It's not what you think....there are no fabulous stories of chocolate martinis and hard bodied men holding back my waist length chi straightened blond locks while he looks lovingly at my short skirted bottom.
Oh, if only....
This bowing in reverence has everything to do with how freaking hard it can be to potty train another human being. I know what you are thinking, the mighty Olivia is only 2 years 4 months, why is she having a kitten? Sure, in China and lots of other places in the world kids are trained by this age but hey we live in slackerville...they won't go to 3rd grade in diapers right? Well, not riding the normal school bus they won't. But she started it, I swear she did. I'm merely an innocent pawn in her grand scheme to drive me to the nearest psychotherapist seeking chemical intervention.
Setting The Stage...
Often, we'd be at the supermarket or fabric store (I know, I know another problem for another day) and she'd be in the cart pointing to her diaper and say "Mama, pee pee...diaper." And then she'd look up at me with those amazing doe eyes of hers with urgent written all over. We'd scuttle into the public bathroom and she would reluctantly sit on the potty never producing 1 ounce. Not to be discouraged, I started gently encouraging her to try at home. Also met with luke warm reception and a minutia of actual production. Still, I would not be deterred, since she started it! "She's so smart", I told myself with an air of Mommy snobbery. This is the part where I'll be getting the kick in the ass for the air of superciliousness, it's coming up.
Then one day she found her panties in her drawer and asked to wear them. (It was something like "Elmo panties, help....on." Which is Olivia speak for "Mama, could you please help me put these on? Oh great, sure, let's just go potty and you can wear the Elmo panties, I responded. Off we trot to the bathroom and darn it if she doesn't completely flip out at the thought of sitting on the potty, complete with crocodile tears and hyperventilation for full effect. I'm befuzzled...she started it. So, I play hardball..."As soon as you pee pee in the potty one time, you get to wear the Elmo panties all you like." Come on, is that not reasonable? Gees, she keeps asking and then weaseling and seriously has not peed in that potty one time. I clearly have no idea if she even really gets what she needs to do in there. She does however fully understand the idea of complicated mental torture in the form of verbal trickery.
So, then it happens....I'm growing weary of this asking for potty and then refusing to even sit on the damn thing about 6 times a day. So, I completely cave and offer her sugar if she pees just one time on the potty after asking me to do it. Apparently she's been taking negotiation 101 from Bush on the side because her heels are dug down deep and she is unapologetic now about wanting those lollipops and Elmo panties while refusing to even try to sit down on ye' old porcelain goddess.
The State Of Affairs As It Is Today
The Elmo panties are untouched by the little buttless wonder...lollipops are collecting dust on top of the fridge and I've told her. "No more potty talk until you mean business, sister." Capishe?
She's gong to be in size 4 diapers forever, I know it.
2 comments:
Good luck with this, I know it's enough to drive a sane woman to the brink of UNSPEAKABLE ACTIVITIES! I know this because we just went through this in our house as well. I did stickers till they were stuck to everything in this house, INCLUDING (I might add) to MY ASS unbeknown-st to ME while we're out in public. Once I finally gave UP and just TOOK AWAY the pull-up's (which I NEVER should've started in the first place, again... another post for another day) & went cold turkey with BIG GIRL UNDERWEAR, THAT IS WHEN a shift took place. I offered 1 chocolate egg for a pee pee, 2 for a poop, through GENIUS advice from my friend Michelle to explain to Ruby that in this world, we ALL make messes & it's OK, but we're ALL responsible for cleaning up those MESSES as well. THAT is when I saw the light at the end of the tunnel.
Trust me when I say that miss Ruby Roo only had to clean up after herself TWICE to realize that she was NOT having any of that again.
Boom, potty trained.
Sure, there was lots of laundry & plenty of moments when I was searching frantically through the house for something stronger than a Tylenol and a shot of limoncello, BUT WE SURVIVED because once I made up my mind NOT to BUDGE, I stuck to it. I think in the end it was me, more than Ruby, who had the hardest time with the wet clothing & the boat loads of laundry that first long weekend, but I'd do it again in a heart beat knowing the results it produced. Fingers crossed for you guys, God speed & PRAYING FOR POTTY MIRACLES! *hugs*
-Us
Oh my. Good luck! Keira has begun to tell me, after the fact, and still insists on sitting on the throne. To do nothing. Blech. She found the "Doh-doh Ups" (Dora pull-ups) in the closet the other day and wants them badly. Like you, I say No Pee, No Doh-doh. Sheesh. I went to school for this???!! ;-)
Post a Comment