Potty Training: The Sequel

In order to potty train a child you have to be patient.

Now, unless I was sitting in a doctor’s office at the time, no one has ever used that word to describe me.  Ever.

Regardless, around 2 ½  I figured I would give it a go.  I started reading all the literature about this horrific process. The experts say you should wait “until he’s ready”.  He’s supposed to give me signs. 

Ok, is stripping down naked, peeing in the middle of the kitchen and then slipping and falling into the pee puddle a sign of potty training readiness?  No?  Well, guess we’ll wait a little longer then…

Cut to a few months later and I’m SO ANNOYED that he’s still not ready.  Especially since all of his friends seemed to be getting the hang of it.  What the hell!  Screw when HE’S ready, I’M frigging ready!  He’s getting his ass on that potty and he’s not getting off until he does something on it!  THAT’S IT!

Raise your hand if you can figure out how that scenario worked itself out?  After a few epic battles the only results were a lot of crying on my part and a lot of not peeing on his part.

 Then I reread my “how to” book of potty training.  The number one rule?  Don’t force them to sit there until they go.  At this point I’m just wondering if these people have cameras in my house.

So I resigned myself to waiting.  Who wants to clean up accidents anyway?  I’m over it.  I have myself all set to just wait it out; I’ve gone over every logical reason for why this is the best possible solution.  

Number one is that having a diaper on restricts his access to his boy parts.  Seriously, when he’s wearing underwear it’s like he’s afraid to let go of his “ween” (yeah that’s the lovely new word that Daddy taught him.) He has to guard it at all times.  Like someone might steal it or something. 

So yeah, we’re waiting.

Except for the next day at nap time Carter informed me:

“Mama, I don’t want to wear a diaper.”

“Well, you are.  Let’s put it on!”

“NO!  I don’t wanna wear one!  BIG BOY UNDERWEAR!”

As I’m sitting there fighting with him to put on a diaper I’m thinking: “Gee, could this be one of those signs the stupid books keep talking about?”  Probably.  But did I keep trying to sell him on wearing the diaper?  You know it! 

‘Cause, I mean, what if the sign comes at a really inconvenient time?  Nap time?  Come on, Carter!  You WOULD pick a time where if you have an accident it will lead to the most work on my part.   Way to stay true to your mission of making my life as difficult as possible. 

I relented, and, much to my surprise, he stayed dry!  And he did it again the next day…and the next…

OK…WOW!  Yippee!  He’s potty trained right?  I can check that off my list of things to do before he hits puberty? 

Yeah, no.  That’s apparently not how that works.  At least not in my life.  If things work that way in your life then I say, in the most loving way possible, screw you!

Pee we have down.  With the exception of the occasional accidents that happen in totally discreet places…like the middle of the library for example.  Now we just have the other thing to contend with.  For the past few months that has been the struggle of the century.  We’ve bribed him with every conceivable thing.  And a few inconceivable things as well. 

Recently, however, he’s been doing his business on the potty as long as he is alone in there.  His new favorite thing is to run out of the bathroom screaming “POOP SURPRISE!”  He gets so excited about it that he doesn’t even pull up his pants.

And then we all have to jump up and down and scream and shout cause there’s one lone little poop in the toilet.

It should be a fun day at preschool when he runs naked from the bathroom, holding his ween and yelling “POOP SURPRISE!”

And the next day will be just as fun when I open my front door to a few people holding a clip board and yelling “DSS HOME VISIT SURPRISE!”