I used to think that I might write blogs that were helpful. But I’ve realized, I am not that kind of Mom that has her crap together. I don’t have a lot of helpful hints. I AM here to help you. Instead of helping you be a rock star Mom, I am going HELP you feel better about YOUR situation.
I USED to think I was the potty training expert after my first two picking up on it pretty quickly. But now, I got absolutely NOTHING for you on this topic. Nada. Zilch. ZERO. The thought that someone came here because they are seeking help makes my insides tickle a little.
You can’t ask me a thing about potty training a boy. Because I straight up don’t know. This Mom sure as heck failed because I was lazy or arrogant or an unfortunate combination of the two. I am going to go with the latter.
WE HAVE BEEN IN POTTY TRAINING HELL FOR TWO YEARS. I.am.not.even.kidding.
It’s a long story and kind of gross, but all the hogwash about boys being easier to potty train is a straight out lie from the devil himself. I was a potty training champ with the first two. And maybe I am being unfair, because Rory has been potty trained for a good year and a half with pee. It’s been a constant battle folks on solids, folks. Encopresis is no joke and I seriously hope you never, ever have to deal with it.
We are near fully potty trained now. I know this because he told me he had to go poop while we were in Wal-Mart. I hate most public bathrooms and going with kids. I try never to take my kids in Wal-Mart because getting out of there without some kind of triage is pretty difficult. But we had no choice, we showed up at 10:00 a.m. for an 11:00 a.m. memorial service and Shawn had some things to get for a work trip.
I heard Rory announce to aisle 14 that he had to poop. I tried to get out of it but Shawn had a miraculous “important work call” while he was meandering in the shoe aisle of our tiny Wal-Mart at 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday. I know, right? It sounded awfully suspicious to me too.
Naturally, this is where all kids tell their guardians that they have to poop, on a Saturday morning, in Wal-Mart, while we are dressed to the nines. So to the bathroom, we forged. When I took Rory into the stall, he ordered me out. Folks, this is where things get weird. These are Rory’s clothes on the floor.
You see, he has to strip down and perch with his feet on the toilet seat and do his business. He uses his position and gravity to help him do his dirty work. A little unconventional? Yes. But it is effective. It is like his own little squatty potty. I can’t argue with the ergonomic position and his method. It makes me smile because my Dad has a whole “Confucius Say” comedy bit. “Confucius say, ‘Man who stand on toilet, high on pot.’ ” Total Dad humor.
When done, he waltzed out of the stall, clad only in his shirt and tie, and I had to help him put his skivvies and pants back on. But not before an employee comes in, gets an eye full, and politely backs out of the bathroom. He’s not embarrassed and me either, for that matter. As a rule, he answers our front door, naked as a jaybird, surprising the heck out of the UPS man and anyone else unfortunate enough to roll up and ring the doorbell.
This one, I am going to let slide. It’ll correct itself eventually. I have got 99 problems, but my kid perching on the toilet ain’t one.
What slightly weird thing does your KID do?