You Can Lead A Toddler To Potty...And Get Them To Go

A few weeks ago I posted about my daughter treating my like a dog. Nothing's changed. She still does. Whenever she wants me to go with her to a different spot in the house she still pats her leg vigorously, all the while saying, "C'mon, Mommy. C'mon".
I think however, things have gone too far now. A few days ago as I was in the kitchen canning cherry preserves, Firstborn entered leading Secondborn by the dog's leash. They were attempting to make laps around the island until I shoed them off. After all, I had a caldron of hot, hot stuff boiling away.
Last night Firstborn led her to bed by way of leash. Now, before I go any further, no, the leash is not attached to her in any way. They each have one end in their grasp. That's all.
This morning while in the kitchen making yogurt, the pair made their way in, by way of leash, of course. Firstborn proudly informed me that he was walking Secondborn like our dog so she would go poo poo in the potty. Of course! Why had I not thought of this while potty training him two years ago? Out of the mouths of babes, right?
They rounded the island a few times and then headed off to the bathroom. And, this is what I heard:
"Okay. Now sit on your potty. Good girl! You've been walked and now it's time to poo poo. Why won't you poo poo? It's time to put your poo poo in your potty."
I was laughing so hard at Firstborn's interesting take on potty training that I thought there might be a potty visit in my near future as well. And, when I thought I couldn't laugh anymore, he came running into the kitchen with his acoustic guitar.
"Mommy! I'm going to make music so she'll go potty!" Alright, kid. Knock yourself out.
And, she did. My sugar boogers worked as a team and conquered the potty. Firstborn playing rousing rounds on his guitar to accompany Secondborn's potty party. Go Team Potty!
I'm still in disbelief that she actually peed on the potty. She had done it a few times before about a month ago, and then stopped completely. I didn't push it. I knew she'd come to it in her own time. And, while Firstborn's method was unorthodox at best, it worked. Maybe I should ask his for his help in getting Secondborn to wear clothing for longer than three minutes.

Job Title: Native Wrangler

Life has done it again and started rolling along pretty fast. That happens from time to time. Unfortunately, I've not been rolling along as well as I normally would. I've been having some tummy yuck for the past three weeks. And, we went out of town as well. So it's been much harder to get back on schedule this time it seems. But, I think this week has finally been the turning point.

The one area I still seem to be having a bit of difficulty with is writing. All three of my blogs seem to have been neglected slightly, and that bothers me greatly. It's not intentional. I've sat down many times to remedy the situation, but either the words don't come, or the natives need wrangling.

The latter tends to be the situation more often than not. And, that's okay. That's my first job above all else. In fact, I list it as my job title on every application I have to fill out. A librarian once gave pause to eye me with suspicion over that.

It's an exhausting job, but it's one I love. It's one I chose willingly and gladly from that very first plus sign on the pee stick. Never in my wildest dreams could I ever imagine loving this job so much. Or, loving someone so much. Sure, everyone tells you all through your pregnancies that you never knew you could love so much. And, you think, "Yes. Yes I do! I'm the one carrying this critter, not you!"

But, you really don't. You just don't. Not until that first moment Firstborn was held up over the operating curtain did I really know what was meant. And, there is not a day that I forget.

And, then all through my second pregnancy I worried over how could I possibly have enough love left to give to my second child. I didn't have that answer until I reached down to pull my daughter out and up to nurse for her very first time. While my midwife and doula tended to the rest of nature's work I felt something swelling deep inside my chest as I watched my newborn watching me. It didn't have a name, because love just didn't seem enough. No, it felt more like an all consuming need to protect, to foster a great independent spirit and wonderment of her brand new world. A pulling of my insides so strong I still felt connected to her even though I had already cut the umbilical cord.There was great hope mixed in. And, there was magic, sparkly and electrifying magic. A magic that only presents itself during the miracle of birth. So, maybe I was wrong. Maybe, that's exactly what love is. At least that's what love of my children means to me.

I have no answers as to how it all works. It just does. Maybe your heart increases in size much like the Grinch's. Again, I don't know. What I do know is there was an immeasurably void in my life before my natives turned it right side up.

So, while I am frequently frustrated that I can't find the time to write and, when I do the flow is gone, that's okay. The words will come when they're ready to. In the meanwhile, I have plenty to keep my busy. Life is like that.

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