It’s hard finding the time to clean house with a tiny human running around. Time is money, and when you find it, you get this overwhelming feeling of satisfaction. In your head, you are winning. I regret to inform you, as a parent of a small child, that amazing feeling will almost always be short lived, especially when it comes to potty training. I remember it like it was yesterday, our very first accident.
It was a beautiful Saturday morning. I’d found the time to enjoy not one, but two cups of coffee over breakfast with Isaiah. We didn’t have our usual waffles from the toaster, no sir; mama made bacon and eggs! I was on a roll. One load of laundry was done and patiently waiting in a basket to be put away, the dishwasher had just finished it’s cycle and Isaiah was humming a song in the sun room as he colored away in his coloring book. I was winning, or so I thought.
As I dove into the dishes, I heard the little pitter-patter of feet running up behind me. Our laundry room was connected to the kitchen. Isaiah had jumped up onto my foot stool and began to hug that nice basket of clean clothes. He looked up at me with the best “O” face I had ever seen in my life.
“Uh oh, mommyyy,” he paused. “Peepee.”
“It’s okay sweetie, let’s just go..” I was stunned as I peered over at him. He had somehow managed to strip completely out of his clothes. He just peed allllllllll over that nice clean basket of clothes.
I picked him up to realize this was only just the beginning of the nightmare. There was a small smear of poop on his little behind. My heart sank. I ran to the training potty, fingers crossed, hoping I’d find it full of a smelly surprise. Guess what? No dice. I wanted to cry as my eyes scoured the room for what I’d hoped to be a dirty diaper. Nothing. I was frantic, running to every corner just picturing him rubbing his nasty mess all over the walls somewhere.
I had absolutely no luck. I must have spent 15 minutes running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off, tossing and turning everything upside down in my path. I didn’t care that I just added more chores to my daily duties. I just wanted to find it, I would not rest until I found it .
“Isaiah, where is your diaper?!” I was furious and there he was.. giggling and staring at me with the cutest little smirk on his face. He knew he’d done something to make me go crazy, he was testing me. All I could do was stare at him in disbelief.
Finally, a light bulb came on. “The trashcan, what if he was nice and threw it away?” It was highly unlikely, but it was the only place I hadn’t looked. I slowly made my way back into the kitchen, my breath was heavy, praying I’d find it. I lifted up the lid and.. hallelujah! I never thought I’d be so happy to see a poopy diaper in my trashcan.
There may not have been chocolate colored walls or carpet, but I still had to rewash an entire load of laundry, and I’d definitely had my heart attack for the day. Potty training worked it’s way up on my list of fears that beautiful Saturday morning. This was only the first accident and I wasn’t looking forward to the next.