Potty talk.

The potty.


We are trained.

I know I complained about it in the beginning and I was all “diapers for life” (still not against it) but that was in the beginning. When he literally went to the potty 345x in 2 minutes. Every. 2. Minutes. Which is fine and all… except it’s not. And it’s kind of annoying. Especially if you’re out. And are “beast mode” size (that’s for you, Sarah) and have to race to the front of target along with the fear that your child will touch the ground or the icky in stall trashcan (all has been done) and worrying that someone is going to take your clearance rack finds.

I mean, sheer panic, people.  Sheer panic until your child looks at you with a big smile and says, "You're so proud of me, mommy???"  And I say yes.  Then he says, "Now I get a treat!"

So 2013 was our year. We started on Jan 1. He had probably 5 accidents that day as we sat inside playing trains in our big boy unders. The next day, maybe 2, and then now it’s basically none. (I say basically, because I’m being honest. It’s occasionally some.) He can also hold it longer—which saves me 1% of sanity. Unless he’s bored and then it’s something to say. Along with “doing it all himself”—“no, I do it.” (fit when he doesn’t get to do it-aka get massive amounts of soap all by himself.)

We still do “night time unders” (pull ups) but that is because I’m lazy and get as much sleep as possible. He still wakes up in the night occasionally and will scream that he needs to potty. But mostly, I go to bed and pray that he wets himself with reckless abandon.

*note. This post does NOT include the one week setback we had after visiting the grandparents for the weekend. It was tied to him coming back a monster. NEVER AGAIN.