We are a diaper-free household. I'm very proud of that. My daughter's got the peeing in her potty chair down like a pro. This Monday, she called from the bathroom where I find her sitting there pointing to something in the chair other than pee; I was beyond elated. That was Monday. That was a fluke.
Without diapers, this only means a lot of laundry. The really dirty kind. The kind I wouldn't air to spare the public.
It is an understatement to say that my daughter is terrified of her own poop. I think we have succeeded in confusing her where to put it. We tell her it's stinky and dirty and we need to throw it away. So, she doesn't want to put it in her big-girl undies nor in her beloved potty chair. Crap, I think, appropriately it seems. So what does she do? She holds it for three days. The result is the crankiest two-year old you've ever seen. Cranky baby = cranky mommy. Her pulling me to the bathroom every half-hour only to be gripped by fear again was driving me up the wall. I've been a ball of nerves, wound up so tight this past week that I couldn't shit either. Estrogen was dripping off the walls and my husband was neck deep in it. So, he decided to launch a fiber intensive. While my daughter napped, I took off to the market so quickly my husband didn't even know his debit card was missing.
Did I take my sweet time. I live for these times alone, which are few and far between, so I drove 35 in a 45 mile per hour zone and turned on the radio.I've been listening to Toot Toot Chugga Chugga Big Red Car on repeat for so long, Celine Dion was starting to sound good. Not that there's anything wrong with Celine. I was gone for 2-1/2 hours.
When I walked through the door, girl was still sleeping. I put the fiber-packed groceries away and as soon as my butt hit the seat of my favorite chair to write this post, she shrieks and sleepily ambles over behind the couch. I knew exactly what was going on and I was about to break all the potty-training rules. I let her be; what's one more tiny mess to add to the laundry? She left a rabbit trail from behind the couch to her potty and I could care less. She screamed and I rubbed her back and let her stand instead of sit on her potty chair while my husband picked up our tracks. After it was all over, I rewarded her with a small toy and we cheered and sang and danced. I was so relieved that she finally let go, I felt like I myself just took a nice, big -