Coffee Break: Strike Three for Tiny Hulk

If you’ve been following along, you already know this is gonna be a comedy show. If you’re new here — hi, welcome to the crap show of mom fails and daily chaos that I wish I could say was made up… but nope, this is my real life.

On today’s episode of “I Need a Break Before I Sell My Kid to the Circus”, Tiny Hulk is at it again. This week, he proudly informed me that he has no interest in using the potty because — and I quote — “I enjoy pooping my pants.”

Yes, I’m aware he’s three. Yes, I know he should be using the potty. But I’d love to see you wrestle a small, angry, freakishly strong toddler while he channels Rain Man for three straight hours, asking the same question over and over until your sanity packs its bags.

Speaking of, his latest thing is repeating himself 25 times in the span of five minutes. “Mommy, roll down my window. Mommy, roll down my window. Mommy, roll down my window.” If I hear it one more time, I’m rolling down my window and diving out.

And then… the naming of the poop. Yes. Naming. His. Poop. First time, it was “Superman.” The next, it was “Bunny.” Why? Your guess is as good as mine. I can’t decide if this is some kind of toddler performance art or just his way of keeping me humble.

Don’t get me wrong — this same kid is also one of the sweetest humans on the planet. He’ll make you laugh until you almost pee yourself, then turn around and make you want to repeatedly bang your head against the wall. Case in point:

We were swimming the other day. He’s got his life vest on — because yes, he can swim, but he gets lazy and stops kicking, and I’d rather not watch him sink like a rock. But apparently, my desire to keep him alive hurt his feelings. He had a full-blown meltdown because, in his words, “I’m a big boy and I can do it myself!”

His wonderful uncle, thinking he was being helpful, goes, “I’ll help you, buddy!” And wouldn’t you know it — the kid got his way. And yes, he did swim fine. Do I still think he needs the vest? Absolutely. Is that the anxiety talking? Probably.

So here I am, at the end of the week, clutching my coffee like it’s my emotional support animal, wondering if all you other moms of toddlers are surviving out there. Because me? I’m one “Mommy, roll down my window” away from faking my own disappearance.

And if you’re reading this thinking, Girl, same, then know this — you’re not alone in the chaos. We’re all just out here trying to raise tiny humans who can use the potty, not name their poop, and maybe — just maybe — let us drink a hot cup of coffee in peace.

Until then, cheers to you, mama. May your coffee be strong, your patience be stronger, and your windows… forever rolled up.