Back on the Wagon

Yep. I made a decision. No more letting the kiddo win. I thought long and hard about our potty failure and I realized something. It wasn't that Collin wasn't "ready." It wasn't that he was having a "setback." He knew darn well what to do and how to do it. He was beating us at the game. He figured it out and he knew how to push the buttons. He won. Well, that ain't gonna fly in this house. Nope. We're the parents, right? And if the kid beats us now, when he's two, what is going to happen in a few years? I mean, look at him, he's already a linebacker. What's going to happen when he actually IS the size of a linebacker? I'll have no chance.

So, the underwear went back on yesterday afternoon. We're at this whole-hog now. He's got rules. They're enforced. No backsliding. Are we having any success? Sure. Are we having accidents? You betcha. Are we annoyed about it? You betcha. Are we backing down? Nope. I have been e-mailing the potty lady and getting some advice, so hopefully that will help. We'll see.

He's pretty ticked off about the idea of stopping anything he's doing to go potty, which I think is pretty typical. It's pretty much the same reaction to getting changed. So, I'm not surprised he won't tell me he's got to go anymore. Seriously, he can be doing nothing but watching a speck of dust on the wall and that is intriguing enough to be screaming mad about being dragged away to pee. Whatever; I know he's gotta go, so we're going. End of story.

Today, we were getting ready to go to the park and he was doing the pee-pee dance like he'd invented it; but he flat out refused to go potty. I wouldn't leave the house until he went because uhhh no, I'm not about to let him pee all over himself at the park. Gross. Do I want sand stuck to his pee-drenched bare legs, because yes, it is that hot here? No.

So, three trips to the potty and two tantrums later, we finally peed. It was pretty awesome. Mommy didn't back down and in a gentle but firm voice, I think, drew the line in the sand and he stayed dry at the park. Wheee! Sure, we peed our pants SECONDS after I asked him if he had to go after lunch; but hey, you win some, you lose some. It's a work in progress. We're getting there. The bottom line is, we WILL get this. I've yet to meet a full-grown man who's not peeing in the toilet. So, it CAN be done.

The comforting fact is every Mommy friend I have at the playground with potty trained kids says that this is the hardest thing they've had to do with their kid. One friend says that it's the only time that she actually wanted to hit her kid. Another said that she literally looked at her kid and almost hated him, and while it pained her to think it, it was true! I can feel that pain! This experience is seriously putting me off a second baby because you know what, you'd have to do it again!

So, wish us luck. Well, really wish me luck and wish Collin luck in not being left on the curb with a sign that says: FREE, and not even one that says FREE TO A GOOD HOME, because heck, if I'm putting him on a curb with a sign, I've reached a point that I don't care what kind of home he ends up in, right? But, we need all the support we can get right now and I need blood pressure medicine.

P.S. When Bryon got home from work last night, he walked in the door and the first words out of his mouth were, "hold on, I have to go upstairs to barf." Nice, huh? He had a migraine too. Copycat. Anyway, he got carsick from being in the backseat in L.A. rushour and having such a bad headache. So, he barely noticed the underwear decision until after the vomit. Alas, all the photos are of Daddy recovering from his gross-ness, eating crackers with Collin (and Homer, who can never resist a good cracker) and drinking Ginger-Ale. Yummy. By the way, Daddy's a little hesitant about this decision because he's afraid of the tear-filled Mommy calling him six times a day again to cry over the phone.