This morning, my barely two-year-old loudly proclaimed to anyone within earshot her urgent need to “go poop”. While she is far from potty trained, she had been shouting this empty poop promise for days. Her follow through was seriously lacking because I had yet to witness the elusive poop that she so frequently spoke of. Despite my suspicion that this was just another fire drill, I scooped her up and ran to the bathroom.
As soon as she hit the toilet seat, I could tell things were different. She was slightly panicked. She avoided eye contact, leaned forward, wrapped her arms tightly around my neck in an awkward hug and went completely silent. You could have heard a pin drop, or in this case, poop drop. Because that is exactly what happened. My kid had just pooped in the potty. Holy shit.
While I was proudly wrapped up there with her in our first of many poop hugs to come, two things came to mind. First, I immediately realized that I had absolutely no idea how to effectively wipe a kid’s ass. How in the holy hell does this work? Do I wipe it while she’s sitting there or standing up? Am I really going to have to ask someone this? Second, I knew some time in the very near future I’d be changing my last diaper.
I happily celebrated my little poop queen’s coronation, seated high on her porcelain throne, but I have to confess, I am far from excited about this. Proud? Definitely. Excited? Not so much.
I’m happy my little one is becoming more independent, but I am in absolutely no rush to give up diapers. Call me crazy, but I’m going to miss them. Over the past two years, I’ve become a diaper ninja of sorts. I can discreetly swap out a dirty diaper in seconds. I’m fairly confident I could change a diaper one handed and blindfolded. I’ve changed diapers at 30,000 feet, on boats, in the trunk of cars, in strollers, standing up. Pretty much everywhere but the dinner table. I’ve wiped the gamut of craps from every conceivable crevice. I’ve managed mustard-colored blowouts, and gagged through the nastiest of shits that accompanied my kid’s first solid foods. Diapers are my way of life.
Yes, diapers are expensive and kind of a disgusting pain in the ass, but who can deny their convenience? As things are now, I don’t have to rush to find a bathroom in an amusement park before my kid pees down her leg nor do I have to speed to find the closest pubic restroom, thirty miles from the nearest rest area when she is ready to literally lose her shit on a road trip. Right now, she just craps her pants and we worry about it a little later. Done deal. Am I missing something? Because I’d pick a diaper over that other shit any day. Diapers rock.
Let’s also note that most public bathrooms are absolutely nauseating, and the thought of being forced to take my kid into a port-a-potty is what my nightmares are made of. I’d rather deal with my own kid’s poop than deal with other people’s and the fear of my child touching anything in a public restroom. But, this is my new reality. I may not be ready for it, but tough shit I guess.
I haven’t really pushed potty training because I figured when she was ready she would let me know. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon. I will of course be my child’s biggest cheerleader during this new phase in her life. I would never discourage her in her quest to conquer incontinence. I’m just going to kind of miss diapers.
I’m sure potty training isn’t going to be as bad as I imagine. Before long, she’ll have this down. The accidents will subside, and I’ll wonder what the hell I was so worried about. She will be a big kid who no longer needs my help. Maybe that’s the real problem. Maybe I’m going to miss diapers because once they are gone, they are gone forever. I will never again see that little diapered butt toddling around the house. And there’s just something about a pair of cartoon character underwear that says, You’re losing your baby. One flush at a time.