Another Day, Another Pair of Ruined Underpants

Yeah, well there you go. I'm not sure what happened, if I was too busy having a good time to bother doing it the right way or if the signs were too subtle for me to react appropriately but I did it again.

I pooped in my pants.

I guess I should find some solace in the fact that I'm comfortable enough to say it out loud ("I pooped in my pants!") but still. There's got to be an end in sight, right? But I don't see it. My parents and my teachers all shrug their shoulders and say, "Oh well, that's okay. Maybe tomorrow. We're getting closer!" How do they know? They don't know what's going on inside of me. They don't know what I'm feeling or if I'll ever get the hang of it.

What if I don't? What if I never get the hang of pooping in the toilet and I'm forever pooping in my underpants? I know they say that I won't be doing this in college but what if I am? There must be people that never quite get the hang of pooping in toilet and what if I'm one of them? You won't read about them in the newspaper or see them on TV but they must exist. As big as world as this is those people must be out there.

Okay, I can't let this get to me. I need to concentrate and focus and keep my eye on the prize.

Poop in the potty.

Poop in the potty.

I can do this.

Just as a side-note, the poop in my underwear at school yesterday was so severe they had to use scissors to extract the underpants from my body. What the heck am I doing?

I Gotta Be Honest

Things aren't going so great on the potty front. I know last time I blabbed at ya I had just pinched one off into the toilet but maybe I was getting ahead of myself by thinking I had figured this whole "pooping in the potty" thing out. Maybe I got cocky. Maybe I felt like I could stop pooping in my underwear whenever I wanted. But the truth is:

This is tough.

Sure I've put my poops in the toilet one or two time since this last post but do the math - it's been almost three weeks since I've written here so you tell me how many pairs of Jasmine underpants I've befouled.

It's a tricky situation. I know where the poop is supposed to go. Mom and dad and all my teachers won't stop asking me and telling me all about it. I know. I get it. But that's a long stretch to actually getting the vibe from you lower regions to getting to the potty and pulling your pants off and then sitting down and taking care of business. I can't seemed to find that groove just yet.

What's a girl to do?

Everyone tells me that it's not a big deal so I guess I'm not that worried but still. I think I really need to figure this out. The one time I did put my poop in the toilet at school the teacher called my dad on the phone and let me talk to him and tell him all about it. He seemed pretty excited to hear about it and he told me that the next time I put my poop in the toilet I can call him again so maybe I'll just do that tomorrow.

Maybe.

So here it is

***WARNING. THERE IS A PRETTY GROSS PICTURE AT THE END OF THIS POST. I'M JUST LETTING YOU KNOW NOW.***

I finally had the moment you've all been waiting for. That singular, shining achievement in a young girl's life that she'll always look back on and smile.

But let me back up a few moments.

Dad and I got home and mom had dinner waiting for us and she hasn't been feeling all that great lately so it was up to dad to give my bath, brush my teeth and all the rest of the bathroom part of our night time routine. Now, since mom's stopped traveling she's been doing this most nights so it took me a minute to get back into the swing of how dad does things but it went fine and we were having a good time in the tub. He even let me draw on the walls with these crazy washable crayons.

Where things went wrong, however, was when it was time to get out of the tub and dad washed the drawings off the sides of the tub.

Big mistake, dad.

I wanted to do that. I really, really, really wanted to do that and now that dad had done it (meaning I couldn't do it) I was pretty mad. And I let him know. I started crying and kicking and carrying on and complaining over and over how I wanted to wash the walls but dad didn't do anything except keep asking me,

"Do you want to be rinsed with the cup or the shower? Which one? You choose."

It was infuriating. I was still caught up in the fact that I wasn't able to wash the drawings off the tub walls so I wasn't about to make a decision between the cup and the shower but he kept asking me,

"Do you want to be rinsed with the cup or the shower? Which one? You choose."

I eventually shut down and turned my back to him and refused to even acknowledge that he was there. And he eventually gave me my final warning adding,

"If you don't choose, dad will choose."

I just sat there and grunted. So dad chose shower. And I hate shower.

All the screaming and crying started all over as dad hosed me down with the shower nozzle and when he was done he lifted me out and dried me off but I was just beside myself that I wasn't being rinsed off with the cup and after dad had dried my hair he sat me on the little step and told me that we were going to sit there until I calmed down and he sat on the other little step but I kept right on crying.

Then I felt something deep within me. Something moving. Something brown.

I half stood up off the little step and looked at dad through my tears and he must have smelt it because he picked me up and put me right on the toilet where I

POOPED!

It was amazing. It was in the toilet. Dad ran into the other room and got mom and she came out and they were so happy for me that I forgot why I was so pissed off in the first place. I tried to remember just so I could get back to crying but mom and dad kept telling me what a great job I'd done that eventually being happy seemed like a better deal than crying.

I'm pretty proud of myself. I can't wait to tell my teachers tomorrow. My plan is to keep putting my poops in the toilet but we'll see how that goes.

In case you were wondering, here's what it looked like. It's gone now but I love it just the same:




And that's the story of that.

Well.......

I figured I'd give it a couple of days and then come back with a triumphant post:

I POOPED IN THE POTTY!

But apparently I'm still not ready yet.

I know when I have to go. I always put my pee pee in the potty, I never have accidents, I wake up with a dry diaper and I don't mess the carseat. But when it comes to the poops, I still love standing in the corner and doing it there. Maybe it's the privacy. Maybe it's the fact that I can stand but there's just something about pooping in my pants that I can't let go of just yet. I mean, I know that the poops go in the toilet and I know that I'm not supposed to poop in my pants and I know my parents aren't going to put me back in a diaper but in spite of all of these things I'm still putting my poops in my pants.

Mom and dad have been pretty relaxed about it which is cool. And the teachers at school are pretty laid back as well so I guess there's no rush. Except for the fact that I'm ruining an awful lot of underwear

I really miss my Jasmine panties.

Oh, and today is my daddy's birthday. I made him a special crown at school and then tore it in half on the way home. I feel kinda bad about that.