How the Fu*k Do We Potty Train Again?

Recently the two-year-old began potty training, a tricky endeavor that I've never seemed to master in my ten plus years of parenting. Each time I am faced with the idea of it I realize I have no damn clue. How the hell did I do this last time, I ask myself as I pull out the pink princess potty and rinse it off. 

The dirt is a mixture of basement sludge and, because I like to give you the whole truth and nothing but the truth, urine--old, dried out and of undetermined age, baby without aim, toddler in training urine. No, I will not smell it but I'm sure that is what it is. The color is not as dark as mustard (French's not Grey Poupon, which is actually more of a puke yellow with brown bits and reminds me of a breast fed newborn's poop) but it is certainly darker than butter. 

The potty...

After pulling out the potty to great fanfare--from the older kids, not the two-year-old--I set it up in the bathroom. Sure it's wedged between the toilet and the sink, but this kid has it made. My own childhood potty, a neutral lime green plastic beauty, was set up by the door stop and caused me significant trauma during my formative potty training months. Either way, my son will not use his potty.

That's not true. He uses it for a seat when I apply nail polish to two of his nails (he doesn't have the patience to have all ten done). He will watch me as I put on makeup, shower, or use the big girl potty--because yes, he follows me everywhere and really is sort of a stalker. He also uses it as a seat to eat his gogurt and cereal bars. Maybe he simply won't shit where he eats (kind of like our dog), I surmise with my parenting acumen. 

So, we pull out the big guns and buy underwear with superheros. He oohs and aahhs, and runs around the house in them throwing imaginary webs from his wrists. It really is cute. He loves fighting the bad guys as he whizzes from room to room in his tighty whities...and he also loves peeing in them, though he has yet to drop a deuce in them--until today. But let's back up for a minute. 

Saturday marked a major milestone, the boy peed on the toilet not the princess potty (maybe he, like me, finds princesses an annoying, antiquated and harmful stereotype...well, maybe).We praised, we laughed, we cried (especially me and the mister who have spent thousands and thousands on diapers-- enough to send at least one mediocre student to community college) and then we wondered if it would happen again. 

We asked until we sounded like broken records and made several other children realize that they, in fact, had to use the potty without even knowing it--all while the two-year-old ran around keeping us guessing. He did go again that very same day and the next and the day after and the one after that which brings us to today. 

Today I let the boy sleep in underwear for his nap. He didn't wet once for two days and really seems to be taking to the potty. He even has a helper--his four-year-old sister who gets so excited she barks out orders like, "Put your penis in, push it down, close your legs." She sounds like a drill sargent. We're really proud.

Anyway, it wasn't a great idea as you've probably already guessed. I heard excuses about not napping and was called to the room for various reasons all related to potty. He had to pee, I took him out, the drill sargent had to get up for moral support and her dose of tough love (of course), he did pee, he needed a hug, she needed a hug, he needed to hug her, she needed to pee, I needed to pee, the dog needed to pee....

I shut the door. I was summoned again with threats of poop. I didn't listen at first and when I finally did, I was greeted by the smiling two-year-old who informed me that he'd in fact pooped in his super hero underwear. The four-year-old also told me that Captain America wasn't happy. Since his face is on the rear end of the undies, I was sure she was right and when I glanced briefly as I shook the firm (there is a God) poop out into the toilet, I swear the Captain gave me a dirty look. 

I cleaned the boy up and ran a load of laundry. They finally went to sleep. The boy woke up dry, but sweaty. I'm pretty sure we're getting the hang of this thing. I can't believe we are going to soon be living a diaper-free existence. Shit, I can't believe we are going to be diaper more babies, no more. He is the last child I will ever have to potty train. 

Wait, there will be no more princess potty...I know, I hate princesses I think as I wipe at my eyes. Damn, I hate allergy season--and milestones. Speaking of which, did the ten-year-old just walk by and did he....stink? Oh shit, and is that the beginning of a peach fuzzy mustache? Oh no, puberty. This is too much for one week. I'm going to lock myself down the basement with the baby books and pretend they are all still little....

Until next time!!


  1. Wait he went the entire night dry? AMAZING! And I LOVE the princess potty - classic!!

  2. I'm in the same situation trying to potty train my youngest. I despise this aspect of parenting and dreaded it with both kids. We have that same potty btw. Lol!

  3. Great writing style for the content! Your storytelling evokes the rush, rush, rush feeling you get when toddlers are in the house.

  4. I seriously hate potty training...hence the reason my two year old is still in diapers.

  5. I don't miss the potty training crap at all, more than happy that is well behind me.

  6. Ha ha haha oh the potty training - the WORST experience of a parent. And like you, it seemed new each time I did it! So glad that is behind us!

  7. I always thought diapers were gross then I discovered the little plastic potty pan. Completely tops diaper changing. Love this post so much as we are currently in full blown potty training (and most days we are failing.)

  8. The only thing that would be wierder, more surreal, is to work in the factory where they make these things.
    Forty thousand Potty Princesses a day - gotta follow the orders of the Talleyman. And you're on the
    assembly line, and it doesn't stop, one potty part after another, one potty part after another. And down
    the other end of the line you hear crunching and something that sounds like a snare drum playing backwards,
    like on those old 1960s records - those are the people who are packing these things up to go to places like
    Babies Are Us etc. Fully finished "cute" (?) little potties, being taken up hand by hand, and somewhat
    shoved into boxes that will just about fit them, and the swooshing hissing sounds, are the paper and plastic
    insulation being packed around them. And then Thawtt!! Sounding like a cross between a fart and a bad
    trombone player with a mute - the big electric tape machine, comes down and tapes the damn thing on each side.
    And far off the distance on the shop floor, under florescent lights, set up some thirty feet high by the ceiling
    you see pallets and pallets, of square Princess Potty boxes piled 8 feet high, by 5 feet on each side - hell, that's
    forty potty princesses ready to go, and forty more dlightful Potty Princesses after that on another pallet. Shrink
    wrapped, and then the forklift comes along and takes it away, as your conveyer belt keeps going, and you can't stop
    for one minute as you screw the back lid to the actual Princess accepting potterino.... And what do you tell your
    friends when they ask you what you do. Well, uh, I work at this factory. I'm an assembly line technician...And
    well, we put together these plastic potties.... You what? Potties who you kiddin' No, I'm serious..... And the
    thing is that the former conversation is going to be all in Chinese...


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