There’s a lot of horrible things in today’s world. Sex trafficking. Refugees being killed. Fathers leaving families. War.
Somewhere right behind those things is potty training. You guys, I cannot even handle one more poopy diaper.
We kind of started potty training Wiggles when he was 20 months old. He is now 38 months old. THAT’S 18 MONTHS OF POTTY TRAINING.
He is worse now than he was at 20 months. Want to know the hardest part? It’s not diapering 2 kids (I once had a dream of Wiggles being potty trained before The Baby was born…HA. HA. Now I am seriously wondering if she will be potty trained before he is). It’s not wiping pee off the floor daily (Thank goodness for hardwood floors). It’s not even cleaning dirty poopy underwear after they’ve sat in a bag at daycare all day (do any husbands do this?).
It’s eating my words. I’ve had to do this several times as a parent, but none quite as epically as this. You see, for years I rolled my eyes at preschoolers that weren’t potty trained. I thought those parents were lazy. I passed the size 5 diapers at Target and smirked at any mom who dared to put them in her cart. I heard all the talk about how you can’t potty train a kid before they’re ready, but I also traveled to a third world country and saw every single young child potty trained. If it’s possible there, then 3/4/5-year-olds that still poop their pants here in the States must have incompetent parents, right?
And now I’m one of them. Stab me in the eye with a turd.
He’s not afraid of the potty. He’ll pee if we tell him to go. He just never goes on his own (unless there’s a porta potty because he thinks those are really cool. Stab me again). And he never ever poops on the potty.
Because my brain is basically an Excel document, here’s what we’ve tried:
(Sorry for the funky formatting. It’s getting late and I’d rather sleep than figure this out.)
What’s a girl to do? Sometimes people try to reassure me by saying things like “Oh, boys are harder to potty train. Mine wasn’t really trained until he was almost 5.” And I have to consciously monitor my reaction because I know they’re trying to help but my head is screaming “FIVE? FIVE?!!!! YOU MEAN I MIGHT HAVE TWO MORE YEARS OF THIS CRAP?!” (See what I did there?)
So. Over. It.