Send. More. Toilet Paper.

February 9, 2012

in I Learn the Lessons So You Don't Have To, Mommy-ville Detour

So. We’re in our fourth week of potty training here at the Domesticated house. That’s right. FOURTH. WEEK. Which means I have spent an entire month crammed in a bathroom only slightly bigger than those featured in the economy section of a Delta commuter flight with a bored infant, a toddler who thinks it is Absolutely Hilarious to pee THROUGH the crack in the toilet seats, and enough potties, toys, m&m’s, and clorox wipes to make it through Armageddon.

It’s like life is giving me a giant swirlie.

And while I’d like to declare victory at this point, two years of parenthood has taught me nothing if not that the minute I do so? I’ll be dragging out the ShamWows and Swiffer Mops.

Ask me again in 18 years.

At which point the answer will still be “Almost.”

But I miss ya’ll. Which is why I snatched these few precious moments, as the Little Man reloads chugs 1/2 a gallon of milk, to wipe the pee off my keyboard** and pass along a few words of wisdom. Otherwise known as the “Potty Training Survival Kit:”

  • ┬áCars underwear. Or┬ádinosaurs. Or whatever. Just make sure they are all the exact same kind. Don’t get sucked in by the variety packs. Once the Little Man saw there was cars underwear? That. Was. It. It’s all he wears. Doesn’t matter if there are any clean pairs available or not.
  • Elastic Waist Pants. In bulk. Unless you have some sort of laundry fetish. In which case? You are going to LOVE potty training! And are welcome at my house any day of the week.
  • A portable potty seat. Not that you’ll ever need it. Unless, of course, you accidentally leave it at home one day.
  • Cheap Toilet Paper. Not 2ply. Not even the name-brand 1ply. I’m talking one step up from tree bark; so cheap you can buy a year’s supply for what it would normally cost you to purchase one 6pack of the good stuff. Because you’ll be going through that year’s supply in about 2days.
  • Industrial-Strength plunger. See above.
  • Chocolate. For him. For you. For the guy he accidentally pees on in the middle of Walmart. Chocolate cures cancer. Or at least pee-induced fits of rage.

 

**Oh, how I wish I was joking…

{ 1 comment }

Jan February 13, 2012 at 8:53 pm

Oh, goodness… can you hear me laughing??? I’ve been there. It WILL get better! I think you need your own bag of M&M’s though!!!! :o)

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