Li'l Bit Baby Boutique

I’ve got you babe

By Kyla Henderson

For Jan. 13, 2011

kyla@lilbitbaby.ca

There it was, just where she said it would be. In a small clearing in her room, which was scattered with toys, books and bits and pieces of blocks and a lovely princess tea set, there it sat: a neat as it could be pile of poop. Sigh.

Rewind to five minutes earlier. The monkey is sitting on the potty. She sat there for a good 10 minutes. “Mommy I don’t have to go.” “Okay sweetie, that was a good try. I’m just going to finish what I’m doing and I’ll be in to get you a new diaper.” “Okay Mommy!”

Less than two minutes later I go into her room and she’s holding her hands behind her back and looking down. She mumbles something. “Pardon me sweetie?”

“Mommy I pooped in my room.”

There it was. The sentence hanging in the air, waiting for me to grasp it. My beautiful daughter will be three in less than a month and no, she’s not potty trained. Not even close. And that’s okay. That’s what I keep telling myself that over and over again. To repeat an earlier column on this subject – multiple people have told me not to push, it just happens – like magic. I have to say I’m still waiting for my little bit of Houdini here.

So she already feels bad. I sigh, tell her to go sit on the potty again and we’ll try to poop on the potty next time. I clean it up, calmly. Meanwhile, there’s the exasperated inner me, jumping up and down and ripping all of my hair out. AHHHHHHHH! If I let into that inner frustrated me I would be bald right now.

What is so exasperating is that she is too smart to go on the potty at this point. She knows if she does she will possibly get a combination or all of the following: sticker, yummies (Smarties), a high five, high praise and the option to wear big girl panties. But she would rather continue watching her show (even though the technology of today lets us pause a live Mickey Mouse show) or play with her dolls or colour or do absolutely anything else than sit and go potty.

I have this reoccurring dream that changes up from now and then, but the basis is that she’s an adult and at some big life function, graduation, her wedding, etc., and I’m behind her hefting up her dress, a purse tucked under my arm, checking her bum to see if she needs a change. I of course know this is just a dream for the lone fact that I have grey hair in this dream and I of course, will never have grey hair because I will colour it until the cows come home. Seriously.

The better half tells me to “just relax, it will happen.” He must be in the same club with all those people who tell me it happens like “magic.” Hmmph. I have changed more diapers than him.  I have tried everything and I mean everything. My problem it seems after reading yet another article on the subject, if that the earlier you start the longer it takes. Sure, now someone tells me.

So she’s not potty trained. So what. My monkey can count past 20, knows all her abcs, draw people, knows all her colours and dances a very good jig. She has a heart bigger than she is and a love for singing. She is creative, imaginative and healthy. And she loves me. So what. I’m her mother. If I have to, I will stick a change of pants for her in my purse on her wedding day.