It's Our Potty And We'll Cry If We Want To!

Perhaps the problem is that the library does not stock picture books about potty training that are relatable to Andy.  Why, for instance, can't I find a book entitled "Caillou Takes A Dump?"  This is the kind of literature that would fast track Andy right to the potty.  Instead, we're stuck with "Once Upon A Potty," about a self-important mother and her milk toast little boy whose one redeeming quality is that he has a butthole, which he is quick to bend over and show us.  Surprisingly, this does not keep Andy's attention.  I mean, where are the trains in this book?  The buses?  Is this kid Caillou's neighbor?  How am I supposed to make this interesting for Andy?

So, we've introduced underwear.  It's getting to be about that time.  Andy will be two and a half in a week, and he has all the signs of readiness, including my favorite, which is "knowing where things go."  Ha.  So far, we're not doing all that great.  I mean, we're doing okay, but I've managed to completely stress out my poor kid who has gone from peeing on demand when it's convenient for us to now yelling NO! and hitting the toilet as if he's angry with it (which I believe he is) when I try to drag him in there.  I do not have the right temperament for this sort of thing.  The books say to be patient and supportive and act like this whole thing's no big deal.  I am zero for three so far.  Oh, sure, it's easy to be patient and supportive and nonchalant when it's just the two of us and baby Alex is fast asleep somewhere.  But, Andy, if you keep interrupting Alex's bottle no less than four times with four separate accidents and four refusals to finish up on the potty while your little brother WHO DOES NOT ASK FOR MUCH tries to get in just ONE quick meal- well, really, how do you expect me to react?  The baby is screaming, there's pee on the couch, we're running out of clean underwear, and it seems to me like you're just being an uncooperative jerk.  There.  I said it.  I called you a jerk.

(I understand that I'm probably the jerk here.  But, come on.)

"I hope you remembered the
diapers."

The thing is, I know Andy can do this.  He has long stretches with a dry diaper, he's told me in the past when he needs to go, he loves flushing his pee pee and telling it bye-bye, and he seems to relish wearing underwear, especially when his little penis pokes out the opening and instantly gives him something of interest to look at and touch.  How many times are you supposed to ask your two year old son to stop playing with his penis, I wonder?  Once?  Non-stop?  Or, like most things, do you just look away and ignore it?  Whatever.  That's probably the least of our worries these days.

Plus, Andy is smart.  Like, really smart.  I may be just a smidge biased, but the boy has brains to spare.  I'd like to say he gets that from me, but Chris is the smart one while I'm more the neurotic one. So, mastering this whole potty thing should be a piece of cake, as long as I put my neuroses on hold and stop screaming at him.  Oh, and maybe if I offer him cake.  Like, just keep a cake in the potty that somehow rises up out of the tank after a successful pee and flush.  Now THERE'S an idea:  toilet cake.  Ha.  And you didn't think I was the smart one.

Anyway, we've had a couple of funny moments since starting this whole training thing, despite all of the screaming.  The best one was when Andy walked in on Chris using the potty and knelt in front of him and stuck his hands on his knees, much like I do with Andy.  Like, Mommy coaches Andy to pee and Andy coaches Daddy.  We thought that was pretty hilarious.  Also, Andy's potty face when he tries to push is the best, and it's always a scene out of the hospital, with me as the birth coach ("You can do it!  I see something!  Pushhhh!  Almost there!") and Andy as the one in labor.  Seems appropriate, somehow.  I also really enjoy it when Andy has a success and then runs out to tell Alex.  "Alex!  I went pee pee potty!"  I can't bear to break it to Andy that Alex doesn't give a crap.

I got a couple books from the library today.  So little of these books is devoted to the younger sibling of the child that is potty training.  Once again, Andy's needs trump Alex's needs, which is the most upsetting to me.  So, what do I do?  Duct tape Andy to the potty whenever I need to give Alex a mere ten minutes of undivided attention?  And how much cake do I let Andy eat while he's duct taped in place?

Anyway.  We'll all figure this out, as we always do.  In the mean time, I will try my best to relax a little more and prioritize a little better.  I will also start penning "Caillou Takes A Dump" post haste. Also, Caillou's getting smacked in this book, and not necessarily as part of the potty training process.  Just once- not terribly hard, but certainly hard enough to get the point across.  He really deserves it.