Rebecca Fletcher from ‘Margot Tries The Good Life’ quips about her experiences with the dreaded… Potty Training.
“So the time had come to “take the bull by its horns” as they say – that moment which almost every parent I’ve ever met, dreads more than any other. Potty training.
How had it come around so quickly? It seemed like it was only yesterday that I was cradling Poppy in my arms, listening for her first words, waiting for her to take that momentous first waddle from the sofa. Now, our 2.5 year old little bundle of dynamite, would be starting preschool and cajoled by my own mother (“What better time is there for potty training than the summer?!”), I accepted that perhaps Poppy was ready for this next life changing milestone, even if I was not. There’s nothing plain sailing about potty training and I will hold my hand up and admit that I’d been trying to put off the inevitable, in the hopes that Poppy would just magically fast forward to wearing pants without any of the accidents.
Somehow, I remember potty training my eldest Primrose with rose tinted glasses. I suppose I’ve had a couple of years to erase the trauma from my memory. However, Primrose was a textbook case. She did exactly all the things that Gina Ford’s “Potty Training in 1 week” said she would. She’d decided she hated nappies and that was the end of them. How I curse myself now for the mummy smugness I felt at the time! My comeuppance had definitely arrived. Rather unsurprisingly, Poppy was a completely different kettle of fish. Too busy to care about going to the loo, it was obvious from the outset that sitting on the potty was an utter inconvenience to her normal routine of running round the garden chasing the dog, making “mud puddles” alongside pretending that she was the head of a plastic horse stable yard. The first few days were spent following Poppy around trying to anticipate her every move and sit her on the potty before the inevitable wail and puddle on the floor. Then I tried the ‘let her run round naked in the garden’ technique until it started pouring with rain. No use. So I bit the bullet and through everything I could at the situation. With a bubblegum pink Peppa Pig ‘throne’ permanently installed in the kitchen (wipe clean floors, wipe clean floors….my newest mantra), pretty poodle pants in a variety of colours chosen by the big girl herself, a marathon session at the supermarket bulk buying kitchen roll, antibac spray, more baby wipes than you could ever need and some special “I’ve done a wee in the potty” stickers and sweeties…….and we were ready for #pottytraining-take 4. I’d even spent a few days reading Tony Ross’ brilliant loo literature to me “I Want My Potty” to the newly crowned Potty Queen (and yes I did make a crown with elder daughter Primrose, especially for the occasion). I was as prepared as I was ever going to be at this stage. Small daughter’s hand in mine and a pink pot in the other, we even braved a child’s birthday party. There, we stumbled upon some other kindred spirits – gifts in one hand, potties in the other. I realised Poppy and I were not alone. With children happily playing and mummies with glasses of Pimms in hand, we laid our souls bare and swapped potty stories. One lovely lady even rescued me from a slightly fractious hostess when Poppy, in the full throes of pass the parcel, decided to have a little wee on the carpet with “We’ve all been there. No one is still in nappies in their teens and hopefully they won’t be wetting themselves unless they’ve had one too many shandies!” I could have kissed her at that point as my stress levels were reaching critical, dealing with a wailing wet Poppy and scrubbing the carpet with stain remover in the hopes that the hostess might take pity on me.
And then….just when I thought that the accidents would never be over and that there wasn’t enough gin in the world to cope with the trauma of stepping into a puddle of pee barefoot yet again, suddenly, Poppy got it! The game changer? The loo. She didn’t want the Peppa Pig diamante encrusted potty she’d chosen or the small white one OR the clip on seat on the loo. She just wanted to be able to sit on the real loo seat and do it all herself – no fuss, no trumpet fanfare and no wailing of “I want my potty”. The clever little pumpkin wanted to have the bathroom all to herself to just get on with it and just like that, we were through the worst of it. Poppy emerged the “Queen of the Loo” – a title she is extremely proud to bear. All that worry, wee and wailing over. My little girl had got it and I was oh so relieved.
Now remind me? How do I train both my girls to allow Mummy to use the bathroom without an audience and remember to replace the loo roll when they’ve finished? There must be a parent handbook on that one somewhere….surely?!”
Don’t forget Country Child are offering the chance to WIN a Lumipotti worth £23.99 – simply email firstname.lastname@example.org to tell us why you should win one for free.