It's like an endless parade of blogging material around here all of the sudden.
Today we were out at the fancy schmancy grocery store that has a playground and restaurant. We were with two friends and their kids. After we ate lunch, Charlie had to go to the restroom, so I grabbed James out of the stroller and took everyone in there. I wouldn't have taken Wes, but I couldn't leave Captain Pathogen with my pregnant friend and the other friend had already moved to the playground. Plus, Wes never misses an opportunity to fool around with a paper towel dispenser.
Once inside the bathroom Charlie informed me that he had only wanted to wash his hands, not actually go potty. I strongly encouraged him to "just try since we're already here" in what might have been described as a "hiss" rather than a "playful affirmation of his spirit and individual needs." While he was doing that, Wes stripped naked from the waist down and climbed atop one of the potties.
Because what better time to start your public potty training than while I am standing there holding a giant sumo baby on my hip.
He sat there for a few minutes then asked me to close the door so he could have some privacy. So then I was holding a giant sumo baby on one hip, holding the door closed with the other hand, asking Charlie repeatedly to stop fooling around with the soap dispenser, AND supervising Wes's potty time through the half-inch space in the stall door hinge.
When he was finally finished (and after I had exclaimed "GREAT JOB WES!" without remembering that we were in public; the woman in the last stall was highly amused with us too--the naked kid, the peppy encouragement, the pile of diminutive clothing and Crocs, the way Wes was grunting "PUUSSSHHH" so loudly) he climbed off the potty and stood there waiting for me to dress him. Somehow. Without putting James down.
I weighed my options--carry James and a half-naked Wes back to the table and our stroller, where I could put James down and attend to the naked kid or figure out some way to manage with one hand that didn't involve James or me touching the floor with our hands. Even though we live in the hippy capital of the southwest, I thought carrying a naked child through a restaurant dining room would be a tad inappropriate.
Then I had a stroke of genius. I crouched down on the floor on my toes, stood James up on his feet, and squeezed his hips with my thighs.
I am a HUMAN EXERSAUCER!
Also, big thanks to Sergio and his Sunday afternoon yoga torture class (Yoga Torture Flow) for all the extra quad strength.
With my hands free I could quickly get Wes's pants put back on and we headed back to the table to bathe ourselves in Purell.