It is common knowledge when preparing to become a parent that one must change diapers, but I was not prepared for what comes after potty training. I am thankful to be out of that stage in my life…at least for awhile longer before I have to go through it again with Austin. It has actually been long enough now that I am ready to talk about the traumas and maybe even share a laugh or two about it.

I was so excited when I could finally put away the diaper bag and the “moist toilettes”. No longer would I have to roll up my sleeves, hold my breath and remove human discharge from a wiggling child’s bottom while trying desperately NOT to get any on me. But then came the calls from the bathroom. “Moooommyyy”…..then even louder,”MOOMMMMYYYYYYY”. ” I need help wiping my bottom.” I doesn’t sound like that big of a transition, but the mess I use to remove with a handy dandy wipey is now much more difficult with a less sturdy piece of toilet paper. Darn, where are my plastic gloves when I need them! I tried to show them how to do it on their own, but when it comes down to the truth, kids don’t want the dirty job either. So the battle of the wills begins.

After months of the calling out from the bathroom and strained affirmation announced back by me, “you can do it, your a big boy now!” they finally gave up, but not without continued torture. Phase Two of the transition began when a naked child approached me, pants down, and fully bent over he says, “Mom, did I get it all?” Choking down the last bite of my lunch, I made the mistake of answering his question while staring into his “big brown eye” (if ya know what I mean). I really do not recommend this unless you want the phase to last longer. When I finally learned my lesson and refused to open my eyes and look anymore, the boys needed to find another way to torture me. Clogging the toilet with as much TP as they could possibly stuff into it was not enough. Nor was putting dirty toilet paper into the garbage. Come on, we don’t live in Mexico or Brazil. That is something I had only seen while on the mission field!

Phase Three, just when I think it’s all over, I find a child standing on the bathroom sink, bent over, butt to the mirror, several squares in hand ready for any missed spots that the mirror may expose. I really felt the mom part of me saying I needed to do something to stop this madness, but the lady in me went into self preservation mode. I picked my jaw off of the floor and quietly walked away. What I don’t know or go into denial about, won’t hurt me…I hope.