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We live in an apartment. An apartment that shrinks constantly as my boys grow bigger. The other day, my two oldest boys were playing football in the house. Casually tossing the football back and forth in the living room as if there were goal posts behind the couch. I (for what I am sure had to be the 517th time) asked them not to play football in the house. Surprisingly, they listened and within minutes the football was put away. However, they traded it for a soccer ball, that they began kicking back and forth.
After explaining my predicament to a (childless) friend, she responded, “yeah, I think kids are kind of like dogs. They need room to play”. I agree (well, maybe minus the dog part. Although, little boys do have a knack for peeing on everything except the toilet).
Having 3 boys, it has become crystal clear that I need a backyard. A well lit backyard that will keep my boys busy from the time they get out of school, until dinner. Included in this fantasy is the assumption that all of the outside activity will make them so tired, that they will want to go to bed immediately following dinner and bath time (if in reality it doesn’t actually work like this, please don’t ruin my fantasy. In lieu of an actual backyard this dream is all I got).
For now, my search continues for the perfect backyard (I’m positive that a backyard will soon be a crucial part of my sanity).
Currently Seeking Backyard
Posted by Twisted Vegan Sisters Labels: backyard, boys, parenting, potty training
A couple of weeks ago, my two oldest sons had the opportunity to play football at PacBell park, during halftime of an UFL (http://www.ufl-football.com/) game. Like most games, I had the opportunity to hang out with the daughters of one of the coaches. It allows me to experience what life would be like with a daughter (albeit for only a couple of hours).
As we tailgated, the boys were busy throwing the football and running amuck. Us girls were standing around impatiently waiting to enter the stadium, when my faux daughter suddenly had to use the restroom. I was faced with a parenting conundrum I had yet to experience. Parking lots are not usually equipped with restrooms. In this case, the only choice was a port-a-potty (port-a-potty’s freak me out. I would rather get punched repeatedly in the stomach then be forced to enter one. Actually “using” one would be absolutely out of the question). This is never an issue with my boys. Boys can find a tree, bush (on occasion the side of one’s car) and relive their bladder quickly and effectively. In mere seconds, the crisis is averted and we can move on to non-potty related activities. In this case, I could not send the little girl to a nearby bush. Panicked (yes, panicked. This whole situation was new to me and I had no idea what to do), I sent her to her dad. Surely he had a magic solution that this boy mom had not thought of. That was not the case, he simply pointed to the port-a-potty across the parking lot.
I armed the little girl with everything I could think of.
Baby Wipes: They can clean almost anything
Hand Sanitizer: Self Explanatory
A little Prayer: Considering that my phobia would not allow me to get too close to the port-a-potty, she was going to need all the extra help she could get.
She did the impossible, and survived the port-a-potty (with virtually no help from me). Thank GOD I have little boys. I am positive the stress of the potty alone would do me in.
Note to dads: Using a port-a-potty is cruel and unusual punishment. It is NEVER okay for the penis-challenged!
Look what I found: www.go-girl.com
I have scoured parenting sites looking for a solution. I tried the Cheerio’s trick. It worked ok, until it led to other “less flushable” items in the toilet. I imagine the conversation the boys must have had before dropping there toys in the toilet. “If Cheerio’s are fun to pee on, Hot Wheels, and Action Figures must be fun to pee on too”! Needless to say, I had to ban anything besides TP going into the toilet, including Cheerio’s.
I recently tried making them clean up their own pee. I gave them gloves, a sponge, and instructed them (from a safe pee distance) on what to do. Surprisingly, they were equally disgusted, and as a result the bathroom remained pee free. That was until this morning, when in a moment of weakness I opted to use their bathroom (I refuse to share a bathroom with the Pee Pee Bandits), and I sat down without looking. My wet booty was immediately aware that the pee war was NOT over.
Help! Do any of you moms have any suggestions?
