Our language around here has really gone to the crapper.
It’s time. This is a season that I have truly dreaded being a part of and have been eager to be on the other side of. Potty training. There must be a better way. And for all of my super-cool, kid-free friends who find this sort of discussion appalling: call me in 2012. This is my life.
We’re getting a puppy in 2 weeks. A friend gave me a book on how to train her. I was blown away. Holy cow, I’m getting another infant. A cute little furry one. So, last Thursday I decided that I could not potty train a stubborn little boy and a needy puppy at the same time. I explained to Blake that when he wakes up, there will be no more diapers. We will be throwing on those Toy Story underpants and becoming a big boy. He was vaguely interested. He became much more motivated when he spied the sticker chart I created for him. Peeing gets him 1 sticker, poop, 2. 5 stickers gets him a piece of candy. 20 gets him an ice-cream sunday. We haven’t had this much sugar in the house since Halloween. He’s constantly negotiating. “5 stickers for poop?”, he’ll ask.
Waiting for the poop is…um, time consuming. I actually thought we might not make it to preschool today because of the wait. I used to think parents were faking the excitement over some poop in the potty. You know, for the kids. Let me tell you something. It’s real. It’s true. I have screamed and whooped and laughed and danced. It’s so real. I think it’s funny that my potty-training book instructs parents to offer some positive affirmation by getting excited when they “go”. It makes me wonder if that author has ever had a 3 year old who had everyone convinced that he would be the first college freshman in diapers. Maybe he was one of those parents who’s prodigal child had been peeing, pooping, wiping, and doing equations since 18 months. I mean, good for him if so. I’m just saying that parents like ME don’t need any help getting excited.
Yup, that’s a potty in my kitchen. I really do know how gross this is. Yet, when you consider that he was wearing his potty the day before, you realize it’s not all that bad after all. BTW, those baby leg warmers have been awesome for the first few days of potty-training in a cold house.
I’m amazed at how similar training a child and a puppy are. B even has a special pad on the couch where he’s allowed to sit, like the puppy will. I have lined his carseat with a garbage bag, which he talks about alot. He tells people that he sits in a trash can in the car. We have a portable potty and liners in the car, a necessary evil (thank goodness for that van and the privacy it offers). Recently B pooped in his “frog potty” and when I emptied it to the toilet he asked if he could “flush the gross”. I wonder how often I use that word.
Stu and I found ourselves at a very swanky birthday party Saturday night, so happy to be out on an adult date, yet still discussing whether or not Blake was going to continue to poop in the potty and if we should be putting him in pull-ups at night. I chuckled and made a comment about how embarrassing it is to be having this discussion. These are the conversation that appalled me before I became a mother. These were the conversations that I claimed I would NEVER have in public. Stu looked around and pointed out that everyone is talking about what they’re doing, just like we are. This is what we’re doing. Some were discussing the amount of homework their kids have in elementary school. Our single friends are discussing dating and their jobs. We have many friends who are eager to discuss their kids in college; what they’re majoring in and where they want to work. The couple throwing the party had an infant, so you can bet they were completely engrossed in her sleeping and eating schedule, and whether or not she would be fussy that night. Almost all of us were talking about what we do for a living. We sat at a table full of doctors and engineers. I knew that when asked, I would proudly announce that I’m a potty-trainer. And as awful as I used to think that sounded, I love it. I love that what I do every day matters. I love that I finally have a job that I’m passionate about.
Even if it is a little shitty sometimes. 😉