Pardon me for being a bit absentee this week but we’ve been potty training over the last few days. It dawned on me that Jasper will be starting preschool in a few weeks so we need to get down to business. I haven’t been in much of a hurry because this is my baby we’re talking about, and diapers are the last thing I have to prove he’s not a quite a big boy. It’s sad to realize that I am not the mom of a baby anymore, since I have been for almost 14 years (although I did have a blissful period when Arabella was in preschool but then I went crazy and had two more children. But now I’m really done–surgical measures have been taken—so let’s not get technical, OK?)
If you have a child over two I don’t have to tell you about the hell on earth that is potty training. To this day it’s my most hated part of parenting. The endless pairs of wet panties (not to mention clothes); The poop that does not make it into the toilet; the endless cajoling/bribing/threatening (“you’ll get a star/candy/toy every time you go potty in the toilet”, said in the most sing-songy, hyper-enthusiastic voice you posess).
I’m not one of those moms who’s in a contest. I don’t care when my kids walk or talk. They’ll figure it out eventually so what’s the big deal? My mother likes to brag as often as possible about how I could speak in full sentences by the time I was one. Whoop-dee-do. It’s not like that’s ever helped me get a job or good grades (as evidenced by my long and illustrious career as a waitress and a horrendous GPA). So I don’t push my kids to go to the potty before they’re ready. Besides, changing diapers isn’t that big of a deal. It takes maybe 30 seconds. If we had to use rags like in Russia I’d probably think differently. But I’m rather fond of diapers and think they do a good job.
It’s wonderful once the kids are potty-trained, but getting them there? Ugh. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the circles in Dante’s Inferno.
Jasper seems to be grasping the concept of peeing in the toilet just fine (although it’s only been four days so we’re still in the honeymoon phase when you think the child might actually catch on really fast and that this time potty-training will be a breeze.) Pooping, though, is another story altogether.
Now I’m just trying to decide . . . do we dare let him wear underpants at church today? Or does that have “disaster” written all over it?
Stay tuned for part two of “How Many Pairs of Underwear Can I Wash in One Day?”