Everything seems to take a back seat to potty training. My diet (forget it, I’m potty training and therefore under huge stress and in need of lard), limiting CBeebies (I want him to sit still for a minute), housework (I’m too busy cleaning up wee wee splashs to dust and hoover) etc… in short my life has been taken over by the potty.
I spend my days watching Ben’s face for signs that he might need a poo, watching to see if he grabs his willy (normally a sign that he either wants a wee, or is making the most of finally being able to get to his willy). If I blog in the day it is when Ciaran is napping and I can keep one eye on Ben while he sits quietly weeing and watching CBeebies (strangely he doesn’t like having mother’s face shoved in his when he is on the potty) and one on the laptop.
Our trip to Oxford was cancelled as neither we or my Brother in Law and his partner fancied hours of driving in what the ‘experts’ called the worst storm of the year. I decided to put in some serious kitchen time, I figured that with a day at my disposal if Hubby could watch the kids I could make mango chutney, biscotti and marmalade. Sorted.
Hubby agreed to give me a break and I ran to Tesco’s to stock up. I then discovered a problem…
When I leave the kids with my Mum I give her detailed instructions, feed this bottle at this time, sleep at this time, give this for solids etc… I don’t bother doing this with hubby as:
1. He lives with me and in theory the kids routines are etched into his heart
2. He would switch off and think about DIY, work, tools, music and fittings while I explained the importance of lentils in great depth.
Anyway I would be in the kitchen what harm could everyone come to?
Lots. Daddy didn’t realise that potty training a toddler means being a sparrow hawk and that when I said ‘watch the kids’ I meant watch them closely, ready to pounce at the first sign of a poo or wee as well as keeping a mental track of their normal diary engagements (get up, have milk for Ciaran, cereal for Ben, cereal for Ciaran, wash, dress, nap for Ciaran, get Ciaran up, have lunch etc…).
Unsuprisingly chaos unfolded, Hubby is clever and works in a pressurised job and needs to have several balls in the air to feel satisfied so he started his own blog whilst watching Ben rather than obsessively scrutinising Ben’s face for signs of a wee. We had a poo on the carpet, wee on trousers and Ciaran kept trying to roll into the marble fire place. I didn’t get round to marmalade as I kept being called into the lounge to provide re-inforcements or disinfectant.
Both boys are now in bed and finally settled after quiet a lot of fuss from both, we feel frazzled and tetchy now so we have ordered a recovery curry to help us get ready for another day in the battle of the potty.