I will preface this by saying that until last week happened, I had decided that I was the Kung Fu Kickass Potty Training Mom of All Time Ever in the History of the World. That would be my new title and other moms would come to me with their potty training troubles and I would console them and offer them my expert advice.
Let's rewind to better times...a week and a half ago to be exact. Back in those halcyon days where Clara told me whenever she had to pee or poop. Where she happily sat on toilets with toddler rings, pottys, other people's toilets, and (when outdoors) her travel potty. I had fond (if slightly embarassing) memories of sitting with Clara on a park bench, chatting as she counted flower petals into my hand while simultaneously pooping into her travel potty. Where Clara's piping cries of "I Pooped!" I DID IT!" were followed by high-fives all around and our patented Pee-Pee Dance. Where Clara miraculously and unexpectedly was sleeping through the night without wetting her overnight diaper. Where Clara wore cute Doc McStuffins underpants. These golden days lasted for exactly one month.
Suddenly, and without warning, the poop and pee started hitting the fan. "Mama, I have to poop" was replaced by "Mama, I pooped on couch." "Mama, I pooped on floor." or most ominously: "Mama, I pooped on Mama." I scrambled for a few days - insisting that this was just a setback as Clara peed everywhere - through her underpants and clothes - onto everything. Let me tell you - there is no worse cleanup than getting a fully dressed toddler out of underpants that have been pooped in. It goes everywhere - all over them and sadly, all over you.
So I relented and started putting Clara in Pull-Ups all day long. I couldn't take it anymore. And then the announcements stopped. Forget about telling me anything. The Poop Conversation was over. I was catapulted back to the Dark Ages where poops were only announced by the stink wafting out of the diaper.
It's been a week and a half. Clara will try the potty after putting up a struggle but most of the time I pull down her pants to find that her business is already complete.
I am hoping that this is just a setback. That the novelty of "doing it right" has worn off and Clara simply needs a little break. Or maybe she needs to work poop and pee-pee into her comedy act. Like yesterday, when a routine game of Ring Around the Rosie ended abruptly when Clara announced: "I don't want to fall down, I pooped in my pants!"
I am resigned to waiting as long as I have to reclaim the title of Kung Fu Kickass Potty Training Mom of All Time Ever in the History of the World, or maybe I am just waiting for the time when I can go one full day without discussing another person's bodily functions.