Chad has been on a guy's hunting trip. And because of the level of BUSY we have lived both personally and professionally this fall, I was just not feeling up to the single parenting challenge. I wanted him to have fun. . . I really did - BUT I also wanted a nanny, a chef, a cleaning lady, and a nap.
(Suck it up, momma! It's not about you.)
Anyway - on the very day he left, Mataya decided she would like to be potty trained.
OK - so I know I should have been thrilled, and I was . . . in a way - but this is not my first rodeo, and potty training is WAY more work than diapers. . . at first. . . and I was REALLY wishing for easy.
It all began with her brothers.
I will blame them!
Big brothers, well, they ummm. . . pass gas? fart? toot ;) sometimes.
And Mataya was intrigued by it.
So intrigued that she taught herself to fart.
Oh Yeah! Proud momma moment there. I am holding my darling baby girl when I feel her pushing out a fart (excuse my bluntness, I have been a single mom for about 6 days and I don't have a lot of filter left). She smiles up at me and says proudly, "FART!!!"
I kid you not!
SO fast forward a few days. I am going to the bathroom, under her very close supervision, of course. (Come on. You remember those days. Toddler staring at you while you pee. It's my favorite part of parenting! Or maybe not!) And Mataya says, "Potty!"
To which I respond, "Yes. Mommy is going potty."
She shakes her head NO and repeats, "POTTY!"
"You want to go potty?" I ask.
"YAH!" she says.
So, I remove her diaper and position her tiny self on the toilet. (I don't even have a potty chair yet. She is 20 mo. and I am not ready for this yet)
She looks at me and I get a brainstorm. "Mataya, can you fart?" I ask. I'm thinking maybe she does need to use the facilities.
She grins.
And farts.
And then pees. (again, I'm sorry. I'm just blunt tonight.)
We throw a party - complete with dancing, singing, and high fives!
She refuses her diaper.
I let her cruise around the house naked because, quite frankly, I was tired and didn't want to wrestle her into a diaper.
Half an hour later she says, "POO POO!!!"
I race her naked buns to the nearest toilet thinking... really, this week?!?
And she potties again.
Hmmmm. I finally decide that she just might be on to something.
So for the next four days we barricade ourselves in the house. I let her wear unders. I celebrate her successes. I take her to the toilet as often as she wishes - but never force her to go. I set no timers. Buy no treats. Never once plead for her to please go potty.
She just goes.
In the last week she has only had 3 accidents. And none of them were of the #2 variety, thank you Jesus. (And I mean that thank you very sincerely.)
As the weekend comes to a close, I feel like she has it. We're done with diapers.
How did this happen?!?
You, my precious baby baby, never cease to amaze me.
(On a hilarious note, I was busy one evening, so Sierra took Mataya to the potty. Mataya is too tiny to get onto the toilet by herself, so assistance is a must. "PooPoo!" is what she says when she needs to use the bathroom. She tells Sierra poopoo so Sierra takes her. Well. This time poo poo was really poo poo, and Sierra freaked at the thought of helping Mataya wipe. I hear Sierra screaming. I rush to assist and see Brenna frantically running away from the bathroom. At this point I expect to fond one heck of a mess inside the bathroom. Instead I see a wide-eyed Mataya perched on the toilet looking scared and confused about all the fuss. I walk in. Sierra flees. At that point Mataya says quietly to me, "poopoo?" and motions to the contents of the toilet bowl. I quickly do our customary poopoo cheer and praise her with incredible gusto hoping to override the anxiety her squeamish sisters heaped on her. Apparently it worked, operation poopoo potty seems to be a success. Oh the stories these sisters will tell Miss Mataya's future boyfriends! Life at our house is a constant adventure!)
