Thursday, September 29, 2016

Shit or Seek: Potty Training Parenting Fails

There is no panic so great as that which fills my body when I find a discarded diaper on the floor after I've temporarily lost sight of my toddler. It's a little game she invented called Shit or Seek.

Let me backtrack: I am not a milestone mama.

I don't eagerly await the next new skill my children are set to acquire and sit on the edge of my seat in preparation of introducing that technique to them. Teaching children how to be more independent is like a dart game. Sure, you could get a bullseye on the first try OR you could miss completely and just f*ck up your walls. I don't like hole-filled walls. And since my aim isn't always perfect, when I know something new is on the horizon, I typically just hide in the corner and see if they'll pick it up from strangers on the street or television like how I learned sex stuff

That's what happens with Potty Training around here.

My first kid, the genius (I don't say that to be a braggart, she's just really smart and intuitive - it's nothing I did, it's in spite of me actually), pretty much trained herself. She decided, somewhat suddenly, that diapers were "beneath her" and that she could be adult about the situation and piss in a porcelain receptacle like a civilized person. 

We set aside a weekend and she had (maybe) 1 accident over the course of the 2-day span, and then took to the remainder of the process like a pro. The whole thing was almost too easy which would've clued a smarter parent in. But again, she's bright in spite of me not because of me, so her sibling's future antics were still a big surprise.

When the boy rolled around, I sat back and waited for the PeePee Train to roll into the station all on its own. That was a mistake because I ended up changing diapers while attempting to dodge the donkey kicks emanating from his lengthening giant Baby Huey legs. It was like wrestling with a Stretch Armstrong doll. 

I finally got fed up and told him he’d have to start peeing standing up but apparently I wasn’t clear enough because that go-round just ended with him holding the wall and peeing into my house plants like some drunk on a Friday night (did I mention how much I hate having my walls messed up).

We then attempted in-house instruction. My husband & I tag-teamed for a concerted intensive effort. And by that I mean, I pouted and sat in the bathroom with him for hours every day during the summer and my husband came home from work each night and asked how everything went.

But this boy really just didn't care. After begging and pleading (“Do you think Superman goes peepee in his undies?” “Yes, mommy, if he’s in the middle of flying.” *sigh*) with no success I gave up. When my son finally returned for another (pre)school year, around the age of 3, I figured I’d better leave the hard stuff to the trained professionals I paid to make me feel like a better parent. I sent him in every morning with a fresh change of clothes and extra (accident) underwear and hoped for the best. But even that took FOR EVAH.

My boy had nearly made it to Spring (a full school year) without a completely dry week and I’d gotten accustomed to wringing out his shorts before tossing them in the laundry. But suddenly, and without much fanfare, a string of dry days turned into a pattern and he became more conscious of nature’s call. My husband & I looked up and had two fully potty trained miniature people on our hands and life was good.

And then the new baby came.

 And y’all know this kid has been more than a notion. Now that she’s “of age” I’d briefly considered getting one of those hardcore training books and engaging in some militaristic potty time that’s half an exercise in bladder control and the other half lightweight baby FBI training, but I decided against it. I'm older now, and dammit I'm tired. And after all, this is the kid that takes off her diaper for sport and walks around going “see how pretty booty is” just to annoy me.

A few times I’d attempted to prop her on the toilet. She pees occasionally but mostly she just laughs at me and then stands to urinate into her awaiting bath water.

So this time, I’m not going to get my blood pressure up. There’s so much else to be stressed about like why I have to wait for a Winter return of Scandal to check up on Fitz & Olivia. This kid will train when she’s ready. Until then, I’ll just start researching moisture resistant fabrics for prom dresses and hope for the best. That’s all I have left to give, guys. Wish me luck.


  1. "Yes, mommy, if he’s in the middle of flying"
    ...touche, sir. two. shay.

  2. moisture resistant prom gowns...and a purse flask for mommy?


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