You Poop, I Drink. Deal?

Sooooo...there's this thing...this thing that ALL toddlers do, and when they do we (as good mommies and daddies)make complete asses of ourselves - cheering and applauding...dancing around like a cracked out Elaine...all in the hopes of encouraging them to do it - AGAIN. It's poop. In the potty. Like a big kid. And we do the shitty dance over and over again, until our thighs are on fire(therefore justifying our need NOT to go to the gym that day), we are drenched in sweat, and our voices are hoarse....because we love our little munchkins. We even give them rewards for taking a dump!

COULD YOU IMAGINE IF THAT WAS STILL THE CASE??? IF EVERYTIME YOU COPPED A SQUAT YOU GOT A NEW PURSE, OR A NEW PAIR OF SHOES???? HOW FREAKIN AWESOME WOULD THAT BE???? I, FOR ONE WOULD BE LOADING UP ON METAMUCIL AND ORANGE JUICE LIKE IT WAS MY JOB...FOR REAL.

But seriously...we reward, we applaud, we sing and dance...and when they are finally fully potty trained we thank the piss and poop gods above that we don't have to change another diaper.

But what about us? What about us moms and dads who SURVIVED the whole training process? What do we get?? Aside from sticky poop under our finger nails, and flaming sore quadricep muscles from kneeling in front of our little poop machines for ten minutes at a time saying "come on honey...you can do it...go pee pee..go poop...come on"....like a freakin shit coach.....ugh...

So here's what I propose....everytime the kiddo takes a dump in the potty, or manages to pee in the toilet and not on your couch, or in your favorite potted plant, or in your eye, or on the family dog...have a drink...a glass of wine...a martini..a beer....whatever have you...if you don't drink have a rootbeer float...have sex...have SOMETHING to say that you have survived yet ANOTHER round with Capt. CrappyDrawers. And when that little bundle of boo boo is completely potty trained...take your ass to vegas....drink away the memories of the brown nail polish you were forced to buy when you couldn't get ALL the poop out from under your fingernails. You were two farts too late, and they quickly became sharts. And you quickly ruined your manicure.

Yes, yes....wash away all those memories, because when you get home you'll most likely have to work on the next task....how to get your kid to quit calling people "fuck-face" everytime you honk your horn while driving. Don't feel bad...I'm working on BOTH at the same time - although her curse of choice is "jack ass"...lucky me....

Bottoms up folks!