As usual, I’ve been quiet from this blog because I’ve been busy with Rainbow Knits and doing my full-time day and night jobs – bringing up the minxes. And concentrating on potty-training Mini Minx. I thought I’d unload a wee blog post on how that’s going before I get stuck back in to posting more regularly again.
The Good: on a whim we sent Mini to bed with no pull-up pants or nappy over a week ago. Right from the off, she’s been dry and clean at night – no accidents at all. Not a single one! Woohoo!
The Bad: at most she only goes 3 – 4 days with no pee accidents during the day. If I forget to remind her to sit on the toilet, she’ll wet herself. She’s only gone to the potty or toilet of her own volition twice. Ever.
The Ugly: despite having the poo bit sorted out on a previous potty-training attempt a year ago, she’s forgotten now, and has poo’d (pood? Poo-ed? I’m going to settle on ‘pooed’) herself Every.Single.Bloody.Day. I find that I’m teetering around on tenterhooks all day, just waiting on her pooing herself. After I clean it up, I can relax a bit. Every time I hear a little fart, I’m frantically asking her, “Do you need a poo?” Every hour, I urge her to sit on the toilet, just in case a poo comes out. I’ve tried to make it sound like fun (“You can make a huuuuuuge splash! Woohoo!”). She’s still not got it. I’m reluctant to make a bigger fuss, and guess I just have to wait till she ‘gets’ it all by herself.
Yesterday was gymnastics night, so we got home at 5.30pm. Normally the minxes are eating their dinner by then (if Midi is indeed still awake), so I’m in a huge rush to get dinner on. Midi is going through a massively helpful phase, so when we got in I left the 3 girls in the hall to take off each others’ shoes and coats while I got the hob and kettle on. Midi noticed that Mini had wet herself and shouted to me that she wanted to sort her out. What harassed mother would say no?! I agreed, gratefully. However, Mini hadn’t pooed herself that day, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that the minute I put the spaghetti in the boiling water and dumped the pancetta in the frying pan, that Helpful Midi wailed down from the bathroom: “She’s stinkin’!! She’s done a big stinky poo in her pants! Ewwwwww!”
“Don’t anyone move a muscle! I’m coming up!” I yelled. I turned the heat down and figured I could get upstairs, clean up, and run back down by the time it was cooked. I warned Maxi not to go in the kitchen Or Else, and raced upstairs. Jeez, it was like they’d had a dirty protest! It was everywhere! Even the wall! Still, at least the Daily Mess was over and done with. Breathing a sigh of relief and feeling the daily tension lift, I quickly wiped Mini, chided her, thanked Midi, washed out clothes, wrang them out, found clean dry clothes, got them on my little octopus, squirted some bleach about strategically, gave the toilet seats a quick wipe and made a mental note to do a full clean later, washed my hands, and raced downstairs. Pasta almost done, pancetta very brown. I started making the quickest carbonara sauce in the world (one egg, grate a ton of Parmesan in it, quick grate of nutmeg and pepper, fork it all together, ready to dump in at the same time as a big jug of frozen peas). Then Foster Cat came in…
Foster Cat looks like he’s lost a little weight because Killer Cat’s been nicking his food when I’m not looking. Today he refused to eat anything and I caught him hacking up slimy hairballs. So when the old boy tells me that he’s hungry NOW, I absolutely won’t do my usual “You’re a cat and cats come below kids in the pecking order – you’ll wait”; he needs fed instantly. So I double-checked the pasta and quickly got his dinner out for him. Phew! Made it! Just in time to add the sauce and peas to the pancetta and pasta. I allowed myself a 2-second smugness at being so organised.
Ha! Fool! Imagine being stupid enough to ever think I have anything under control? Ever? Just as I dumped dinner into one saucepan, ready to mix and serve, Mini came waddling in like a constipated gorilla. “I done a poo. In my bum. It stink. Pooooooooo-eeee! Big poo, Mummy. Yuck-yuck. Help”. Aw, crap… Sure enough, she’d pooed herself for the second time in 15 minutes. And we’re not talking one big poo split over 15 minutes; these were 2 separate, massive, dumps. Evil Old Trout checked the clock first, hoping that The Boss would be in any second and he could deal with it. He was already late. And the elder 2 minxes were at the table, waiting. Damn! Nothing for it but to serve their dinner up in 3 seconds flat, slap it in front of them, all the while reassuring Mini that I wasn’t ignoring her, then race upstairs with her dead-armed in front of me, bicycling her gooey legs, praying that not too many lumps escape before I could hose her down. But escape it definitely did – she fragged both toilet seats, the toilet lid, the flusher, the sink, the bath, the floor and me. (The walls escaped that second onslaught – it was a good day).
I’ve now run out of bleach (doom! disaster!) and think that my constant headaches are not, in fact, from caffeine withdrawal – they’re probably from having to get up close to that terrible stench every day. I love my 2 year old dearly, but I can’t love her poo. And she’s the child who can’t visit a farm without holding onto her nose throughout the trip!
So no, potty training isn’t finished in the Trout Household, yet, and it’s making me very grumpy.