The person I used to be has officially died.
If you'd told me when I was a young, childless person that I would one day pull my car over so that my kid could squat down and take a crap on a tiny plastic potty, I would have thought you were completely out of your mind.
Fast forward a few decades and here I am: tired, saggy boobed, and living a life that revolves around the bathroom habits of a small little man.
As you can surmise, we're currently in the midst of potty training (or "potty learning" as it's called here in La La Land). I personally have been in no rush to get the Muffin Man out of diapers, so I haven't been a potty-pusher, but all of the sudden Noah decided that he was ready. I respect a man who knows what he wants, so I stocked up on flushable wipes, Spider Man undies, and a few cases of wine.
Honestly, it's going pretty well. Noah is using the potty regularly, has had very few accidents, and is pretty good about letting me know when he needs to go. What's been most traumatic are the things I hear myself saying on a daily basis. If my old self died when I purchased that mobile potty, my current lexicon has succeeded in burying her.
1. You're not going to fall in. I suppose when you're only two-and-a-half feet tall that porcelain throne looks ginormous, but I swear my kid thinks he's going to fall through the hole and be spontaneously flushed. We've tried the smaller seats and he's still petrified of using a regular toilet. When we're out and about and he has to go he clings to me like I'm the last helicopter out of Saigon and I might leave him behind. This is especially fabulous when I'm also holding on to the Little Lady and trying to keep her from sampling the culinary delights offered on a dirty public restroom floor.
2. You're a Poooper Star! This has become a common daily saying and, yes, that does depress me.
3. Do you need to go poopy? I find myself saying this practically every 15 minutes. Apparently there is no situation during which it is inappropriate to ask a kid if he needs to take a crap; not even meal times are immune to this question. Yes, it's gross, but you know what's even more gross? Cleaning poop off of your child, his Spider Man undies, and his entire outfit.
4. You're dancing around like someone who dropped E at a rave; do you need to pee? This is the closest I'll be getting to either doing Ecstasy or going to a rave until I'm forbidding my children to do either of these things in 15-16 years. However, it really is the perfect the description of a kid who has held it too long and who really, really needs to go.
5. Don't touch your butt after you poop!!! Why does my kid like to touch his butt after he poops? WHY? I suspect he finds it fascinating that so much poop can come out of a such a small human. The idea of this is disgusting enough, but there's nothing like yelling this out in the bathroom of a nice restaurant while other patrons listen to make you feel as though you've gone down the Black Hole of parenthood.
Let's not even get started on the level of bribery that has to occur to get my kid to wash his hands. Stock up on cookies, that's all I have to say.
If you'd told me when I was a young, childless person that I would one day pull my car over so that my kid could squat down and take a crap on a tiny plastic potty, I would have thought you were completely out of your mind.
Fast forward a few decades and here I am: tired, saggy boobed, and living a life that revolves around the bathroom habits of a small little man.
As you can surmise, we're currently in the midst of potty training (or "potty learning" as it's called here in La La Land). I personally have been in no rush to get the Muffin Man out of diapers, so I haven't been a potty-pusher, but all of the sudden Noah decided that he was ready. I respect a man who knows what he wants, so I stocked up on flushable wipes, Spider Man undies, and a few cases of wine.
Honestly, it's going pretty well. Noah is using the potty regularly, has had very few accidents, and is pretty good about letting me know when he needs to go. What's been most traumatic are the things I hear myself saying on a daily basis. If my old self died when I purchased that mobile potty, my current lexicon has succeeded in burying her.
1. You're not going to fall in. I suppose when you're only two-and-a-half feet tall that porcelain throne looks ginormous, but I swear my kid thinks he's going to fall through the hole and be spontaneously flushed. We've tried the smaller seats and he's still petrified of using a regular toilet. When we're out and about and he has to go he clings to me like I'm the last helicopter out of Saigon and I might leave him behind. This is especially fabulous when I'm also holding on to the Little Lady and trying to keep her from sampling the culinary delights offered on a dirty public restroom floor.
2. You're a Poooper Star! This has become a common daily saying and, yes, that does depress me.
3. Do you need to go poopy? I find myself saying this practically every 15 minutes. Apparently there is no situation during which it is inappropriate to ask a kid if he needs to take a crap; not even meal times are immune to this question. Yes, it's gross, but you know what's even more gross? Cleaning poop off of your child, his Spider Man undies, and his entire outfit.
4. You're dancing around like someone who dropped E at a rave; do you need to pee? This is the closest I'll be getting to either doing Ecstasy or going to a rave until I'm forbidding my children to do either of these things in 15-16 years. However, it really is the perfect the description of a kid who has held it too long and who really, really needs to go.
5. Don't touch your butt after you poop!!! Why does my kid like to touch his butt after he poops? WHY? I suspect he finds it fascinating that so much poop can come out of a such a small human. The idea of this is disgusting enough, but there's nothing like yelling this out in the bathroom of a nice restaurant while other patrons listen to make you feel as though you've gone down the Black Hole of parenthood.
Let's not even get started on the level of bribery that has to occur to get my kid to wash his hands. Stock up on cookies, that's all I have to say.
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