My burning question is, Why me? Why am I inundated with everyone else’s dirty truth? Is it because between three dogs, three cats, and three kids that I clean-up so much of it I’m an expert? Is it because I give so much attention to it each day that I’m bringing more of it into my life via the Law of Attraction? Why has my life all of a sudden become about that dirty four-lettered word? Please tell me that I’m not the only one that scoops the litter, cleans the backyard, changes a pull-up, a diaper, and wipes a pint-sized butt (not mine, at least not since I’ve had 3 kids in 4 years) all before 10 am.

I can’t seem to get away from it. My boys don’t make it any easier with their obsession with the stuff. Oftentimes when I clean the backyard, they are there pointing out the different piles. It’s a competition on who can find the most. They act as if they scored the winning point with each find. One day, my oldest did show a little sportsmanship when he said, “I hope Hayden finds some.” Ahhh, brotherly love. Unfortunately it doesn’t stop there, my almost 3-year-old has to draw dog p**p on all of his pictures that include a house. He wants you to draw the house and he likes to draw circular objects falling from the sky that represent, well you know. Yeah, it’s going to be fun explaining that in preschool.

Oh well, if you need someone to lay your p**p experiences on, I’m here. There’s nothing I haven’t heard or seen. (Read It Was A Poop-tastrope.) After all, when you have three babies, your modesty has been thrown out the window. More people have seen me naked than when I was a single girl in my twenties. Go ahead and write on my tombstone…

Beloved wife, mother, daughter, and friend…
She really gave a crap.

Here’s my story…

My 3-year-old comes into my bedroom and tells me that his little brother took his diaper off and put poop on the floor. Ok, not so bad I thought. I can handle a little poop on the floor. After all, it’s not as bad as my friend’s son who smeared his poop all over her wall. Oh, but how wrong I was. I walk into the room and see my curious little 2-year-old poking at the dark round pile on the floor with hands covered in what I would’ve given my last girl scout cookie to be chocolate. But, it wasn’t chocolate all over his hands, shirt, chubby butt, or stocky thighs. Yes, once again, it was a poop-tastrophe.

I immediately picked him up and put him in the tub. Off went the shirt, in went the bubbles, and within 10 minutes all was well again in the household. That is until 1 hour later when the stinker came running in my office once again without a diaper. It turns out that he doesn’t like anything rubbing against his pint sized penis or plump rear, so he takes off his diaper. He then proceeds to tell me what he did in his pants. Now if only he could only get the concept of sitting on the potty before he does his business. Then life would be good, with two down and one to go in the messy world of potty training.

**Warning** The pictures that you are about to see do not contain chocolate.

Last night as my two boys are getting ready for bed, I had an unexpected breakthrough. My diaper wearing youngest decides that he needs to use the potty without any prompting from me. Here’s what happened. We were in the bathroom brushing teeth when my oldest sat down on his little potty to do his business. His little brother noticed this and ran towards the big potty. So I asked him if he wanted to sit up there, because sometimes he likes to do that, and he said yes. I complied and sat him on the potty with his diaper on and he started tugging at it. I decided to push a little more and asked him if he wanted his diaper off. Much to my surprise, he let out another “Yes”. I don’t hear that word coming out of his mouth very often, so I ran with it and off came Blue’s Clues. Then came the moment of triumph, pee in the toilet where it belongs! Of course, he tried to grab his penis a couple of times, but I have yet to find a boy or man that doesn’t do a little grabbing here or there. After he was done, he grabbed some toilet paper, threw it in the toilet and flushed. (Obviously, I don’t get a lot of alone time in the bathroom, hence the use of the toilet paper.) Then he went back to business as usual and finished brushing his teeth.

Do I allow myself to believe that this little incident could turn into something more? Like possibly a potty-trained toddler? Could this boy actually stay dry when he turns into a preschooler? Alternatively, was all of this a dream and its back to the harsh reality of potty training? The harsh reality that potty training isn’t always easy and sucks most of the time. No, I think that I’ll just relish in the fact that my boy was King of the Potty for at least a moment.