I was standing on the front steps this morning, saying goodbye to the boys as they got on the bus, thinking, “I don’t have anything to blog about today.” Stupid me. That’s just asking for it, isn’t it? I’ve been working on potty training Camille, which is a pain in the behind because she has pretty good bladder control, but doesn’t want to use the potty or the toilet, and would rather pee on the floor when I’m not looking than go near the evil blue child potty. She tells me with a smile, “Mama. I peed,” and kindly points out the puddles on the floor so I can wipe them up.
I already gave up once because potty battles are not something that I’m willing to engage in. I thought if I let her go without a diaper she would figure it out, like the boys did, but I didn’t count on her screaming for a diaper. Okay then. We’ll address using the toilet when you get over your irrational fear of being naked.
A few weeks later I ran into a mom whose newly turned two year old boy was already potty trained and I thought, “That’s it. People have always said girls are easier to potty train and gosh-darn-it, I’m due for an easy one!” It coincided with us actually running out of diapers so I was able to tell Camille, “Sorry, we’re out. You’ll have to try going on the potty.”
If it sounds like I’m in a rush for her to get out of diapers, I am. Not because I’m tired of changing diapers because I’d much rather change diapers for several more years than run to find the nearest public toilet every 15 minutes. It would be much easier to wait until she’s three, then switch over easily, never having an accident, and we’d be on our merry way. But I have a dog who thinks wet diapers are the greatest thing ever. He snitches them out of the garbage can and tears them up, shredding the paper and pee filled gel beads all over my house. They are impossible to clean up. Sometimes I don’t have to clean them up because he eats them and I find the partially digested remains of them in my front yard . . . I am sick of cleaning up his diaper messes every. single. day.
I figure if I can get her down to one diaper at nap and one at night, he’ll have much less material to work with and hopefully I’ll no longer find myself on my hands and knees with a dustpan and brush trying to sweep the stupid little beads up before the get stepped on and squished into the floor.
Yesterday was day one — the morning was a bust. She found a rogue diaper and brought it to Josie and asked her to put it on her. Score one for the kid. But after nap, I got out the tic tacs and she figured out every time she went in the potty, she could have a minty treat. She watched endless episodes of Diego and went through an entire box of tic tacs by bedtime. Win for me.
This morning, not wanting to interrupt the roll we were on, I took her with me to knitting lessons at Starbucks. But because I’m not insane, I put a pull-up on over her underwear so if she had an accident, it wouldn’t get her clothes wet, but she would feel it. We had been there only about 10 minutes when she headed under the table and I realized I hadn’t anticipated #2. Oh well. At least I had brought a spare pull-up. What I also hadn’t anticipated was the volcano of poop that was pushed up the back of her underwear, over the waistband of her pants, up her back and onto the floor. I hurried her to the bathroom (getting it on my hands and shirt in the process) and had to strip her completely to assess the damage. She had poop all over her body. The underwear went straight into the trash and I was tempted to toss her clothes as well. Thank God for bidet hoses (the shower sprayers that are attached to all the toilets here) because I plopped her on the toilet seat and showered her from the neck down. Then I had to hose down the toilet seat and her backside, then use a ton of wet paper towels on the floor . . . oh and on the leather sofa. I thought I had gotten it all when I saw that she still had some on her shoulder . . . how does that happen?!
Anyway, I had a spare pair of pants with me (but no shirt), so the morning wasn’t a complete bust and I could continue with the knitting lesson. Although I did have to endure lots of dirty looks for taking my baby out 1/2 dressed while everyone else was wearing sweatshirts and hats — especially on the walk to the car.
Now I need a bath (and a nap).
