I feel like I've deserved today. I had just finished extolling the virtues of my daughter and how receptive she had been as of late with her schooling. Today it was like pulling teeth. Or potty training. Or something infinitely worse that my tired mind cannot conceive of at the moment. To be fair to her, the tantrums were fewer, less intense and shorter, but it was still trying. To make all of this worse, I think there's been a shift in my pregnancy hormones and I my tolerance for any kind of toddler shenanigans is way down.
To put the title of today's entry into context, allow me to "esplain:"
As per my last post, we were visiting with my parents this past weekend. My parents live in a lovely, cottage-like home in the middle of nowhere. I'm not exaggerating, but I am digressing ever so slightly... It's always so nice to have help with the children and to be able to enjoy them without all the work and chores waiting for me in my own home to taunt me. At one point in our visit, we were talking about potty training and I voiced my great disdain for it. I love my children. I don't mind feeding them; I can handle the poopy diapers; discipline is a necessity; the laundry just comes with the territory; but if I could hire someone to come in and potty train them and clean up all the messes and deal with all the setbacks and inconsistencies and, well, crap, that'd be totes awesome. I HATE potty training.
It all came to the forefront today when Quinn came running into the kitchen, pointing to his luscious baby buns and saying, "PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I've always thought it good to encourage use of the potty when they start to recognize they're going to the bathroom in their drawers, so I said to him, "Do you have to go potty?" He sweetly, but in his abrupt way, replied, "Yeah." So I whisked him off to sit on the potty and, you guessed it, nothing happened. This happened three more times in the course of the morning BEFORE he finally pooped in, you guessed it, his diaper.
I had low expectations. He's not even two yet. But this is what I HATE about potty training! It takes so long for them to make the connection and the wait feels like an eternity because you have to wait with them! To hear my mom tell it, you would think it was the easiest thing in the world, "Oh, you just put them on the training potty after their nap in front of a show they like, give them a snack, and SHAZZAM! they've made dookie!!!"
Truthfully, I'm less worried about Quinn's ability to do #2 on the pot and more worried about his ability to get his pee in the potty at all. His poor little noodle is a wee button of a thing and it's incredibly difficult to tuck down in between his chubby legs. I don't know that teaching him to do it standing up would be any easier. Sigh. Just one more reason to hate this loathsome task.
This morning's events all led my train of thought to when I would have to get serious about training Quinn and all the glorious things I'd have on my plate when that time finally arrived. I think I've decided on making a go of it this summer, unless, of course, he miraculously makes the connection before that time. At least in the summer I won't have to juggle Eva's schooling AND a new baby with potty training. This way I'll only have to worry about enjoying quality time with Quinn on the john in between nursings and I'll be able to let him run around pantless in the backyard. Good times.
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