We had no idea we were about to put C. through boot camp this weekend, but that’s exactly what we did. And, in turn, we got our butts kicked too.
We ditched all diapers. Daytime, nighttime — gone.
And yes, this type of potty training is no joke. I wanted to run to the mountains. I wanted to drink several glasses of wine with a girlfriend. I wanted to go back to the pottery studio and throw pot after pot. And then I wanted to collapse. But I had to watch my little guy’s every move.
There were lots of fluids. Pee everywhere. A big poop in the grass, which C. stepped on. Lots of tears. The first poop on the potty? Forget about it. Sobs, and, “Mama, will you hold me? Mama, will you put a diaper on me?” Man, I didn’t know how stressful pooping on the pot would be for a little guy.
A. took C. for a walk on Day 2 and A. said they were walking so slowly, so deliberately, totally and completely wiped out and raw.
But the bonding — oh the bonding. C. has never said, “Mama will you hold me?” so often. And he’s told me in the past few days how much he loves me over and over again.
Over breakfast, unprompted: “Mama, I love you SO MUCH. And even more than THAT!”
He wants to snuggle while reading. He kisses my big belly often. It’s the sweetest thing, really. He’s exhausted and he’s proud, and we’ve got a long way to go.
I think it’s like anything: Intensity brings intimacy. I didn’t know this would be yet another step in the closeness between parent and child.
My little guy is turning into a big boy. “Diapers are for the baby,” he says, nodding. Indeed, they are. Two to three weeks and we’ll have another squeamish, squirmy ball of alien that will grow into a little potty-using human just like C.