The Spin Cycle: Manipulation with Potty Training

The wonderful and very comely Jen over at Sprite's Keeper saved my life this week. She let me off the hook so I didn't have to write something new for a post. Like many of us this week, I've been feeling a little creatively challenged. If you read my time travel debacle post from Monday, you'll see that old Steenky Bee has resorted to blogging about outdated hairdos. No one should have to read, or see that. Not never ever.

The post I've selected is one that appeared on my site last spring and the only people reading this blog were relatives who took pity on me. These relatives no longer read me, but their pity for me has increased tenfold.

So anyway, this post is all about how I celebrated my eighth wedding anniversary...WITH ANOTHER MAN. That's right, for one night, Steenky whooped it up with a younger man. A much younger man.

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Sometimes your husband goes out of town to meet with fancy doctors in a Colorado resort town about a new project and he leaves you and the kids to fend for yourselves. Sometimes he calls you and tells you that he misses you and he wishes that he didn't have to be in "meetings" all day long. But if you listen close enough, ever so faintly in the background, you can hear the soft humming of a motorized golf cart and cool ice tea being served in this "critical meeting".

Sometimes on the first night alone with the children everything runs so smoothly that you sit and think to yourself that you are awesome. In fact, you are so confident about your awesomeness that the next day at work you brag to anyone who will listen to about what a master you are at bedtime rituals with the kids. You see, that night you recorded a stellar time of 7:00 pm bed time. Let me repeat that. Two kids, both in bed before 7:00 pm. That is huge, folks and undeniable evidence of superior parenting skills.

Or so I thought.

Turns out, it is against all known laws of nature to have two smooth bed times in a row. This brings me to the events that transpired at my home the evening of April 15th 2008, (my wedding anniversary) between 6:23 pm and 11:01 pm.

6:23 pm: Reese rubs her eyes and lets out an adorable little sigh. This is her signal that she is tired. I dress her in her pajamas, rock her sweetly and lay her down for the evening.

6:42 pm - 7:19 pm: Henry and I play Spiderman vs. Doc Ock. He is Spiderman, and I am Doc Ock. We battle and wrestle for world domination. I think I have beat him a few times, but ultimately, Spidey always wins. This imaginary play would be eerie foreshadowing of the evening that Henry and I will share together.

7:20 pm: Henry has a potty break.

7:21 pm: I praise Henry for aforementioned successful potty break.

7:23 pm: I begin coaxing Henry into his pajamas. He sternly announces that he will be sleeping in his sweatshirt tonight. I concede. It seems silly to argue with him at this point. Everything is going so well.

7:40 pm: A demand is put forth for me to fetch Henry his chocolate milk. He needed it. He absolutely needed it, he tells me.

7:48 pm: I some how trick Henry into his bed. We rattle off a few knock-knock jokes together and say out loud to each other how awesome we think we are. I notice his eyes close shortly after.

8:02 pm: I creep out of Henners' room.

8:11 pm: Here's where it all goes south. Less than 10 minutes after I sneak from his bedroom, this walks into our room.


Henry claims he has to potty. So we walk, hand in hand, to the potty. Then we wait. Nothing happens. I suspect this was all ruse to get out of bed. I tuck him back in his bed.

8:31 pm: Henry yells to me from his room that he has to try to potty once more. We try one more time. (Notice the look of concentration on his face during this attempt.)


Only the itty-bittiest stream. Nice try little-man. Henners then tells me that he did a good job on the potty and that he needs a treat. Here's the convincing face he gives me.

He's hard to resist, but I do anyway. I tell him that he did a great job, but it's too late for a treat. Unsatisfied, he gives me an even bigger smile.

This time, I fall for it. He gets his small treat and then shuffles off to bed. It is now 8:54 pm.

9:01 pm: Henry goes in for the kill. He grabs my hand and pats it gently. He asks me in the most polite way possible if he can call Grandpa Brent on the phone because he loves him and because he has a beard. Aw. How can I pass this up?

9:03 pm: Henry makes the phone call to grandpa. I am waiting for my son to profess his love to his grandfather just like he said he would. One minute later Henry makes a critical mistake.

9:04 pm: Henry immediately tells Grandpa Brent that he isn't tired and that he called to tell him he's not going to bed. At age three, and not having a firm grasp exactly how sound travels, Henry unwittingly reveales his evil little plan of pre-meditated procrastination.

9:07 pm: After the brief phone call that my parents think is hilarious (I actaully hear them laughing as my son hangs up the phone), Henry announces that he would like to call Grandma Granny. I check the clock. It's late but she may still be awake. I consent. At this point, I am worn down. I think if I can befriend the little guy and win his trust, I can trick him into his bed once more.

9:08 pm: We dial Grandma Granny. The line is busy.

9:09 pm: I make a mental note to find out why Grandma Granny is on the phone at such a late hour. How did a 78-year old woman get a busier social life than me?

9:14 pm: I somehow convince Henry to get back into his bed.

9:26 pm: Henry opens his door and announces to me from across the hall that he would like a drink of water. I ask him if he really needs it. He says, "I really, REALLY need it."

9:38 pm: Henry asks for a refill.

9:47 pm: After drinking his two cups of water in the slowest possible way, Henry spies his favorite cookies. He asks me for a "cookie brown". We go back and forth here for a good two minutes about the cookie browns. I think I have him beat when I say, "You can't have cookie browns right before bed." Henry quickly, and thoughtfully counters back, "But I not go to bed." Check mate.

Henry's stall tactics are proving wildly successful. He's put off his bedtime by almost two hours. He's doddled, pottied and used his good looks to win me over so far.

10:01 pm: Henry finds a pen with multiple colored inks. He insists on drawing. I oblige. This will give buy me some time to get a plan thought up.

10:15 pm: Henry is now growing groggy and disoriented. He is searching for another reason stay awake. He begins asking for Dad. I tell him Dad will be home soon. I can see he's starting to crack.

10:16 pm: I suggest to Henry that he should take a bath. He loves the idea. In his mind, things are going according to his plan. Little does he know that I have just turned the tables on him. Big time.

10:23 pm: Henry is now in a warm bath. His muscles are now relaxing. He's starting to get that tired, dazed look on his face.

10:31 pm: Henry tells me that he's sleepy now. I tell him that he can't go to bed yet. We have so much to do before Dad gets home. He gives me a dirty look. I am definitely smelling a momentum shift here.

10:42 pm: I dry the Manster off and get him tucked in our bed all nice and comfy. He reclines thinking he's drifting off to sleep. His eyes are definitely glazed over now and he's talking gibberish about going to sleep in his own bed.

10:58 pm: Henry finally drifts off to sleep. This is the latest he's been up with me when he hasn't been sick. A new record, little man. Well played. World dominance.

11:00: I hear the front door open, footsteps up the stairs, then down the hallway. Look who shows up in the bedroom.

11:01 pm: Henry takes one look at Dad, let's out a huge sigh and says, "Where have YOU been?" Henry then pats the bed and tells Jeremy to "Get in bed now. Mom and me are so tired now."

And that's pretty much how I spent my anniversary night. Two men in my bed. Rawr.

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