Translation Tuesday: What Toddlers Say vs. What Toddlers Mean

***WARNING:  This post is NOT for those of you with weak stomachs.  You've been properly advised.***

Jayna has been sick.  Not fever, infection, runny nose sick.  Just diarrhea sick.  That's all.  Nothing else. 

And it's frustrating.  Having a 2-year-old who is right on the edge of being potty trained who then gets diarrhea is a nightmare. 

She's been having episodes since Saturday evening.  I'm beginning to think she has a shellfish allergy, but I really don't want to test my theory just yet.  And I'm sort of tired of cleaning up poop for now.

Sunday was pretty good.  She was sort of lethargic most of the day, but we just thought she was tired from a busy weekend.  But right before bed, she had the diarrhea episode of her life.  Fun.  And then she went to sleep immediately and woke up with a dry pull up on Monday morning.  She never said anything about her tummy hurting or anything.  She ate breakfast well and behaved all morning.

I got off work about half an hour early yesterday and I went to the gym.  I was anticipating to run a long run since I was off early.  On a whim, I took my phone in with me.  I NEVER take my phone into the gym.  There is too much temptation there.  And I can't concentrate on running when I'm just...running.  Having my phone there with me to constantly look at would be trouble.

Anyhoozy, I took my phone in with me yesterday thinking I'd need it for some reason.  Precisely 2.4 miles into a run that I anticipated being a 4 or 5 miles long, I saw my phone light up.  It was Jayna's preschool.  She'd had 2 diarrhea episodes and "wanted to go home and lie on the couch."  Translation:  "go home and watch Spongebob while asking mommy to do everything from getting juice and crackers to picking up said crackers after they're properly spilled all over the floor." 

I took her home and she promptly wanted to "rest on mommy's bed because my belly hurts."  Which translates to "watch television while romping around under the covers with the dog and generally messing up everything in mommy and daddy's room while only whining that my tummy hurts when mommy tells me that I'm acting like I feel better so I can watch television in the living room."   Yikes.  A little girl with diarrhea and only a pair of Tinkerbell panties in between her bottom and my sheets made my anxiety level rise like no other.

I proceeded to ask her approximately 37.5 times if she had to potty.  She told me the last time, "I go potty when I have to go mommy.  I don't have to go right now."  Which translates to, "Leave me alone, lady!!  How do you expect me to follow the story line of iCarly if you're blabbing in my ear???"  (Yes, she watches iCarly.  She asks to watch it and I'll let her watch iCarly over Spongebob any freakin day of the week.)

So, I went to the kitchen and left her alone.  She came in about 3 minutes later and said, "Mommy, don't ask me that again.  I don't have to go.  I go when I have to.  Don't ask me anymore."  Translation, anyone?  "I'm potty trained, you crazy person.  YOU wanted me to be potty trained and now I am and you STILL won't leave me alone.  Please, for the love of cheese, have some freaking confidence in me."

I told her that I wouldn't ask her anymore.  She stayed in the kitchen with me saying, "I help mommy with dinner."  Translation:  "I'll stand on my stool and drop things off the counter and laugh hysterically."  She was standing there on her stool when all of a sudden she said, "Uh oh...I better go to the potty.  NOW!!!!!!!!!"  And then she darted for the bathroom.  Translation:  "I'M NOT GOING TO MAKE IT AND THERE IS ABOUT TO BE A MESS TO CLEAN UP!!!!!!!!"

I followed her around the corner only to see her taking off her panties ON THE CARPET outside of the bathroom.  And then she couldn't control it....

I think you know what happened then.  I won't go into extreme detail here.

She sat down on the potty to finish her business and then just looked up at me.  She said, "I got poop on my hand mommy.  And on my leg and on the floor.  And the rug.  Poop all over mommy.  I need to wash it off.  I go poop in my panties.  I bad.  I sorry mommy.  I sorry."  Translation?? 

Before we translate that one, I'd like it to be known that we have NEVER told her she is bad for going in her pull up or diaper or panties.  NEVER. 

Resume translation:  "I have poop all over me.  I need a bath.  And my panties will need to be washed as will the carpet.  And the rug.  And everything else in the hallway and bathroom.  And I am sorry I disappointed you, mom.  I'm really sorry."

Sometimes they really do say what they mean.

What that kid doesn't understand is that I will never be disappointed in her for having a true-to-her-word accident. 

I just replied. "Jaynie, I still love you.  I will always love you.  You are NOT bad.  You are a good girl and you tried to get to the potty.  Everything can be cleaned up.  We'll wash it all.  Starting with you."

And that's what we did.

Gaining the skill to translate from "2-Year-Old" to "Adult" is a good skill to have.  But sometimes no translation is needed.  Being able to tell the difference is a trait of a loving and patient parent.  This goes down as a win.