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Married to GI Joe, and the Mother to GI Joe Jr (whom is currently addicted to the Wonderful World of Superheroes), I'm a WV Hillbilly plunked down in a subdivision. I have a backyard garden, crazy neighbors, and a goofy dog that we love on Tuesdays. We love to travel and explore new things, so feel free to browse our life. Sometimes it is exciting, most of the time it is just life. But we are having a good time at it.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Tide takes the poop out

I swear...

Housebreaking the two year old emaciated sick and coughing Boxer that we rescued four years ago from the SPCA, was a HECK of a lot easier than potty training a strong willed very busy toddler.

One day he does just fine...then for three days straight he comes home wearing different clothes than I sent him to daycare in, with the originals in a bread bag...
I'm tired of the poop end of the stick!

I really am.

I just want the potty training to END.

Finish.

Be done with.

Wrapped up...or crapped up as I typed originally...

Either way...I want it OVER.

I want him to go poop in the potty...please.

I want to stop having the 'please poopy in the potty for Ms Ashley' on the way to daycare every morning. And then the follow up conversation that afternoon 'well, we'll try again tomorrow'.

His teacher thinks that if we put him back in pull ups that we will be confusing him, so we are underwear only in this house.

I don't want to clean up any more puddles in the floor (thankfully, we had divine insight last fall and installed laminate flooring in place of our shaggy living room carpet or I'd really be in a mess). I'm tired of flipping the poop out of the underwear and then convincing him to finish pooping in the potty.

I know it will end eventually...and like all men, will spend countless hours in the bathroom doing God knows what. Really? Who wants to just SIT there? I don't know of a single woman I know, or work with, or am related to, that has a stack of magazines near the toilet and spends more than a few minutes doing their business and getting the heck out. There are other things to do rather than just sit there and stew over your own juices.

But I digress.

The dog...who by the way does NOT know his ABC's, nor can he count to 35...knows when he needs to poop...and will frantically signal at the back door while giving us the 'I really gotta go!' look. He will run out, do his business and dash back.

I don't even get a warning look. My son just emits a grunt, that is so ingrained in my reactional being, that I can faintly hear it and KNOW he is pooping while standing in an entire other room, with a pot of spaghetti boiling and the dishwasher running. I hear that 'uuuuh' and I take off running asking if he needs to go potty. Of course, we get about half in the potty.

This is the kid that used to stand up to poop from a very early age. He stood on my lap leaning on me at first, then when the Exersaucer was able to be used, he was guaranteed to fill his britches within a minute or two of being placed in it. GUARANTEED. To the point that one of his old daycare teachers physically groaned when I would put him in it when we got to daycare every morning because she knew what he was about to do.

We've tried it all...stickers, rewards, the Poopy Bag of crappy gift stuff from the Dollar Tree, trips, bribery, chocolate, bribery and some more bribery. I'm done with bribery. You'll either go in the potty, or you will go in your britches...one or the other.

Or I'll clean it out of the floor again like I did Sunday morning when I thought he had simply peed in the living room and took his pajama pants off without knowing there was a pile of poop in there too. Yup...right in the floor. Nice. Hey...they don't make Lysol wipes and Target plastic baggies for nothing.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I am so nervous about potty training. It's still a year away, but BLECH. Poop on the living room floor? ewww

Seriously....Me. said...

Oh yes...poop on the living room floor. LOL! At least it wasn't the floor of the McDonalds in Sumpter SC again...that's a fun story for another blog.

I've had poop on my foot before...literally, nothing gags me anymore. I've been peed on, puked on, drooled on, and pooped on. What more could you ask for!

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