The 3 P's: Potty Training, Pedophile and Penis

Ok. We have been potty training Ryder.  And he has been doing fantastic but during this whole process I am reminded that there are many, many times where potty training makes you feel like a gigantic pedophile.

For instance, one evening we were at my parents house sitting out on their patio when Ryder announced that he needed to pee.  He took a minute and picked out the best tree to pee on (because I am a lazy parent and walking inside to the actual restroom was out of the question).  My Dad walked over to the tree to help Ryder pull down his pants.  Of course Ryder was a sweaty mess from playing outside and had on many layers that included: shorts, underwear and a pull-up.  As my Dad was struggling to help Ryder pull down his pants, Chase came over and said he would help. So there they are, my Dad and Chase struggling to pull down the pants of a 2 year old.  Ryder, unimpressed with the whole process asked, "Now everyone is pulling down my pants?" 

Cory was pretty excited this week when Ryder walked into the bathroom and saw Cory peeing.  Ryder waddled up to him and said matter-of-factly, "You are peeing with your big penis."  Cory pretty much high-fived himself (and has taken every opportunity possible to tell this story to anyone with ears).

And potty training is the reason I will not have any more children.  Well, that and the sleepless nights and the ear infections, and the messes, and the zero personal space, and the ripped vagina.  Definitely the ripped vagina.

Also, I'm pretty sure after potty training I have now become a certified doula.  After all, I have spent the last 3 weeks saying phrases like, "Keep pushing."  "Do you see anything coming out?" "You can do it. One more push." (But I'm pretty sure doulas don't reward their clients with 2 fruit snacks from the gas station after their last and final push.)

Ryder's Recent Insults

Ryder is really starting to develop his own personality and it is starting to shine through in his every day activities.  And as it turns out... he has the same dry, weird personality that his big brother has and I secretly am pleased but yet at the same time, terrified.   

So, every Thursday evening we have a routine.  I get home from work, wrangle both the boys into the vehicle, pick my Mom up and we head to the softball field to watch Cory play softball.  Cory's team is pretty good.  Well, pretty good for a team that is filled with old, drunken men.  (Side note: It took me 10 years to learn that what Cory has been calling "batting practice" actually means drinking in someone's garage before the game.  I shit you not, I learned this week that Cory's batting practice requires zero bats. I'm either naive or very, very stupid when it comes to sports. And since I own more inhalers than I do tennis shoes- I'll go with the latter of the two.)  

Any who, Ryder really gets into the games and likes to cheer.  Last week, he was in full cheering stance on top of the bleachers when one of our friends, who is conveniently one of Ryder's favorite people, came up to bat.  He swung the bat and hit a pop fly.  As the ball sours high in the sky Ryder throws both hands in the air above his head and angrily yells, "That was terrible!"  

As it turns out, Ryder was both accurate and an ass (Sorry Jared). #coachRyder 

So, speaking of being an ass, Ryder was playing with his tape measure this weekend when we were camping.  Ry is obsessed with measuring things.  So here he was measuring the air (because why not?) when all of a sudden the ruler part retracted and pinched his finger.  My sister, Jess, asked Ryder if he wanted her to kiss it to make it feel better.  He returned her polite gesture with a displeased, "No."  He then proceeded to pull out his tape measure, put it up to her waist and measure her.  With a growl he announced, "Yup, same size. Lots," and walked away.  For real, this kid can't even count past 10, but can insult with math like the best of them. #furturemathteacher?

Ryder is starting to remind me more and more of Stewie from Family Guy.  Please pray for me. 

My Ryder- the A**hole

My little Ry-Ry Pumpkin Pie has been quite the 2 year old lately.  You know, I always think that I have decent self-esteem until one of my children opens their mouth and speaks to me.  I can give a 4 hour presentation to an auditorium full of professionals without a sweat but one conversation with my 2 year old can have me questioning all of my life’s decisions.

Last week after singing our usual bedtime song, I laid Ryder down in his crib, covered him ever-so-gently with his blanket and started rubbing his back.  His sweet little blue eyes looked up at me and I replied to him with a big, warm smile.  Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more grateful for this sweet little human of mine, he opened up his mouth and said, “Put your big teeth away.  Cover them with your big top cover,” and rolled the opposite direction to face the wall.

Oh, sweet Ryder, do you mean that you want me to put my top lip over my teeth and stop smiling at you?

Sweet dreams you asshole.