Monday, October 8, 2012

Potty Training...The Saga Continues

We are in no way home free over here in the potty training arena. There are accidents, there are mishaps, there are incidents. There are situations.

Since potty training commenced all has been pretty easy. I was so worried about how in the world I could get Lady Baby to be a willing participant with something that requires listening, doing what I ask, and room for zero tomfoolery. Despite being fairly easy to potty train, she has managed to work in quite a bit of shenanigans. If you are shocked, this must be your first time here at Lint Trap Manor. Shenanigans are her specialty.

  • I have had to wash the paci twice because if fell in the potty. I am not sure how that even happens when it is in your mouth and you are sitting down. Both times were mid-deuce. It defies all logic.
  • There is a phenomenon that occurs called Phantom Poop. At least once a day she has to poop and sits on the potty and nothing. Nada. Zip. It is the Chupacabra of potty training. 
  • I have become the mom who lets her child pee in the park behind a tree. I remember being horrified by this when I was lived in a world that didn't revolve around a tiny bladder. Now, I am all, "we are of the earf and you can pee right behind this tree." I have learned that there is an art to it or one drenches their pants. Everything rolls downhill. Remember that. That is key to park pee-pee success. 
  • Little girls can sit on the potty with the best intentions and then pee all over their pants. There is an aim issue that must be figured out. Unfortunately, we have not really worked it out. I am open to suggestions. 
  • It is funny and horrifying all at the same time when your child falls into a public toilet. When there is buffoonery on the toilet and no listening and refusing help, I don't feel so bad when the hind end falls in and gets wedged in the toilet. It's kind of her own fault. And then I remember that she is my delicate flower and I wrench her out of the tainted gas station toilet water that will possibly make one's undercarriage fall off or give her crabs, and I try not to say I told you so. Believe it or not this particular instance has happened more than once. Twice just last week. 
  • When someone turns the light out in the Target bathroom, it is DARK. Like abyss-in-inner-space dark. I suppose they were thinking of the handicapped when the made the switches low, but my child saw it, screamed "this is just my size!" and immediately turned the lights off. That is how horror movies start, people. I panicked and threatened some very ugly things to my sweet child and the lights came back on. If you are ever in a tinkletorium and the lights go out and then you hear a mother saying unspeakable things while a child laughs devilishly, don't panic. Harken back to this entry and rest easy that the light will be back on post haste. And please don't call social services, that mom is doing her best.
  • If your child comes to you and says she has an accident, always ask if its a liquid or solid accident. Always askWe were at the little farmer's market at our local elementary school. Her Highness had an accident while playing on the playground. No big whoop. Hubs sent her to me since I carry all things accident related in my purse, and he operates under the false assumption that I should handle all things potty whenever possible. Toodles and I stepped behind a column directly beside the last booth (who happened to be a good friend selling her lovely baubles) and I pulled down her panties to change them. Much to my horror, a very large turd dumped out and rolled across the pavement. Well played husband, well played. A shadoob. On the sidewalk. Right there. On. The. Sidewalk. I died a little that day.
They need this sign at the farmer's market. Obvs.
For all of our accidents, things are going well. Some days we are totally accident free. I get really excited and think this is the beginning of the end of pantie rinsing, and then there is a mishap. We will get there at some point. You can't rush greatness. Or phantom poops.

Update: Last night Lady Baby had phantom poops all. night. long. I feel like I lived through sleep deprivation torture. I am thinking about renting her to the CIA or Homeland Security. She could rock some interrogation.


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