... Great God almighty we are FREE AT LAST!  The quads are officially potty trained.  Yes, that’s right.  No more diapers for us!  Over the past month, or so, we’ve weaned them off of diapers and now they are all professional poopers and pee-ers.  The final test came today... a day at the pool - without swim diapers.  This will tell us whether they have the skills needed to succeed a this level.  Failure on this stage means a mass evacuation of  a large swimming pool on the busiest holiday weekend of the season, not to mention the last day that the pool is open for the next 8 months.  Failure means plenty of pissed off swimmers (who all know who we are because who else brings a set of 3 year old quadruplets to the swimming pool... )  All of the kids passed with flying colors.  Not one accident in (or around) the pool.  Those of you who swim at Briarcliffe Swim Club can breathe a large sigh of relief.

I was thinking about this post and I got to wondering... how much money have we spent over 3 years on diapers?  Here is how I will break it down... roughly... (and it’s not as bad as I suspected).

22 diapers a day

(1 change when they wake up, 1 mid-morning, 1 before nap, 1 when they wake up from nap, 1 before bed time X 4 kids.  The extra 2 are for random poops that didn’t fall into the normal schedule of diaper changing)

$0.18 per diaper.  (Amazon lists their size 3 Luvs at $30.59 for a pack of 174 diapers.  I used size 3 because the kids ended up in size 6 so I figure - size 3 is a good average).

1095 days (365 X 3)

GRAND TOTAL:  $4,336.20 - not bad.

But this freedom that I speak of comes with a different kind of price.  It may be freedom for the kids, but I feel as if I have become a prisoner.  Well - maybe prisoner is too harsh.  Perhaps “Connoisseur of Public Restrooms” is a more suitable title.  Our trip to the pool today is a good example.  I was in the bathroom at least 10 times today, no lie.  And each bathroom trip ranges from anywhere from 2 to 45 minutes.  It’s always hit or miss and you never really know where you are going to fall on the spectrum until the trip is complete.  I’ll give you a brief picture of one of today’s many trips to the restroom.

Robby says he has to poop (and I don’t believe him.)  You see - James has just returned from a successful pooping escapade in the ladies room with Mommy and won’t stop talking about it.  Because of James’ persist and eloquent repetition of the phrase, “I POOPED!  I POOPED!”, Robby has declared that now he will be the next to conquer the damp and musty stall at the swim club.  I have no choice.  I have to take him.  I have to take him because if I don’t he may poop in the pool which is not a valid option on this particular day (or any day, really).  We venture off...

As we walk into the bathroom (and this happens EVERY time at the swim club) there is inevitably an old, wrinkly, naked man who has just vacated the shower room, but has not yet found the time to clothe himself.  Conveniently, he has found the time to remove his towel.  Robby feels it necessary to stare at him (as I’m sure any kid would) but caps off our entrance by saying at the top of his lungs, “LOOK AT HIS BIRD DAD - IT’S JUST LIKE YOUR’S!”  I smile and nod to the man with my head down, very carefully avoiding eye contact, knowing that I will be spending the next half hour in a wet 3’X5’ bathroom stall urging my kid to take a crap.

After about 20 minutes (which feels like an eternity when you are standing barefoot - I forgot my shoes - in a warm liquid that you just hope has enough chlorinated water in it to kill off any disease that may be festering beneath your feet) we give up.  This time was a false alarm, as I suspected it would be.  Not to be lost in the false pooping attempt was the positive aspect that he did pee several times while sitting on the potty for 20 minutes.  Way to go, Rob!!

IF YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH BATHROOM STORIES FOR ONE DAY STOP NOW... BECAUSE HERE COMES A COUPLE MORE...

Another recent venture of our family’s was to take the commuter train into Center City with all of the kids, only to turn around and come back home.  This may sound kind of asinine to those of you without kids, but you can’t beat a train ride for 8 people for under $15.  (For those of you counting - we also took our 4 year old nephew, Justin).  And they did have a blast.  It was a really good idea. 

When we got into town, we decided to go to lunch at One Liberty Place’s food court.  We had about an hour and a half to kill and we figured that lunch was a good idea.  We no sooner got into the mall than Justin had to pee... and poop - then Robby, Ella, & Anna.  Sammy & James were the only ones to not have to go at One Liberty.  Now - if you’ve seen the public bathrooms at One Liberty Place they are nothing to write home about.  Don’t have the misconception that because they are located in an upscale mall that they are any different than any other public restroom inside of an urban mall... they are not.

Back to the 2 to 45 minute spectrum.  Because we had to take so many toddlers to the bathroom - when all was said and done we were pushing our time limit in order to catch the next train.  We had 20 minutes to get them all from the mall, to the station, and onto the train.  We should make it - no problem... then James says the words I dread most.  “Daddy - my have to poop, now.” 

We rush 6 kids (all 5 and under) down to the train station.  Geana takes 5 of them and I take James to head to the restroom.  (Now mind you - I am used to this trip.  Many a time have I gotten down to the train station with 4 minutes to spare and said to myself, “I have time to take a quick pee before I get on the train.”  So I know where the bathrooms are and we don’t have to search for them.)  That being said - we get to the men’s room and it is closed for maintenance... locked.  There is a janitor standing there and I ask him if he can let me in.  He mumbles something incoherent back to me so I just ignore him.  I think about going to get Geana but she is all the way down on the platform.  There is not time.  Screw it - I barge into the ladies room.  (Let me take this moment to say - the public ladies room in this particular train station was surprisingly less disgusting than the men’s room.)  I walk past a stall that has a pair of feet in it - so I know there is a woman in here with us.  I was hoping that wouldn’t happen and I decide to keep this information to myself.  There is no reason to add unneeded pressure to the small 3 year old’s psyche.  I contemplate leaving for a split second, but I realize that I don’t really give a shit (pun intended).  We open a vacant stall, James sits down on the potty and he quickly kerplunks a couple of terds into the murky water below.  We wipe, wash hands, and we’re on our way.  Whew!  What a great kid I have.  Able to perform under pressure and with time constraints... IN THE LADIES ROOM!  I couldn’t be prouder.  The student has surpassed the master.  I never could have done what he did today. 

Anyway - they are potty trained and I’m systematically checking off every single public restroom in the Greater Philadelphia Region.  3 down - 330,232 to go.