As a parent, I tend to think each step is going to be a little bit easier. I find myself being wrong time and time again. For instance, I entertained the thought of Early Intervention to assist John McRae with his language development and phonics skills. I was so sure that he'd never speak a full sentence. Well now, he never shuts up. It's like one day he spouted out a sentence and he hasn't quit talking yet, even during sleeping hours. We've swapped roles these days, too. The table turned from me constantly asking him, "What's that, John McRae?" to him asking me, "What's that, Mama?" I guess he figures it is payback for me asking him all of those redundant questions for over a year when he knew the obvious answer, but was too occupied with his own interests to actually speak the answer to me. He's certainly a lot of fun these days, though. Daniel and I are amazed at the things that come out of his mouth, especially when it is coin change. The kid must have some sort of vitamin deficiency. Then, there is potty training. I thought he'd never agree to using the potty. I even told him that I was not going to support his diaper habit past age 15 without some form of medical condition. He was very adamant that he was not going to use the potty, even if he got to go see the animals. Then, one evening he just decided to go in the pasture...and he hasn't quit yet. Now, he's even doing #2 in the potty. Now this is one parenting step that I secretly (kind of, or maybe I was a little vocal about it) dreaded. While there was the peer pressure of my kid being the only one that didn't use the pot, I did not feel that I'd ever be ready to fool with the aggravations and inconveniences of it. That is just a purely honest, horrible mother statement. Yesterday, it proved to be true. We were in Petco and I saw him kinda tugging at himself so we ran to the bathroom just in time for him to touch every disgusting thing in there and rub his scratched up knee on the side of the toilet into something that looked to be poop. OMGosh, I always knew public restrooms were germ festivals, but until I had a potty-training toddler, I never really had to worry about any of that nasty funk ending up in my mouth or in the mouths of people I love. Washed hands and hand sanitizer on the legs later, we were back to the snakes. (Insert my MIL wanting to shake me at this point because I'm freaking out about the poop in scratch scenario, and the mental image of her rubbing the sanitizer onto JMc's legs. Ha Ha - Love you, Grammaw!) Rock on about an hour when MIL and I were in town doing all of the things that make John McRae happy when he said, "I gotta pee pee." So, I put the gas cap back on the car (No, he does not enjoy watching me pump gas, but we had been to see the animals and to eat rice) and headed to the vacant, most secluded section of SAM'S parking lot to let him do his business. The "I'm almost done" probably should have been an indication that I was too late, but I was certainly reassured of it when I started to unbuckle him and get him out of his car seat to find wet pants, wet car seat, and a smirking kid. After telling him, "accidents happen, every day" (sang in the tune of Elmo in my head) and telling him he's doing a great job, I blotted him and his seat with wipes and then took a case off of a pillow to put over his car seat. Ready, set, go! We were on the road again. Fun times, to say the least, but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
XOXO,
Stacy :)
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