The Phases of the Moon

Cai’s going through a phase.

A phase of the moon, if you will.

At least, I hope it’s a phase.

Dear God, please let it be a phase.  I’d like to add this to my answered prayers column, and I don’t think it’s all that hard for you to grant.  I’m lobbing the ball here, God.  It’s a gimme.  My next prayer request is unlikely to be this easy, so you might want to run with it.

Here’s what’s goin’ on:  Cai won’t go potty without company.

An encouraging audience.

A cloud of witnesses.

Which is a real sacrifice for me.  Because I don’t like being in the bathroom with other people when they’re pottying.

Well, to be fair, I don’t even like being in the bathroom with me when I’m pottying.

In fact, if I could potty by proxy, I’d do it.  Sign me up.

I think Cai’s main potty problem is that he’s a twin.  He’s just not used to do anything… clearly ANYthing at all… by himself.  So he feels bewildered and alone when he’s in the bathroom, no matter how many times I try to convince him it’s a solitary sport.

But, whenever Cai asks, dancing about and squeezing his little cheeks as hard as he can, for guests to join him on his potty adventures, I find myself saying yes.  In fact, I’m blogging on my laptop, perched on the side of the tub this very minute.  To sound effects.  And smell effects.

You’re welcome for that.

I tell myself it’s OK.  It’s OK for me to continue to sit in the bathroom during 4-year-old potty time.  Because of the whole phase thing.

I mean, I really doubt my presence will be requested at a similar event when the child is 14.

Right?  Please say, “right.”

Ten years from now, if we’re wrong and Cai’s still asking, I’m going to be really, really embarrassed.  That, and our counseling bill is going to be out of this world.

On the bright side, I’m pretty sure no one’s gonna steal my laptop, now that y’all know where it’s been.

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ABOUT BETH WOOLSEY I'm a writer. And a mess. And mouthy, brave, and strong. I believe we all belong to each other. I believe in the long way 'round. And I believe, always, in grace in the grime and wonder in the wild of a life lived off course from what was, once, a perfectly good plan.
15 comments
  1. […] The Phases of the Moon ul.legalfooter li{ list-style:none; float:left; padding-right:20px; } .accept{ display:none; border: 1px solid #000; background:#000; color:#fff; border-radius:3px; -moz-border-radius:3px; -webkit-border-radius:3px; padding:5px; } […]

  2. I did this as a kid and I think I grew out of it by the time I was about 5.

  3. Grant looked at me after three weeks of potty boot camp and holding his poop the entire time except once, put his hands on his 3 1/2 year old hips and said in his sassiest voice, “Mom, it’s not like I’m going to poop in my underwear in high school, OH-KAY!!!!” He’s now ten and while he still clogs the toilet quite often, he has stopped pooping in his underwear.

    1. Oh my gosh. TOO FUNNY!

      Please see the reply to Cathie… I’m starting to believe this is another one of those universal experiences of Mothers of Many Children. Bahahaha.

      And, on an ENTIRELY different note, I LOVED speaking with you on Monday. You have a natural gift of sharing your heart with love and passion. It was a joy to hear you.

  4. I just wish my kids knew it was a solitary sport and let me do it alone.

  5. Having only recently graduated from the “Come wipe my butt!” stage (that would be the kid in quotation marks-I personally graduated many, many moons ago!) I do feel your pain. Furthermore, we had encopresis issues, whereby said kid holds onto the load for longer than seems humanly possible, then when finally the dam can no longer hold, said load is understandably larger than the flushing portion of the toilet. For this reason, I know much more about augering than I ever intended to know. And my husband is a champ, because I only learned about augering when he wasn’t home to be the fixer.

    1. Cathie said: “I personally graduated many, many moons ago!”

      Bahaha! Thanks for the clarification.

      I have a friend whose daughter would only go #2 in a Pull-Up. They took the Pull-Up away and she waited 8 DAYS. That was, like, 10 years ago, and we just talked about it on Sunday at Red Robin. ‘Cause that’s the best place in the world to embarrass a teenager with holding onto the load stories.

      And, I will say, I have a child whom I would like to submit to a medical study for exactly the auger reason you mentioned. Because I don’t see how it’s physiologically possible for this child’s body cavity, much less exit area, to hold anything of that girth. I used to pressure the child… “Oh good grief. What could POSSIBLY be taking you THAT long in there??” Until I saw with my own eyes. And we had to fix the toilet multiple times. Now, I encourage the child to take as long as necessary, ’cause I’m not sure whether it takes body contortions or a magic spell or prayer… but I’m willing to wait as long as necessary to make sure we don’t end up in the ER trying to explain that one.

      1. I was about to ask what ‘Red Robin’ is, then I figured I could of course try to google it first, so I did. I wish I hadn’t. I really wanted to go there. Right now. 🙁
        So then I read the second part of your comment and it made me lose my appetite. Problem solved! 🙂

  6. Solitary sport indeed. Yes, I’m sure it is a phase. I don’t suppose you could make a rotating job chart to share the fun with other family members. You could even pay a quarter for anyone willing to take on the job.

    1. LOVE it! I just heard about a Mom who paid her kids a nickel for every lost sock they could find to make a pair back. It’s totally worth a quarter to put someone else on potty duty. (Sorry, all I could hear just now in my head was “potty doodie.”) I bet you a quarter Cael would do it.

      Problem solved! And this is why we need a village.

  7. With little one’s there are a lot of hours logged while sitting on the side of the tub. And in the grand scheme of things, four is still little. Do not try to bill me for counseling when he’s 14 though, I will deny that I posted this. 😉

    1. No worries, Sarah!

      I won’t come after you for counseling money. That’s what all the blog revenue is for.

      In April, I made $1.48. So, by the time Cai is 14, which is 10 years from now, I’ll have $177.60. Woot! That’ll pay for 1.75 counseling sessions. Should be enough.

      😀

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