Every time I walk by the plastic potty, it needs to be emptied.
I was on the throne myself - the one free of plastic and Elmo's face - when Allie walked in and told me she had to potty. Then, two seconds later, she demanded it. So, yep, had to, um, rush my pooing and get her on the potty. That's just one thing I do not like to rush.
This is my life these days. My girls have a potty mouth. They not only talk about the potty all the time, they use it with the kind of frequency reserved for men with prostate issues on their 12th Keystone Light.
This may sound like complaining. It is not complaining. Four years of my life have been consumed by diapers, feces, wipes, old pee smell and urine-soaked sheets. I figured it would be at least another year.
Yet the girls are naturals, nay geniuses (and I do not throw that term around too often) at potty training. They just turned 2, yet Andie, after just a couple weeks, is an accident-free little girl. She pees and poos whenever, wherever, as long as it's in a toilet. I could kiss her. In fact I have. Many times. And doled out Skittles. Allie isn't quite as good. She pees like a champion but hasn't quite made the connection that poo, indeed, goes in the potty as well. This has led to a few, um, uncomfortable moments, like at a park, when Allie seems to crap her pants every.single.time. we go. But I'm a proud father.
It's just that when you are potty training, even if you are doing it well, your personal connection with poo and pee doesn't lighten up. In fact, it gets worse. I have emptied that plastic potty at least ten times a day, and yes, it's every bit as disgusting as it sounds. When I'm not emptying, I'm pulling down panties and placing a little bottom on a big potty with the squishy tushy firmly in place, then acting like she just crapped a golden egg when it's over (positive feedback is important).
Even Jayden, the 4-year-old, makes us look at his poo before he flushes. Not that I blame him for wanting a little affirmation himself.
It's turned into a slight obsession. I've said "Do you need to potty" to one of the three at least 40 times a day, and usually, why yes, one of them does in fact need to go. I've spent so much time worrying about my kids' pottying that I've started to take more notice of my own.
Just today, in fact, I told Kate that I had TWO significant poops before 11 a.m., one before my 10-mile run and one after. Strangely enough, she didn't seem quite as excited as she obviously is when one of the girls does the same thing.
Sometimes life isn't fair.