I you follow me on Instagram and I hope you do, you would have experienced the epic fail, that was my first serious attempt at potty training that I documented for you my friends, to follow along with....

I mean it helped me keep my sanity for one, sharing it, and there was so much solidarity when I called it quits after 8 hours. I couldn’t clean up one more per puddle and my then two year old and I were both nearly in tears.

This time I was more prepared and she was showing the classic signs of being “ready.” She can pull her own pants up and down, she told us when she was wet or dirty (sometimes) I mean she just generally didn’t love being in a nasty diaper even taking it off sometimes on her own (facepalm). She was interested in other people going potty. So, for a week leading up to us starting I told her I was going to be throwing her diapers away and brought out all her character underwear and encouraged her to look and them and choose which ones she might want to wear. Then it began...

The Monday, admittedly, two weeks after I told her I was going to toss her diapers (I wasn’t mentally prepared the first week) I put underwear on her after I took off her nighttime diaper and was armed with “potty candy” and stickers. LET’S DO THIS THINGGGGG.

The mornkng started off very shaky, she asked for one of her friends to come over that day and so agreed only because this friend is potty trained, AND I knew her momma would keep me sane and encourage me to continue going through the trenches of my pee and pop cover house (Love you Kam!). When her little friend went on the potty for the first time at our house I rewarded her with a potty candy. Listen, pissed isn’t even a strong enough word for the emotion that came out of my toddler. Where was HER potty candy????
Me: “You did not go on the potty so you don’t get potty candy, when I see pee in the toilet you can pick any color you want.”

Who was I? Some hardcore potty candy wielding drill Sargent? I don’t know but something came over me and I was determined, I KNEW she could do it and there was no going back. We struggled through the morning but stuck too it and by lunch time I could see the light, the underwear were piling up in the tub but alas there was pee in the potty. Three potty candies were earned that day and her best friend said she was proud of her for going pee on the potty!!!

You have to up the ante a bit as you go, for every three stickers she gets a prize or varying sizes. Her Gigi got her a charm bracelet which is honestly genius, so every three that hit the pot and her characters on her underwear stay dry and “happy” as she says, which is too cute, she can pick a charm or something else. The rest of th prizes are random small things from the bins at Target! Once a whole sheet is filled she gets a big prize, like a new Barbie! My kid is most definely reward and attention motivated. EVERYONE in the house has to know every time she goes and they have to be proud, she even made me call my mom to tell her a few times. I’ll call the president if it lands a turd in the toilet ok kid?

So what else was different this time? She was older, by like fourish months I think. Up until we were ready to really give it a go this time we didn’t talk about, just leave it alone, we even put the potty seats away for a while. The praise is really really high, and the rewards are even better. Why would you want to just play all day and have someone change you? Never having to stop your fun for a trip to the bathroom right? Whatever gets her to do it has to be better than waiting and getting a diaper changed. So whatever that is for your kid figure that out. We only let her hang out with friends that were potty trained for the first week. Later that week another little girlfriend came over too and they got the potty candy and again that worked like a charm, no accidents during that visit.

Maybe most importantly my husband and I were on the same page, no diapers and NO PULL UPS! Stick it out until after dinner time when she gets into PJs diaper for sleeping only. Which honestly is such a relief when you aren’t on edge that you are going to walk through a pee pile. Best part of the night.

The thing is you have to let them lead though, no matter how you do it, read their cues. Are they proud? Do they want to do it? Are they ready? The most unexpected rewarding part is the changes in her. She is still a stinker, she’s three give me a break. But, she is definitely soak up something that’s just for her, Mom and Dad are more focused on her that we have been able to be since little sister came along. Of course she is still a three-nager, but there is a spark in her and more of a connection to me I think anyways. It was such an experience to kind of watch her grow through, and myself to be honest. It is so true whoever said you have not truly experienced parenting until you have potty trained. Godspeed!

Oh, and the letterboard is just a line from Big Daddy that won’t stop playing my head. I am still most definitely the wiper of asses.

You can only truly "learn" to parent once your child is in front of you. All that BS we say to one another about what type of parent we are going to be is JUST that. You have not a damn clue. You can talk about what type of parent you aspire to be but you don’t really know until it happens, boom, you have a kid out in the world!

1. I know nothing.
"I was the perfect parent until I had kids."
Yep that was me, misses know it all with a list 10 feet long of "things I would NEVER do as a mom. Isn't that just freaking hilarious. 

2. I can only parent the child I was given, er, made.
I had a billion list and ideas and things I would and wouldn't do and plans, ha plans! I had 'em. The way the I can parent is 100% based on my reactions and interactions with this small human, who is very different from me, but a mirror image of me all at once. I can not take credit for all that she is, I can choose how to react and how to parent her only, not an imaginary being I thought would appear that always listened and potty trained herself and would never misbehave in public. Not that child, this child I have that is a living breathing human I can not control.

3. Patience, Patience, Patience.
Nothing was happening on my timeline or my way anymore, this was a tough one to swallow but a very necessary lesson to learn. I was no longer the boss, this tiny human is in charge of me, when I sleep, when I eat, when she eats, I am simply the vessel.

1. You HAVE TO say no.
Life is a whirlwind with one, its a Tsunami with two. There is no more yes to everything. There is no more accommodating. No is my new favorite word. No because they need naps, no because it's too hot, it's too cold, no because I simply do not want to. What ever is best for my village is what I shall choose.

2. You can do this.
It is fucking hard being a parent. It is hard everyday. But, I can do it and so can you. We do it everyday. When people compliment me on surviving, hell somedays even thriving with two I take it in grace, because the next day there could be a turd in the middle of my floor and barf in my hair. We are all hot messes but we can do it, we DO do it, somehow, everyday. Sometimes it is like I am living the life of one of my beautiful Instagram squares and some days it pure chaos and tears. Either way, I get it done.

3. You made the right choice.
When I look at my girls together sometimes I just tear up. This is it. Even though I was miserable at the end of my pregnancy, even though I am tired and sore down to my bones sometimes.
Every pound gained.
Every contraction felt.
Every late night wake up.
Every diaper.
Every nursing session.
Every pump session.
Every tear.
Every laugh.
Every giggle.
Every single thing is worth it. Every. ONE.

1. It's not where you come from, it's where you belong.
I don't really have to explain this I don't think. ❤️

2. You don't get to decide when the time is right.
After watching the journey that led to her, I am amazed. It is just proof that we are not in control and what child comes to us when is not up to us. And now, here we are, basking in the joy of some of the most joyful children I have ever met.

3. Even though someone parents different than you, it's also perfect.
Just like I said I can only parent the kiddos I have the same goes for everyone else. My sister and her wife couldn't have  a more different take on parenting than my husband and I. How happy are our girls? Like lil piglets in poop happy. Every single one. They are the perfect parents for her and are we for our girls. Let stop with the damn shaming already! I am 100% positive I would not be the right parent for my niece and my sisters aren't perfection for my girls. But, would we all lay down out lives and do whatever it takes for anyone of these ladies? You bet your ass.

The day that I sat in the specialists office and watched the peanut "scratch" on my daughter's back turn into a swollen mosquito bite looking bump in less than five minutes all I could think about it all the things that she wouldn't be able to have and how much of a nut job (pun intended) I would have to be for the next however many years until she KNEW what she could and could not have to eat.

The issue reached a new level when my niece was diagnosed with not only a peanut allergy but an egg allergy as well. Cue endless jokes about how dry and flavorless all of their birthday cakes would be for the rest of their lives. I searched tirelessly around the city to find a bakery that could make a cake in a facility that was not only peanut free but egg free as well. This is a BIG ask for bakeries, a lot of pressure for them to make sure that your baked goods could be guaranteed not to come in contact with allegen foods. ​

On a referrral I discovered The Pink Bakery. ​

Lastly, and most favorite was the "Mama's Favorite Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cake Mix." This you will be hard pressed to determine that this is an altered cake mix in any way. I topped them with an organic homemade vanilla bean whipped cream frosting and listen I could barely get photos before my husband and daughter jumped on these. My daughter typically doesn't get passed the frosting with desserts so when she walked up to me with just crumbs left in her cupcake liner I was shocked! The little surprise chips inside definitely take these over the top. 

Lets start at the beginning. First things first. The worst thing about breastfeeding is pumping. It's not latch or chapped nipples or waking up at night to feed. It the damn pump. Attached to you, draining every drop of gold, just for you to spill it on the counter because the baby is crying and you are rushing to transfer it into a bag to store. I HATE pumping, I think you would be hard pressed to find someone that found their roll as Bessy enjoyable. But, alas, we are not here today to dream about the moment we can finally set fire to are milk expression machinery. We are here to talk about the holy shit moment when I thought I had been wasting my life pumping and storing over 500 oz for my impending return to work all for...my baby to refuse a bottle. ALL THAT FROZEN MILK Y'ALL. Ready for the thawing. Waiting to nourish my sweet babe while I returned to the world of the living from Mombie land. Don't let this happen to you, don't be like Shauna.
​

Gather ‘round the teat babes it’s story time.
As you all know I took my stroller for it’s inaugural outing to the zoo.
Things were going pretty smoothly and it was time for the baby to eat so we rolled up into the giraffe house. I felt oddly comfortable nursing coverless among the beasts.
Big girl ran around and shouted things to her bff as they pointed at the giraffes.
My sweet friend thankfully wrangled them both while I nursed.

I packed myself away and got the baby strapped back in, started getting the big one back in the front of the stroller and it happened...
@kamajalundh and her sweet babe exited the building and I thought we would be right behind...but...my toddler decided this was an opportune time to turn her body into linguini.
Linguini can not be strapped into a stroller.

Cue the poor old man who didn’t know what was about to hit him.
“Ma’am do you need some help what can I do should I hold the stroller for you?”
Guys I didn’t mean to but, I was sweating, milk covered, in a heightened state of anxiety in public with two kids.
“No, no I’m fine.”
Would you believe he persisted!? So, I HAD TO, I let him have it.
“SIR I DO NOT NEED HELP THE STROLLER IS LOCKED WE ARE FINE!”

Yes I am well aware I am a mom-ster. But, at that point I had to commit and do it alone. Eventually I got my little Italian carb dish into the stroller. And off we went to the dairy facility (how perfect right?). I started to feel bad for the old man. But, when I got outside and told the story to my girlfriend she said

“What the heck? What does he think you do when he isn’t around?”

I almost pissed my pants. How fucking true is that? Old man how would I get through life without your help? Now, don’t get me wrong yes, sometimes I wish someone would save me when I’m drowning in children. Unfortunately, for that fine gentlemen, on this particular day, I was on a mission with a point to prove and this lady didn’t need no help! Not from him! Maybe from my friend, but not from that strange man judging a hot mess momma.


He didn’t know this was no where close to worst case scenario. I consider that little episode an successful, even easy day. A win for momma. Barely a scene that raised a need for a life vest. It’s ok to not take help too. You know what you can handle, and I knew my girl would be there in a heartbeat with a preserver if the tides rose! But, some people don’t know a monsoon from a sprinkle, everyone’s perception is different.


I hope that poor old man still offers to help someone whose drowning. Just not me. Ha!

Now, I had a choice to make here. Wake a sleeping, chapped assed, beast, then attempt to change said beast in a glorified port-a-john, and have both of us make it out alive. Or, let the beast rest, survive the flight, deal with what lies beneath when we get there. Third possibility which was out of my control is deal with it if and when she wakes up mid-flight. 

What time do you think Ursula woke up. If you guessed "right when the seatbelt like came on and we began descending," step on down and claim your prize! There we were trapped in a three seat, doo doo death trap, inside of a flying tin can. And now that she is awake she is miserable, refusing to sit, bouncing on my legs in sneakers, and screaming. My husband even asked the flight attendant if there was anyway we could just go change her quickly in a desperate plea. Denied.

I think I blacked out for the rest of the flight. We made it. Somehow. Got to the nearest bathroom, screaming, wiping, second wardrobe change of a the day, and a ring pop later, we got our bags and sour car seat and made our way to Long Island with the sweet smell of upchuck in my nose in the back of a rental car.

The weekend spent with family was rather uneventful in the best way possible, and in relation to the  horrifying events of the aforementioned car, and plane ride. There was a really, really cute one month old baby who is my new Niece! How lucky am I!?!? Two crazy toddlers, my sisters (parents of the most perfect niece ever born) who we were so happy to see after not being in the same state since last Christmas. However, 3 kids under two and 4 adults in a cozy, two  bedroom, rental for four days could really be a blog of its own...

The plane ride back was far less eventful, I think the Lord knew I was too weak to handle much more. But, she did not sleep a wink and there was a "mashed potato" diaper. If you think I let her sit in that diaper after spending 3 days tending to a diaper rash that was one wrong wipe from broken skin and ended our beach trip early, you are a very silly person. 

"Center seat changing station for two please." You know what really seals the smell of sweet diaper changed victory away from other passengers? Puke bag. See how we came full circle here? Fold over twice, and bend the tabs like so.

'Til next time, I wish you all SAFE, bodily fluid free, travels. Bon voyage.