My oldest son Evan is 3. He's what you would call pee pee potty trained.
Like most toddler boys I've heard about, he refuses to go poop in the potty. We've had a few victories here and there, but nothing consistent. Frustrating to me and to my husband.
It just so happened that I was driving the boys around one Saturday morning a few weeks ago, trying to keep them entertained while Ryan and a friend moved us to our new house one town over.
Suddenly, Evan announces from the back seat, "Mommy, I really have to go poo poo!"
My initial reaction was, "This is fantastic news! He never tells me when he has to go poo poo. He holds it until nap time or bed time when he has his pull up on. Maybe we're making progress?"
I smiled to myself and glanced at him in the rear view mirror and said, "That's wonderful, sweetie. We're almost home and we'll go poo poo on the potty!" I tried to make it sound as exciting as possible.
"No, mommy! I need my Diego pull-up now! I don't want to go on the potty. I have to go. It's coming!" Which he then proceeded to squirm erratically in his car seat.
I looked at the road ahead of me and had to think fast. I didn't have a pull-up with me, I only had my one-year-old son Oliver's diapers with me in the diaper bag. They are a Size 5, but I thought it just might work.
There was a movie theater ahead, so I pulled into the parking lot and parked toward the back where there weren't many cars. I raced out of the car, got Evan out of his car seat and opened up the trunk. We drive an SUV, so the trunk is open in the back.
Before he could say anything or protest, I pulled down his pants and underwear and put him in a size 5 Elmo diaper.
"OK, honey. You're going to have to go poo poo now."
"I need privacy mommy. Go away!"
Instead of being concerned about his lack of manners and telling me to go away, I nervously shut the trunk door and got back into the drivers seat and waited. And waited, and waited, and waited.
I frantically looked around hoping no one would be suspicious of a 3-year-old pooping in the trunk of our vehicle.
Soon my worries were overwhelmed by a terrible smell. He was done, he had to be.
"Evan, are you all done now? Let mommy take it off and let's get home. OK?"
"No, I'm not done mommy. I need to go some more."
He seemed like he was in some pain, so I let it go. Finally, the smell was just too much and I got out of the car and opened up the trunk. Like an animal cornered and praying for its life, Evan was scrunched into the corner trying to get as far away from me as possible.
"Evan, we need to get you out of that diaper now. We have to get home!"
"No is not an answer to your mommy. Get over here!"
This went on for a few minutes. I was so nervous and paranoid that someone was going to wonder what we were doing, that I just wanted to get out of that movie theater parking lot.
Finally, I got a hold of him and got to change him back into his clothes and got rid of that diaper fast.
As we were driving home, I thought how in the world did I end up in a parking lot with my three-year-old pooping in the trunk?
I then began to realize all of the other options I could have had, but rationalized my decision with the fact that I would have had to deal with both boys somewhere with Evan wanting privacy while pooping.
An embarrassing story to me a the time and especially now as I read back over it because there were so many other things I could have done; however, when you find yourself in a mommy muddle, sometime you just don't think clearly. You do the first thing that comes to mind whether it be logical or not.
What would you have done?