When Potty Training Goes Poorly

The odds are good that in just a few short weeks you’ll stumble upon a news headline shouting, “Family Receives Million Dollar Water Bill.” And it won’t be one of those billing error issues – it will be the result of a washing machine running non-stop for 30+ days. (Not to mention the constant flushing.)

We’re potty training.

The self-proclaimed “Potty Training Queen” (of the three-day method) decrees that children are ready to ditch the diaper at 22 months. The muppets are honing in on 38.

It’s time.

And being potty trained will lead to a major preschool discount – not to mention the savings on diapers. (Sorry Pampers, all my money goes to Gain laundry detergent these days.)

Search and Destroy are now wearing underoos. And then I sent them off to school. When I picked them up, Destroy was wearing plaid golf shorts two-sizes too big. Search was still in the clothes we’d sent him to school in.

Only two accidents for Destroy, his teacher informed me. But both occurred en route to the potty. And Search has apparently decided he’s potty trained, she laughed.Wow! This was going to be easier than I thought. Why did I wait so long to just stick them in big boy undies?

And then we got home.

6:00 – Arrive home. Both boys use potty proudly.
6:15 – Destroy announces he’s peed in his pants. I immediately go sit him on the potty.
6:30 – Destroy announces he’s peed in his pants. (Again?!) I immediately go sit him on the potty.
6:35 – Search smells a little funky. I ask him if he needs to go potty. He informs me he pooped.
6:37 – Search refuses to go near the bathroom. Huddled in a doorway he pees on the floor.
6:45 – Destroy announces he’s peed in his pants. He refuses to put underwear on this time.
6:46 – Search runs in and uses the little potty (Yay!) so he can gloat. He attempts to empty the container in the potty. He spills.
6:49 – I prepare dinner (dish out the pizza), while instructing Destroy not to shimmy his naked body across the dining room table.
6:50 – Search informs me he peed on his Little Tykes play kitchen.
6:51 – Destroy pees on the dog. The dog leaves. Despite pizza.
7:15 – Bathtime! (Sorely needed.) Both boys use potty proudly.
7:30 – Time to get out of the bath and get jammies on! Search declares he has to poop. We go back to the potty.
7:35 – Back to the living room. Destroy rounds the corner in his birthday suit, save for a large Iron Man facemask strategically velcroed around his nether-regions.
7:45 – Read bedtime stories. Brush teeth. Go potty again.
8:00 – Hear cries over monitor, “MOMMEEEEEEEEE, I NEED TO POTTY!”

I’ve been told wee ones have a bladder the size of an amoeba. I disagree.

Their bladder is clearly a sea sponge. At no point from school until dinner was any liquid consumed. Yet, in an hour and a half my sons managed to pee in every room in the house. (With the exception of most of the bathrooms.) How do they even have enough in them to pee that much?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go mop my floors (while imagining myself in the Valpolicella region of northern Italy.) Perhaps I’ll open a bottle of the eponymous red. I hear it pairs fabulously with potty training…

The infamous Iron Man (in a more publisher-friendly location).