You peek in every few minutes only to be greeted by a stern glare and a nod from the toddler, who is BUSY, Mama! Finally as you are standing there waiting, suddenly the toddler runs helter skelter into you and she is covered in, you guessed it, poop. Well, covered is a bit of an exaggeration. This time. This time, she is only poop-covered on her hand and her knee. Why her hand and her knee? We will never know.
“Poop! Poop, Mommy, Bella poop!”
Frantically you wash the toddlers chubby little hands, and use a soapy washcloth to clean the knee, all the while thinking that you need to wipe that adorable toddler bottom and oh yeah, clean the potty full of poop. You dry her hands then run into the bedroom where her potty is and find; nothing, just a perfectly normal and not very scary potty with poop in it. “Whewwwwwwwww” you sigh, but you still have to wipe up the toddler bottom. Which you do, even though she cries when you do, which breaks your heart. Bella just hates it, darn it.
Toddler bottom clean? Check!
Toddler hands and body free of poop? Check!
Potty clean? Check!
Adult hands washed? Check!
Whew! Finally, the poopcapades are over. It only took about thirty minutes of the day away, no big deal right?
Until next time…

Edited: November 20th, 2008