MushBrain

Lilly has been successfully out of diapers for more than 2 weeks now. I feel comfortable saying it: she is potty-trained. For the sake of MushBrain, I wish there had been more to it. But to be completely honest, it was easy. This time. There have been other times . . . not so much.

This time, though, Lilly was ready.

I really hate to say that though. Not because I wish Lilly wasn’t ready, but because I can hear the collective grunts of parents around the world who are trying to potty-train and are sick of hearing miraculous stories of overnight potty-training from parents whose kids “were just ready.” I’ve heard those stories from family, friends, and random strangers. And, boy, have I grunted.

Yeah, they were ready. I get it. That doesn’t help me.

What I found so frustrating was that Lilly has been seemingly “ready” for a long time. She showed all the signs. She would announce every pee as it happened. She would want to be immediately changed. She wanted a potty. She wanted to sit on it. She wanted to be a “big girl” and was willing to work for stickers and praise. But apparently she was not ready to integrate all of those activities into her daily routine. And that’s where we would get stuck.

She would do great for a day or two, sometimes even a week or two. But then the novelty would wear off and she’d go back to her old ways.

In retrospect what was missing was the excitement — a sense of adventure! It seems ridiculous, but I’m serious. In our previous attempts, Lilly’s successes were more sporadic. An as-we-think-of-it occurrence.

A good day was when she got to the potty more often than not — but not every time. That seemed good. And it was. She just wasn’t potty trained. She just  . . . wasn’t ready.

Now, though, we have excitement! We have adventure! Lilly is in panties all the time, which definitely ups the pressure for me. But more importantly, Lilly is 100% on board. She wants to do this. She has a spark about her.

So now when she has to go, she jumps into action. “I gotta go potty!” And she’s off and running. And that’s what gives me the confidence to treat her like she’s already there — to let her walk around the house without diapers, to play on the rug and sit on the couch (even if I insist on a plastic sheet under her). And I think that confidence is contagious. We feed off each other all day and when that moment comes when she announces she has to go . . . we jump into action!

I’m not a sailor, but I’d imagine it’s kind of like sailing. One minute you’re relaxing, taking in the day, the next minute you’re in full action, easing the sheet and swinging the jib starboard. [Yep, everything I know about sailing, I learned from Wedding Crashers.]

One of our first outings after the initial 3-day training period, was a quick run to a nearby store that I knew had a restroom. Seemed like a good trial run.

As is our routine now, Lilly used the potty just before leaving and was often reminded to tell me as soon as she knows she has to go and then hold it. She did great at the store. Didn’t need the potty. We were feeling good.

Normally, at this point in the day I would have offered to take Lilly out to lunch, but decided against it given the potty circumstances. I knew, however, there was not much for me to eat at home so I decided to swing by a drive-thru sandwich shop on the way home to pick up something for me before heading home to make Lilly lunch. I figured a drive-thru would only add mere minutes to our trip.

I pulled up, ordered, pulled up again and paid. I asked Lilly how she was doing. She was good and just chatting away about other stuff as we waited for my sandwich. Then all of sudden: Oh! I gotta go potty!

Action time! I considered my options — there really was only one: get out of this line and into the restaurant restroom. I turned to the window to tell the guy I’d be parking instead, but the window was closed and he was walking away from me. I turned to Lilly to assess the urgency of the situation. Yep, it was urgent.

Just hold it, Lil.

I reached out and knocked on the glass. No guy.

Just keep holding it, sweetie. I’ll get you to the potty.

I knocked harder. No guy.

Are you still holding it?

Yes.

Now, I lurched my pregnant body out my car window and started banging on the window with both hands. Finally the guy noticed the crazy woman at his window and ever-so-cautiously (read: too damn slowly) approached. I screamed that we have to go potty and I’ll pick it up inside, then tore off into a parking space.

I jumped out of the car.

Shoot! The windows are down! Oh well, it’ll just be a few minutes.

I ran around to the passenger side to get Lilly out and planned to pick up my purse from that side. I scrambled to open Lilly’s trillion car seat buckles, then noticed her feet.

Shoot! She pulled her shoes off! Ugh, we don’t need them. No! Public restroom – we need them!

I rushed to put her shoes back on reminding her constantly to keep holding it. I left her unbuckled in her seat while I opened the front door to get my bag and then noticed my wallet was still out. I grabbed it to put in my bag and all my cash falls out.

Leave it! No, I can’t! The windows are open! Stuff the money anywhere! Argh! What the hell is a jib anyway?!

Finally, I got my money stowed in pockets, my wallet in my bag, Lilly’s shoes on, grabbed her out of the seat and started sprinting to the restroom, promising Lilly I only needed a few more seconds.

When we finally got Lilly to the potty and she did her thing, her pants were completely dry. I was so proud I had tears in my eyes. Lilly announced, “You’re so proud of me, Mommy! And I’m so proud of me!” I agreed 100% and the two of us were just giggling as the adrenalin and panic wore off in the restroom. God, I love that kid!

So that’s what I mean about excitement and adventure. We didn’t have that before. Now, it’s just life.