And *that's* how we ended up pooping by the campfire.

I have three awesome children that mostly expel waste without any involvement from me.  I do hear the occasional plea for toilet paper sounding desperately from behind closed doors, and, more often than not, I remind a certain child in a patient and loving tone that she needs to flush the freaking toilet every time she uses it.  (Even during nap time.)(And yes, I *know* Ezra is sleeping in the other room.)(But if he can sleep through the "I CAN'T FIND MY CINDERELLA BALL GOWN" Meltdown of Summer 2012, he can survive a deuce flush.) Mainly the bathroom part of my job is over until puberty and we are expelling something else entirely (help me Jesus and thank you for three girls in a row).

However, I'm really, really bad at potty training.  Like, "Don't they have a professional service for that?" bad. Because I would pay big money for someone else to suffer through the accidents and resulting messes that occur when one is transitioning from the comfort of going at will in their pants to learning you have to control that mess. I even told Jesus I would be in labor with #4 for a full month if the baby would come out potty trained.  Jesus did not take that deal.

I know.  So many moms have praised the 3 Day method, where pretzels and goldfish take on a medicinal-like quality and a mere 72 hours locked in a tiny enclosed space with the trainee produces a potty trained little person. (Little person = a 2-3 year old, not little person like Little People, Big World.) Unfortunately, it would also produce schizophrenia as my mind would figuratively split in two were I forced to endure that kind of confinement with a toddler.

Other moms have said, "No one goes to kindergarten in diapers; just relax. It will happen when the child is ready."  And I'm all, "Have you paid for diapers lately?" Plus? Toddlers poop a lot bigger than babies.  Sometimes Ezra even has Man Poop, the kind where I actually feel a bit impressed at the advanced state of his digestive system.

I had such an ordeal potty training Eve (I finally told her at age 3 that she couldn't go to Bible study if she didn't wear Big Girl Underpants.  She totally started using the potty immediately.)(Which sort of proves that her lack of toilet usage was a personal war waged solely against me.) that I told Brian he was in charge of potty training Hosanna. He rose to the occasion, and decided that when we were on vacation with my parents he would do it.  She would be trained in less than a week.

The plan had merit.  It was summertime and we were staying at the cottages, so Hosanna would be free to wear a dress and run diaperless through the grass during the day.  Brian would take her to the bathroom all the time, and if she had an accident she was just giving the lawn a nitrogen boost. Because that's how we give back on vacation.

What actually happened is that Hosanna completely shunned the actual toilet and discovered the joy of free-balling.  She also thought that peeing outside was the best plan ever and that the campfire was the perfect spot for doing her business.  Her "thinking/take a magazine or maybe even a book because this is a big job" business.  Right by the fire where we cooked our food.

It was awesome.

The one part of potty training I am really good at?  Buying cute underwear.  My children have the most awesome trainer underpants around.  Urine soaked, but adorbs.

So, to summarize:  Somehow I have three toilet trained offspring, and I still don't know how it happened.  And the boy is of age.  Now potty training has the added element of aim.  We are so done.