Yes, I know. I’m taking the I-Studio’s lofty, soulful, inspirational theme and throwing it straight into the gutter. Immense apologies, but I can’t help myself.
I have entered that the dreaded world of potty training. All my waking moments seem to be consumed with three things: wees, poos and doing laundry. As much as baby poo seemed to have a magical ability to go EVERYWHERE, it didn’t smell, nor arrive in huge quantities. As costly as nappies might be, they do deal with things quite efficiently. Changing one takes only three minutes. Two, if I’m in a hurry.
But potty training...wow! On Saturday, it took me three hours to get dressed and out the door. During that time, I wiped one small bottom about seventeen times and generated an entire load of a laundry out of miniature Hello Kitty knickers and leggings.
One would think things were finished with that. But, no! Still to go was an al fresco poo on Eton Bridge and one colossal accident in a pair of white tights right by Windsor castle’s royal stone wall. In situations like this one does what one must.
My advice, above all, is to not make eye contact with the hordes of passers-by wearing shocked expressions. Feigned ignorance is your best defence.
It is only at the end of the day that I get some relief as I put my daughter in a nappie for her sleep. For the next eleven hours, I would rely on Pampers to do the job I had been doing. I could put away the portable potty, the baby potty and the many packs of wipes. I would tidy up the multiple books scattered around my bathroom and fold the laundry into strategic stacks, ready for the next day’s onslaught. I would get some sleep.
Until last night.... At 2:30am....A small voice says, ‘Mama, wake! My wee-wee’s coming. Please help.’
Oh no. It seems potty training has made it inappropriate to wee in one’s nappie. How much I wanted to ignore her call. Instead, we troop to the bathroom in the dark. My daughter’s hair is soft against my face. Her hand is small in mine. She puts her arms around me so I can lift her to the potty. Quietly, in the night, she says, ‘I love you SO much, Mama.’
A gift....of the best sort.
Ps. And no, there was no wee for the potty. It was already in her nappie.