You Win Some, You Lose Some

Today is Day Two of potty training Cade. It SUCKS it is hell get me out of here, for realsies. Wow talk about roughness. But we are finally making some progress:

Earlier today we had just had a huge drama-fest on the toilet where he fiiiiinnnnaaaallllly went (a huge) poop, and I was laughing and kissing his tears away and telling him I was so proud of him, and he was so brave, and I loved him and I loved his poop, blah blah blah yakkity schmackity.

So we then went upstairs to visit the 'rents, and were looking at the presents under the Christmas tree. (I figured since he'd just gone, he wouldn't need to go again for awhile.)

Suddenly, he says, “Mommy, my peeps hurts!” (His cue for saying I GOTTA GO NOW!)

So I grabbed him, tucked him under my arm like a football, and sprinted down the stairs, barreled into the bathroom, pulled down his pants, and plunked him on the toilet.

And he peed and peed. I was like an awed tourist at Niagra Falls.

Only, from all the lifting and running, I had given myself an asthma attack. Like, an acute one. Potty training my child gives me asthma. In what warped world is that okay?

Potty training: WIN
Asthma: LOSE

Eh. I’ll take what I can get!