We began the process of potty training this weekend. A sister of mine told me not to post updates on Facebook about it, I didn't. So I decided to blog about it. Don't worry I will post the link on her wall.
The past three days we've been boarded up in the house, we took my kids pants off and sat vigilant for any sign of 'potty.' We quickly read an online article about the 'three day method,' and I skimmed a book called 'Toilet Training in Less Than a Day.' We were ready.
The First Day:
Floor: I didn't count
The Second Day:
Floor: the floor is definitely still winning, or losing
The Third Day:
Floor: We might not get our security deposit back
Parenthood has brought a host of things into my life that I hadn't even known to say 'I will never do that.'
Like on Saturday morning when I eagerly demonstrated all processes of going to the potty to my daughter, including lifting her up and showing her what I had deposited in the bowl.
Nope, didn't see that one coming.
Or camping out in the bathroom reading books and watching Dora, just so the pee will land in the bowl and not on the carpet.
Didn't really expect that one.
Sitting on the floor, playing tea party, all the while eying my child's nether regions, like they were a loaded gun in the hands of a mad man.
Didn't see that one in my future.
Or the smack or frustration I gave the rug after cleaning up another accident.
I never cursed wall to wall carpeting until parenthood.
Or bribing my child with candy to use the toilet.
I might have predicted that.
Or the breaks I gave myself; turning the corner and stuffing peanut butter M&M's in my mouth and standing in the kitchen demolishing a jar of hot fudge sauce with a spoon (because Mommy can't drink right now).
Actually I think I saw that one coming.
Each time I watched my husband race around the corner holding our child by the armpits, legs dangling, eyes wide, piddle dripping, I thought, 'Really?'
I guess that is just what this thing called parenting is, a series of 'are you kidding me?' moments. You know, you have the kid, not knowing all the fluids that you will really be dealing with, and then you end up dealing with a lot of fluids. There really is a lot more fluids involved in parenting than I ever dreamed possible. I'm pretty sure that if someone had told me the amount of fluids involved I wouldn't have believed them, or thought it was their failing as a parent, rather than just the truth of 'children produce a lot of fluids,'
The same aforementioned sister told me a story of a night when all her children had come down with some kind of stomach bug. There her husband and her sat, spooning vomit out of the rug and into the trash can, she looked up and said,
“Did you ever think it would be like this?” I think she may have been weeping.
“No,” was her husband's reply.
I guess that's just what happens; we all come into this world naked and going to the bathroom on ourselves. Eventually we have to learn to wear clothes and to learn where to put the pee and the poop. Someone has to teach us, and that's our parents.
Now I am that parent.
PS: I really want hardwood floors right about now.
PPS: I think she got it, no accidents so far today!