Half Fast Elimination Communication

EC is not as daunting as you might think. There’s only reason we (yes, really, we. Hubby does it too. Even grandma.) practice EC is because it works.  If I had to change my basic day to day habits to accommodate this weird and unheard of method of dealing with poop and pee, I wouldn’t do it.  If it wasn’t working for us, I’d stop in a heartbeat. I don’t have any type of philosophical or religious reason for ECing. It just makes the most sense to me. But I’m not “all in”with EC.  This means I don’t try to pee my baby in the middle of the night and he doesn’t go without a diaper all the time. This is how we EC:

1. Put baby in prefold and diaper cover, or pre-fold loosely attached to baby with a diaper belt.

2.When baby get’s squirmy, put him on the potty.

3. Put him back in the diaper.

Actually, that’s the ideal. Sometimes it I’m busy and miss the potty squirm. In that case, I have to change the diaper, which is often messy and takes more time that it would have to put him on the potty.

Although some ECers pee their baby at night, I’ve tried it and it just pisses off my kid. Let me rephrase that: he gets mad and tense and WON’T pee because he’s sleepy and he liked the nice, warm bed in the dark room.

The main reason I try to EC at all is because it makes sense. I could always tell when my first son was going to poop (still can, as a matter of fact) but it never occurred to me just to hold him over the toilet. I sigh thinking of all the diaper explosions I could have avoided. EC for us is just a simpler, cleaner form of hygiene.  If you’re on the fence, give EC a try.  I guarantee after one week of ECing, you’ll feel weird changing a poopy diaper.  You might even start to wonder how the whole “diaper” thing caught on. Don’t worry if you don’t catch on quick. Half fast EC is still better than no EC.


The Poopsmith

A toddler's toolbelt

A toddler’s toolbelt

That’s what I am now. If you’ve wondered why the ElecticMother has been on a posting hiatus, it’s because I’ve been too busy with my new job as Poopsmith to get much of anything else done. As you know, my baby goes on the toilet, and now, my toddler goes on the toilet too.  After over a month of crying and gnashing teeth every time we tried to get him to go #2 on the toilet, Joe II has finally decided it’s not so bad after all.  I think it’s the fact that he gets a cup of ice cream EVERY SINGLE TIME convinced him he could do this.

One morning I awoke to two little eyes at the edge of the bed. 6am.

“Mommy, deal with my poop.” 

In case any of you were wondering if I was concerned that years down the road my son would come across this blog and be absolutely mortified with shame my answer is I SURE HOPE SO. Because he woke me up at the crack of dawn to deal with his poop when he knew darn well it belonged in the potty to begin with.

I never thought that my entire life would be consumed with poop, but here I am, up at midnight typing a post to enlighten my loyal readers on something so important to me that I can’t go to bed. Poop poop poop.

Changing diapers is gross.  Trying to get Thomas the Train underwear off without getting the load EVERYWHERE is much worse.  So Joseph and I basically lived in hell for three weeks.  I refused to put Joe II back in diapers because I knew that the little man would never learn if we didn’t change something but this whole pooping in the underwear thing was unacceptable. We settled on Pull-Ups because Joe II could at least get those on and off by himself. And Huggie’s makes the kind that have Velcro strips on the side so they can be removed easily.

But last week, we had something of a break through. He’s actually pooping on the potty now. He’s even saying, “I gotta go potty!” and tearing off down the hall in that direction.   His preschool teachers have finally quit responding to every potty training concern I’ve had with “He’s young” and actually started encouraging him to go potty. Dare I say it–he may actually potty train yet.

Now I’ve just got to get the man a toolbelt so he doesn’t have to stuff his flashlight down his Thomas the Train underwear.