Driving Me Potty
Every now and then you have a day when you need a glass of wine. These last ten days have been That Day.
Who knew potty training could be so frustrating? And the most frustrating part is having to hide your frustration.
The problem with Sam seems to be that he doesn’t care in the slightest about getting wee on his pants. Or trousers. Socks. Shoes. Sofa cushion. Floor…
I can imagine that the first couple of weeks without a nappy must be highly distressing. So hats off to me (I suppose) for ensuring that Sam is relaxed about it and doesn’t share that view. Each time he does a widdle, I stay calm; do the whole ‘oh never mind, don’t worry sweetie, let’s get you into some dry clothes’ thing…but inside I am yelling (nay, bellowing) ‘WHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYY?????!!’ What I can’t get my head around, is the fact he seems to have such excellent bladder control: on the occasions when he has forewarned me of an upcoming dispatch, I have been able to say ‘just try and hold it in a bit longer darling’, and he’ll do just that. For really quite a considerable length of time – my pelvic floor muscles are jealous.
But I think he views going to the toilet/potty as a lot more trouble than it’s worth – peeing in his pants seems to have the exact same result as peeing in his nappy: it gets wet; it gets changed – simple as that. And as I can only imagine the horror of wearing urine-soaked clothes, I make sure that we have at least two changes of clothes with us, and I whip off his wet stuff instantly.
He’ll always say ‘NO!’ if I ask if he needs a wee wee, but when I just pull his pants down anyway, he will waddle to the potty, plop down on it and immediately relieve himself – looking so damn pleased with himself! I don’t get why he doesn’t want that pure joy continuously throughout the day – if only I could achieve that level of happiness when I take a leak! He then stands up proudly and inspects his wares; pointing, marvelling, and saying one of the following phrases:
‘I did a BIG one Mummy!’
‘I did a yellow one Mummy!’
‘Look Mummy, there mine drink!’
Adorable really. But why must it be such a rare occurrence?!
Actually that’s not true; he’s doing really well. We had two accidents today, but only one for the two days previous. In fact I don’t know where this pent up frustration has stemmed from…unless it’s simply because I know I have an opened box of rosé in my fridge.
Those of you who have managed to stick out these last two posts on potty training are most probably at the same stage with your children, or else have it yet to come. I can’t think of any other reason you’d choose to wade through endless variations of ‘urine’ (…see what I did there?!). So, if you are enjoying this topic (and who in their right mind wouldn’t?!), head over to Gypsy Momma’s blog and read up on the pros and cons of the travel potty – interesting ey?! But actually…yes, very interesting: I have got the Potette and am really quite enjoying the notion of carrying around what functions as a full-on toilet…in my handbag. Thus far we haven’t needed to use it as a potty, but the training seat version does seem to encourage Sam into thinking that public toilets are Not Scary. Without it, I would be in danger laughing mercilessly at my child after witnessing the likes of this:
(I do not own this image, toilet, or child)