You guys, I’ve written three different Frydays, attempting to be inspirational or profound when really, I just want to talk about poop* for a second, is that cool?
We potty-trained our little guy Cal this Summer and it has taken me months of simmering enough to want to share something mortifying with you. But first, some back story. This poor kid, since the day I weaned him at sixteen months old, has had a rough go of… the topic* of this post ever since. I avoided potty training for months, and it consumed so much of my thoughts I could’ve learned another language with the brain space I reserved for his digestion. Getting enough fiber into his diet, fresh produce, trying different kinds of milk and milk substitutes. Doing everything the pediatrician recommended plus everything holistic thing I could find. Stirring diuretics into his applesauce, literally everything minus a rain dance. The point of this is to say that the least of my worries was a #2 accident when we were out and about. The kid offers AMPLE notice before that train ever leaves the station.
Then one day we were at a sports store that will forever remain nameless. We had a gift card and were walking the aisles trying to decide what we needed. My boys were wandering (running) around as they always do, when Cal was quiet for approximately one minute. I called out to him and he said a muffled “I’ll be right der!” Hayes, Russ and I followed his voice, Hayes several steps ahead when I hear him say “It’s poop!” (He really said the S word but I am trying to hold onto my last scrap of dignity as a failing mother.) Russ and I make the flushed embarrassed emoji face as Cal confirms Hayes’ statement, that statement had somehow fallen out of his shorts onto the ground. Cal then offered a very matter-of-fact “I pooped in the spoyts stoy.” (Still no Rs.)
The next several minutes are a blur, and I wish I had the security footage on tape for the laugh: Russ covering the evidence with tissue from the shoes we were now apparently buying, standing guard, trying to look nonchalant. Me sprinting across the store, less nonchalantly, to the bathroom telling any confused shoppers “Just testing out these running shoes.” Grabbing paper towels, sprinting back. Cal proudly retelling, “Member when I pooped in the spoyts stoy?” as if it didn’t just happen seven seconds prior, and Hayes laughing hysterically. Me sprinting back to the bathroom again with the parcel, while Russ scrubs every inch of the area with a travel size anti-bacterial spray. A trusted brand that will also remain nameless because they no doubt want nothing to do with this story! All the while I can’t help but be totally stoked that he just pooped with relative ease, and if that doesn’t make me the biggest mom on Earth, I don’t know what does! Once we had the perimeter under control we turned to Cal, still pleased as punch. His shorts miraculously unscathed, unlike our pride.
Moral of this tale is for any of you parents who felt like you were failing this week, I assure you, you’re doing a great job. And even if you did fail a little, the Frames brought the average way down so, you’re welcome. To those brave souls who are potty training this weekend, my heart is with you.