Note: this is not for the squeamish.
On Saturday, my husband helped a friend of mine move, all day long (or 7 1/2 hours, so yeah, all day) which meant I was home with the kids when both they and I expected him to be home. Kiddo was still feeling under the weather, and I am still negotiating learning to use the potty with Babs. It was a long day for all of us.
Babs seems to like the idea of underwear, even if she just doesn't like the idea of going pee-pee. (At this point either in the toilet or in her diaper, so I don't know what to do about that.) After being in a diaper for some of the day (I'm trying to give my super strong willed child some say in the matter. I'm not sure it is working.) she had been in underwear, but after an accident she could be found in a common state, shirt and bare bum. She was happily coloring with her markers at the table and I was trying to get dinner together.
"Here mom," she called, hand extended. I reach for whatever it is, and then stop short. I want nothing to do with that offering. And then I realized, I'm the mom, if I don't take that turd from her, no one else will.
So I found a paper towel, and took her poop out of her little hand. I then cleaned her up. My champion husband cleaned off the chair. And put her in a diaper. Or was that after she peed on the stool, splashing both him and me? Oh yeah, that's when it happened.
Today, Sunday, was our day to take a step back and regroup. I'm not sure what I'm doing next week, but I do know that this is not going very smoothly at all.
