I am so over poo. It is my third time now toilet training a toddler and I am over it. I have run out of steam. I realize steam is a bad choice of word to use talking about poo but I am done.
For some reason my two girls, one is five now and my three year old is currently in training, hate going for a poo in the toilet. My eldest boy never had any issues. I’m not sure if that’s because he got the best of me and I had more patience, or is it just a girl thing to hate doing number two’s in the loo?
My five year old is fine now but what we both went through during her toilet training can only be described as traumatic.
For some reason she became obsessed with public toilets. She wouldn’t even attempt to try going at home, but if we went anywhere and she spotted a public toilet she decided that seemed like a better place to give it a go. So any time a poo was coming she would immediately start screaming like someone was attacking her with a knife. Being in a public place (usually a playground) meant as well as everyone staring at us wondering why my child was so traumatised, I would grab her and run to the nearest toilet.
Being a public toilet they were usually gross, always filthy, stinking and God knows what you might find on entering each one. And because pooing was such an issue at the time, we could be in a public toilet for up to half an hour. This would mean I would have to somehow hover, without fully sitting on the skanky toilet floor while Zoe squeezed my hand while shouting; “Is it going to hurt mom? Will there be blood?” through tears.
The poor child had one incident at home when it hurt her going to the toilet and that one time had psychologically scarred her to such an extent that she was now terrified of doing a poo. She would hold it in until her stomach was aching, until she was miserable. I would run out of patience trying everything from bribery, to keeping calm and sitting with her sometimes up to an hour, trying to counsel her as best I could into doing a poo.
We were both fed up.
The other day I mentioned to a friend that I was finally toilet training Amy (my youngest), and she said; “Oh remember you had to take Zoe to the poo specialist?”
“Did I??” I stood there in a daze. My jaded, stressed out mom memory working overtime to remember the forgotten middle child and all of the trauma she had endured trying to do a God damn poo. It’s amazing what your brain can block out. Maybe I was broody at the time, planning a third child so my brain went into overdrive blocking out everything that had mentally broken me down in the past three years. I had completely forgotten the poo dramas. We had ended up going to a poo specialist (who would want to specialize in this? I mean really?).
Yep, it was coming back to me now, I had cried in front of the poo doctor – I felt like a failure as a mom.
Zoe had frequented so many public toilets all over the country she had done enough research to write; “Public Toilets in New Zealand; The Good, The Bad and The Down Right Skanky.”
The poo doctor had given me reward charts, explained to Zoe what was happening and did a much better job then her emotionally involved and frazzled mom. It eventually sorted itself out, but now here I am with Amy, sitting on the toilet floor, holding her hand telling her everything will be okay; saying anything I think might work, even telling her that I will buy her a pony if she just for the love of God does a poo in the toilet.
It’s like poo dejavu! Not again!!
You would think I would be a poo specialist by now with all my experience but no, here I sit with a constipated three year old who refuses to poo in the toilet. I can only hope it won’t drag on for too long and here’s hoping I can remember where I put the reward charts given to me by the poo specialist.