Potty of Woes

Over the last three years, I have prided myself on being able to keep calm, stay cool, and go with the flow even with double baby duty, terrible twos times two, and babies who like to make too early of debuts.  But about three months ago, I was pushed over the edge of easygoingness.  And I fell flat on my face and am still trying to climb back up. 
The culprit . . .

The Potty.

I had plans.  Grand plans of potty training my two boys in a weekend.  A few horrible days and then POOF!  I'd go from three in diapers to just one!  The savings!  The ease!  Glorious! 

Naive, naive, woman I was. 

Within four hours of potty training boot camp, Ben and I looked at each other amidst the swirl of the washing machine, the low roar of the dryer, and the new batch of soiled underwear and towels anxiously in wait for their return to cleanliness.  Our sunken, bloodshot eyes said it all--"One of these kids is going to have to get booted out of potty bootcamp.  Two trainers.  Too much."

With that, I dug the diapers back out, slapped one on Hudson, and breathed a sigh of relief.  The sigh quickly turned into a scream when I noticed Corbin marking his terrritory around the dining room table.  Relief doesn't last long in these parts.

By the end of the weekend, we thought most of our work was done with Corbin.  We'd had successes and even initiations of both the yellow and brown variety.  We even had dry Pull-Ups at nap and bedtimes.  What a bright lad!  We celebrated and put our feet up.

There is a very fine line between naivete and stupidity.

Our mission was not accomplished.  The yellow kept making its way into the pot, but the brown.  Oh, the brown!  Woe, woe is me.

Nearly three months later, I am starting to see a faint light at the end of this tunnel.  We're getting there, we're close, I feel it!  And then I remember that we're getting there with our one boy.  There's ANOTHER one, the SAME age, still mostly in DIAPERS.  The madness! 

If there's any silver lining to this "adventure," it's that I've learned quite a few poignant lessons through all of this.  Here are a few:

1. When telling your child to go potty in your backyard woods, clarify that you want them to pee.  And at the first sign of a squat, run!  Or you too will be using a leaf and a stick to clean up a very unexpected mess.

2. If your vaccum won't pick up that raisin on the floor, think twice before picking it up with your bare hand.
  
3. Point.  It.  Down.  The three most important words for any mother of young  boys . . .

I could write for days about our potty training undertakings, but I have a squatting child in the corner.  Ready, set, GO! 

The sugar-induced smiles of children who've been bribed by many an M & M.