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We went the route of letting our children potty train themselves. There are other methods, but this one required the least amount of effort on our part. (With two small children, we’ve got plenty of other things to worry about…) Did it work? YES!

The goal was to get them both out of diapers before high school, so I pat myself on the back for a job well done! Though, I thought that once kids were potty trained, the diapers disappeared. That’s not the case. Strangely enough, little bladders are still fully functional at nap and bedtime. We’re almost there, though!

Now that Mushie isn’t wearing diapers anymore, leaving the house is stressful. We could be walking out the front door to the car and she will have to go pee. Or we’re at the park and the homeless people bathroom is the only one available and she has to take a dump…in the dirty stall with no toilet paper. She’s not the type that “wants” to see every bathroom facility in the southwestern part of the U.S. She’s the type with impeccably inconvenient timing for potty breaks. My bathroom monologue when we’re brave enough to be out-and-about goes something like this:

“Don’t touch anything! No, get away from there. Don’t touch that either. No the toilet won’t flush you down it. Why are you wearing two dresses? No, you can’t take off your shoes. Sorry, it’s too loud in here. There isn’t any other bathroom for us to go to. Why would you pick that up? Stop touching stuff in here! Yes, the person next to us farted. Mushie, stop talking to them. Let them potty in peace. Ok, now sit. No, it won’t flush by itself. Just go potty, Mushie. It’s just a toilet! Sit! Don’t touch anything. Stop bouncing. Don’t try to jump off the toilet! Just stop moving! Yes, you need the paper between your butt and the toilet seat! Don’t take it off! Are you done? Now, don’t do anything. Stand right here. Don’t sit on the floor. Ok, now let’s go wash our hands…”

Even if Mushie has to go twice in a 10 minute span, I’m singing that same song while internally writhing over all the strep, staph, hep, and leeches preparing to launch themselves simultaneously onto her bare bum bum. (In case you were wondering, the toilet seat typically isn’t as germ-laden as the sink, the faucet, or any handle in the bathroom that gets touched often. Thank heavens that not everybody washes their hands, otherwise the sink would be riddled with even more germs!)

Yep, it’s great to have both kids potty trained….sure…yep, great. At least I’m not carrying a diaper bag around these days! (I’m sweating sarcasm here…)  

I'll wipe their butts until they're 20 as long as we don't have to use the public potty ever again!

I’ll wipe their butts until they’re 20 as long as we don’t have to use the public potty ever again!

Me: “What’s wrong, lovie? Why the sad face?”

Mushie: “My belly hurtin’, Hondaddy.”

Me: “Aww baby…I’m sorry.”

Mushie: “Hold me!”

Me: “Come here sweets…uhh, oh, hey…mmph!”

Greaaaaat, a piece went in my mouth.

If there’s anything more gross than noticing baby poop under your fingernail while taking a bite out of your own handcrafted sandwich, it would be tasting someone else’s vomit.

There’s an old saying that goes “Holding a young child is like being forced to juggle balloons filled separately with pee, poo, and puke…while holding a razor blade between your fingers.”

Kids are a molotov cocktail of bodily fluids. Bad things can happen when they throw themselves at you.

I’m starting to believe that this whole parenting thing is one big joke and we’re being recorded and broadcast in an alternate universe for shits and giggles.

I’ve basically seen it all…or at least 98% of it all. (I’m ok with leaving the last 2% to imagination!) And thus far, one carpet steam cleaning, a bath, and a good night’s sleep has all but erased every disaster from the day before. So far…

The warm, fuzzy feeling of hugging my venom-spewing adorable children has been lost. I may be experiencing some mild form of post traumatic stress disorder, because I get flashbacks of  upon hearing them hiccup in my arms. But that’s ok, they’re getting too old for hugs anyways…

This is my reward for getting stomach acid in my face and mouth...hooray, parenting.

This is my reward for getting stomach acid in my face and mouth…hooray, parenting.



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