“I See Your Ice Cream Sundae and Raise You a Trip to Disney If You JUST USE THE POTTY. Once. Just Once.” Potty Training Survival 101.

In the process of raising our youngest, I’ve come to the conclusion that we should really be walking around with body cams on all day every day (well, most of the day anyway). That jackpot on America’s Funniest Home Videos? Totally ours. Wait – do they even still air that show? If it’s not animated on Nick Jr or Disney Jr, I have no clue. But I digress. Back to the story at hand.

I may have mentioned this before, but our youngest is in my favorite phase: toddlerhood. It’s my favorite for a reason – they are hilarious at that stage. I’m sure the trolls will have a hay day with that statement, but there’s really nothing funnier than a toddler learning to walk and talk. Don’t get me wrong – it’s adorable and endearing and all of that, but it’s still funny shit. We’re laughing WITH them, not at them. There, does that make you feel better about it?

Honestly, I’m convinced the comic relief is our reward for the phase involving markers on the walls, baby powder explosions on the carpet, gummy fruit snacks melted to the leather seats of the car, and bright red lipstick on the puppy. All of which were achieved with some serious expert-level ninja skills. Had to be. No one child could do all of that in the 5 seconds I turned away to grab my shoe from the other dog. A fucking ninja, I’m telling you.

But the crème de la crème of toddlerhood is potty training. It is the holy grail of parenting efforts as we try desperately to get rid of diapers before going bat-shit crazy. And believe me, you will.

When we first started potty training, our little human felt the need to announce every action at a yell. We weren’t allowed in there, but she had to make sure we knew what just happened. Play by play.

“Moooommm!!! The pee is comin’ out!!!!”

That was always a fun one when we were out in public. Or anywhere really. The worst time, is in the car. You never want to hear that on a long car ride. Especially with a child who has public-potty-phobia. That’s a real thing. Google it.

By the end of it, you’ll be so desperate to get your kid to use the “big potty” you’ll be promising a fucking tap-dancing, wish-granting, convertible glitter unicorn after you sell your kidney to buy tickets to Disney World – with grandma, the neighbor lady, and your puppy – because they are all your kid’s BFF’s, so naturally they HAVE to come too. Did the tiny human go on the potty yet?? If yes, start the works to cash out your 401K so you can afford the Disney trip. If no, read on.

In our journey of training with this – our LAST – trip through toddlerhood, I am convinced someone up above is constantly saying things like, “Hey Mary – watch THIS. Let’s see them deal with THIS shit” as they laugh hysterically. Toddlers will find ways to get poop on the ceiling (do NOT ask how), will go “fishing” in the toilet bowl with any object they can find (toothbrushes and hairbrushes and curling irons and straighteners – keep them UP), and let’s not even go there with the times you’re away from home. Ours is deathly afraid of the sound of a toilet flushing in any other bathroom but the one at home. She has to leave the bathroom before I can flush it – takes a tag team – fun times.

Some may say “well, why do you leave her alone in the bathroom to do all of those things?” Oh judgement. You have such a distinct smell. Just laugh it off. Clearly anyone who would ask such a thing either A) doesn’t have any children of their own, or B) never had more than one. It’s an odds game. You may wind up lucky with a heavenly child who breezes through potty training and other stages, but try your luck again. Go ahead. I dare you. The odds will catch you eventually and if it doesn’t, then I need to know your tricks because I think you’re using voodoo or some shit.

Want to know why I “leave her alone”? The other day she told me she needed to go potty. That’s my cue to be on high alert. Got it. Check. 30 seconds later, the following conversation ensues:

Me: (Checking on said toddler in the bathroom): “Whatcha doin?”

Little Human: “I’m just sittin’ here thinkin’ about giraffes.”

Me: “You’re thinking about giraffes?”

Little Human: “Yes. Now please leave so I can go poop.”

If you still think it’s simply a matter of not leaving them alone, well you just do you, sunshine. We’ve raised four of these buggers (gluttons for punishment, I know) and every one of them has been a different experience. This one? She insists on privacy or she won’t go. She also hates any restroom that isn’t at our house, has a morose fascination with the loo in general and is fiercely independent about wiping, flushing and washing hands – though she needs reminded to do all three. So. Much. Fun.

My advice? I don’t really have any but I’ll give it a whirl. Just do whatever it takes to (legally) get through it. Don’t worry about what the other moms will say at daycare or if your SIL disapproves. Remember what I said earlier – if they judge, they’re either ignorant or they need to feel better about their own choices. The bird is an appropriate response if you’re feeling the need to respond.

To others reading this, if you have a friend with young ones, have patience, bring wine, and give hugs. That’s it. And if your friend disappears for a while (like say, 4-5 years while they get through the “little” phases), be patient. Don’t forget the wine, but be patient. I think that covers it. Did I mention wine? Good luck!