Basically potty training can suck it.
I hate it. What’s really WRONG with diapers anyway?
We’ve spent the last few days with Carson in underwear, except for outings (more about that later) and bedtime. We’ve also spent the last few days going to bathroom every 10 minutes.
Carson has peed on the potty ONE flippity-flapping time in these past few days. ONE.TIME.
I KNOW you’re supposed to wait until a child is “ready.” Well what the hell is ready anyway? He can pull his pants up and down. He knows if he’s peed or pooped in his diaper, though he will vehemently deny the existence of said waste. Sure he’s screamed things like “NO UNDERWEAAAAAAAAAAAAAR! and “I want to wear DIAPEEEEEEEEEEEEERS.” But he’s a headstrong kid with his own ideas and his own plans of how to do everything, though. Sometimes he just needs a little nudge.
And hoo boy, I’ve been nudging. Smiling while nudging, OF COURSE, and being patient while nudging, OF COURSE, but NUDGING.
Nudging is exhausting.
We started by going to the potty every 30 minutes as recommended by some STUPID potty training website. What this STUPID potty training website failed to mention was that 30 minutes is probably too long. Since I know that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results, I decided to head to the pot every 10 minutes instead. Have you ever hung out at a toilet EVERY 10 minutes before (besides after a night of excess in college)??? It’s still not fun.
Anyway, once he does actually potty train (like when he’s going off to COLLEGE, I’m guessing), how will we ever even leave the house? I mean, when a kid says they gotta go, THEY GOTTA GO, LIKE NOW! I’ve been imagining leisurely trips to Target being canceled because I had to pull over at a gas station, frantically trying to unbuckle TWO children from their car neats, screaming, “HOLD IT! Don’t pee, Carson! Wait!!” Running, dragging one toddler by the hand, the other in my arms, into the gas station just in time to see a wet ring form around Carson’s crotch.
And even if he was able to hold it?? Where is Ella supposed to hang out while I’m holding Carson over the toilet, attempting to keep his pristine hiney from touching the nasty, germ-infested toilet seat?? It’s not like she’ll politely stand right beside me, heeding mommy’s stern warnings not to touch ANYTHING. One kid crawling on a gas station floor while the other heavy one is being held over a toilet. This may very well be my version of hell.
It just occurred to me that I’ll have to always have extra clothes on hand so that WHEN this does happen, the leisurely Target trip won’t be canceled due to wet crotch issues. STILL. Potty training! I despise it.