(Whooooheee!!! These are my first choices of possible pictures to publish today - No. 2: Gus with his Poopie-in-the-Potty treats and No. 3: A still life of my treat, a Bourbon on the rocks sipped leisurely mid-afternoon - but then I remembered that I promised myself to not take another picture of bodily excrement...and then Gus flushed it, despite the fact that I toyed with saving it for Jacob to see, oh well...)
This is the text I sent a few friends this afternoon, right after I celebrated Gus and sent him off to play with Mater and a lollipop the size of a small cabbage:
"After almost 5 hours of hard labor, Gus delivered a healthy poopie, that appears to weigh at least 1/4 lb and is about 6 inches long at 3 p.m. this afternoon. Gus is resting comfortably with Mater. Mom is overjoyed."
It felt like birth, it really did.
And, as with birth, I'm so glad we did it. Now I am. At about 2:30 I was ready to bang my head into a new shape against the tile wall, before reading yet another poopie book and watching Gus squirm around our tiny 30 square-foot bathroom for the hundredth time in an effort to avoid what we had barricaded ourselves in there for in the first place.
One. Poopie. In. The. Potty.
As I watched him, I had visions of a not very flattering Halloween costume that I would make him this year in the shape of a cartoon bomb complete with a fuse line and a sign in the front that says "Full of Sh@#"...because that's what Gus was most of this morning and early afternoon. I described him to our dear friend, Anna, who happens to be our rockin' occupational therapist, as "full to here (neck) with fiberous foods, a fair amount of Metamusil (I should get a sponsorship for mentioning their product so loyally) lots of liquids and absolutely no poopie to bring relief." after OT we even went and had a double portion of Gus' favorite Mac 'n' Cheese at our neighborhood grocery store's little bistro and after that he looked positively stuffed, bloated and uncomfortable.
With a belly tight as a drum, he couldn't bend down nor really stand up and in the end he couldn't even look at me any more, he simply squirmed against the bathroom wall, while I read or sat quietly.
Then I locked him in the bathroom.
No, not because I'm cruel or European, just because I'm losing my mind. We had played around with the lock out of sheer boredom, and falling yet again for one of Gus' ruses to go find a toy, I left the bathroom only to hear the door fall into lock behind me.
I could tell from the sound it made that it was shut and that I would not get back in without some fancy tools or brute force.
A frantic call from me to Jacob and from Jacob to one of his firefighter buddies, brought quick help in the form of two big burly men with lock pocks and screwdrivers, who managed to open the door without too much delay, only to surprise Gus, who had been busy squirming and avoiding the potty...
The actual big moment came an hour later, after a brief call to Daddy, while Gus rolled around in stupor on our bed. He suddenly sat up, said "I need to peepee" and bolted to the potty only to sit on it and push it out in a milli-second.
Amazing!
Now he is napping off his lollipop-induced sugar haze and I am sipping my bourbon, feeling very accomplished.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention. He stayed dry again during the night without as much as a single squirm.
Poopie Score:
Undies:2
Potty:1
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