potty training

i see your hiney

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Tuesdays are Mother’s Day Out days for Austin. And, after MDO, we always meet a couple of Austin’s friends for a few minutes of extra play. It’s become a little ritual. We can’t leave without waiting for his buds. It’s really pretty adorable. So, like every Tuesday, the kids ran up and down, over and around in the small field at the church, while us Mommas chatted away.

And, then I looked up. There is Austin. There he is, peeing in public. Pants at his ankles. Bare butt and all. In the grass in front of the church. With everyone picking up their kids from Mother’s Day Out. Oh, and let’s not forget the soccer practice that was being held 20 feet away from him.

I die.

I raced toward him, as he proudly grinned at me, continuing to water the grass as I ran. I promptly pull his undies up to cover his hiney, but, I’m forced to stop midway. It’s still flowing.

“Stop peeing, Austin. Austin! Stop peeing!”

He glances at me briefly, then returns his attention to the task at hand. I’m immediately regretting ever letting him “water” the tree in our backyard.

I had two options at this point. Waste no time, pull up his pants, deal with wet undies and a clean up at the car, OR… Just let it go. Yeah… I let him go.

So, I waited, for what felt like a good five minutes, which, obviously, was more like an additional five seconds. When he finally turned it off, I yanked his jeans back on. And, then, proceeded to laugh hysterically while he skipped away. This was probably not the most appropriate response for when one’s kid urinates in public in the grass of the church. But, sometimes humor is just way better than reality. We may have to revisit this talk later. Parenting fail.

But, the good news is I didn’t have to worry about dragging Austin into a public restroom while we ran errands, where I may or may not have had to be a human step stool for him depending on how he was feeling about the automatic flushers that day. That should make up for the prior public embarrassment, right?

too much information

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Potty talk is in full swing at our house. We talk pee. We talk poop. We rejoice over every secretion that doesn’t soak Austin’s pants or land on the floor. We proudly clap as he literally shows us his latest drop off in the potty. It’s amazing how dull I have become to such disgusting discussion. And, that’s parenthood.

But, nothing quite prepared me for the new public embarrassment of potty training. When you introduce pee pee and poo poo into a toddler boy’s vocabulary, there is no filter on their mouth. And, the moment you frown at their potty talk, well, you’ve just fueled the fire. Let me replay our recent trip to the store.

As I push the boys in the basket through the store,

“Do tigers go poo poo?”

“Yes, honey.”

“Do Tiggers go poo poo?”

“Yes, Austin.”

“Do birds go poo poo?”

“Yes.”

“Do cars go poo poo?”

“Uh, no.”

“Cars do go poo poo.”

“Huh, okay then.”

“Does Everett go poo poo?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you go poo poo?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Does he go poo poo?” pointing straight to a man within earshot.

“Uh huhhh..” as we quickly turn down the nearest aisle.

“Do dogs go poo poo?”

I pause in silence trying to rack my brain as to why I am actually in this store. Funny. All I can seem to think about are body fluids. Yuck.

“Momma. Momma. MOMMA. Do dogs go poo poooo?”

“YES. Dogs go poo poo, too.”

He giggles, and, then, is distracted by a shiny object. Thank goodness for a toddler’s attention span. This buys me about five minutes to finish our trip. I wrap things up and proceed to check out, where, of course, there is a mile-long line. We wait, and I mentally go through my to-do list for the day. During this time, Austin has begun singing.

“Bye bye pee peeeeee. Bye bye pooooop. Bye bye pee pee. Bye bye pooop.”

To be honest, I’m pretty sure he was several choruses in before I really paid attention to what he was singing. By this point, we had quite the mixed audience of chuckles and disapproving glances. Oops.

We reach the cashier, and Austin is mesmerized by the candy. Awesome. One child distracted. Now, I just have to play keep away with my credit cards from Everett in the basket. I begin paying, and, out of nowhere, Austin is standing next to me. He proudly tells the cashier how he went poop in the potty. She nods awkwardly. And, then, Austin announces with no less pride that Momma also went poop. Fantastic.

TMI, Austin. Too. Much. Information.

batman undies to the rescue

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Good news for us. Bad news for Pampers. Sorry, Pampers. My kid won’t be going to college in diapers after all. Release the confetti and pour Mommy a glass of Champagne. It looks like big man Austin is finally potty trained.

I’m not sure what changed to lead to this success – whether it was time, a new method, or truly by the grace of God. But, based on our previous experiences, I might chalk this one up to a miracle… or, the new Batman undies. Yep. Pretty sure it was the undies.

Our last attempt was in the fall. Frankly, after that bout, I was feeling chicken about trying again. We made lots of excuses about it not being the right time. I didn’t want to deal with meltdown after meltdown or mopping up tee tees and poo poos in the middle of the floor produced out of downright defiance. My sanity would not survive. So, we continued to put it off… until we received the registration paperwork for Austin’s Mother’s Day Out program for the fall.

Apparently, they are not interested in changing diapers on three- and four-year-olds next year. Ha. I can’t imagine why. For Austin to move up, he has to be potty trained. And, not “We’re working on it” potty trained, but experienced potty trainer. That’s the kick I needed. As soon as he recovered from the flu, we started training. Cue the Rocky theme song.

I borrowed “Potty Training 1-2-3” from a friend that recently had success potty training her son. And, I loved it! If you are having trouble potty training, pick this book up. Now. The method around the book is primarily rewarding your child for staying clean and dry, not for producing on the potty. Obviously, you still reward for using the potty, but it’s not the emphasis. Most of the methods we had tried focused on using the bathroom. That was a dead end for Austin. Once he decided he didn’t want to sit on the potty, it was a lost cause and power struggle. This methods puts the control in our hands and sets him up for success.

Don’t get me wrong. It was still hard and frustrating, even with a method that seemed to work for Austin. We didn’t leave the house for two days, and in that time, we focused on Austin and patience (LOTS of patience), and attempted to keep Everett from climbing on, playing in and eating the potty chair.

Plus, we watched The Potty Movie on constant repeat for 48 hours. I’m quite certain I will never be able to rid the tune or images of toddlers singing “Bye bye pee pee. Bye bye poop” from my head. Ah, parenthood.

But, a successful weekend has led to a triumphant week. He’s still not 100 percent trained, but there are rarely accidents and he no longer pees on himself when I announce it’s time to sit on the potty in an effort to avoid sitting on it. Progress, people. Progress.

This child will be attending school next year.

wrapped around his finger

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Potty training has been stalled for the last few months. The best advice given was to give it a rest, since, obviously, we were getting no where in September. We’ve left it up to Austin, and he is happy as can be wetting himself.

I’m getting antsy. Every way I turn I’m changing a diaper. And, even though, it’s nearly nine months away, I’m already feeling stress about the potty training requirement for him to move up to the next preschool class. Because, honestly, I feel like it will never happen.

Then, out of nowhere, there was interest.

The other morning, we were prepping for the day. Austin and I were brushing our teeth while Everett snacked on a toothbrush. Austin stops, looks at me, and says, “I want to go potty.”

Spit dribbled from my mouth as I looked at him in disbelief. “Really??”

“Yeah. I want to use the potty.”

I throw my toothbrush into the sink and grab the nearest potty chair. “Okay,” I said, trying to reign in the excitement. I place it in front of him and proceed to help him with his pants.

He looks at it with disgust. “Not that one, Mommaaaa. I want that potty. The big potty.”

Fair enough. “Okay, let’s use that one!”

I lead him toward the potty when he stops. “Here you go, buddy.”

“No,” he mumbles and walks away, leaving me dumbfounded with potties everywhere and toothpaste still in my mouth.

Touché, son. You have me wrapped around your finger, and, apparently, it was necessary to prove it that day.

I am so over potty training.

diapers for life

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Watch

We’re stuck. Stuck in potty land with nothing to show for it. Austin has officially revolted against the potty at home and school. Last week, he even refused to set foot in the bathroom during school. Needless to say, we’ve taken a few steps – or, ridiculously large leaps – backward.

What we are dealing with is downright defiance, and, to be honest, I’m lost. I have no clue what to do.

We’ve tried several suggested methods. We’ve tried to force it, and we’ve tried to be relaxed about it. We made a potty chart with stickers and prizes. We still bribe with M&Ms and bite-sized candy bars. He has big boy undies and several potty options to sit on. He runs around butt naked daily. We cheer and praise and have only stopped short of throwing him a potty parade… which is not totally out of the question. Who has the number for a reputable Grand Marshall?

Our latest trial came off the recommendation of a couple friends: the Potty Watch. You set it to play a song every 30, 60 or 90 minutes. When it plays, Austin is supposed to sit on the potty. We set it for every 30 minutes to start. Even after bedtime, I could still hear the tune mocking me in my head.

He was fairly excited about his new watch, but he didn’t want to wear it. So, I did. You won’t find that trend in InStyle magazine. It didn’t take long or many public outings before he decided he no longer wanted to share. Thank goodness. He began wearing it everywhere, and, at first, wanted to sit on the potty when it played the song. Several successes later, he dumped the watch.

Suddenly, I found him trying to silence the watch every time it sounded. Or, as soon as it went off, he would quickly pee in his pants and let me know he no longer needed to sit on the potty. Fantastic. We still sat him on the potty after those stunts, but it usually resulted in flailing legs, tears and being sent to his room. And, then back to the potty and repeat.

I’m beginning to think Austin and Everett will be potty trained at the same time. Remember when I mentioned paying someone a million dollars to potty train this kid? Yeah. That’s starting to sound like a realistic plan. Donations can be accepted through PayPal to help fund Austin’s potty training 😉

Or, we’ll just plan to purchase diapers for life. I suppose there’s always Depends.

one thousand loads of laundry

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In a time before animal cracker crumbs were a staple in our bed, before 7 a.m. was sleeping in, and a clean house lasted more than 15 minutes, I spent my spare time doing things other than laundry.

In fact, I actually enjoyed laundry. Laundry day was once a week, and on that day, one or two loads were accomplished. And, that was all that was needed. I would turn on the television and frivolously flip through channels as I lazily folded each piece of clothing.

Fast forward to reality where I am routinely six feet under piles of laundry, and folding clothes is a race against two ticking time bombs. Forget putting it away. Grab and go as necessary, which is why my home is often dotted with miniature shirts, socks and undies. Currently, I do three – sometimes four – loads a day. Let’s look at that for a minute.

Before children, we’ll say two loads of laundry a week. That’s roughly 8-9 loads a month and approximately 104 loads a year.

After children, we’ll play conservative and say three loads a day. That’s 21 for the week, and a grand total of 1,092 loads of laundry a year. Uh. Wow. And, I only have two children.

If this trend continues, we still have approximately 18 years before our youngest moves out. Multiply that number by 18. Nauseating.

Now, I’m hopeful it won’t always be like this. Right now, Everett is a spitter. Not a dainty dribbler, but a full impact soaker. When he spits, he leaves a wave of destruction on anything within a three-foot radius. You can hear the splat across the room. Ew. We clean out our arsenal of bibs and burp cloths every single day. I hear by one year, we should be done with the spit. Fingers crossed.

As for Austin, well, I wash a lot of Lightning McQueen and Thomas the Train undies – and, sheets. Yay for potty training…

I’m beginning to think the stereotypical “smelly kid” label might not be so bad after all.

Looking back, maybe I should have registered for stock in Tide or Dreft, as opposed to a million different socks, blankets and lotions that have all been used once.

Perhaps, it’s time to visit my nemesis, Pinterest, and see how many ways I can make my own laundry detergent. Brilliant. I’ll just squeeze that into my schedule between 1,092 loads of laundry.

potty fail

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This afternoon, when I asked Austin if he would like to sit on the potty, I received a glare. Then, in total silence, he carries his potty into the office, sets it down, and closes the door – him on one side, the potty on the other. He shakes his head without making eye contact and scurries away.

So, obviously, it’s going really well. ::smacks head::

Things began amazing with Austin. There were few accidents. He wanted to sit on the potty, and he loved the rewards. We went all out with intense enthusiasm and praise, not to mention the M&Ms and prizes from the dollar store.

But, a few days in, and he’s decided he is so over the potty.

Apparently, he is still doing well at school the couple times a week that he attends. But, at home, he has decided to boycott the potty… again. I’m not sure what changed, other than my child’s incredible stubbornness in the first place. I’m not sure where he gets that trait…

Now, when I encourage him to sit on the potty, he throws a tantrum – an over the top, kicking and screaming, mommy is going to rip her hair out kind of fit. The thing is he hates diaper changes, too. I really think he would be content walking around in a diaper for the rest of his life. Try to get a girlfriend in those, Austin. We usually put him in regular underwear at home, and when he wets himself, it doesn’t even seem to bother him. He could care less if he is soaked.

Since he can’t be bothered by wet diapers, wet undies or even going commando, where does that leave us? In a pile of pee, I guess.

Time to re-strategize. Score Austin 1,347, Mommy and Daddy 0. But, the final score will be Mommy and Daddy WIN. You will be potty trained, son. Just you wait.

potty talk

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We are officially in the throes of potty training, and, at this point, I wonder if the scent of urine will ever leave my home. Seeing as I have two boys… I’m guessing not.

We decided to wait until Saturday morning for the fun to begin – that way I wouldn’t drown in the puddles of tee tee myself. The night before, I was casually perusing – aka stalking – Facebook when an ad geared toward potty training popped on my newsfeed. The message of the ad was the longer you wait to potty train, the harder it will be. Well, great. It was torture three months ago. It was agony two months ago. At this point, I was seriously considering who I could pay a million dollars to potty train my kid. Of course, I had to figure out where on earth I could get that kind of money. But, hey, that seemed easier than trying to teach Austin where to do his business.

The adventure began Saturday morning. To ready ourselves for the third attempt, I read and reread about dozens of methods. There was the one-day method or the three-day method or the naked method and more, plus hundreds of tips on how to be successful. Homework was done. We were ready.

But, really, when we started the day, I kicked them all to the curb. Let’s wing it, I said.

We spent half the day in the backyard with our wild man running around bare naked, hopped up on juice, and encouraged him to “water” the grass and trees. I’m quite thankful the three little girls who live next door did not try to come play this day. Potty training is not for the faint of heart.

After a semi-successful morning of naked freedom, we moved inside and strategically placed two potty chairs around the kitchen and living room. At this point, it was time for lunch, so I put the potty chair in the seat and scooted him up to the table. We were not going to miss a chance. I never in my life thought I would be so excited to have someone pee at the kitchen table. Ah, parenthood.

That’s when he had his first indoor success for the day. It didn’t matter that my child was literally relieving himself where we eat, or that a little bit splattered the floor and my foot. My child had peed in the potty, and I proceeded to cheer with no less enthusiasm than if he was the youngest recipient ever of the Nobel Peace Prize. And, M&Ms. There were boat loads of M&Ms. Maybe he wouldn’t be going to college in diapers after all.

To be honest, since then, it hasn’t been too bad. There have been far more successes than accidents, but I know we still have a long road ahead of us. And, now, I understand. He just wasn’t ready three months ago or even two months ago. It’s amazing the difference a couple months can make.

I’m not sure my sanity would have survived pressing through potty training two months ago, and I’m thankful that Facebook ad did not present itself then. Because, you know what, waiting a little longer has made this seem like a piece of cake. Cheers to the late potty trainers!