Potty training. A mental and physical challenge that requires uber-human degrees of patience and endurance. Tested to the limits, it demands a seismic shift in perspective, and a complete overhaul of the world as it’s been known. It necessitates tireless concentration, methodical application, and in fairness, it’s quite tough on the toddler too.
I have never been so mentally exhausted since, well, probably I learnt to use the loo myself. But the worst of it is, that the tiny strain of independence my child and I had taken from each other, has now been catapulted back so we are suctioned together like unlikely peas in a pod. From having to hold her as a newborn, to having her sit clinging desperately to my leg as a wobbler, to tentative crawls around me, to exuberant walks away from me, to actually staying in the playroom while I make a cup of tea in the kitchen (such little but such enormous milestones!) we are now back to square one. We are now constantly only a potty distance apart as I chase her round the house like a demented Desperate Housewife asking manically “Do you want to use the potty????” every time she moves. “Step away from the carpet” is my only other speech these days.
I cannot leave the room. Not for a second. The minute I do she wees on the floor. The actual minute. I cannot leave the house. Despite setting her on the loo before leaving, the minute we leave and get into the car she does a wee. The actual minute.
Every time she successfully deposits a wee or a poo in a myriad of receptacles dotted strategically around the house and garden I jump up and down whooping like a hyena, hugging and kissing her, shouting Hooray as if she’d in fact laid a Golden Egg. The Golden Egg of my independence. One less nappy change I surmise … I have a baby with a fully functioning toilet system so some days between the two of them it’s just a constant stream of reeking and rancid wiping. However, now nappies seem so sanitary compared to the steaming puddles on the floor and smelly squidgy pant packages.
We’re 5 days in and are both low on enthusiasm. My Potty Chart is a depressing reminder that there are still more misses than hits. The house reeks of Dettol and wee. But as the man of the great challenge program proclaimed, “I’ve started so I’ll finish.” We shall continue our quest, my daughter and I. And until our independence is reached we shall travel this epic journey together and just hope a Smartie at the end of each success is enough to keep us both going!
Copyright Alana Kirk-Gillham 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Wonderful Women
Last night I laughed until I cried. I wept and screeched like a banshee and hooted and howled. I laughed in a way that only women can make each other laugh. From the belly and from the soul.
It’s so easy to moan. Really it is. Some days I make it an Olympic sport. I moan about the house. I moan about the weather. I moan about money, or lack of. I moan about my children. But today I’m not going to moan. About anything. Not one tiny thing. Because last night two girlfriends gave me a tonic that will set me up for days.
I don’t see them that often, but true friends don’t have to. We can pick up wherever we left off, and we know that should we need each other, we’ll be there. Absolutely. Friendship is a bit like a plant. Sometimes it’s in full bloom, fragrant and bursting with energy. Other times it is dormant and quiet. But it is always alive; living, breathing and growing. Last night we were in full bloom. One has just danced with cancer, but thankfully has now left him stranded on the dancefloor. The other has things in her life that would darken many a lesser person. But these two magnificent women brought only sunshine last night and we laughed and talked till the wee hours. That’s what I love about women. We can be talking about death and the depths of our despairs one minute and be clutching each other in laughter the next. There are no disparities between the two, because as in life, they are inter-linked.
Family is the blood that pulses round our bodies keeping us going, keeping us warm. But friends – good friends – are like the air we breathe – they invigorate us and stop us suffocating on life.
According to the African proverb, women hold up half the sky. Indeed we do. But many women I know hold up half the sky with one hand, and brush a rainbow in the sky with the other. This is a thank you to the wonderful women in my life. To the girls that keep me a girl no matter how old we get, and to the women who are a place I call home.
It’s so easy to moan. Really it is. Some days I make it an Olympic sport. I moan about the house. I moan about the weather. I moan about money, or lack of. I moan about my children. But today I’m not going to moan. About anything. Not one tiny thing. Because last night two girlfriends gave me a tonic that will set me up for days.
I don’t see them that often, but true friends don’t have to. We can pick up wherever we left off, and we know that should we need each other, we’ll be there. Absolutely. Friendship is a bit like a plant. Sometimes it’s in full bloom, fragrant and bursting with energy. Other times it is dormant and quiet. But it is always alive; living, breathing and growing. Last night we were in full bloom. One has just danced with cancer, but thankfully has now left him stranded on the dancefloor. The other has things in her life that would darken many a lesser person. But these two magnificent women brought only sunshine last night and we laughed and talked till the wee hours. That’s what I love about women. We can be talking about death and the depths of our despairs one minute and be clutching each other in laughter the next. There are no disparities between the two, because as in life, they are inter-linked.
Family is the blood that pulses round our bodies keeping us going, keeping us warm. But friends – good friends – are like the air we breathe – they invigorate us and stop us suffocating on life.
According to the African proverb, women hold up half the sky. Indeed we do. But many women I know hold up half the sky with one hand, and brush a rainbow in the sky with the other. This is a thank you to the wonderful women in my life. To the girls that keep me a girl no matter how old we get, and to the women who are a place I call home.
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