My husband left this morning to watch the Texas-Oklahoma game at a friends house. It is an early game. I was invited also, but I thought that it would be nice to get a blog in and do some uninterrupted sewing. He even brought Connor with him; bless his heart. Connor was very cooperative so far today. He ate his eggs and toast without tornado strength destruction, he sat very still so that I could comb his hair (so still, in fact, that I did not have to use mom spit to do the job), he didn't insist on picking his own clothes and dressing himself, and he pooped his pants right before walking out the door. Take that daddy. O.K., O.K., I didn't let him go like that. I did clean him up for my husband. We are trying (without success) to potty-train Connor. It is horrible. I have put the training underwear on him because people tell me that they don't like the way wet clothes feel on their skin. Not only is Connor completely fine with the sensation, but it puts a smile on his face to complete it with the 'I've got a potato in the back of my pants' look. Most likely he is just practicing defiance to prepare for the teenage years. I really hope he is using the big boy potty by that time.
He is only two, so I am not discouraged, just impatient. Also, the very last thing that moms in my situation want to hear is other moms bragging about how they trained their children in two days, and telling me what I am doing 'wrong'. Look, you got lucky. It has nothing to do with your super human mom qualities. I am the oldest of 7 children. None of us were the same. If a child decides to bestow the gift of pooping in the potty to his parents, it was completely their own decision to do so. No smoke and mirrors, no rain dances, no voo-doo wiccan potions, no prayers to St. Jude will help...(believe me on this one). He will just figure it out eventually; as long as I am consistent and persistent, and loving and encouraging. The only things that keep me going on this is the knowledge that he will have to train his kids someday, and quilting.
I have talked to so many quilters that have said that they just couldn't do any quilting during the child-rearing years. How could you not? I would go absolutely and verifiably insane if I could not make a stinking nine patch every now and then. Here's an idea: I could start a quilt with a embroidered toilet on it and a border that says: Congratulations, Connor! You are a big boy now! You went pee pee in the potty!...If I start it now I can give it to his wife as a wedding gift, too. I am sure she will understand why.