Bathroom Dilemmas
One of the most stressful things I do all day is walk into the bathroom. While Abbie hides in her room if I even think “potty,” the boys rush the bathroom door the instant I open it.
If I force them out of the room, I have to deal with them screaming until I open the door.
If I let them in the bathroom, they immediately remove their pants and begin playing. They might sit on a potty, throw things in a potty, or just dig in the shelves. Whatever they do, they do it without a diaper, and whether or not they’re sitting on a potty has no bearing on when they evacuate their holding tanks.
This morning I snuck in the bathroom to use the facilities, and to brush my teeth. This would take a few minutes, and luckily the boys were obliviously playing in the living room when I closed the bathroom door. I didn’t have to endure the boys screaming at me from the other side of the door, which was good, but I should’ve realized that silence is never a good thing when caring for children. When I emerged from the bathroom, Ian had climbed onto the kitchen counter, reached onto the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet, and dumped a previously unopened bag of soup crackers onto the kitchen floor plus a few grains of rice from a previously unopened bag just for good measure. Not to be outdone, Tory had found a bottle of children’s vitamins on a different kitchen counter, somehow defeated the child-resistant cap, and was munching away on several times his recommended daily allowance of iron. Both were equally angered when I stole his morning snack, although the soup cracker mess spread across the floor made it impossible for me to quickly deny the boys all of their ill-gotten goods.
This afternoon I let the boys into the bathroom with me. They immediately stripped and pooped on and near the potty. I drug Abbie into the bathroom too because adding a third uncooperative potty trainer only adds slightly more stress. After I was convinced that everyone had fully emptied their holding tanks, I corralled everyone, cleaned everyone before they could leak, and cleaned everything before someone touched something. With the bathroom and my children sparkling, I herded everyone out of the bathroom and quickly shut the door before someone rushed back in. In my haste, I failed to notice Abbie’s fingers resting in the doorframe as the door closed.
It wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last time I shut Abbie’s fingers in a door. She screamed. I examined them and assured her she was fine. After several minutes of comfort from me and screaming from her, I re-examined and reassured her. She was bleeding a little under the fingernail, a fact she pointed out by exclaiming, “It’s red!”
Eventually she calmed down and everyone realized that nothing was broken. Thanks to a little ibuprofen, everyone drifted off to nap. I fell asleep too after a stressful day.
If I force them out of the room, I have to deal with them screaming until I open the door.
If I let them in the bathroom, they immediately remove their pants and begin playing. They might sit on a potty, throw things in a potty, or just dig in the shelves. Whatever they do, they do it without a diaper, and whether or not they’re sitting on a potty has no bearing on when they evacuate their holding tanks.
This morning I snuck in the bathroom to use the facilities, and to brush my teeth. This would take a few minutes, and luckily the boys were obliviously playing in the living room when I closed the bathroom door. I didn’t have to endure the boys screaming at me from the other side of the door, which was good, but I should’ve realized that silence is never a good thing when caring for children. When I emerged from the bathroom, Ian had climbed onto the kitchen counter, reached onto the top shelf of a kitchen cabinet, and dumped a previously unopened bag of soup crackers onto the kitchen floor plus a few grains of rice from a previously unopened bag just for good measure. Not to be outdone, Tory had found a bottle of children’s vitamins on a different kitchen counter, somehow defeated the child-resistant cap, and was munching away on several times his recommended daily allowance of iron. Both were equally angered when I stole his morning snack, although the soup cracker mess spread across the floor made it impossible for me to quickly deny the boys all of their ill-gotten goods.
This afternoon I let the boys into the bathroom with me. They immediately stripped and pooped on and near the potty. I drug Abbie into the bathroom too because adding a third uncooperative potty trainer only adds slightly more stress. After I was convinced that everyone had fully emptied their holding tanks, I corralled everyone, cleaned everyone before they could leak, and cleaned everything before someone touched something. With the bathroom and my children sparkling, I herded everyone out of the bathroom and quickly shut the door before someone rushed back in. In my haste, I failed to notice Abbie’s fingers resting in the doorframe as the door closed.
It wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last time I shut Abbie’s fingers in a door. She screamed. I examined them and assured her she was fine. After several minutes of comfort from me and screaming from her, I re-examined and reassured her. She was bleeding a little under the fingernail, a fact she pointed out by exclaiming, “It’s red!”
Eventually she calmed down and everyone realized that nothing was broken. Thanks to a little ibuprofen, everyone drifted off to nap. I fell asleep too after a stressful day.
posted by Matt at
11:54 PM
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