Grotty Training.

In the words of Yoda; ‘stubborn she be, shit she will, wherever like she…’ Number four is proving a tough nut to crack.  She appears to have no more desire to use the toilet than I have to scrape her poo off the gusset of her Disney pants.  Apparently standing with a lump in her leggings the size of a small Easter egg is also not a problem.  She’ll not sit down; obviously, but standing and continuing to gawp at the TV is perfectly acceptable to her.  In fact, worse than this she finds it all rather funny and is more than happy to sashay up and down the lounge pointing out said bulge and shaking it in my general direction.  Dealing with this ‘gift’ is wholly dependent on just how much fibre she’s ingested and I’ve found myself thanking God when it’s obvious she could do with an apple.  Then of course there’s the embarrassment factor; I mean let’s be honest she looks about 5 years old and nearly has the vocabulary to go with it.  Making it all the more wrong that she’s still shitting in her pants.  Then there’s the other issue of nappies and pull-up’s.  Yeah, they don’t fit anymore.  After all she’s too big to be still wearing them.  I’ve dabbled with the idea of adult Tena pants, but frankly the cost put me off.  Or perhaps a ‘night-time’ sanitary pad with wings; but they were too long to fit in her ‘My Little Pony’ pants; in fact they stuck out of the top of her leggings both ends, which is not a good look at Pre-School. So what to do?  I’ve began and ended this trial by continence many times since the back-end (pun) of her second year and yet here I am; she’s 3.5 years old and still quite content to sit in her own filth. 

Short of duct-taping a potty to her undercarriage; which I’m pretty sure will affect her knee joints pretty quickly I’ve now had to increase the size of my nappy bag to incorporate several changes of clothes and 26 pairs of knickers.  We’re trying in earnest once more, having sent her to Pre-school today in pants.  She showed an encouraging sign of being pissed off that she had to sit on her wet car seat (on a plastic bag) after yesterday’s accident which occurred less than 4 minutes after leaving the house. And she is beyond proud when she produces anything yellow or brown into porcelain.  I’m still recovering from the last time we tried in earnest.  After a 7 hour working day I arrived at nursery to be told very excitedly that she was in the toilet; as she’d asked to go!  The scene of stinking devastation that greeted me behind the door was nothing short of ‘Shitmagedden’.  There was my curly-haired beauty sitting on the bog cradling her pull-up full of shit on her knee whilst still straining because ‘there more Mama, more poo in my bottom’.  I then spent 15 full minutes in that toilet, bagging up clothes, wipes, washing hands, faces (yes both hers and mine after her initial greeting) and trying not to scream “FFS YOU STUPID TW*TS WHATEVER MADE YOU THINK SHE COULD GO ON HER OWN…LOOK, LOOK THERE’S SHIT IN THE GROOVES OF HER BLOODY LELLY KELLY’S…AND NOW MY FRIGGING SHOES TOO….” But instead I cleared up as best as I could even wiping round the taps then left, drive home and drank on a school night against all my best intentions.

So I’m trying not to be disheartened.  I’ve even tried to see it in terms of; she’s my last, this is the last time I’ll have to potty train so stop wishing it away…But this is a stupid train of thought so I’ve metaphorically bitch-slapped myself and whilst pulling myself up into my full 5ft 3inches I am announcing to the world that this is it.  I must now continue onwards and upwards; like Froddo and his fat-faced bum boy friend on their quest to tame the ring.  An epic journey that will take me to highs, lows and just when I thought I couldn’t go no lower, lower still whilst I drag my little Smeagol/Gollum into full continence and I no longer have to deal with the ring ever again….THE END.

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