To P or Not to P

I'm trying to get in the habit of blogging. I am failing. There's so much to share. Everyday is different from the previous...everything is always never the same. I wish I could write a book. One day.


So I'll share my latest triumph. Potty training Maribel. Ahh, my sweet girl. We prayed for this girl. Before she was even conceived we wanted her. And she is exactly what we prayed for...and more. She's strong-willed, stubborn, bull-headed, and beautiful. I guess those first three are the same... But really, she's just like me. I can't be mad at her for ruining my Clinique makeup brushes, or drawing on her baby sister with a marker, or punching her brother in the nose, or stripping in public. That's just who she is. Don't get me wrong. She gets her butt whooped. Often. Not all the time, but enough. So, you can imagine that potty training would be quite a challenge. And indeed it was. Here's my story:
When Mari turned two I bought a pretty pink potty. She's my first girl, it HAD TO be pink. I thought I'd buy her some pretty panties, show her the potty and TAH-DAH! She'd be peein' in the toilet. Wrong. Dead wrong. She could care less about the potty. She could care less about having dry, pretty panties. She could care less about my carpet....her carseat....her bed. The girl didn't care. Okay. So we took a break. A long break. I was pregnant with my baby girl and I just didn't want to deal with accidents. So, we put on the pullups again. For a whole year. Now, she's almost 4....in July...that's almost. I hated going to the playground, to church, or playgroup...or anywhere there were other children who were potty trained. I saw kids barely talking or walking straight who were obviously not wearing a diaper. I was embarrassed when my huge, 42 pounder would speak full sentences and yet couldn't tell me she had to pee. So, one day, I woke up. Said a long prayer that went something like this: "Dear Father, help ME. I love that You have given these beautiful children to me. But let's talk about Mari. Help me help her. Give me words to encourage her. But mostly Lord, help me...stick to it, to endure accidents, to praise and not scold her. Lord...just help me. Cause I'm a mess. And I really want to be the Mami You want me to me." I went to Mari's bed and said "Hey, today is the day. No. More. Pullups. Okay? You will wear princess panties and you will pee and poop in the toilet. You will tell me when you need to go. Okay?" My pretty, brown-eyed girl replied "oookkaay Mami." I let her spend 10 minutes deciding which panties she wanted to wear...Disney Princess: Ariel? Belle? Sleeping Beauty? Snow White? or Little Pet Shop: Rabbit? Froggie? I can't remember which ones she chose...but I remember that 5 minutes after putting them on...SHE PEED in them. Ugh. Grab another pair. Another 10 minutes. I was praying all day long. We survived with only 4 accidents. Day by day it got better. Granted, I spent a lot of time in the restroom. But one day it happened. She didn't have an accident at all. Heck, she even pooped in the toilet! Yes! Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition! We ARE POTTY TRAINED!
And I am exhausted. But I am glad. I am glad that we survived without having to replace carpet or bail me out of jail for whoopin my kid. I am glad. And relieved that I waited so long. My little linguist can tell me when she needs to go. I don't have to 'watch' her and look for clues. She's a big girl. She tells me and we go. Success. HIGH FIVE.
Now, teaching her about how much toilet paper can go in the toilet??? That's another battle.