I'm failing to remember the reasons attaining to why potty training is a good thing. It gets awfully tiring having to empty the potty. The Toddler now wakes up early and then proceeds to wake me with a 'WEE! WEE! MUM, WEE!' reminiscent of a fog horn whilst desperately scrambling out of his pj's and night nappy. Once upon a time he'd wake much later and easily be convinced to doze with a flop of a boob in his general direction. Now, I'm expected to catapult myself out of bed in three seconds and accompany him to the bathroom through a gibbering, stumbling sleep deprived haze to snatch his seat and stool before he attempts to which would prematurely wake Thing One. He then insists on turning the tap on full then shrieks at me to turn it off.
I keep my voice to a whisper that is more suspiciously related to a croak, my vocal chords mother evidently slept around. I try and coax him back to bed with urgent shushing and ramblings about it still being sleepy time in what should be English yet my tongue is too thick and i'm far too distracted by the sleep fur on my brain and the rattling of my eyes in my skull as they try to focus so that I probably sound like I'm talking in ancient tongues or more inelegantly, caveman.
The little bugger takes absolute advantage of my delayed reflexes and before I can give chase he's getting carpet burn on his arse as he flys down the stairs on it at astonishing speed and vaults himself into the lounge where The Husband is doing a terribly crap impression of looking awake and in charge of he who wakes ridiculously early, aka Thing One. This means game over.I have zero chance of getting him back to bed. Whilst I attempt to come to terms with this he's already stage diving off window sills and demanding I get him big boy pants at an excruciating volume. It's at this point I'm debating gin on my crunchy nut cornflakes.
And so the day begins.
He's generally amazing at using the potty yet he discovered the other day that he can now manage to get himself on the toilet which sounds like formidable good luck until you factor in the aforementioned tap issue and his extreme delight at wasting copious amounts of bog roll.
A rather recent development is toilet rage. Yes, really. I was rather spoiled before I met The Husband insofar as to say, I can't remember a time when my family home's (Yes, plural, we moved) didn't have three toilets yet here at The Party of Five we have but one solitary toilet. Oh the woe. The Toddler sees Thing One or Thing Two on the toilet and decides that it is infact his toilet and nobody else is possibly allowed on it as he screams 'MOVE' at them then proceeds to become possessed by psychosis which makes him embark on shoving his siblings off the loo as he screams. Quite off putting to whichever Thing is trying to pee at the time.
I admit however that I am somewhat of a wuss and put him in a nappy if I dare to leave the house not relishing the prospect of a wet buggy or even more likely a wet back if he pissed whilst in the sling. Despite having a nappy on he livend up a trip to Asda with his volume turned all the way up to eleven as he demanded 'WEE' several times, refusing to wee in his nappy instead forcing me to complete the wretched obstacle course otherwise known as trying to get to the bloody toilets which is remarkably difficult. Thanks Asda. Obviously people can't possibly need a wee during shopping.
On several occasions however upon returning home I've found his nappy to be in fact dry, how fabulous! Further impressive is that twice now he has had unexpected naps with pants on, breastfeeding obsessively and yet remained dry. His night nappies are now half the size with barely any boosting and are suspiciously light in a morning despite his excessive night feeds.
It all sounds rampantly positive and yet each trip outside is now plagued with the worry that he appears to refuse to pee in a nappy and often we wall miles with no toilets in sight which will result in the cumbersome addition of carrying a potty everywhere for impromptu public al fresco weeing.
Talking of potties....if you think shitty nappies are grim you have obviously not yet become aquainted with shit in a potty.
All we have to work on now is the toilet rage before he scares the shit quite literally back up the bums of his siblings. He's such a bully.
....and my legs aren't enjoying the step aerobics of constant trips to the loo with him.
Oh for a downstairs loo. I have downstair loo envy, how abysmally tragic. Oh god.... how disgustingly middle aged. Excuse me whilst I re-dye my roots Purple and pretend I'm still young.