A New Year’s Day Poop Story

Everyone’s New Year’s night photos are so great, but I have a 💩 story to share tonight, so if that’s not your cup of tea, scroll on.

Ready?

OK. We put Elliott in underwear Thursday, after he woke up with a poopy diaper, declaring it time to be potty trained because he’ll be 4 in April. He’s done great — no pee accidents. He’s a champion holder, which is good and bad, because he’s almost too good at holding it all in. You know where I’m going with this.

Three days go by in underwear and no accidents! But also, no #2. He just refuses. He didn’t even accidentally 💩 in his sleep, when we put him in a pull up! And this is with me increasingly dosing his chocolate milk with MiraLax, per his pediatrician’s advice. Finally, tonight, he is in pain, but he insists he can’t poop. I sat with him for nearly an hour and a half, feeling like I was a labor coach, encouraging him to push it out, intermittently telling him I loved him and trying to get him to relax. We end up totally late for midnight service at church, where he continues to pace and whimper, while still fighting a BM.

A nurse at church said we should try a mineral oil enema, which we were not keen to try, but the poor dude was in such pain all the way home. So as Trinity gloves up, I watched Elliott pace and moan from the living room to the kitchen, and finally saw his legs start to collapse. So I’m like, oh, here we go, and I rush him into the bathroom, pull down his now trashed underwear (thank God for hand me downs) and get him on the toilet. Oh, there was poop smeared everywhere — the bottom of the toilet bowl, the edge of the kid attachment to the toilet, on Elliott’s legs. He finally gets it all out, and he is just jubilant — high fiving us, telling us repeatedly how he pooped in the potty. After we get everyone cleaned up and in bed, Trin’s washing his hands and asks me how I knew he was having an accident.

I said I had seen his legs start to collapse, and he starts just cracking up. “He pulled a Bridesmaids?!” Oh. My. God. I start gasping, laughing, because that’s exactly what he did.

This is two days after two boys vomiting in their bed, so parents-to-be, keep your sense of humor.

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