Training the Trifecta, Take Ten

I have decided that Satan has a special section of hell where mothers of multiples are forced to spend eternity potty training children. 

Several weeks ago I consulted a well known parenting web site for guidance regarding this endeavor.  I posted several specific questions.  The first:  How do I get my girls to stop having “accidents” in their pull ups?  The response was overwhelming.  THE THREE DAY POTTY TRAINING METHOD.  I’ve been using the TIMER, TRY, CRY METHOD (my own) for about 156 days without success.  I resolved to give this method a shot.

The first step, according to one Mommy, “Tell your children that accidents in their underwear will no longer be tolerated.  From now on, they must use the potty to go to the bathroom.”  I sat the Trifecta down on the couch.  “Girls,” I began, “From now on, we are not going to go to the bathroom in diapers.  You are going to use the potty to peep and shoo-shoo.  Going in your diapers will no longer be tolerated.”  The Trifecta stared back at me.  Elizabeth threw her head back and cackled, “Oh, Mommy, you’re so silly.” Mary Ellis and Hendley continued with the blind stare.  

The second step, agreed another Mom, “No more pull-ups.  If you put them in ‘big girl panties’ they may have accidents, but they will learn that they have to use the potty.  Tell them you are throwing the diapers away.”  I continued with my speech.  “Also,” I stated with conviction, “No more diapers.  No more pull-ups.  From now on, everyone wears big girl panties.”  The reactions were immediate and forceful. Elizabeth began screaming, “NOOOOOOOOOO!  I don’t want big girl panties!”  Hendley puddled.  Her shoulders slumped.  She began to sob.  I turned to Mary Ellis.  Her eyes pierced my soul.  “Show no fear,” I encouraged myself.  “Mary Ellis,” I began, “Won’t it be fun to…“ I did not finish my statement.  She leaped from the couch like a flying squirrel and landed on the ground.  She pounded her fists and feet into the floor.  “I will NOT wear big girl panties,” she yelled, “And you will not take my pull-ups away (a-vay)!”

The Trifecta tantrumed for several minutes.  I started to sweat. I don’t like to brag about my talents, but I must admit, I have learned to handle these situations with grace and poise.  “Guess what?” I said with enthusiasm, “I have a SURPRISE for girls who put their big girl panties on!” The Trifecta silenced. “A present?” inquired Elizabeth.  “Yes!  Let’s put our big girl panties on and then I will get them for you.”  Ten minutes later the Trifecta sported clean, cotton, big girl panties.  I began to panic…now the surprise…candy?  No.  Not a good idea in these undergarments.  Not after, well, you know.  Shoes.  I had purchased new shoes for the girls’ Easter baskets.  “Close your eyes!” I instructed.  The shoes bought me just enough time to prepare lunch.

“Does anyone need to go potty before lunch?” I questioned.  “NO,” they answered in unison.  I carried their veggie nuggets, grapes, and cheese sticks out the back porch.  The girls were seated, the food was blessed, and I had a container of Greek yogurt and a Diet Coke with my name on them in the fridge. 

“Mommy,” Hendley appeared in the doorway, “I want my pull-up back on.” I took this as a sign and we rushed to the ladies room.  Success.  We danced.  We hugged.  We high-fived.  Upon our return to the back porch, I noticed a puddle the size of a small pond on the concrete.  “Make Way for Ducklings” could make a family habitat in that puddle.  Elizabeth sat naked in her chair, chewing her nuggets, her underwear on the ground beside her.  “I had an accident, Mommy,” she declared.  “No problem!” I did my best to use a comforting voice, “Let’s sit on the potty and clean up.”  A few minutes later we returned, refreshed and renewed.  Mary Ellis wobbled toward me, “I need new pants, Mommy.”  “No problem,” I consoled, “Let’s sit on the potty and clean up.”

My yogurt and diet coke sat on the kitchen island.  There was urine on the porch.  I sighed.  “Girls, we need to bring your lunch inside so I can clean the pee pee off the ground.”  I grabbed the hose.  The girls cheered me on from the door frame, “You can do it, Mommy!” Elizabeth applauded.  I turned to smile at her.  The water shot out from the hose with the force of 10,000 mules.  Urine sprayed everywhere.  Mostly on me.  The Trifecta squealed and giggled. “I’ll shower during naptime,” I mumbled.

I threw the dishes into the sink, “Let’s do a project!” I pulled out some glittery egg stickers, also reserved for Easter baskets, some markers, and some paper.  We sat down and began to work.  I looked at the clock.  Time for another round of peeping.  The doorbell rang.  The Trifecta sprinted to the door wearing nothing but their underwear.  I forgot about the cleaning estimate for the house.  “Girls, you need to go in Mommy’s room,” I begged.  “NO!” they insisted.  I dug deep.  “Girls, go hide in your couch fort!  I think there’s a burglar out there!”  They sprinted to safety.

Fifteen minutes later I sat at the table with our visitor, his back to the living room.  Hendley emerged from the couch fort, totally naked.  She mooned me. “I don’t want to wear these big girl panties,” she blubbered.  I perspired.  She disappeared, but I could still hear her cries.  I walked the visitor to the door.  As he exited he spotted a pool of urine on the floor by the steps.  “I’d like to suggest you use a disinfectant,” he said.  “Yes, thank you,” I stammered.

I gathered The Trifecta.  I put them in their pull-ups and pajamas.  I carried them up to their cribs and kissed them.  I wished them sweet afternoon nap dreams.  I cleaned the urine off the hardwood floor.  I threw the yogurt into the garbage can.  I went to the refrigerator and took out a key lime pie.  I picked up my diet coke and a fork and sat down at the table.  The shower would come later.