Karma

You know, sometimes I think the universe has it all figured out. Those of you who "knew me when" might remember that potty training Wyatt was a highly concerted effort borne of the kind of desperation only a 34-weeks pregnant mommy can have when realizing two kids in diapers would be really un-fun. I bought a "do it in one day" kind of book, tons of treats, lots of fun drinks, special underwear (who wants to poop on Lightning McQueen, right?), a fancy potty seat and cleared a date on my calendar. It went…not that well, really. Some of you might remember this fine moment in history that occurred nearly three months after we commenced Operation Potty Train Wyatt. I mean, that's how unwell it went.

So, please rejoice with me when I tell you that Natalie is, for all intents and purposes, potty training herself. You know, like if she asked to use the potty, then we'd take her but otherwise we were good with a diaper. After she pitched such a fit a few weeks ago about wanting underwear, I could no longer ignore her pleas and finally got around to purchasing little girl training pants. Even then, I was kind of, "well, whatever" about the whole thing but when we found ourselves home for days on end (thanks, Mother Nature) I thought maybe we should give it a go.

Sadly, I was ill-prepared for Natalie's readiness. I had no treats, no batteries so the potty could sing for her success, nothing. Funny thing: she thinks a square of toilet paper and a little cheering from anyone within earshot is a pretty great reward. Funnier thing: no one is prouder of her than Wyatt, aka "He Who Would Not Be Trained Quickly." So we've been at it (as in, we're all on board now and actually remembering to ask her if she has to go) for a few days now and she's getting pretty good. She stayed dry all morning but had an accident this evening. In her defense, we were at a friend's house, she was busy playing AND we hadn't offered to take her. Even when she accidentally wets her pants, she tells us that it's happened and always finishes on the potty. I'd always heard girls were easier, but quite frankly this is ridiculous!

I broke down on Friday and bought a bag of M&Ms for her, only because I felt like I was cheating her out of some rite of passage. So now she just wants "emmies" and underwear, so much so that she wakes up during the night wanting to "pee pee! Peez, pee pee!" So while I'm a little grumpy and fairly tired from all the waking, I think it's pretty awesome confirmation from the cosmos that perhaps I earned my pass from the Wyatt days. Fingers crossed she keeps it up…and that I figure out how to negotiate public toilets with a little girl. Now that's where boys are easier.