The Poop Song

sung to the tune of “Frère Jacques”

Time to poop (poo-oop)

Time to poop

Get it out!

Get it out!

Squeeze your tummy

Squeeze your tummy

Goodbye poop!

Goodbye poop!

This is what my life has resorted to. Making up songs about poop (which is actually a pretty crappy song). Sigh.

Let me back up a little. Potty Boot Camp has been going very well thankfully. Much better than anticipated. We’ve been continuing with visiting the potty every hour or so to prevent any accidents, and in between, I do a lot of checking in to make sure Noob Baby doesn’t have to go. One things for sure, one (or two) of us is coming out of this potty training a total urinary neurotic.

Noob Baby insists on me going pee everytime she has to go. This is how it plays out:

NB:  Mommy pee too?

Me: No, thank you. Mommy’s ok.

NB:  MOMMY pee too! (notice the change in punctuation and capitalization to indicate inflection? Yes, some call me a writeur.)

Me: Um, well shit. I guess I do have to go now. Now that you mention it. Sweet. This is like the 4th time I’ve gone today and it’s only 11:30 am.

NB:  Mommy, are we urinary neurotics?

Me:  Hmm…. yes, yes we are. You are a genius. Couldn’t have said it better myself.

So, when the time comes to potty booty camp, be prepared to set an example. A LOT. As well as make up ridiculously juvenile songs to facilitate BMs. Obviously you know that once you become a parent, you sign away your rights to dignity, self-preservation, shame, yada yada.

Oh, I should mention that we also ended up adding another cast member to potty training. This one definitely garners my highest praise:

Bjorn Toilet Trainer

This seat is easily adjustable for your toilet seat, and it can be transported/removed and hung up so that it isn’t a total eyesore. We attached a suction hook to our toilet and it hangs very nicely when not in use. I prefer this seat over the mini potties because you don’t have to deal with a messy cleanup, and it gets your noob used to sitting on a big throne.

Now, the biggest roadblock we’ve had so far has been #2. It scares the beejesus out of her. She actually tries to hold it in to the point where she’s rolling on the ground with her legs crossed … SCREAMING. Didn’t expect that one. Hence, the birth of the Poop Song. So every day or two, we have to exorcise the poop out of her Linda Blair style. Heads are spinning. NB levitates off the toilet and starts speaking in this creepy little man voice. Then, voilà! Life goes back to normal.

I already expected this whole process to be sort of a production– lots of ridiculous, over-the-top praise. NB, you are a goddess that rules the throne which trembles beneath you! Some rewards – You can have all the lollipops and gumdrops mommy can buy you! Teeth are overrated. And cheering - Lots and lots of live studio audience/Hollywood style applause.

But what I didn’t expect was for this all to backfire on me. Now when we’re out in a public restroom, I have my own 2 1/2 ft. tall traveling commentator and cheerleader. I’m sitting in my stall minding my own business, but alas, all the other women get to experience this gem:

NB: “Mommys going poop! (I’m not, but unfortunately she can’t tell the difference. Or maybe she can, but she’s already figured out the art of embarrassment).

Me: No … (nervous laughter)… Mommy’s going pee. (FYI, defending myself in this situation sounds so ridiculous. I might as well sound like a chipmunk).

NB: Mommy go big poop. B-I-G!

Me: (clearing throat loudly)

*Toilet flushes and even it gives me a sympathetic look*

NB: Yayyyy!! Good job Mommy! Good job!

*Intense, enthusiastic applause bursts forth from my stall*

I’d like to say that I made that up.  Unfortunately, nein. I also wish I could say that I don’t embarrass easily, in which case I come charging out of the stall to a round of high fives and chest bumps with Eye of the Tiger blasting in the background. But instead, I wait till the rest of the restroom has cleared out before we make our stealthy exit.

Any guests that come over now receive the warning that NB will be waiting outside the restroom as their dutiful cheerleader/commentator. Hey, you’re all invited!

At long last we have arrived at this milestone.

The P-word(s).

The Pee and the Poop and the Potty.

It’s been a few months since Noob Baby’s 2nd birthday, and since then… Noob Daddy has been whispering aka taunting me incessantly with the P-word. In my gut, I’m like 98% sure she’s ready to ditch the diapers. I think she’s been ready for awhile. For the last few months, she’s been using the little potty before her bath time pretty consistently. She wakes up fairly dry from her naps and after a long night’s sleep.

But, am I ready? That’s the real question.

Call me lazy. When I’m out running errands or sitting through traffic … it feels damn good to not have to worry about potty breaks, pit stops, puddles of piddle, etc. I am a slacker. Guilty as charged.

Now that I have the husband breathing down my neck and giving me a guilt trip … I am somewhat motivated.

The real push was when we showed up at a Mommy & Me Preschool class last week, and “we” were the only ones still in diapers. Em-barr-ass-ing! Nothing like a little mommy competition to push you over the edge.

Alright, so here’s how Day 1 played out.

Cast of Characters

Noob Baby

The enthusiastic test subject

Gerber Training Pants

(These are soft, cloth undies with some extra padding for accidents. Pretty absorbent, but still allow the noob to feel when she’s had an accident.)

Baby Bjorn Potty Seat

A princess deserves a pink throne, right?

Potette Plus

A 2-in-1 Travel Potty

Morning-ish:

• Decided it would be motivating to start the day by giving a Sayonara Diapers speech to the new recruit at Potty Boot Camp. (Note to self: Next time use The Potty Book instead of wasting 2 hours writing speech that toddler can’t understand).
• We proceeded to throw all her super expensive organic diapers into a glorious 3 foot heap in the backyard for Celebratory Bonfire.
• Maybe I can recycle the ashes to reduce our carbon footprint?
• Turns out it’s against City fire code to burn refuse in backyard.
• Neighbors give me dirty looks.
• Note to self: Do not attend Association meeting this month.
• Flirting with fireman in hopes of waiving fire citation – FAIL.
• On the upside… Pee – 1 ; Poo – 0
• Made my baby completely neurotic and possibly have now inflicted future adult urinary trauma by forcing her to sit on the potty every hour despite screams in protest.
• Pee – 2 ; Poo – 0

Afternoon-ish:

• Remembered to put noob on potty after every mealtime.
• Pee – 3; Poo – 0
• Noob Mommy Pee – 5. Turns out coaxing someone to pee every hour is extremely effective on yourself.
• Starting to get stir crazy and have concocted plan to go out with her Potette (portable potty).
• Public potty trauma inflicted. Automatic flushing toilets, loud gossipy women with shrill laughter, and raging bathroom techno music = potty regression?
• After trolling the mall, discovered Bloomingdales had the most “conducive” single-stall family restroom. The mood is set.
• Potette in position. Check. Noob Baby in play. Check. NB projectile peed down my leg. Umm… thank God I’m wearing shorts?
• Remind myself to shoot myself for leaving the house on Day 1 of Potty Boot Camp.

Nighttime-ish:

• Pee -4; Poo -0.
• NB is showing signs of upcoming poo.
• It’s Go-Time.
• NB goes into poo labor. Her eyeballs do that “Aaa-ooo-gaa!!” thing when she sees the critter she has just delivered. NB goes into post-traumatic shock.
• Final Score = Pee -5; Poo -1; Accidents – 0!!
• We celebrate the end of Day 1 Potty Training with lots and lots and lots of  lavish praise, handshaking, backslapping, high-fives, knuckles, chest-bumping, and finally … sleep.
• There are no M&M rewards here at Potty Boot Camp.

HOOAH!