Silencing My Potty Mouth

R.J. was an easy infant. Or, maybe I'm jaded. When he was seven hours old, the nurses brought him to me from the hospital nursery: "he has a rapid breathing rate," they told me. "We want to see how he does with you." An hour later they reported, "He's better when he's with you." And so, there was no night in the nursery; no gentle waking for a 2 a.m. feeding. R.J. slept in the hospital bed with me. I had an infant who panicked when he got too far from mommy. But, I'm a first time mommy, so I found that charming.

I didn't mind holding him 20 hours a day. He nursed every hour and a half. I proudly told my friends, "He's such a good baby--he never cries." Obviously. What's there to cry about? He gave up his pacifier without a fight. It's an easy fight to win when you nurse a child until he's almost two--who needs a pacifier?

He was an easy baby. Or, I'm jaded. Either way, I wholly enjoyed R.J.'s babyhood. And, I'm loving toddlerhood. But someone should have warned me that I would become a potty mouth.

"Do you need to go potty?" "Do you need to poop?" "Are you wet?"

With R.J. in the room, it is impossible for me to have a conversation that isn't interrupted by my potty mouth. And, R.J. is offended by it.

"No!" he shouts. "No, no, no, no, no!!!!" rapid-fire rejections fire back at me as only a toddler can do.

We've tried M & M's. And a potty chart with stickers. He knows to "point it down!" He can aim at Cheerios floating in the potty. We've taught Baby Bear, Elmo, blankie, and his motorcycle how to use the potty.

But he still won't go. We've tried Pull-Ups. And big boy pants. And, most recently, the plastic pant debacle: tears streaming down his face, "No Mommy! They too weird!" (they are weird. It's like wearing a shower cap on your boom-boom).

He stands in my master bathroom, eyes bulging, distressed--obviously pooping. "I pooping," he tells us. "You no wanna come in here." (we don't worry about his manhood--he is obviously a man).

I fear that my couch will soon crackle warmly when anyone sits down--we're going to have to cover it in vinyl. And the rugs and carpet too. He's like a puppy.

I thought this mommy thing was easy. I was wrong. R.J. and I are both exhausted. (and his nanny is too, I suspect). I know R.J. is exhausted because he told me when I asked one too many times about the potty: "I too tired. I need a break."

And so, we are on a potty break. We'll try again in a few weeks. Until then, the potty mouth has been silenced.