I’m In Waste Management and Sanitation Control
I often joke that I’m in waste management. On the kinder less disgusting side, I’m the recycleables schlepper, the playroom toy drawer cleaner outer, and the seasonal wardrobe sifter through-er. I have all say in what’s good and bad in the fridge and the pantry as I do all the cooking. And yes I’ll scold you if you don’t recycle that bottle.
On the less glamorous side, I am also the diaper changer and the cat-box cleaner. I understand that in order to have beasties and babies to love, you have to tolerate and not complain about the circumstances that bring your nose to the direct vicinity of other beings’ poop. But I can also tell you that my patience with all of this is wearing thin these days.
Seems Miss Fiona decided to take a hiatus from her potty “training” (aka regressed) after her third birthday. She will pee all day at daycare. She’ll perch her little butt on all public toilets including the ones at the library, YMCA, and grocery store. But when she comes homes, there’s something about she and I and our relationship that she’s reticent to let go of. It’s a Baby/Big Girl issue and it’s all hers.
In a classic case of projection, she’s constantly accusing her brother of calling her a baby. Except he doesn’t. So she’s stuck straddling the baby/toddler line trying to live the benefits of both. Until last night when I got mad because she peed on the rug right next to the potty while I was sitting there. And after she stopped crying from the swat on the bum, I believe she was relieved I’d drawn the line. They always want to know where that daggone line is. No piddling on Mommy’s Rug! Then last week? She pooed in the bathtub. Sigh.
And in the cat-box realm, we have that old outdoors cat who’s been rehabilitated and I’m trying to get her to use the cat box I want her to use. Except that means in the meantime I’ve had a cat box awkwardly stuck in the middle of everything and the other cats zealously tossing the litter every which way. Sigh. Twitch. Sigh. It’s a lot of hard work with multiple boxes and diaper pails and I commend anyone who has more than one bum to change within a day. I am doing the best I can but I can’t say I ever aspired to be a sanitation expert. That just came with the Mom job.
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There comes a time when you have to draw a line in the sand and give them the death stare. Put Anna in panties and when she peed and it went down her leg into her beloved red sneakers, boom! Game over.
I tried it a month ago or so and she peed ten times in her pants and I knew she just wasn’t ready. I think she’s just about there here at home. Scooted her butt up on the potty without any stool or extra seat twice this week. She’s one of those that it has to be her idea. I know you are wishing me luck Carm!
I am indeed. Diapers are not my idea of fun. 🙁
I did enjoy the image of the floating poop. Gross but funny.
Three boys, two of which did not think going on the potty was a good idea at all, means I so get what you are saying. They say that those memories fade, but I can still see some of them clearly, including having to give my child medication for a year because he was so stubborn about going that he caused himself quite the situation. Finally, after a year of terrible tasting meds, he begged to stop taking them and promised that he would go willingly. It’s amazing how much we have to change to raise these little miracles. You can do this!
I’ve heard many tales of constipation in the little guys Karen. Comes down to, “If you tell me to do it then I’m not gonna do it.” How to pull ourselves out of their equations just enough. It’ll be soon. She’s let me do it myself girl now.