A Touch Of Class: Real Talk About Potty Training

The moment you’ve been waiting for. A toddler potty training update! I know, I know. We do everything here with a touch of class!

A Touch of Class.

I didn’t intend to talk much about potty training on my blog. I don’t intend to talk much about potty training on my blog. Considering that I come from one of the most vulgar families on the planet and that I am, in fact, totally, secretly one of them, I like to show a bit of restraint, a bit of class. Classy is sexy. And it makes people trust you more. I was actually called out in a good way once for being well-behaved and non-political and non-confrontational on twitter. I have 1,010 followers and I’ve done nothing special to get them. Having class is cool. It gets you followers. You’d just laugh if you knew that it didn’t always come easily. I don’t talk much about potty training on Facebook. Maybe a bit on twitter with like-minded folks.

But my blog is my place to tell you that I’VE BEEN IN POTTY TRAINING MODE FOR A LONG TIME!

My blog shows less restraint, less class. I like that about my blog. You should know that I’ve been talking about and cleaning up urine for A LONG TIME! And that it takes longer than three days, which I knew. However if you’re a believer or want to be a believer that potty training takes only three days, it can if your child is ready. In our case, we had a solid click after six days. She is pretty on the ball. However, if we go away or let down our guard, accidents happen.

Constant vigilance is still required. These are not fun times. I imagine it all gets easier, as everything does, but we’re still in the hard time. It has already gotten so much easier than last week, that first week with Cassidy at work and me alone with Scarlet. I was afraid to leave the house with her, still maneuvering the world of mini car toilets and pull-ups and training pants and signals and wording. It sucked a lot.

It was like having a newborn all over again. A touch of class, indeed.

I was afraid to go in public and worried I didn’t have the right clothes, gear, diaper bag items and more. It was just like having a newborn again. I was just as scared, unsure and insecure. This is just a reflection of me, and not anyone else. Not even Scarlet, my dear girl, who just stayed dry through 2-3 hours of heavy Target shopping action. Bless her for staying dry in Target – what a feat that can’t be beat. It’s all uphill from here.

So naturally, when life hands us lemons and urine on the floor and an intense fear of going out in public, we make lemonade. She gets creative and silly. I photograph her.

My friend Rachel and I always reference “Ramona The Pest” when talking about curls. Did you ever read that? Ramona gets in trouble for pulling her friend Susan’s perfect “Boing Boing” curls. It was a childhood memory that stuck with me. Scarlet sometimes has perfect “Boing Boing” curls:

These are worthless, leak-encouraging boys’ training pants. She has a cute butt in them even if I’ll never use them again.

An empty ViewMaster provides hours of entertainment.

That Scarlet. She’s a classy girl.

She uses the big kid (adult) toilet. She pairs fancy shoes with a t-shirt and underwear. And, she washes her hands exquisitely. She uses napkins. I can stand with her on the sidewalk of Target and she doesn’t run into the road. Plus, she doesn’t use swear words despite hearing them often. She laughs at farting and burping, which is cool. She’s two. I’m 31 and I still do that regularly. She throws garbage in the garbage. She says, “Excuse me,” “Please,” And “Thank you.” Then, she tries to open doors for us, although it doesn’t always work. She pushes her own shopping cart and fills it with berries.

And, she always laughs at my jokes and asks me if I’m happy, mad, sad, etc. Happy is always her end goal answer. When I pick her up, she screams loudly to the whole street, the whole town, “I’m hugging Mama!” Like she’s really proud of that fact.

That’s my Scarlet. She’s been helping me maneuver the hard parts of life for 2.2 years. Now that is the true meaning of class.