Category: bodily fluids

Sh*tting on the Sheep

The first two weeks of potty training were next to miraculous with our two-year-old. She had to go, she went. Repeat. The end. My (and my hubby’s) jaw dropped each time. No accidents. Could this be potty training nirvana?

Not so fast. Let’s go to week three, nap time. She didn’t settle down

Training Days

First-time mothers enjoy everything from the first coo to the one million “adorable pictures” we take of our babies covered in pureed peas, bananas and spaghetti. But in the back of everyone’s minds, the potty training period looms.

I had no idea how to potty train and took every single word of advice. I read every article on the internet, including techniques such as sticker rewards for using the toilet, cereal O’s to aim at, or candy for a reward. I tried them all.

I now know I was more ready for my two-year-old boy to be trained than he was, but I kept at it for almost a year more. What I’ve learned is that no matter the sex of your child, or how ready you are to be done with “potty training,” every mother gets hers in the terrible days before it’s over.

My son had turned three and had been using the potty quite successfully for some time, with the exception of the occasional nighttime accident (thank you, plastic mattress covers). It was okay as long as I didn’t stray too far from home.

He tested my skills at first, waiting until we were in a grocery store with a cart full of meat, milk and ice cream before announcing, “I have to go to the potty,” and making me run as fast as I could and park my 300-pound cart outside the bathroom until he was done ten minutes later. Once I was trying on shoes when he made me sprint barefoot through the shoe warehouse to get him there just in time, leaving a path of strewn shoes behind us.

The most notable and embarrassing potty training experience is what I like to call “The Ikea Incident.”

Well … poo

Three-year-old: Mom! I just pooped, but don’t worry. I covered it up like a cat.

My first thought: Oh no, this better not be a treasure hunt.

Walking into the bathroom, I saw that said poop actually made it into the toilet, and was now “covered up” with an entire roll of unraveled toilet

Driving Off Into the (Pink) Sunset

After two days of fun and sun at SeaWorld I should’ve known there’d be hell to pay.

We rafted; we tubed. We splashed; we squealed, we screamed. We loaded up on pizza from the “All You Can Eat” bar, and all kinds of snacks in various non-natural colors. The kids barely squabbled and there was definitely more smiling than pouting.

Things were good as we left the parking lot. I was feeling the glow. I admit it, I got cocky. I was thinking, “Look how happy this family is.”

We went back to the hotel we had checked out of six hours before to change out of wet clothes before starting the drive back. We didn’t have any room keys, but no big deal, right? They have lobby bathrooms. This will only take a minute.

A housecleaning cart blocked the ladies’ room entrance, so I sent my son into the men’s room while I reconfigured. An employee tells us there’s another ladies room in the indoor pool area. But we have no room keys. The employee took pity on me and let us in.

Then came a series of unfortunate events: me getting separated from my daughter and being locked out of the hotel and then the pool area. Finally, we were dressed and ready for the road. Twenty minutes later.

But I was still positive. We joined my husband and son in the lobby. They had procured road drinks including a bottle of Nestle Quik strawberry milk for each child. Thinking that might play a factor in the near future? You would be right. But at that moment, did I see it? I did not. I just wanted to get in the car and go.

Red Alert: Diaper Disaster

Changing diapers is part of the job of being a parent.

As an expectant father I had never wiped another person’s rear before. But when my son came along—a tiny delicate mass that would be dependent on his father to protect him–I knew that I was in for some firsts.

At the hospital, it was all a blur. Sleepwalking through my first diaper change, the nurses were there to help and I was happy to let them. I had been through so much already. Poor me, right?

We came home and I got the hang of it. For the next few days the diaper changing continued without incident. Set baby on changing pad, unlatch diaper, keep it covered. Wipe. Change. Got it.

So when company came to visit and it was time for the diaper to be changed, I jumped in and scooped up the baby, eager to prove I was on top of things. I remember the impressed looks on the faces of our guests as I took initiative. We strolled into his room and I set the little guy down. Singing silly little songs about silly little things. All was good in the world. Then I took the diaper off…

Jealousy Lives Anywhere

While staring down at her younger brother’s vomit, my six-year-old daughter says, with a hint of jealousy, “He had popcorn?!”



I was in an art museum in Chicago in the winter with a six-month-old baby in tow. She was layered up to the gills when the explosion happened. I took her into the bathroom and could see it was beyond just a diaper change. It seemed like a lot of

Chocolate Chip Cookies with a Side of Cloth Diapers

They tell you your life changes when you have kids. They don’t explain how or why.

Sleep is a given. Once you have kids, it’s gone. Social life–not totally gone, but very different.

And you get desensitized to things that previously would have disgusted you. You develop the ability to handle pee, poop,

Always Pack An Extra Diaper

I was flying cross-country with my two year old. She’d blazed through three diapers before we got to the second leg of the trip. Sure enough, as soon as we were airborne, she pooped. And I was out of diapers. Fortunately, the airlines think it’s still 1959 and they stock

The Boogie Wars

I learned from books that children ultimately control two things: what goes in and what goes out of their bodies. I prided myself on never forcing my daughter to eat during meals or to sit on the potty for incessant amounts of time. She’s three years old now, and she’s a great

“Wish Me Luck”

Beautiful stone church on a crisp blue day.

Those were the last words I said to my friends as I went to church with my five, four and two year old. My husband was working. I was solo and apparently, brave.

There is a time in our church where the priest asks kids to come to the alter–I reluctantly went with

When the Stomach Bug Strikes

A woman is sick in the bathroom over the toilet.

My two children (five-year-old son and two-year-old daughter) and I are normally on our own during the week while my husband travels for his job. It’s a lot to juggle, and certainly there are weeks where it feels like “Groundhog’s Day” over and over again, doing the same morning and bedtime routines

The Woes of Potty Training

Potty training baby

A Thanksgiving Dad Will Not Forget

It was my baby girl’s first Thanksgiving with her extended family. I was excited to potentially get some help from my baby’s grandma, aunts, uncles and her cousins (all boys between 5-11).

The boys were excited to see her for the first time. They were very rambunctious with her. They passed her around, wrestled with her, tossed

Night Moves

After a long week that began with working a 17-hour day in LA, I was looking forward to a restful night’s sleep back home. However my youngest son, 2.5 years old, just wouldn’t go to sleep. Around midnight he came into my bed. My wife left and went to his bed. My little man burrowed

Wasn’t Prepared for That

This one definitely falls into the “I never thought I’d be so skilled at wiping someone else’s butt” category.

I’d already been sufficiently warned about needing to dodge streams of pee when changing my son’s diaper, so I knew enough to never stand directly downstream. But when I was finishing up and lifted

Diarrhea, Diapers and Daddy

Here’s what happened today, in fragmented form, so it won’t damage anyone’s psyche: Diarrhea. Faulty diaper. Bath. Water too cold. Screams. Water temp fixed. Lose balance, bang head on bathtub. More screams. Daddy removes clothes to get in bathtub. Clean small human being, soothe banged head. Exit tub, cuddles. All clean. Cute


I became intimately acquainted with my daughter’s incredible ability to empty her stomach at just six months old. When I was rocking her to sleep after nursing, she got a little fussy. I gently patted her back, hoping to dislodge an air bubble, but I got more than I bargained