The five day poop strike ended in the middle of nap time.
Kate’s gas was rancid and she couldn’t lay still on the bed, squirming and rolling in circles. “I needa go potty,” she told me.
My inner dialogue of a ‘parent in potty-training’ let loose: Does she really need to go? I should listen to her, right? If she is telling the truth and I don’t take her, am I sabotaging her progress? But what if she’s lying and just wants to get out of her nap? Will she ever nap again?
I took my chances. We tiptoed to the bathroom, and Kate sat on the potty.
School told me she was ready. I wasn’t so sure. She was 27 months old and had showed an interest in the potty with lots of potty tries during the day while wearing her diapers and practicing wiping and washing her hands.
But is she really ready? Am I ready?! Diapers are easy. I’m 30 some weeks pregnant, should I keep things easy?
We’d already moved her out of the crib she was sleeping soundly in, moved her into a big bed in a shared room with her sister, so yeah why not introduce another life changing event ten weeks before a new baby comes to wreak havoc on her little life.
Yes, I silently state, It will be fine. “Yes, we will not have two kids in diapers” I publicly declare.
And like magic, the first day after my declaration she woke up dry. I thought I’d nailed it. We raced to the tiny blue potty seat for a try. We waited and waited. I told Caroline to turn on the faucet hoping it would help her pee.
We waited more.
She peed. She did it! I was so good at this!
“Mommy say, ‘Yay Kate!’” she declared, clapping proudly. She tore a postage stamp size piece of toilet paper off the roll and wiped.
We celebrated all through breakfast and on the ride to school.
At drop-off I handed the teacher her canvas bag with six pairs of underwear, six sets of shorts and six shirts just in case. There are no pull-ups in Montessori.
The teacher assured me it will be fine, “It will be messy, but worth it!” .
I know, this morning was amazing.
At pick-up, the teacher handed me five plastic bags full of pee-soaked clothes and informed me about a pair of underwear I’ll never see again because, “I can promise you, you wouldn’t have wanted them back.“
I nodded, tight-lipped.
We kept trying. At home, she’d sit on the potty for five minutes, get up, wander into the living room, and pee on the rug.
I started using pull-ups. Not all the time, just in the car. And during naps. And after baths. And before breakfast. Just… practically. We were in underware most of the time, except when we weren’t and definitely not at drop-off. I couldn’t let the teacher know I wasn’t fully bought in
In the second week, the poop strike started.
Day one: nothing
Day two: nothing.
Day three: surely it would come.
On day four, Clayton and I agreed, if it went one more day we would try prunes and pears aggressively. I googled “toddler refusing to poop while potty-training”, panicked that I was traumatizing my toddler with stress and incontinence.
And then that fifth day came, a Saturday at nap time, accompanied by lots of gas, lots of squirms and lots of my own internal debate about if I should believe her.
I sat her overtired toddler body on the potty. She looked at me, her face reddened as I held my breath.
She pooped..
She looked at me, wide-eyed, and raised her tiny fist, “Knuckles, Mommy!”
I bumped her fist with mine. “Yay, Kate!” I said, not caring about the nap, unsure who felt more relieved.
Enter this in the title of the year contest.
Been there. It got so bad with Layla that she took Miralax every day for MONTHS. AND something called Senna, which is supposed to help move things along. It's so stressful when kids won't poop, especially when it's tied to potty training. Knuckles!