Many years ago Saturday mornings were met with such joy in our house. At 10 a.m. we’d saunter out of bed, watch Gameday on DVR, pop some champagne, enjoy mimosas with a side of Kirk Herbstreit and then head out to watch football games at a smelly bar with beer spilled all over the floor.
So, today – the first Saturday of college football – when I woke up at 5:45 a.m. (because 2-year olds are awesome) I did feel a little excited about my day. However, it had nothing to do with football.
Today is day one of potty training for Harper, and I bought her all kinds of prizes and treats and big girl underwear and arts and crafts and movies and snacks and a whole shitload of stuff to make this monumental weekend seem even more exciting through her eyes.
Ideally, we’d all sleep in until at least 7 a.m. so that no one would be overly exhausted, and also so that the day would not seem 800 hours long as opposed to 12. That’s just not how things work with kids. This is how they work: When Harper wakes up at 5:45 a.m., Reagan sleeps until 8:20 a.m. When Reagan wakes up at 4:30 a.m., Harper sleeps until 7:20 a.m. When Harper and Reagan sleep until 7 a.m., Sanchez goes into heat and meows as loud as he can at 4 a.m. before scratching on our door for 30 minutes.
They’re all like a pea under your mattress.
So, today was a big day, and extra sleep was key for mommy and daddy so of course extra sleep was not granted. We got up and – OH! how exciting! We can watch Gameday Live!! And now that Harper is over 2 years old, she can totally understand when we say that we aren’t watching Mickey, we’re watching Gameday!!
And then we realized that we had to start potty training. We’re doing the 3-day method, and rather than bore you with the details I will give your the quick version: You throw away all your diapers, put your kid in underwear and then you basically follow them around the house all day. You’re not supposed to look away ever, so that means no TV, no internet, no phone, no nothing. You can’t leave the house, and you certainly can’t be drunk at 10 a.m.
You just hang out with your child all day for every second and you wait for them to pee. Then when they start pissing on the floor because, um, they have no idea what is going on, you scoop them up and RUN to the bathroom while getting your legs and feet pissed on. All the while you have stay ultra, uber positive praising them all day long for wearing big girl panties and being so awesome. You award prizes – stickers, M&Ms, lip gloss, etc. – all along the way.
Harper – being the genius that she is – figured out after the very first trip to the potty that saying, “I have to go potty” means, “I get an M&M and a prize!”
For the rest of the day Harper said, “I have to pee” at least a thousand times. Every time she said it, we ran her to the bathroom because you never know. So, she’d claim to have to pee, we’d spazz out, and en route to the bathroom she’d yell, “I want a priiiiiiiiiiize!!!”
I am not going to lie, at one point I almost peed on the floor from laughing so hard at her whole game. I mean, Laef and I were basically trying to see who could set the Dorothy Street PR for kitchen-to-bathroom dash. And all the while, Harper was like, “Haha, bitches. I’m winning this game and Reagan is fucked because today is all about meeeeeeeeeeeee and my Mickey Mouse stickers. And all I have to do is say, ‘I have to pee’. THIS DAY RULES.”
And so this is what we did. ALL DAY. We said, “Tell Mommy if you have to go to the bathroom” over and over and over. We ran to the bathroom over and over and over for false alarm after false alarm. We smiled and praised over and over and over. We refrained from saying, “Bitch, please. You don’t have to pee” (the one time I paused because I thought she was faking it, she peed everywhere, at which point I was like, ‘damn, you are winning this game, and it’s now Harper 150, Mommy 0′).
It’s hard to tell if we made progress when you consider the laundry, the smell of my feet and that she crapped her pants twice, but the good news is that I’m drinking vodka soda, watching the UCLA game in my living room with the smelly floor.