Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Poop It Out, Little Man!!

This little guy loves leaves but bashes bathrooms. I am a good writer.

   Guys, here's the deal: Wyatt hates pooping. It is easily his least favorite thing about being a person. He hates it so much he'll postpone it as long has he can. I've talked about this a little, but let's really delve deep into the issues here.

   One of the best things about having a little kid is how freely and often you get to talk about these sorts of things. When you are in middle school or college and want to make fart jokes, there best not be an adult or mom around. But now?! Talking about a toddler?! It's all fair game again!!

This is the face Wyatt makes when we tell him he'll be happy if he just poops.
I love that I get to write the word "poop" so much.
   When Wyatt was a little baby, he had a couple of big hard poops. I had to help them out, actually, pinching through the diaper. This taught him that pooping is scary and painful and he has avoided it as much as he can. He holds it in. His record is 13 days. I am not kidding. It made local news as "Wyatt Watch 2014" and they had one of those graphic calendars that started counting on day 9. He spends days in constant motion, even just rocking side-to-side, because he knows once he stops moving he'll be in pain and need to poop. He doesn't like to poop.

   Which is crazy, right? If I were to ask you (which I would), I'd bet you'd list pooping as one of the best parts of your day, if you really stopped to think about it. Which you now are. Thinking about it. Gross. And little boys potty-train so easy. Wyatt LOVES going #1 outside. He rightly knows that is one of the best things about being a guy. We'll be 5 feet from the bathroom, he'll have to go pee, and scream "Wy go pee!" and run outside. One time at Costco he had to go, so we just dropped his shorts by some Arborvitae bushes that were for sale and let him go. Then we bought some other ones for our fence. Pee is no problems. Poo is the problem. (My lawyers are telling me that I should put in a disclaimer: That Costco story is not true. But one day, it will be.)

   We've given him laxatives and lots of juice, we've fed him the right foods and kept him moving. Nothing. So please don't call me with your advice for how to get a kid to poop. Call Cara. She loves that stuff.

Wyatt sleeping while watching George on the Kindle. He gets to play on Dad's iPad when he ... you know ... does that thing. When he doesn't he has to play on a Kindle like a sucker.

   Well, go back to September. Wyatt got a star-balloon for his birthday. It was a balloon in the shape of a star. He loved it and slept with it and took it everywhere and wouldn't let us help him hold it on walks. One day he and I were walking and it got caught on a light-pole and pulled out of his grasp. He yelled, I lunged for it, then scaled the light pole to the top, then jumped from the top to grab it. It was just beyond my reach. I fell softly to the ground with only a bird in my hand to show for my efforts. None of this is true except that he lost his balloon to a light-pole.

   He cried for days. And weeks later, he'd ask me to go driving around, looking for his star balloon. I mean, this was his first real loss, yknow?! Well, that and he's lost every time we've ever raced. But when he'd ask for a star-balloon, he knew in the back of his mind he could get a new one if he'd just go poop in the potty. (The whole "in the potty" part is quite critical, really.)

   I'd say "Wy, do you know how you can get a new star balloon?" He'd stop crying and pause, then sigh and say "Yeah, Wy poop in potty. Wy no want star balloon." His love of the balloon was outweighed by his fear of the poop. This was in the midst of his 13-day marathon.

   When he finally went, all tired and shaking and red and crying and scared, he sat on the potty traumatized. Then he stopped, got brief glimmer of hope in his eye, and weakly said "Star balloon?!"

   We've made a lot of progress since then. Now he goes about once every three or four days, no longer holds it in to the point he gets streaks in his underwear (wish he'd teach me this trick), and doesn't fight it and cry when the dirty deed is starting. We have hope that we can get this thing nailed down before New Wyatt comes in a month. That's the baby's name, we think. New Wyatt.

Wyatt and mom, both happy to have pooped. I mean... wait, what?

Wyatt's mood: bit of an earache *sadface*
My mood: can't wait for a 4-day weekend.
Cara's mood: "I was walking today and I thought the baby was just going to fall out."
Listening to: More Than Just A Dream like a million times.

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