potty

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.

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.

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!

all aboard the potty train

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Before I had children, I always marveled at the older two and three year olds who were still styling diapers. With a disapproving look, my smug self would wonder why their parents did not potty train their kid. They were OBVIOUSLY old enough. If I could go back in time, I would smack myself.

Here we are two weeks from my child’s third birthday… And, I’m still wiping his rear and changing out diapers. Welcome to reality. It’s not that I haven’t tried. We’ve tried a whole realm of possibilities – bribery with candy, toys, stickers; positive reinforcement; peer pressure; big boy undies. But, he’s uninterested, and up until this point, his “perseverance” has beat out mine.

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Last year, about this time, I had big plans. As soon as he turns two, we are going to get this kid toilet trained… along with ditching the paci and evicting him from the crib in preparation for little brother coming in January. Ha. I’d like to blame that “optimism” on pregnancy hormones, but, really, I just get delusional about these things.

Now, to be fair, we did accomplish two of the three things before baby brother arrived. But, that left us nowhere on potty training. Several friends ushered warnings of regression after the baby, so with an ounce of convincing, the excuses began for putting off potty training.

As A’s preschool came to a close in May, it finally hit that my kid is not potty trained. And, he will be THREE in a few months. I became the mother that I judged and suddenly was filled with self doubt and embarrassment. Sure, life gets in the way, but how does everyone else do it?

I recruited my mother for moral support, and we issued Phase 1 of Potty Training. A was already accustomed to the plastic kiddie potties, as I had purchased one almost a year ago when I was feeling so ambitious. And, he had used the potty on a rare occasion. With those past successes, I was feeling pretty good about how it would all play out. And, we had even picked out these:

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We were good to go. Ha. There was a lot of crying and frustration and moping… and, A, was even worse. By the end of the day, my mom and I both threw up the white flag and clothed him back in a diaper. Peace was restored. We’ll try again in a few weeks, I thought.

A few weeks came and went, and I was met with an equally awful disaster. That’s it, my kid is gong to college in diapers.

I haven’t tried again since the middle of summer and since then have made excuses using our travel plans. Which leaves us here: two weeks from turning three, starting preschool and a strong attachment to wetting himself. All aboard the Potty Train. There will be no turning back this time.