Potty Time

Last Monday I had the wonderful opportunity to grow.  I was working on a friend's lashes, when Noah began crying.  It was his hurt cry.  I turned to look at him and a lime otter pop had exploded in his face.  Apparently he didn't want the frozen ones, but the warm ones.  I patiently and quietly excused myself from what I was doing and went to assist Noah in cleaning up the lime juice.  While doing so, something caught my eye.  I looked to my right and lo and behold there were two logs of poop.  Poop.  Poop on the rug.  It doesn't matter how many times I say it now, I can't say it without laughing.  This was my first log encounter and I will forever remember the shock that set in.  I had a client on the table with tape on her eyes, my son crying from lime otter pop juice exploding in his face and now poop on the rug.  So I said Noah where is your diaper?  (How did I not notice that he wasn't wearing a diaper?!)  As I assessed the situation I discovered poop on his legs, feet and some smudge marks sporadically across the kitchen tile, and that's when I emotionally shut down.  I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.  But I couldn't.  I needed to somehow get Noah to the bathtub and still get my friend off the table with sanitation and sanity in tact.  So I got Noah into the bathtub, washed my hands and told my friend that we would have to stop and do it another time.  Thank goodness for her understanding and forgiveness.  I will also forever remember the amazing and therapeutic hug she gave me before leaving.  She saw the light escape from my eyes and saw that I was about to crumble.  I'm proud to say that I didn't. I came so close, and even snapped at Noah while he was in the tub trying to climb out but somehow managed to step away for a couple minutes and tackle the overwhelming responsibility of cleaning up the glorious mess.

Now looking back I laugh.  Sometimes I cry from laughing so hard.  It's funny how these sweet little spirits are constantly challenging us and giving us opportunities to grow, to let loose, to see the world with a little silliness...and even with a little mess.  Pun intended.  So how did I grow here?  Instead of fighting him on wearing a diaper since he clearly chooses not to, I threw some boxer briefs on that precious little boy.  I told him that if he chooses not to wear the diapers then we're going to start potty training.  He didn't answer me of course, but I figured why not let him guide me through this transition.  So often my knee jerk reaction is to gain "control" over him.  But I'm learning to let go of that power and focus on my responsibility to empower him.  

That was the 24th.  It is now the 30th and we've only had a few accidents during the day.  And he's had croup since Thursday. Poor little guy.  I've heard that when kids are sick they regress and have accidents.  But he powered through it like a champ.  All three accidents happened whilst I was chatting away on FaceTime to my sisters.  Same time every day.  So I made a promise to Noah that during the morning especially when it's the usual time he goes to the bathroom, I will be 100% present so as not to miss another cue that he needs to go.  This potty training experience has been far too easy.  I keep feeling like if I talk about it I'm going to jinx myself and he'll start to regress.  But he hasn't.  I'm one of the lucky ones.  I know many who have struggled with potty training and yet somehow we have breezed through it.  All I can say is that I let him lead me.  I read his signs and just followed along.  One bonus was that he has been waking up with a dry diaper for a couple months now so I'm guessing that since he was physiologically ready, that the daytime challenge wouldn't really be a challenge at all.  But I still consider myself lucky.  

I feel like Noah is far beyond his years.  Do all parents feel this way about their kids?  It's almost like his spirit knows that he was sent here to not only be an amazing son, but also that he may need to look out for his mom, even though I wish he wouldn't.  That's my job.  But I'm grateful.  He is so loving, so funny, energetic, strong-willed, compassionate and so smart.  I rarely raise my voice and when I do, he reminds me that I reacted like an idiot.  In fact that's another way he's beyond his years.  One time I asked him to forgive me for raising my voice and to always give me a grasshopper when I'm acting like a child.  And he does it.  Every.  Time.  I didn't even think he would remember, much less understand what I was asking.  He's just amazing.  I feel so blessed and sometimes wonder what I did to deserve such an amazing child.  Again, do all parents feel this way? 

Either way I feel blessed.  And I hope he knows that.  

Signing off.

Me

(Enjoying some homemade cinnamon rolls on this beautiful Memorial Day, by this delicious little guy.  :])