It’s been one step forward…two steps back in regards to all things potty training, poop, and my impossibly strong willed child named Aiden. Last week, he totally pooped in the potty again. We were so happy, we did a dance around the house, and then had a poopoo party, with balloons and a poop cake in celebration of the big accomplishment. We even invited the neighbors, who gazed strangely at the chocolate cake I prepared and muttered something about having other plans, referencing the funeral I’d invited them to previously for my lost breast milk. See if I invite you again. Nobody turns Ashley Mills down twice. Nobody.

A few days later, after I thought the code had been cracked, Aiden held it in until he saw his chance. I would find him bouncing aimlessly in the corner and ask if he had to go, but denial was the name of the game. He went in his pull-up when I’d put him down for a nap. Yet again, another setback. I was all, seriously, kid? And I can’t help but keep wondering: when is the last great hurdle? When he will be consistent with this battle?  When do I get to WIN???

Today, I felt like we made great strides for mankind, as he totally tried on his own, and went in the potty after he’d held it in for days. I screamed. I cheered. I took pics of his accomplishment per his request with my phone, and sent them to Daddy. We called a few people and let Aiden tell them what he’d done, so there are now a few voicemails floating in cell phone world with Aiden’s voice proclaiming “I POOPED ON THE POTTY! YAAAAY ME!” and everyone receiving said voicemails are all, “Seriously? Aren’t you like ten now? Shouldn’t you have done that three years ago???” …I know you’re all thinking it…HEAVEN HELP US.

And it was such a relief. Such a breath of fresh air. I have been battling this for over a year now. I felt good about our accomplishment today. Such hard work finally rewarded. When I left the bathroom with Aiden, Malone was fussing in his swing. I found him covered in poop. This little man holds his in as well, for days on end, until he has one big kaboom of a blowout to celebrate life and all things in it. He was covered. The swing was covered. I think his paci (gross) was covered. A bath was necessary to restore everything back to its natural order.

And then I realized it for the first time: My children are out to get me. Just when I think it’s safe…when all things are right in the world. They have this pooptastic tag team battle going on in the Mills household. And they’re winning.

We ventured to Burger King tonight, to celebrate our pooping triumph. For the first time since Malone was born. Jamin and I looked at each other as we entered the play area, and mused how we hadn’t been out in around three months. We were taking the easy route for dinner and let the kids play in the playground while Jamin ordered the food. I was watching Aiden and Emmy in the play area, when Malone started screaming incessantly. I kept him calm by swinging him, when I heard Aiden yell desperately from deep inside the giant maze of a play fort.
“MOMMY! I have to go poopoo!” I could see him through the window but I knew by the desperate look on his face he that was going already. It was like a slow motion war scene from one of those Band of Brothers movies, where the bombs are exploding everywhere around the main character, but they dutifully clamber to heroism, attempting the impossible. And then I heard: “I went in my pullup!” Except my version of the war movie is the one where the main character, despite all their efforts, eats it in the end. And then the screen pops up and is all, “The End.” And everyone’s hacked they paid ten bucks and wasted three hours of their life to see a movie where the main character unsuccessfully dies.

Because Aiden wasn’t wearing a pullup.

And so we now had THAT situation. With THAT kid. And we had to traipse through the entire Burger King haven smelling of poo, attempting to avoid my worst nightmare-giant droppings of poo falling out on our way to the restroom while people took big disgusting bites of their hamburgers, and whilst chewing their glorious bites, realized, to their utmost horror, what those brown droppings are that have miraculously appeared on the floor. And who’s kid that is. This is the very reason I have never been too crazy about other people’s children. Because they poop at inopportune times and they stink and it’s just gross.

While Jamin took Aiden to the bathroom to trash the undies: I had to retrieve Emerson from the play station, as she had climbed with Aiden, and was now helpless on her own. When I reached her, she had pooped too. (hurray) But I had no diapers. So, leaving a horrible rancid garden of smells in the play area for all the other kids to inhale while they tried to play/eat, we all went home.

When we got home, I saw that Malone had been screaming because he’d leaked from his diaper. And we were all ignoring him because we were obsessed with ridding ourselves of the other.

Jamin changed Malone and I changed Emmy, and we all made our way to the bathroom for necessary bathing rituals, since everyone was covered in POOP. Only Emerson stopped bottomless halfway there, promptly popped a squat in the middle of the den, and peed on the floor. Laughing. She peed on the floor.

I looked at Jamin, at his point, both of us completely exasperated. “I feel like we live with puppies.”

And he nodded numbly in agreement.

Hi. My name is Ashley Mills. I wipe little butts.

ALL. FLIPPING. DAY. LONG.

pooptastic tag team: 50. adults: 0

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