Bidet Jones

Wednesday May 4, 2011

No. of Wees in Potty:  7 (v v good);  No. of Poos in Potty:  2 (v good, albeit v disgusting);  No. of Accidents:  none (excellent);  No. of Daytime Nappies used: 0 (Exemplary); No. of alcohol units consumed: 6 (It is my holiday after all).

Have got to say that don’t quite understand all this hulaballoo about potty training.  Is all v simple really.  Granted, first attempts weren’t great, and several family-sized bags of gummy bears were used up in effort to get Boy to acquiesce - but now is all plain sailing.  Realised that natural state for children is to be allowed to roam free, naked,  satiating their innate curiosity, untethered by Western social norms and ideals. Man thinks that success is solely down to our being in sunny, hot climate, staying in large open-plan one-storey villa, but suspect he is jealous of my parental brilliance. 

Shall continue this brilliance once am home in cold miserable London, in pokey damp house with 374 stairs, and he will see that am clearly natural mother.  Have remained relaxed and unruffled throughout, which is now my new parenting mantra.  Shall no longer get stressed about anything, instead shall remain calm and unfazed, and emit earth mother vibes to my long-haired, un-shod offspring. (Perhaps should rename them also?  River and Flower?)

Tuesday  May 10, 2011

No. of Wees in Potty:  O (not v good);  No. of Poos in Potty:  0 (also not v. g.);  No of Daytime Nappies used:  3 (not v. g., but in plane, so forgiveable); No. of Accidents: 1 (excellent);  No. of alcohol units consumed: 3 (stress-related).

Exhausted.  NEVER going to hot sunny Florida again.  NEVER buying Boy his own airplane seat again.  In fact NEVER going anywhere beyond M25 with children again.  Girl “slept” on plane sprawled across me, Boy “slept” on floor, bitch hostesses ignored me after my 4^th mini-bottle of chardonnay and bastarding infant behind me screamed for entire flight. Hardly surprising however, as his mother looked like v stressed skinny type who gets ruffled over smallest thing.  Could see her looking at me with envy as I coaxed 12kg Girl into her sling and staggered off the plane.  Cannot believe have only realised womb-like benefits of sling. (Note to self to buy a bigger one, which allows Girl to breathe freely.)

Good vibes continue to have profound effect on behaviour of Boy.  He is sweet, thoughtful and, despite wearing a nappy on flight, now fully potty trained.  I am excellent mother.  Have I said that already?   Arrived home and first thing he said was “Need wee-wee Mummy”.  Not his fault that took so long to find potty (in garden, filled with slugs and rainwater) that he pissed on the floor as soon as I took his nappy off.  Gave him treat anyway because don’t want to discourage him.  And anyway, we Earth Mother types don’t want our children to feel like performing dogs.  He should have a treat if he wants one. 

After 4 hour nap, dragged walked both kids to the shops.  (Note to self to get to Farmers Market on the weekend, as need to stock up on organic fruit and veg.  Also to the independent fishmongers. Ridiculously expensive – but what price purity? Had forgotten that fish-fingers take twice as long as you think to cook them.  Told Boy that gooey bit in middle was dip. It worked.) Met Smug Neighbour on the way, with her perfect hair and perfect nails, and her three perfect children, all decked out in bows and ribbons and looking like they’d just stepped off The Endeavour.  “How was the holiday?  And the flight – stressful?” she asked, all full of faux-concern.  Told her that in fact all was fantastic, I don’t understand how anyone could ever fly in cattle class (is true, I don’t understand it.  Which doesn’t mean I don’t do it), and that Boy is no longer wearing a nappy and all is fantastic.  Perhaps I said “fantastic” too many times.  Reassured self that while she might have class, breeding, and perfect hair/skin combo, we Earth Mothers glow within. 

Wednesday May 11, 2011

No. of Wees in Potty:  2 (good);  No. of Poos in Potty:  0 (hmmmm); No. of Accidents: 1  (v good, although quite major accident); No of Daytime Nappies used:  0 (excellent); No. of alcohol units consumed: 0 (beatific); Glasses of Organic Elderflower consumed: 9 (No. of own trips to toilet: many)

Usual afternoon jaunt to the park.  Used to think of this as time-killing exercise, but now see it for maternal-bonding session which it is.  Can now see the beauty in even the tiniest of the Universe’s magnificent creations.  Must buy stone Buddha for garden, and put beads and bits of food on it, in manner of fragrant, waif-like Thai maiden, to give thanks for all these wonders.  Strangely, Boy refusing to use potty before we left.  He didn’t drink much of his organic pressed elderflower, so likely just didn’t need to go.  Offered him treat of 100% natural sesame seed bar – which, v unlike him, he spat out after only one bite.

Things started to go a bit awry just at the point of no return. Boy kept saying “need a wee, need a wee”, but when I asked him if he really needed a wee, he just looked confused and didn’t say anything.  As we have unbelievable parent-child bond, and he now tells me everything, I trusted him.  Where are you without trust? Still, tried to quicken pace towards park cafe, just in case.  Halfway there he lay down on ground and started crying “need a poo need a poo.”  Aha!  Had cleverly packed potty under pram in case such situation arose.  Clever and prepared. But buggering fuck if I hadn’t put it under the double buggy, and then took the single one instead.  By now Boy was upright again, and on his tippy toes, looking very strange.  Then he started to hop from one foot to the other.  So I whipped off his shorts and put his emergency nappy on him.  He went ballistic.  “NO-NAPPY-NO-NAPPY-NO-NAPPY” and, for the first time in his life, managed to pull down his own shorts and whip off the nappy, which he threw into a puddle.  Left it there (was somewhat ruffled by now), yanked up Boy’s shorts, plonked him, wriggling and weeping, onto the buggy board, and pegged it for the cafe. Two minutes into sprint Boy stopped crying, looked relaxed again, and announced “no poo-poo.”  Wish he’d make up his mind. Stopped for breather (note to self to start Yoga - again) at which point he stood up and stared at his sodden shorts, then gleefully launched himself at a passing dog, while a turd bigger than his head rolled down his leg.   I nodded at the dog-owner and both of us ignored the large human poo at my feet.

On the plus side, Boy clearly v self aware and accident could have happened to anybody. (Under the age of 3 that is).

Rest of day largely smooth potty-training sailing, helped perhaps by decision to abandon park jaunt and come home to potty and semi-naked frolicking in garden instead.  (By Boy.  I refrained, out of consideration to neighbours.)

Friday May 13, 2011

No. of Wee wee’s in Potty:  3 (v v good);  No. of Poos in Potty:  0 (not v.g.); No. of Accidents:  1 (traumatic);  No. of Daytime Nappies used:  1 (urgent and unavoidable); No. of alcohol units consumed: 0 (yet).

Starting to lose will to live a bit.  Found self loitering about on Mumsnet, which is never a good sign.  Just need to awaken inner Earth Mother, converse with Universe, and tap into earlier karma,  and all will be fine again. 

Set-back occurred on daily park visit.  Starting to hate the park.   Sniffing all those flowers giving me hay fever.  And dog shit everywhere.  Tho’ clearly am in no position to pass judgment on random scatterings of faeces, particularly after today’s  outing.  Was so well prepared.  Potty? Tick.  Spare pants?  Tick.  Wipes, plastic bags, spare shorts? Tick tick tick.  Food for Girl, money in purse for ice-cream for Boy?  Tick tick, and off we go.

Didn’t in fact set off until mid afternoon, due to bitchingbastarding jetlag.  (Will we ever sleep normally again?).  Had two wee-wee stops en route – excellent (tho perhaps not so much for passers by, or dog who stopped for a sniff) and then to park cafe.  Plan had been to sit and feed both kids inside, then give Boy treat of ice-cream while allowing him to roam free (keeping careful, but distant, watch over him, in manner of care-free parenting).  Did not account for usual tantrum in face of ice-cream counter but decided to embrace Earth Mother Go With The Flow attitude (while reminding self that is not rewarding him for bad behaviour, rather respecting his choices.) He disappeared outside just as I got Girl settled, so up we leapt, and decamped to great outdoors.  Was fine for a short while, until he disappeared from view into smells-of-piss and full-of-dodgy-old-men bandstand, so decamped again, also into bandstand.  Squatted on floor – uuugh – while feeding Girl – who was too busy whipping around to watch her brother to eat anything. 

Then crisis hit. That tippy-toe dance again, and plaintive wailing about a poo-poo. Acted with a speed and resolve that Earth Mothers everywhere would be proud of (clearly is result of lentils and organic foods now eating), picking up Girl, food, Boy, scooter and legging it to cafe, with pram in tow.  Felt like Moses parting the Red Sea as entered cafe – people, tables and chairs spontaneously moved out of way – only slight delay was trying to get self and all bastarding paraphernalia into toilet cubicle.  By time I turned around, Boy was unravelling toilet roll, ignoring his soaking trousers;  yanked them down, and large poo rolled out of pants, still warm, INTO MY HANDS.  Yelled at Boy, then at Girl – who was smirking, and thus complicit – and then at Universe, Goddesses, Earth Mother, and Karma.  Fucking Karma got her own back by causing replacement pants and shorts to have disappeared somewhere en route, and so no choice but to dress Boy in one  of Girl’s nappies (“too tight Mummy, can’t breathe”). 

Stormed into shops on way home and bought two bottles of chardonnay, large packet of Kettle Chips, Family Pizza (shag the organics) and bumper pack of Size 6 nappies. 

Saturday May 14, 2011 (1am)

No. of Wee wee’s in Potty:  0;  No. of Poos in Potty:  0; No. of Accidents: 0;   No. of Daytime Nappies used:  4;  No. of alcohol units consumed: 13.

Mrghgh. Boy can pttytrne himself. Earthmothrarse.  Shchhhhhhhhraghghgl.