If you've been living on pins and needles in anticipation of my latest post, I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting so long. And for the rest of you (safely assuming this to be all readers), I just didn't want to interrupt hockey playoffs or baseball. Or, more realistically, my hands were too busy ushering small people into bathrooms and smacking my own forehead in response to mounting logistical issues related to these home renovations.
Yes, we finally have a fully functioning bathroom. It happened 5 days later than they assured us it would be done and took almost 4 weeks longer than initially estimated and still isn't totally completed. Any expectations for sticking to future 'deadlines' have been completely abandoned on my part. My husband still somehow has faith that the whole project will be completed by the end of this month, but I am cut from a decidedly less optimistic cloth. If we have a functioning kitchen by July 4th, I'll eat somebody's hat.
I am waiting until someone shows up to hang our mirror and fix some painting issues before I post pictures of the final product, but I can assure you, it's pretty awesome (get acquainted with those pins and needles people, it could be awhile). But I will happily post some pictures of the eyesore that is currently occupying the back of our house, sitting idle while we await the promise of an apparently highly elusive electrician:
As stagnant as our rehab project has been over the past couple weeks, we have actually hit the accelerator on the potty training front. A little over a week ago, our previous nanny's parting gift to us was the news that the boys had spent much of the day in underpants with limited disaster. We found ourselves facing a busy Saturday with a tough choice: pull ups or underpants? If I had even just one penny for every time some knowing parent (or non-parent 🙄) winked at me and told me my kids will never potty train until we toss the pull-ups, I'd be able to fund our renovation project. So (armed with this amazing new bit of advice!), we took a giant breath, packed the diaper bag to the brim with extra pants and piled underpant-clad bottoms into car seats lined with hand towels to start our day.
Soccer practice was first and started with a successful potty trip in some elementary school stalls. Big guy stayed dry the whole time, despite the fact that every time he wandered off the field to us mid-game (which was at least a half dozen times) I was eyeballing the crotch of his shorts and asking about the potty. Middle man had his first wardrobe change and left a puddle of piss on the playground equipment.
Next was Target. Because Saturday. We paired off and hit the stalls again with similar success rates. SIDENOTE: I am happy to report that while in the Target restrooms, my son and I were somehow not accosted by any pre-op transsexual penises in the woman's room and my husband likewise did not report any vagina run-ins (whew, right?). Having narrowly escaped what I've been assured would be unavoidable disasterous side-effects of non-discriminatory bathroom policies, we then picked out new underpants and various other target necessities, among them were potty bribes including a small bag of tiny, wiggly neon snakes and a large bag of fruit snacks consumed by our tiny 2-year-old before we could get out of the parking lot--which was also where we had his second wardrobe change.
From there, we joined all the 20-something hipsters in St Louis at a popular microbrew for a food truck event with friends. But, not before pants change #3 for the 2-year-old who obviously wanted us to be wowed by his ability to preform both on and off the potty.
The rest of the day and Sunday were spent essentially at home, closer to potty seats and essentially naked except for Mickey, superhero, and Good Dinosaur underpants. We celebrated with high fives (which I realize is not a great choice straight off the pot), screen time, popcorn parties and ice cream bars consumed on the porch; where we displaying our new underpants to our super-impressed neighbors and any poor, unsuspecting, previously-innocent passers-by.
When the workweek began, our 4-year-old bravely marched off to school each morning in underpants which miraculously returned unsoiled for lunchtime. Also, in the confusion of transitioning childcare, both boys often went down for naps without the protection of a pull-up. This was playing with some serious fire in the case of the 4-year-old, who currently naps in our bed. Amazingly, we made it through the week without having to wash a single sheet (which is great because we've made it to May and so why should I start washing sheets now? *wink*)
Yesterday, the hub-meistro had to go play band director in Columbia, leaving me to play mommy without backup. We braved a rainy morning by meeting friends for coffee (which used to be relaxing?), a little light shopping, and a birthday party in a somewhat puddly, but otherwise rain-free park. We made potty stops at each location, me negotiating hand washing and pants management with a one-year-old slung on my back by way of the Ergo/most-ingenious-invention-ever-in-the-whole-history-of-the-world. We had an early and very minor accident by the two-year-old, prompting a pants change, but otherwise we totally killed it. I figured scooting around on wet playground equipment would be the perfect time for my kids to let their bladders loose, but remarkably, both kept their pelvic floor muscles in check until we got home to the sweet sight of dueling potty chairs.
Don't let me steer you wrong, this is not to say we haven't had some extra laundry this week; particularly, in relation to a persisting lack of control over bowel movements. On Tuesday, the big guy announced he was poopy (thankfully) before turning to settle into his car seat on our way to school. I christened the new nanny by emerging back in the house 5 minutes after leaving with a poopy pair of superman underpants. That same day, the middle guy emerged from school with a similar situation downstairs (this new nanny is a total saint, I'm telling you). Just this morning, we had to flee the playground for a double underpants swap when both kids ran past me emitting that familiar stink.
Still, the sight of one of my kids springing up from whatever they're doing and chirping 'mommy, I need to potty' is enough to give me chills. Should I be sad to watch our monthly diaper expenses plummet? It's definitely a new chapter for us and happened the same week we tossed the baby's last bottle, so I'm trying to hold it together...nah, that's a lie, I'm so freaking excited.
In the (highly sophisticated) words of my 4-year-old: UNDERPANTS!!!!