When the Husband and I were still honeymooning, we made the monumental decision to adopt a lovable, cuddly, PUPPY DOG! I had my heart set on floppy-eared Basset Hound from our state’s rescue agency. Who knew that Basset Hounds needed rescuing. How could anyone be mean to the likes of this?

Just look at those ears

Turns out that adopting a dog is a lot like adopting a baby. You fill out a lovely application, where you share every single, rotten, detail about your life from conception until present, and then if the agency likes you and sees you as a potential parent, they then come out and do home visits. Yes, home visits as in plural, more than one. Seriously, people! They are dogs, furry four-legged friends, that scratch, dig and lick! Is all of this really necessary?

Apparently, so, because the hubby and I, did not pass the process. We failed with absolutely no adoption papers to sign, and no rescued Basset Hound to hold, to love, and to cuddle. And, yes, I cried a lot. If the husband and I were not deemed fit to care for a dog, how on earth could we ever raise children? Yeah, I cried some more.

Then we found a Basset Hound puppy in the classifieds for the sum of a few hundred-dollar bills. No applications to fill out. No multiple home visits involving the use of rubber gloves and collection kits. No tears. Just the exchange of money for a furry friend. My husband gladly shelled out the cash with zero hesitation. This was our Daisy.

Turns out, Daisy had family issues. Daisy’s Momma got caught mingling with the Beagle down the street, making Daisy a Bagle Hound instead of a Pure-Breed. Oops!

We brought her home after buying out the puppy goods at PetSmart. Only the very best for our Daisy and then the real fun began. She chewed and gnawed her way through every piece of furniture we owned. She demolished at least seven pairs of shoes and she shed so much hair, I swear I coughed up hair balls in my sleep, but that wasn’t the worst part. No, it was Daisy’s lack of progress with house training. She pooped and peed EVERYWHERE! I managed to break her from every area in a ten-mile radius except inside our house. She would not pee or poop in the yard, or in our neighbor’s yard, or on the porch, or even on the front steps. Daisy would only do her business in our house on the couch, on our rugs, on our hardwood floor. Period.

After weeks and weeks of dry puppy pads and cleaning, scrubbing and disinfecting puppy fecal matter, I gave up. I GAVE UP! I waved my white flag of surrender and Daisy hit the door. Outside she went with the ball and chain attached. Trying to house train a dog was too Dog gone hard for me! Yep, I cried some more. I could not think of anything harder until this specie invaded our home. See Exhibit A.

The Man-Child

I must admit the first months of breaking this baby from diapers to a toilet was blissful. He knew when he needed to go, and he went. He climbed up on the toilet, sat like his Momma and Sister, pointed his trick South Bound, and let her rip with no miss or mess. Aww, Bliss (except when he would do number 2 and wipe his butt on the toilet seat before wiping with paper. Yuck!).

Now, enter the root of man-child’s toileting demise, the Manly-Father. The Manly-Father feels that his son must urinate like a real man, standing up and taking aim. All you mothers out there who are facing potty training a son for the first time, let me give you some advice that you did not ask for.

#1. Do not allow your toddler to pee like a man until he develops the
eye-hand coordination of Barry Bonds with or without Steroid use!

#2. Remove all throw rugs near or around the porcelain throne. They absorb urine
like you would not believe, which leads me to tip #3.

#3. Maintain a bountiful stock of Lysol, Clorox, and Febreeze. Boys just stink!

#4. Buy a step stool. Sometimes, the extra height does wonders for the aim especially
if you have a “comfort height” (17 inch) toilet.

#5. By all means, flood your toilet bowl with fruit loops for target practice.
Just keep in mind that your little one may decide to go fishing or add
some non-approved items of his own to the toilet bowl like cell phones,
hair brushes, and keys, which means mommy gets to go fishing. Yah!

#6. When all else fails, Pray, then go shopping. This website, Potty Training Concepts is
chalked full of boy toileting must-haves. Who knew they made these?

Add a little something special to your throne, a Urinal! Your toilet will thank you.

Now, that I have given you more than mouthful of unsolicited advice, I am asking you all to share with me, what worked or didn’t work for you in the potty training arena, of course. Please do share!