Potty Training:Take 2

We're on Day 3 of Potty Training.  It would do me good to have a margarita at breakfast--actually I could use one when my alarm goes off.  A margarita fairy!  Just like the tooth fairy only this fair maiden gives you the power to potty train your 3 year old BOY.  She'd deliver another about 10:00 AM, noon, 2:00, 5:00 Happy Hour (and by now it's really, really happy), and then 8:00 to sooth the pee out of your mind while you wipe it off your shoes.  You could go to bed and have a dream without urine in it. 

Is it wrong that I'm thinking about a tequila IV belted to my hip???

My boy is sooooo different to train than my girls.  They got "it" on Day 1, and they had only one accident between the both of them.  It was fun.

 Sort of--in a potty training sort of way...

 But they both really got into drinking a ton of special juice (which provided lots of practice); flushing the toilet was a big, big deal.  And they couldn't wait to wash their hands.  Two Skittles was simply a just reward for a job well done--icing on the cake--if you will. 

As you can tell from my first sentence, we've made it considerably farther than we did 6 months ago.  If you are just joining this most ambitious and entertaining blog, you can read that post HERE.

In all reality, he's doing quite well by his own standards.  If you go by our experience 6 months ago, I could go on tour as a potty training phenomenon. 

But by a potty training girl's experience, we're way behind the 8 ball.  Way behind. 

Day One:  We started off by watching Potty Power again.  This time Andrei was thrusting his little fist in the air and shouting "Potty Power!" with the kids on the DVD.
 
"That's progress," I'm thinking.  "This time it's going to be a breeze." 

I gave him straight grape juice (which is something he never gets) to drink and a new cup to drink it out of.  He loved the cup--not the juice.  "Water," he requests after drinking about 2 oz. of Welch's deliciousness. 

"OK, fine," I think, "but you're going to drink the fire out of the water so we can practice, practice, practice." 

We practice sitting on the potty seat.  By the way, this new potty chair I bought is CRAP!  Clearly the designer did not have a penis nor did he/she have a son.  If he/she had either of the before mentioned, he would know that this wimpy urine deflector in no way shape or form deflects anything shooting out of a toddler's penis.

Yes, I said the "P" word.  I've said it a lot lately.  Forgive me. 

Anyway, he sits on the Pourty potty seat, stays for no more than 5 seconds, and says, "Finished!!"  He's done nothing.  I try to coax him to sit back down.  "Don't make it a power struggle," I keep repeating to myself.  He pulls up his underwear (I have to keep correcting myself as I call them panties--much to my husband's dismay), and I plead with him that TowMater will be sad if he gets wet. 

Yes, I'm bribing my child with the possible guilt he will wear should any of the Cars cast members become rained with 3 year old urine. 

One hour later Andrei tells me that TowMater is sad. 

Yeah, accident #1.  10 minutes later, Lighting McQueen is sad too.  Off to the car wash they go! 

Finally, we meet success with attempt #3. But you've got to be fast.  When the boy looks at you and says, "I gotta go," he's got about 2 seconds of holding power in him. 

We started carrying the potty chair with us wherever we go in the house. 

When his daddy got home from school, I announce that Andrei has not done any pooping business all day long.  Ah, the Lone Ranger is at last home.  "Come with me, Andrei.  We'll go do business together."  And he and Andrei and the purple Pourty potty chair head to our bathroom. 

Five minutes later they emerge with Andrei carrying his potty seat and Doug is on his cell phone.  Really? You can't be double minded when you are potty training, my Dear!  Andrei tells me that TowMater is sad.

I take off his underwear; Doug sees me and says, "What are you doing?  He peed in the potty chair." 
Well, Deary, he either didn't shake the dew off his lily or he's not finished, because Tow Mater's left fender is wet. 

Doug shrugs and continues talking.  Big huge help.  Two minutes later, Niagara Falls hits our new floors. 

Before he goes to bed, I have him sit on the potty chair again.  All of a sudden I hear my two daughters in a knock down drag out fight in Kennedi's room.  I go to referee. 

Bad mistake.

Andrei shows up carrying his potty chair.  "Mommy, I tee-teed!!" he says. "Are you proud of me???"

Yes, but there is no urine in the potty chair.  Where'd it go? He's decided to dump it in the toilet himself.  Do you know the dexterity a three year must have to dump urine from a funny looking potty chair and hit the hole of the big toilet? 

Yeah, a lot. 

Andrei doesn't have that much.

When my alarm goes off the next morning, Doug asks me, "So, are you ready for Day 2?????" and he laughs.

Day 2 starts off with a temper tantrum on the potty chair.  Andrei is mad because I won't give him his Tag while he is sitting on the potty chair. No way on a day like today am I going to have him screaming for 2 hours while I wash and dry Tag as a result of urine that doesn't get caught on this almighty urine deflector.  I'm sitting on the floor in front of him while this temper tantrum of epic proportions ensues, and before I know it, I'm being sprayed with urine from this rogue penis poking out of this potty chair that is not built for boys. 

Day 3 starts off with a screaming child when I take him to the potty chair as soon as he wakes up.  "I'm hungry! I want oatmeal!" Big tears are running down his face and he is getting mad all over again.  This time I take action. 

"Andrei, what does Daniel Tiger say to do the first thing when you wake up?" (The boy LOVES Daniel Tiger; it's take off Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.)

"Go to the bathroom," he sobs. 

"Andrei, what do you think Kennedi does the first thing when she wakes up?" 

"Go potty."
"What do you think Annsley does as soon as she wakes up?"
"Go potty."
"What does Grandpa do as soon as he wakes up?"
"If he's upstairs, he goes to the potty." (Apparently, Grandpa holds it if he wakes up on the first floor...)

By now he's quit crying, and what do you know, a TON of pee is in the potty chair. 

He's getting the jist of this whole potty thing, I think.  He's actually had a bowel movement in the chair.  That got him 5 Skittles.  I'll pay 10 if I don't have to clean THAT mess out of underwear any day.  He's probably 50-50 on making it to the potty chair right now.  We'll see what Day 4 brings...in the mean time, enjoy Jimmy Buffet and Alan Jackson.  Drop any judgements you may have about my margarita obsession and simply smile in the fact that poop and pee and TowMater getting showered with urine are not the center of YOUR 44 year old universe today!