A Lovely Family Day at the Apple Orchard (otherwise entitled, Why I Hate Pullups)
It was the perfect fall day for a trip to the apple orchard. Slightly overcast and cool, with rain earlier in the day to drive off the big weekend crowds. Somewhat on a whim, we packed up the kids after nap and went on our way. Apple cider donuts and cold cider drinks were calling our name.
Miss M is smack dab in the middle of the potty training stage, and is doing fairly well. While we are primarily in underwear, we stuck a pull-up on her since the potties at the apple orchard are not very convenient. Off went to have some family fun. We arrived, did the potty thing, and then saw the animals. We played, we picked berries, we ate donuts. In the midst of all this fun we had several trips to the potty. Through it all Miss M stayed clean and dry.
Donuts were a hit, as was the “juice,” (cider). Miss N played reverse psychology on me, pointing out a toy she wanted and then saying, “But I have enough toys, right mom?” This is the phrase I always say when she’s begging for something (because it’s true!) I didn’t get her the toy, and as we were walking past it for the last time, she outright asked for it. I was proud of her for not pouting when I said no.
It was time to leave, and of course a trip to the potty was in order. Daddy went to get the van and pull it around, and I took the girls to the potty. Sounds simple, right? Only one problem with the plan – Daddy took the backpack with him.
We arrive at the bathroom, and in the midst of telling Miss N that “I know you don’t need to go, but we have a long drive and I want you to try” over and over and over, I whip down the pull-up and place the toddler on the potty, only to then realize that the pull-up was no longer clean and dry. Between the brown swipe down the toddler’s leg and the nastiness all over the toilet, I realized we had a very big problem. Then, I looked down at my hands and realized that they matched the color of the toddler’s legs. In my panic I had also touched my arms, which now had their fair share of the nastiness.
Leaving Miss M on the potty, I scrubbed my hands furiously. Then, opened the door to the bathroom (a one person model) and instructed Miss N to walk to the van to get a pull-up and the wipes. Miss N panics and does not want to walk across the path to the van. I stand in the doorway to the bathroom, keeping one eye half on Miss M, who has now climbed off of the potty and is tracking the brown stuff all over the bathroom, and the other eye on Miss N, who announces, “I know, I will just go very slowly to be safe.”
Everything in me at that point wanted to scream, NOOOOO, GO FAST, but I didn’t. Miss N kept taking a few steps toward the van, then running back to me in a panic. Finally, another mom with stroller in tow, who could probably relate to what was going on, saw my distress and got my husband’s attention. Meanwhile, Miss M has wandered into the hallway of the bathroom area, tracking her present all over everything. I tell her to get back in the bathroom, which she does but starts crying because she wants to see me and Miss N.
Finally Miss N got brave and went to the van to get the pull-up and wipes. I attempt to undress my now distressed toddler. Through all of the wandering around the bathroom, she has covered all of her clothing, except her socks, in poo. I strip off her pants after disposing of the soiled pull-up, and in the process she steps in the poo, soiling her socks as well. I give up, strip her to just her shirt, and clean her. Then I attack the spots on her shirt with wipes as best I can, because we did not, in fact, have a spare shirt. Finally, I wrap all of the soiled clothing in paper towels, and attack my hands and arms with soap and HOT water. With the wipes I clean the toilet and floors, and I place my naked from the waist down toddler in the crook of my arm and we leave.
Let’s just say I really hope they disinfect those bathrooms every night.
And I’m not a fan of pull-ups.
Miss M is smack dab in the middle of the potty training stage, and is doing fairly well. While we are primarily in underwear, we stuck a pull-up on her since the potties at the apple orchard are not very convenient. Off went to have some family fun. We arrived, did the potty thing, and then saw the animals. We played, we picked berries, we ate donuts. In the midst of all this fun we had several trips to the potty. Through it all Miss M stayed clean and dry.
Donuts were a hit, as was the “juice,” (cider). Miss N played reverse psychology on me, pointing out a toy she wanted and then saying, “But I have enough toys, right mom?” This is the phrase I always say when she’s begging for something (because it’s true!) I didn’t get her the toy, and as we were walking past it for the last time, she outright asked for it. I was proud of her for not pouting when I said no.
It was time to leave, and of course a trip to the potty was in order. Daddy went to get the van and pull it around, and I took the girls to the potty. Sounds simple, right? Only one problem with the plan – Daddy took the backpack with him.
We arrive at the bathroom, and in the midst of telling Miss N that “I know you don’t need to go, but we have a long drive and I want you to try” over and over and over, I whip down the pull-up and place the toddler on the potty, only to then realize that the pull-up was no longer clean and dry. Between the brown swipe down the toddler’s leg and the nastiness all over the toilet, I realized we had a very big problem. Then, I looked down at my hands and realized that they matched the color of the toddler’s legs. In my panic I had also touched my arms, which now had their fair share of the nastiness.
Leaving Miss M on the potty, I scrubbed my hands furiously. Then, opened the door to the bathroom (a one person model) and instructed Miss N to walk to the van to get a pull-up and the wipes. Miss N panics and does not want to walk across the path to the van. I stand in the doorway to the bathroom, keeping one eye half on Miss M, who has now climbed off of the potty and is tracking the brown stuff all over the bathroom, and the other eye on Miss N, who announces, “I know, I will just go very slowly to be safe.”
Everything in me at that point wanted to scream, NOOOOO, GO FAST, but I didn’t. Miss N kept taking a few steps toward the van, then running back to me in a panic. Finally, another mom with stroller in tow, who could probably relate to what was going on, saw my distress and got my husband’s attention. Meanwhile, Miss M has wandered into the hallway of the bathroom area, tracking her present all over everything. I tell her to get back in the bathroom, which she does but starts crying because she wants to see me and Miss N.
Finally Miss N got brave and went to the van to get the pull-up and wipes. I attempt to undress my now distressed toddler. Through all of the wandering around the bathroom, she has covered all of her clothing, except her socks, in poo. I strip off her pants after disposing of the soiled pull-up, and in the process she steps in the poo, soiling her socks as well. I give up, strip her to just her shirt, and clean her. Then I attack the spots on her shirt with wipes as best I can, because we did not, in fact, have a spare shirt. Finally, I wrap all of the soiled clothing in paper towels, and attack my hands and arms with soap and HOT water. With the wipes I clean the toilet and floors, and I place my naked from the waist down toddler in the crook of my arm and we leave.
Let’s just say I really hope they disinfect those bathrooms every night.
And I’m not a fan of pull-ups.
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