Huh.

A few months ago it dawned on me that while I spent a lot of time talking about potty training, I didn't spend a lot of time actually potty training.  In fact, I really wasn't sure what was involved in potty training, other than some time, some underpants, and me asking Leah every few minutes if she had to go. 

Problem was, I just never had the time that I thought was necessary for training. The weekends were always chock full of plans and outings and parties, and there was nothing more terrifying to me than the thought that I would have to put Leah on 6 different public toilets in the course of a day and pray for her to pee.

So, as in most things parent-related, I lamented and complained about the potty training, or lack thereof, and soaked in the comments that people gave me telling me that it would happen when it happened and I was doing everything right.  There is nothing like a lot of people telling me I'm doing everything right.  Even when I know that I am probably not really doing everything right.

The turning point was when I checked facebook, which I've replaced reading and/or watching any current events publications and/or media with (Egypt what?), and I saw that several people were talking about September pre-school registration.  NOW.  I, of course, am no where near registering Leah for school in September.  I haven't even researched, called, visited, learned the name of one single school for her.  SEPTEMBER?  Really?  NOW?  Gosh, you guys are so on the ball.  It's February!  School?  Hmph.

Anyway, what I did remember is that you can send your child to a cheaper more curriculum-based school if he/she is potty trained, and, I'm nothing if I'm not cheap an advocate for the enrichment of my child's academic opportunities, and this whole 40 paragraphs of intro is basically to say, fortheloveofgod, Dana, get to the point: Leah needed to potty train.  Now. 

Whew. 

So, this past weekend seemed like the best time to do it.  We didn't have to leave the house until late afternoon on Sunday, so, on Saturday morning, I put some underwear and a t shirt on Leah and proceeded to ask her every 5 minutes if she had to pee.

She had one accident on day one, early in the morning.  And that's it.  No accidents.  Dry diapers during nap and in the morning.  An incredibly LARGE number two at around 7 p.m. each night.  HUGE: like she's channeling the butt of a 300 lb. man.  

If I appear to be going fast at this part it's just because I don't want to talk too much about it, for fear that I'll jinx it. 

But, here we are at the end of day 4, and she's still doing really well.  I might even venture to say that she's totally trained.  Right? 

So, I guess that's...over?  Just like that?  I don't really know what I'm going to complain and beat myself up about now, but I am happy that it's not this.

Dirty Bit

Two nights ago, Leah colored* in the lines.**  It wasn't the first time she ever did that; she had colored in the lines a few months ago at Uncle Michael and Aunt Cheryl's house, but that appeared to be a fluke.  Two nights ago, she surely and truly colored in the lines.  I was so excited for her, as was she, that we took a picture of the coloring and sent it to very close family members.  People who would understand just how important and happy we were that she had colored in the lines.

My sister was not very happy with the picture she received of Leah's coloring in the lines...she thought it was inappropriate.  Perhaps that's because it took her a long time to learn to color in the lines and she's jealous of Leah.  Maybe she doesn't even color in the lines yet.  Who knows.

Last night, Leah decided she wanted to color again, and, sure enough, she did it in the lines!  This coloring was way more impressive than the first, and we were both surprised by how large a coloring she had been able to do in the lines.  I explained that when one colors, you never know what it's going to look like until it's complete.

Leah's grandmother wants to give her a dollar for every time she colors in the lines, but if Leah turns into someone who colors in the lines as often as her father, her grandmother is going to be a poor lady very soon.

As you know, we've been waiting for Leah to color in the lines for a while now and feel that these two occurrences are positive stepping stones to a life filled with in-line colorings.  We explained to Leah that Mommy colors in the lines; Daddy colors in the lines; many of her friends color in the lines.

I'm really proud of her for taking the initiative to attempt coloring in the lines and hope that this continues. 

Good job, Leah!




* poop
**potty

Leah still wears diapers.

There.  I said it.

Potty training is pretty non-existant.

I could beat myself up and say that if I was a stay-at-home-mom I would have potty trained her by now, but I'm not going to do that.  Kids whose parents work eventually stop wearing diapers! 

I'm ok with her not being trained; some people complain about how much they hate it, but it doesn't bother me that much.  I don't have to keep a potty in the car for emergencies; I don't have to find the restroom in every single facility we visit; I don't mind the cost of diapers.  (Because I sleep on a bed of dollar bills.  No, really because they're not that expensive.)

We've always raised Leah by following her lead on what she needs.  By stepping back and paying attention, I've been able to figure out what she's saying, thinking, feeling. 

I bought her a potty before she turned one, because I thought that I could coax her into training early.  But, I should have known better.  She'll do it when she's ready.  

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Diaper Days

I'm sure after Thursday's post, some of you were horrified:  "What?!  Diapers?! She still needs to buy diapers?!"

Yes.  Yeeeeeesssssss.  It is with great sadness and despair that I tell you all, we are still wearing diapers.   Actively.  Not sometimes.  Not occassionally.  Always.

That doesn't mean that she's not also using the potty.  She is.  Sometimes 2-3 times a day.  But, not enough to warrant getting rid of the diapes.  Underwear doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell of staying dry, and I caught her trying to clean up an accident she had in her underpants without me knowing, which means she was embarassed/shamed/upset/pick one/whatever, which is not the feeling we want to harbor in the house about accidents.  So, I stopped asking her if she wants to wear underpants...because I don't want to spend my nights laundering them.

I know the training will come eventually, and we'll look back on our potty-training trials and tribulations and laugh (probably not laugh, more like cry) but it doesn't mean that these days, I can't fall to my knees, throw my hands up to the sky and sob dramatically,

"Why me?!  Oh god, whhhyyyyy????  For the love of all that is good and holy, have I not suffered enough?  Does the world just hate me?????????!!!!!!!!!!!!  Little old me???!!!!!"

A little too dramatic?  I'm sorry; it's been a long week.

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Life, in list form

1) We are moving right along w/r/t potty training. Over the weekend we had a couple of very good days, so underpants were purchased. And then Tuesday was not a good day, and so now three pairs of Tinkerbell underpants are sadly sitting on top of the laundry pile. We are firmly in that “must have diapers, pull ups, underpants, wipes, and toilet paper ready at every given moment stage.” This is not really a fun stage, huh?

2) We are gearing up for a trip to Myrtle Beach. Greg’s parents live there so we're going for a visit. Traveling makes me nervous to begin with, and traveling with a toddler makes me psychopathic. Even though we are not vacationing in the Congo, I have this feeling that if I forget to pack something very important there is no way we will be able to get it once we are at our destination. Which is bananas, I know, but I can’t help it. As a result I have made 14 lists of things that I need to bring. My lists of necessary items take up more room than said items.

3) Someone needs to tell my face that it’s not perched upon the neck of a 14 year old. Adult acne, like potty training, is not a fun stage.

4) I have two weddings to attend this weekend. Which means that I will be spending more time in Spanx than I really prefer to. This also means that at some point I must get thee to a pedicurist.

5) I don't know what happened to the layout on the blog.  Apparently, it's disappeared.  Seeing as it took me approximately 3 months to get the former layout on the blog, I don't think that you should hold your breath that I'll be able to get a new one on here post haste.  Hope you like green.
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Houston We Have Touchdown

The face of a girl who just entered the bathroom on her own, dropped trou, and took her first tinkle on the potty.

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Potty Time

I am looking into some classes for Leah to attend in the Fall.  One is a preschool and the other is a dance class.  There's a Creative Movement class at a school in town that looks like something Leah would really enjoy.  The class is on Saturday morning and it begins in the Fall. 

There is one caveat, though.  Only potty trained children are invited to particpate.

And we are not potty trained.  At all.  No where near it. 

There's interest in the potty, yes, very much so.  A month or so ago I posted this picture, which demonstrates a marked interest in both peeing and eating, simutaneously.

And then we have this, which shows an interest in potty-ing in whatever room has the action.  Sometimes you miss good conversation if you're confined to a bathroom, and what's so great about potties is that they are mobile.  So, why not bring your potty to the kitchen and do your business there, while also listening to mommy's phone conversation, making sure the dog doesn't eat your dinner, and watching Barney too?! 

GENIUS!

Then there was this.

Yes, I know it's dark, but that's because Leah just HAD to sit on the toilet during a black out.  Nothing came out, mind you, and even if it did, we couldn't observe it, which is a Very Big Part of potty training I've come to realize:  The Observation Period which comes before the highly anticipated Flushing Period. 

Anyway, this picture = more interest.

But with all this potty-interest, all we've really got is a lot of talk, not a lot of action.

I don't know at what age I potty trained, and I doubt I'll ever find out.  There is photo documentation of some potty-ing at around age 1, however, as we've come to realize, that could just mean that I, too, liked to sit on the pot.