Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

I’m a failure. I gave it the ol’ college try, I did. And I barely wanted to admit to the world that I am now a failure at one of the biggest accomplishments of parenting. I will not be adding a new patch to my badge. I will not be saying good riddance to diapers. And while it pains me to share this in the event that the sanctimommies are circling for blood in the water to shame me, I thought, “maybe I’m not the only one.”

I am a potty school dropout. My potty train has jumped the tracks. I have become everything I never thought I’d become. 

Before you start giving me all of your advice, I will lead with this: I potty trained my first child in three days. With no mistakes after. And I pretty much thought I was the cock of the walk. I mean, how can people think this is hard? You just get rid of the diapers and set the timers and voila, underpants city. It’s easy peasy to use the potty.

With my second child, the universe sent me a little humble pie: It took us about 3 months to legitimately call him potty trained. But the major accidents were few and far between. And I was hanging on, tooth and nail, to the rock that was my hill to die on. Real parents don’t give up. Real parents get s**t done. I even read a book, “How to Potty Train Boys” and one great takeaway was to let the boys pee in the bathtub. Don’t ask me why but it was a game changer. Even if they were bathing in urine, it was worth it. Golden baths for all in the name of potty training. Eventually it all shook out, but it definitely changed my perception on the ease with which potty training was executed.

Enter the third child. I got a potty around age 2.5. I casually set it in the bathroom. It casually gathered dust. And then, one day, just after age 3 came around, the Littlest sat on it, was excited, and said, “I wear undies.” He has established readiness. YAS. This should be a cake walk. 

We had a fun trip to that store with the bullseye and giggled as we picked out Minion and Mickey undies. I imagined myself skipping down the sidewalk, as my undie-wearing trio skipped along side, the sunshine eternal, the amount of extra time and freedom we would have without any diaper changes to weigh us down. The cute, slim bag I would need to buy because no room for diapers or wipes would be needed. This kid was as good as outta diapers in my daydreams. And I was in mommy heaven.

We did it all right directly out of the gate. We set a thirty minute timer for three days straight. We ate candy. We clapped for any tiny bit of tinkle in the potty. We read, “Everybody poops,” “Bear in Underwear,” and “Potty.” The bigs got in on the excitement, high fiving the little bro and sitting alongside him as he did his time on the throne. 

And we threw out no less than 3 pair of underwear a day. S**t. All day long. No need to stress, mama. Don’t make a big deal. Take off the undies, redirect. 

And on. And on. 

The weeks went on. And eventually, I did what I’d never done before. What I’d never understood. I regressed. To s**t pants. AKA Pull-ups, s**t pants are the only thing I could cling to. I couldn’t keep throwing out skid-town underpants. Those poor Minions didn’t deserve to be crapped on every waking hour. So, we continued with the potty reminders. The candy. The excitement. But the child. kept. pooping. 

Sure. We had a few tiny victories. And by tiny I mean like raisinette sized drops. 

And one day. One day, I thought we’d gotten over the hump. I sat, in front of the child as he sat on his potty topper. I had him get up on his haunches and push. I gave him the iPad and watched like a doula in the delivery room as the turtle head poked in and out. I asked him to grunt and yell and push that little pokey puppy out of his pooper and BOOM! A large turd took over the toilet! And I think I had a tear in my eye. 

We’ve done it! 

And the universe laughed. The kid walked around “tooting” in his s**t pants immediately after sitting 20 minutes on the pot. And then, he just decided peeing was just as easy in the s**t pants. 

And so. Four and a half weeks after buying a ticket for the potty train, we hopped off. Back to diapers. 

I know. I can’t believe it either. But you know what, it’s just better. 

I’m just over stressing crap like this. Literal crap. This kid will not go to college in a diaper. Probs not even pre-school next year. And hopefully, we didn’t do any permanent damage with our little attempt at the world free of undies. 

I plan that once school is out, I will just let the little Mr. run around nakie nakie all day and then move into undies when we have some better success. But for now, we are back in diapers for this little dude. And I am officially a potty school dropout. And as much fun as it was to imagine my household diaper-free and to skip down the sidewalk in my dreams, I honestly feel very little stress over the whole situation. I gave pees a chance but it just s**t all over me. And it’s just further proof to me that in motherhood and life, you gotta do what works for you. 

So for now, we’re stickin’ with the diapers. We still promote the potty and have the candy jar out and all that jazz. But there is no shame in this dame. Because s**t happens. And for now, I’d rather it happened in a diaper. 

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Ashli Brehm

Ashli Brehm = Thirtysomething. Nebraska gal. Life blogger. Husker fan. Creative writer. Phi Mu sister. Breast cancer survivor. Boymom. Premie carrier. Happy wife. Gilmore Girls fanatic. Amos Lee listener. Coffee & La Croix drinker. Sarcasm user. Jesus follower. Slipper wearer. Funlover. Candle smeller. Yoga doer. Pinterest failer. Anne Lamott reader. Tribe member. Goodness believer. Life enthusiast. Follow me at http://babyonthebrehm.com/

Welcome to Periods in Your 30s and 40s

In: Health, Humor
Welcome to Periods in Your 30s and 40s www.herviewfromhome.com

Do you remember that day in the fifth grade when the boys and girls were separated for the “Sexuality and Development” talk? Some nice old lady health teacher came into your room and gave you some straight talk about how the next few years were going to go for you. It was awkward and shocking and you knew your childhood would never be the same. When you hit your mid-thirties, there should be some kind of Part Two to that conversation. All the ladies need to be rounded up, lead into a dimly lit classroom that smells vaguely of pencil...

Keep Reading

How to Stay Married For (at Least) 10 Years

In: Humor, Relationships
How to Stay Married For (at Least) 10 years www.herviewfromhome.com

In July, my husband and I celebrated our 10-year wedding anniversary. We got married back in 2008 following my college graduation. I was only 22 at the time and him? Well, he was all good-looking at the prime age of 30. There were may vocal skeptics who chimed in, unasked of course, to share with us their belief that we would “never last” and that it would “never work”. To them, I say, “You were wrong! Na-na, na-na, boo-boo!” Just kidding, of course; I don’t talk like that. I am a respectable mother, not a four-year-old child and thank goodness...

Keep Reading

How to Put Your Children to Bed in 46 Easy Steps

In: Humor, Kids
How to Put Your Children to Bed in 46 Easy Steps www.herviewfromhome.com

It was time. It had to happen. We’d had a good run at pouring our children into bed at 11:30 p.m., sweaty, sticky, and exhausted from their head to their toes.  But bedtime had to get back to its (somewhat) regularly scheduled program.  When we had one kid, bedtime was a breeze.  Each night, we had a 10 step process. And the steps were simple. And very, very routine. 1. Toys away at 7:10 p.m. 2. Up the stairs at 7:15 p.m. 3. Change into pajamas 4. Brush teeth 5. Read two books 6. Say prayers 7. Light off 8....

Keep Reading

Welcome to the Dreaded Man Cold Season

In: Health, Humor
Welcome to the Dreaded Man Cold Season www.herviewfromhome.com

Your husband has a mere headache, but he automatically now believes that he is going to be a chronic sufferer of cluster migraines. Or, maybe he got a small splinter, but he now believes that he is, without probability, going to end up with a staph infection. And, well, that cough of his (cough, cough) is going to have him laid up in bed for the next two days because he is just feeling so terrible. Sound familiar? It is all too familiar to me. What am I talking about? How men are babies when they get sick. Yes, I said it. I...

Keep Reading

Wanted: Imperfect Friends

In: Humor, Relationships
Wanted: Imperfect Friends www.herviewfromhome.com

Is anyone else as sick of the facade as I am?  Because on social media, everyone seems to have their crap together. But I sure don’t.  Scrolling through my feeds leaves me feeling inadequate and lonely, desperately lonely.  I know social media is only the high points. I know there is always more going on behind the scenes that I don’t know about. But at the end of the day, I just feel like there’s no one who would want to be friends with little, imperfect, insignificant, me.  So, I’m placing an ad.  Wanted: Imperfect Friends A kind, but quirky,...

Keep Reading

51 Reasons a Mom Might Be Late

In: Humor, Motherhood
51 Reasons a Mom Might Be Late www.herviewfromhome.com

I’ve got a question for all you moms out there: Have you ever been late? Yeah, me neither. Just kidding! We’ve all been there. We have an appointment, a meeting, an event, or just a playdate, and we want to be on time. In fact, it often looks and feels like we’re going to be on time. We’ve planned ahead. We have everything in order, and we are ready to head out the door. But then, without fail, the inevitable happens. Actually, it seems that a good number of inevitables happen. And we’re running late, again. Being on time is...

Keep Reading

5 Ways Boy Moms Always Ruin Our Fun

In: Humor, Kids
5 Ways Boy Moms Always Ruin Our Fun www.herviewfromhome.com

We know Mom loves us, don’t worry about that . . . but sometimes it seems like she’s just making up a whole pile of rules to ruin our fun. For instance, we’ll be in the middle of a huge independent project and she’ll come along, usually shriek, and be like, “You can’t use water guns to fill up the bathtub! And why are you shooting water into the toilet? Ewwwwww.” And just like that, we have to pack it all up and return to a clean orderly activity. A controlled activity. A zero fun activity. We’re not even sure...

Keep Reading

Should Grandparents Get Paid to Babysit?

In: Humor, Journal
Should Grandparents Get Paid to Babysit? www.herviewfromhome.com

While swaying in side-by-side hammocks, my daughter paid me the ultimate compliment: “It gives me enormous peace of mind while I’m working, to know you’re watching my son and that he’s in the most capable hands.” Then 10 seconds later while I was still orbiting in happy mode, she insulted me by offering to PAY me for this glorious privilege. We engaged in a little tit for tat tug of war with no clear winner. And the debate rages on, at least in our household. How about yours? To pay or not to pay the loving grandparents who bless us...

Keep Reading

Kids Today Will Never Know the Joy of a 90s Summer

In: Humor

So you want a good old fashioned 90s summer, huh? I don’t blame you. The 90s rocked! (Literally, thanks to Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vedder.) I’m not going to lie—I take slight offense to the use of “old fashioned” and “90s” in the same sentence, as I’m pretty sure the 90s were like 10 years ago, but I’ll still help you out. If you’re really doing this though, you’ll need to ditch some of your modern conveniences, like your phone. I know, I know, but it’s a requirement. You may bring a beeper or clunky flip-phone, but no internet allowed...

Keep Reading

Dear Kids, This Is Not An Uber

In: Humor, Kids
Dear Kids, This Is Not An Uber www.herviewfromhome.com

Paid automotive transportation is pretty simple. You hop in the backseat of a cab, share the address where you are going and aren’t required to speak any longer until you arrive at your destination and pay the driver. The same primary rules apply to taking an Uber or Lyft.  The unwritten rules have been in place for some time. Your trade-off for taking paid transportation is a ride in the backseat, where you don’t have control over the music, the temperature of the car, the route the driver takes or how fast the trip takes, not even the amount of...

Keep Reading