3 Day Potty Training

Potty. Training.

Hadn't ever really thought about it before, ya know? Like realllllllllly thought about it. I mean, as adults we are all able to successfully use the toilet by ourselves. Nobody asks me if I need to potty consistently. Nobody checks my bum after a #2 to make sure no traces of a tootsie pop are left behind. I'm in, it's out, I move on.

I shoulda thought about it before I made the decision to bring miraculous life into this world.

It's hell.

Since Grayson turned 2 we've been toying with the process, never really making it a priority. We bought the obligatory potty chair (Cars), big potty seat (also Cars), big boy undies (yep) and the bribes. What we've never really had is a plan. I've always been told it's developmental and it'll happen when it happens. My husband feels bribery and underwear is the answer. Endless websites offer plans and advice...what is a first time mommy to do do? (Hahaha...I'm losing it cause I think that's freaking hilarious)

Enter:  The 3-day Potty Training Method.

Our absolute favorite NICU nurse turned Nurse Practioner used it for her stubborn boy a couple weeks ago and it worked! If it's good enough for the offspring of genius, then shoot! Sign. Me. Up.

Day One:

Big boy underwear goes on without tantrum. Potty explanation accomplished without tantrum. Telling the boy "Let mommy know when you have to go potty!" constantly repeated in a happy, carefree, singsong voice. This is gonna be easy. Best idea I've ever had.

Six hours later. Seven cups of juice/water/milk. Nothing. Dry underwear. Well, shit, if he could hold it this long then why the hell did I have to change his diaper every 30 minutes in real life?

FINALLY I notice a drip from his undies so I snatch him up real quick like and race to the potty. I plop him on the potty chair that is placed on the big stool. The stupid chair collapses and the kid falls straight in the bowl smashing a finger! I quickly right the chair with him still on it and AGAIN it collapses so the kid smashes ANOTHER finger! He's screaming, I'm cussing, the Devil is laughing. WTF happened? Upon further investigative examination it appears my brilliant husband put the padded toddler potty on the rim of the man circle. PARENTING POTTY FAIL! Good thing I have someone to blame. Idiot.

So by now I totally feel like there is no recovering. This is it. It's over. Bust out the Luv's and pray he recovers from this traumatic event before puberty. God help us all if I'm stuck wiping grown-man shit from his white cheeks for years. Not to mention the massive amount of energy I'm going to have to use up being pissed off at my husband.

Fast forward 900 "Let mommy know when you have to go potty!" (the happy singsong voice becoming slightly agitated with each repeat), and there's another dribble. Showtime! Snatch him up, run to the potty, CHECK FOR CORRECT PLACEMENT OF POTTY CHAIR, finish our business. Success! No lingering trauma from the earlier incident. Only negative is now I will have to find some other reason to be mad at the hubby, but there are a whole shit-ton (hahaha) of positives!!

Day Two:

Dry night! What the heck? That's supposed to be the hard part. Oh well...."Let mommy know when you have to go potty!" (Did I mention he always answers this with a screaming NOOOOO!!!)

An hour later he jumps up and says "Oh!" and runs full throttle to the potty. Business finished. Dry underwear. Piece of cake. But where's the poo hiding? This kid is usually regular. Daily easily, sometimes twice. His stomach looks like he's carrying a log-baby. Normal for trainers I know, but solutions? Eh.....we'll deal with it later.

"Look kid, just tell me when you need to pee, will ya." (Over it. Can't stress that enough. I'm sick of my own voice.) A few accidents. A whole lot of wins. A proud daddy teaching his son to pee off the front porch and hit the newly delivered phone book.

Day Three:

Final day of booty boot camp (I'm really funny, I know). Another dry night! Really? Quite frankly I'm sick of my son considering the plan requires me to attach myself to him.

No accidents in the A.M. 

Early afternoon he slides behind the couch very inconspicuously...for a 2 year old. The crashing lamp tipped me off. He can't hold the poopsie in anymore. It's coming and it's gonna suck.

I grab him just as I begin to smell the first wafts of doo. We make it to the potty for the finale and even offer a grand farewell befitting our first training turds.

Since then we've had a couple small mishaps quickly righted by his own mad dash to finish like the big boy he is. Another dry nap and that leads us to present time.

Potty training is exhausting. Obviously for him too since he's now finished a three hour nap. The book says it will all click by tonight. I'm confident. 

He's gonna potty like a rock star! (Okay, okay I'm done.)

Random Ramblings of a Crazy Person

Gideon has found his voice, God help me. Kid won't SHUT IT. He starts jabbering when he wakes up, keeps at it ALL DAY, and moans himself to sleep at night. Yeah, yeah it's frickin cute. NOPE. Not even a little bit. Kid won't just EVER SHUT IT. And he must really be impressed with whatever it is that he is saying cause he really amuses himself. And if his unrelenting yelling/moaning/screaming wasn't enough to send me to Charter (is that place still around?),his favorite talking sessions occur at 7 am and during the devil's nap time. 

It won't let me post a video otherwise I'd share his craziness with you. You should be thankful I'm too dumb to figure it out because you'd go straight to your OB's office and demand an immediate full hysterectomy. I'm kidding!! It's adorable!! (Nope. Still not even a little bit.)

Gideon has also decided he no longer requires real naps. Apparently nine hours of sleep a day is good enough for 7 month-olds nowadays. He did not ask my opinion about his new schedule nor does he give two shits that I completely disagree with it. The only way I can trick a nap out of him is by spending 6 hours a day at the pool. I think I'll just stop complaining there before any of you working mommies come after me with a 2x4.

I've become obsessed with all things bladder and bowel related concerning Grayson. We are working on potty training, if only because he's grown out of the pull-ups we spent a hundred bucks on 6 months ago, so daddy decided it was time to give it another shot. Dude KNOWS how to do it; most times he just simply refuses. He hates getting his diaper changed and cannot stand to have poo on his bum. So go on the freaking potty right? Am I RIGHT? Nuh-uh. Instead let's tell mommy we have to go potty, then throw a (literal) shit fit about sitting on the throne until mommy gives up. THEN pee on the floor. After all that is said and done, take a shit in the too-small pull up and kick mommy while she attempts the change. Sounds super fun! 

My next poo-poo obsession (freaky that I have more than one...or any for that matter) also involves Grayson's inconvenient need to get the poop out. The pool. Ughhhhhhh. I HATE swim diapers. What is the effing point?? They absolutely do not absorb a gosh darn thing. NOTHING! If the kid pees, it just falls right out. God forbid he poops. The swim diaper just literally holds the turd in an enclosed area while pool water accumulates, rapidly diminishing any type of stability said turd once had. You better catch any type of warning signs before or immediately after or risk contaminating the entire kiddie pool. And let's be honest, I can't afford to be THAT mom. I mean, look, my kid almost drowned in front of my sweet, new pool friend. She didn't judge. And it's only a matter of time before Grayson loses his cool over a truck and jacks someone in the head. I'm saving all my good karma for that situation. I surely am not wasting it on pool shit.

Okay, okay enough #2 talk. Lets talk about my second favorite topic. Dieting! Yay! Oh God.

My new pool friends all utilize and distribute Xyngular. It works for them and they love it which leads to a lot of diet convos. So it's not my fault that my old friend, "the diet", has come back rearing its ugly head. Yeah, yeah I cleansed my obsession a few posts ago with the Mrs. Fat thing and busting my weight wide open on a public forum. I mean, obviously I'm a psycho-face cause who freaking DOES that? So you shouldn't be too surprised that I'm back at it....beating a dead horse. I'm thinking of trying their programs, but I'm also considering just giving up eating anything that tastes good. Surely that'll help me lose the Freshman 15. (I can still call it that even though I'm in my 30's so shut the hell up.)

I'm not gonna bust out any numbers this go around, but I guess I'll give you a hint. It's last time minus 1. Whoo-hoo! A whole 1 pound. I decided this time I'll post a picture of flabby arms and tummy to help my motivation. It's a good thought anyway. 

Happy 4th friends!

Second Baby Syndrome

I believe you can tell how much a couple loves their baby by the number of apparatuses designed to hold said infant in the loving parents' living room. For instance, in our living room we currently have a swing, bumbo chair, stand up toy thingy, lay down toy thingy and vibrating chair. This means I love my baby more than you love yours. When he's tired of standing in the stand up toy thingy, I move him to the swing. He naps there for 10 minutes and then I move him to the bumbo chair to play. He gets antsy sitting so I put him under the lay down toy thingy. Then he starts rolling all over and I'm not finished folding the laundry yet, so I contain him in the vibrating chair.

Well, this is awkward.....

Apparently, on paper, it looks as though I don't love the child at all! Huh.........

Are we the only parents that neglect the second baby?

Back up...neglect is a strong word. He's loved. He's fed. His diaper is almost always (leaking) perfectly clean. And, yes, I dress him in clean freaking clothes everyday! Straight up doting mother here.

See! He's held all the time (to take pictures). But I remember holding Grayson nonstop from the day he came home until, well, now. He was always cuddled and held until it was bedtime. And then we would put him in his bed and he would drift off to the sounds......no, wait, that's never happened. He's always slept with us and under my back. But not my Gideon. My poor, neglected second child spends the evening laughing at his parents from across the room in his swing and then is put in his bassinet to face the night alone.

Is this normal? I love him just as much as Grayson. In fact, most days I like him way more than Grayson. That ain't a joke. He's so much nicer and sweeter and his smile lights up a room. But will he look back and think we didn't love him? Will he suffer from anxiety or rage because his mommy didn't coddle him? Will he kill me in my sleep Menendez brothers style because we made him hold his own bottle at 5 months old?

Maybe he'll just be really successful and independent and I can take all the credit for that. 

 Okay, okay I know I'm exaggerating (honey). We do hold and cuddle the little fatty but not near as much as we should. He's going to grow up and skip off to school in a couple years and I'm gonna be left wondering what the hell happened to my little baby boy. He's our last little bundle of joy (as long as the vasectomy holds, fingers crossed) and we should be cherishing every minute instead of letting life, or his demanding big brother, get in the way. God knows he already has enough to handle with Grayson's big ass head coming at him every five minutes. The sweet boy is gonna get some extra cuddles from mommy tonight.

 

Boys Suck

It mostly sucks living with boys. It's not necessarily all the testosterone and frequent F-bombs (Grayson), it's just the all-around disgustingness and incessant, never-ending whining (Grover). Nobody else cares about tanning or HGTV. I'm the only one who loves Channing and hasn't hit my head today.

For those of you with high-maintenance girls hanging around, you must think I'm nuts. I get it. You're probably sick to death of hair bows and tutus, ringlets and barbies. I'm sure all the pink pictures, tea parties, toy kitchens and stuffed animals really sends you to the edge of insanity. Puh-lease. I just got jacked in the head with a toy van. Get over yourself.

There is piss everywhere. No place is off-limits for urine apparently. One baby with a 3 inch wee-wee consistently out-pees the most durable diaper. One two year old drinks 47 glasses of milk/juice/ water a day and is somewhere between embarrassed of his diaper dependency and actually using the facilities properly without jumping off mid-stream. And then there is the 37 year old husband who needs his own set of toilet rings.

In our house, all play is rough and dangerous. The boys just finished up a wholesome game of "throw the ball at each other's face". And now I'm watching the father of my children teach my 7 month old how to bitch slap his brother. And they laugh. Hysterically.

You gotta stay on your toes in this loving home. Around every corner there is an 81% chance someone is hiding to scare you...creating more opportunities for unwanted urine spots.

Oh God, the smell of poo. It never goes away. That's all I'm gonna say about that cause I might cry.

There's lots of yelling, running, crying, whining, hitting and biting. Nobody ever smells good (with the exception of my husband when he's trying to get some). They all sit in the dirt and play with bugs. They track mud on my clean floor and leave a trail of toys and dirty clothes in their path. At least one shoe in every closet has dog shit caked on the bottom and, you guessed it, we own 0 dogs. Furniture is always flipped over. A new bruise is proudly formed every hour. And nobody can EVER find a FLIPPING THING without asking me for help.

Do I love them? Yes. Mostly. They're cute and they make me laugh. Do I think I'm gonna make it another 18 years? Nope. Not a chance. But I'm sure they'll kill each other way before that.

Mother of the Year

Grayson tried to drown himself today.

Uh huh. 

He had no floaties on. No life-jacket. No ring around his stomach. And no, he cannot swim. He's freaking two.

I'll pause while you call child protective services.

Let me tell you the full story. This kid loves to go to the pool. "MA! GO WAWER! MA!" He packs up his bag of "truches" and I pack up SPF 9000 and off we go! Gideon mostly naps in the stroller with the occasional splash in the baby pool while mommy bakes in the sun. And Grayson REFUSES to get in. He'll barely stick his feet in. If you even mention to him it might be fun to actually get IN the pool, he loses his cool. He'll throw every single truck he owns in the damn pool and then find some sweet, unsuspecting, brave 3-year old to fetch them.

And this is what we do.

Until today.

I was having a very nice conversation with another pool mom today when my very un-brave 2 year old ventured over to the 3-4 foot pool. No biggie. He'll never get in. Well the little douche leaned for a ball and.......SPLASH. Gravity and the biggest head in the world combined and toppled him into the WAWER. I watched the whole thing go down. It's not like I wasn't eagle eying him like an effing hawk.  I just underestimated how far he would go to get a ball.

We sprinted. We screamed. The sweet boy in the pool pulled him out before I reached him. He was literally under for 3 seconds. The longest 3 seconds of my life.

No crying. No fear of the water. But I'm sure there was plenty of judging.

I'd judge me. Hell, I'm already judging me. But then I remember those 3 seconds of utter, uncontrollable, hysterical fear and I think I've claimed my punishment. Anyone aware of a facility that gives swimming lessons without the actual act of getting in the water?

Do you always have to love it?

This subject is taboo, I know. But I've been struggling today and I'm putting it out there.

Do you always have to love being a mom? Can someone ever have a day where "THIS LIFE SUCKS" plays on repeat over and over and over in her little blonde head? (I'm asking for a friend; it's not me.)

This has nothing (maybe a little bit) to do with the fact that I'm wearing a bikini for the first time tomorrow since becoming a mother of two and my hips are 5 inches wider than before these munchkins. But mostly my patience ran out today. Dangerously low levels of patience around here today. "Step outside and clear my head" low levels of patience today. Am I being clear? Do I need to repeat that one more time? It got a little hairy. Grayson has spent the majority of the day getting things from the fridge and bringing them to me. There is not enough "NO's!" in the world for this kid. Before you recommend anything, he has mastered all child locks. He's an evil genius. He also has a doctorate in fit-throwing. Usually you hear about my sweet, adorable blondie. Not today, friends. I'm pretty sure God gave him to me as punishment for some questionable decisions I made in my early 20's. (I KID, I KID!) And if you think for one flipping minute that Gideon is an innocent party in this trauma, you couldn't be more wrong. He's been crazier than Amanda Bynes and Lindsey Lohan rolled into a chubby, drooling psychopath. If he isn't drinking a bottle, he's been crying or head-butting me. Freaking high-freaking-maintenance.

I picture Memorial Day weekend before I was blessed with my boys (I almost up chucked just typing that BS). It involved sun, booze and fun!! It's their fault I can't drink right anymore. And I am so very excited about the pool opening tomorrow! But even that is going to be a hellish adventure that no amount of dollar store floaties can salvage.

You are by now probably feeling exceptionally sorry for me. I mean, come on. I have two healthy, beautiful, funny and smart little boys whom I get to spend all my time with. I know it's ridiculous. I know I shouldn't feel this way. I know, I know, I know. That's why my "friend" is facing such a dilemma. At what point can she just dislike her kids for just a little-bitty-bit without facing major guilt? When is it okay to be human and just Need. A. Break?

Don't worry folks. I love my kids. I enjoy all my days with them. I know how lucky I am. I know I have no right to bitch about my life. But, honestly, sometimes I really want to. So I'm gonna. Oh my poor husband. The end. :)

Summer of FUN!

Calling all perfect mommies out there!!!!!!!! Hellooooooooo.......can you hear me through your urine soaked couch cushions?? (I recommend sitting on the floor if you visit my house.) I'm giving you a much-needed, much-deserved BREAK this summer!! No I'm not offering to watch your little brats cause God knows I mostly can't even stand mine. I'm talking about a summer hiatus from GUILT! Doesn't that sound nice? Yes, you're right, I'm brilliant! Here it goes.....

Everyday I worry. I worry that we get up too late. I wonder if Grayson should drink less milk and eat more vegetables. I worry he'll never speak in complete sentences or actually shit IN the toilet. I worry he watches too much tv and you tube. I wonder if he gets enough social time. I worry....you name it, I've worried about it. How many hours should a 6 month old sleep per day? Why does he chew on his hands? Is he drooling too much? Should I take him outside with us more? Should he stay inside out of the sun? Should I not let him nap in his swing? I've googled it all. Then Mr. Google tells me several conflicting stories and I worry about that. I'm tired just from all the effing worrying!

I'm taking a break from worry and guilt this summer. No googling deadly health conditions. No comparing my child's social skills to yours. No pushing Gideon to keep up with the Jones'. (We don't really know anybody named Jones so that should be easy.) Less stress time and more play time. We're gonna go with the flow this summer. Lots of pool time mixed in with some park time. I'm just gonna slap some sunscreen on these white-assed boys and we're going to party like it's spring break. You need a nap? Grab a towel and lay in the shade. Momma's working on some hard earned tan lines. No worries boys, I'll take lots of pictures so you'll remember our summer of fun. It will probably be the only time in your sweet lives that your momma doesn't drive you bat shit crazy.
I recommend you all do the same. Don't worry, be happy now :)