• The boys and I

  • A Little ‘Bout Me

    I’m 44, married and live in a sewerless small town on the central coast of California. I am an Inflammatory Breast Cancer survivor. My passions are reading, knowledge, shopping and photography – in varying order depending upon my mood. Though I’ve always wanted to be really good at something, I find that I’m just pretty good at most things. I live with my husband, Daddy-O, and our sons, Ben and Danny who are 10 and 5. Ben has ADHD and enough natural energy to power the Pacific Time Zone… and he’s not afraid to use it. Danny has Norries – a rare genetic disease causing him to be born blind. It’s a crazy, hectic life but I can’t complain any more than usual.
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Please tell me I’m not alone…

I like to think my boys are intelligent. Certainly above average, anyway. Danny particularly. Therefore, I can only assume all the issues we’ve been having with potty training must be sight related. Please, let there be a logical excuse for the ridiculousness that has taken place inside our bathroom in the last year…

Danny has been steadfast in his resistance toward potty training… at home. At school and the WonderSitter’s house he has been, of course, accident free. We were not so lucky at home. In fact, just two weeks ago, he had gone through every pair of underpants he owned between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning.

There have been lots of problems throughout the process that we’ve dealt with one at a time: his inability to run to the bathroom at will; his tendency to stand wherever he is and yell for us to come take him to the bathroom; his inability to comprehend the need to “tuck” when seated so as not to pee all over the bathroom and his pants and his severe dislike of having his rear end wiped.

Well, we finally got through most of them or at least found a work around… But the tucking issue has had me stymied. I had tried having him stand to pee but he likes to refer to all bathroom actions as “peeing” which can cause a problem if one is standing. So we had sort of given it up from all the confusion. However, last weekend, my mother-in-law somehow breached the communication gap and in a few short hours had him peeing vertically like a man is supposed to a woman wishes she could. He’s been very, very proud of himself and hasn’t had an accident since.

Until tonight.

About 30 minutes after he’d gone to bed tonight he called out, as usual. Sigh. He had to go pee. So off we trot to the bathroom across the hall. He lifts the toilet seat. I stand behind him and help him pull down his PJ bottoms and overnight diaper. Then he leans forward to rest his thighs on the toilet bowl. “And what comes next?”, I prompt, watching for the beginning trickle.




I leaned back and looked down. “Danny! You don’t poop standing up!” Too late. “Yes. I want to!”

What a mess that turned out to be. Gah!


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