Potty Training V3.06.01 or the one with poop balls, broken phone and a thong
I thought my job as mother would be fairly challenging in some respects, but would always be worthwhile and meaningful. I was wrong. Well, I was wrong in which respects the challenges would come. This is part of our journey on what I like to call “The Potty Train.”
My toddler is almost three and now runs up to me and announces when she’s got a dirty diaper. Sometimes she’ll sweetly ask me to change her.
Then she runs away.
I have to beg, cajole and plead with her to come back and lie down so I can change her. I have to inform her about diaper rash and remind her she hates it and Mommy doesn’t want that to happen. Sometimes I have to chase her through the house and tickle her into submission.
Today she asked to be changed. I said “okay” and went for supplies. She hid behind my bed. I cajoled and begged. She said “Okay” and hid deeper. I found she had been leaving little poop balls in her wake where they’d escaped the confines of her Pull-Up as she ran through the house and jumped on my bed. (Daddy’s side…it’s ok. SHHHH)
I decided to change my tactic and not give her attention. I said I’d change her if she laid down and then I sat down at my desk to resume writing. This induced a toddler tantrum as she ran to the desk and asked me to change her. Again. I stopped typing –again– and said, “Okay.” She ran away. Again. I began typing – again– and she ran to the desk, knocked the phone to the floor and yelled “Change THAT!”
When, in the past 2 minutes, did she cross from Toddler to Teen???
Eventually she calmed down and I changed her. I had thought that “changing” meant simply removing the old pants, wiping her cute little butt and putting on new pants which would create a smiling, happy and comfortable baby.
What “changing” actually means is removing the old pants, trying to twist into some shape where I can wipe her without getting poodoo on my bed or on me or on her while I wipe her, then either sitting on her and putting her legs through new pants or having her step into new pants while I shake her up and down, thus creating a baby wedgie which makes her giggle and she runs off in her Pampers thong while I think to myself, “That can’t be comfortable.”
Apparently it is.
“Being a mom” encompasses way more aerobic activity than I had originally thought. On the bright side, I should be ready for the cover of Vogue by the time she’s in Kindergarten.
Tags: bring me a vodka, daughters, Elisa Ashley, help me lord, mothers, potty training, preschoolers, sons, toddlers, where's the brownies, why me, working at home