The days of success followed by days of tears may have confused me, but they didn’t unnerve me. I was determined you were not going to win.

It wasn’t meant to be a battle. It was meant to be easy. Everyone said it wouldn’t be so, but I didn’t heed their advice.

I ignorantly followed my own stubborn route and listened to my own instincts. But when things didn’t go to plan, I thought my instincts were wrong. I’m glad I didn’t let you make me believe that. After all, a mother’s instincts are often the most trustworthy ones in the world.

There were two days when I came close to accepting defeat. The Tuesday and Wednesday left me shaken. I was tired, so unbelievably tired. I thought about turning back and giving in. I was so close to giving in.

But with the dawn of each new day I soldiered on stubbornly. You would not win. I would not be broken.

Just as I was nearing the end of my energy reserves, you backed down, just like that. It was like the mist had cleared and, suddenly, you submitted without a peep.

From two days of tranquillity to two days of fuss, on the fifth day you relented and all was tranquil again. That was one week ago and I’ve been waiting for you to return armed with new troublesome intent but, so far, nothing.

Potty training, you are done. There’s nothing you can do to me now. It’s over. You can move along and pick your next victim.

I have won.

The post What doesn’t kill you appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

I know. I hate myself too.

The thing is, no one told me that having children would mean there would be a moment in my life when I would find myself dancing a celebratory conga around a potty. I was completely unprepared for the sheer joy a potty training triumph would bring. There is nothing like the all-encompassing pride at hearing the tinkling notes of your child using the potty as it was intended (not as a hat, pillow, cereal bowl or weapon).

I was also shamefully ignorant of the loud whoops I would emit as my toddler stood up to display the toils of her labour, clapping herself and demanding a present for her hard work. More still, I’ve been taken aback at this driving urge to run out into the street waving the potty – and all its contents – at passersby, desperate they acknowledge my child’s first “potty wee”.

I almost – almost  - found myself taking a picture of the glorious scene and pasting it all over Facebook and Twitter with the caption, “Look what she’s done! *proud face*”. Thankfully, the potty hysteria has left a small corner of my mind untouched.

I did, however, accost my unsuspecting husband with the full potty on his return from the shops. “Look! LOOK! Isn’t she CLEVER?!” I cried with enthusiasm, thrusting the item into his hands and standing back to survey his look of wonder, his face lit up by the golden liquid.

At this point I should probably lie to try and salvage some of my husband’s credibility as a “cool bloke”, but I’m not that good a wife. “WOW!” my (usually sedate, low-key) man exclaimed, before joining me and the toddler with a celebratory dance around the potty.

Turns out potty hysteria can get us all.

*Proud face*

The post The dance of the potty appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

My toddler will be three years old in 5 months time. My little baby. Tiny little Frog. She is now a fully walking, talking, feisty singing little girl, with bags of personality and a hatred of nappies. Or rather, a hatred of nappies that need to be changed. So it appears that, without even planning to, we have arrived at that dreaded stage – potty training.

The process so far has involved talking about using the toilet, sitting on the toilet, discarding nappies in favour of pants for a full day, going back to nappies and, now, occasionally sitting on the toilet with constant gentle encouragement. (I’m still talking about my toddler here.) Nothing has actually been “produced” on the toilet yet, so to speak. 

As with all things parenting related, I have ignored every book going. I’m following my instinct and my daughter, hoping that she’ll help guide me in my ignorant quest to get her out of nappies before she hits her teenage years.

I’ve waited until I’m sure she’s ready and I’ve listened to her when she says she’s not. We’re seeing the week of half-term, when she’s at home all week from nursery, as the week of the toilet. Without the pressure of a new nursery or lots of time out of the house, we hope Frog will feel more confident and ready to finally let go of those blasted nappies.

We have a few items ready to help us, which we’ve already trialled to a certain extent.

These potty training pants from Baba and Boo are like normal pants, but not. With a little bit of padding – but nowhere near the likes of what you’d get in a nappy – they contain the odd minor leak but not a full-blown waterfall.

Frog wore the ladybird pair for an entire day and when she did have an accident she immediately knew about it, coming to tell me and show me the wet patch on the carpet. (Lucky me.)

Incidentally, it’s not just cloth nappies or potty training pants you can get from Baba and Boo – they do cute tops too…

We also have a personalised reward chart from Kiddy Charts stuck to the wall in the bathroom, along with a pack of glittery stickers. Frog’s idea of heaven at the moment is sticking stickers onto walls, so once she we’re going to try a spot of celebratory sticker sticking with each successful toilet trip.

Of course, I’d planned to make my own chart from scratch, complete with bunting and scrap and glitter. But I’m a realist and I work more than full time hours, along part-time childcare, so don’t exactly have time on my hands at the moment.

Frog’s already excited about the stickers and the chart. The pants are right up there on her list of favourites too. Now here’s hoping it all goes smoothly in a couple of weeks.

Are your kids out of nappies yet? Any tried and tested titbits of advice you’d like to share?

The post We have arrived at the Stage of Doom – potty training appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

An Arthur: very beneficial

My baby doesn’t have a brother. But she has an Arthur.

In my opinion, all first born children should have an Arthur. Not only does he show you how to “bash”, “kiss” and “throw”. But he also guides the way with eating, sleeping and potty training. Well, that’s the plan.

Let me introduce you to our Arthur. He is two and a quarter years old, three stone and has size eight feet. He also lives next door.

And baby Frog already looks up to him. In her short life so far, she has already copied him in many ways. Frog won’t take a bottle, but will drink through a straw. Just like our Arthur. Frog sleeps at exactly the same time every day and gets very mardy if this sleep doesn’t happen. Just like our Arthur. And Frog is already fiercely independent and insists on feeding herself. Just like our Arthur.

Arthur’s mum also experienced Sitting Envy, just like me. He was always the last baby to reach a certain milestone. But when he did, he did it with a certain panache that other babies couldn’t quite pull off. This puts my mind at ease because I know Frog will probably be the same.

Except for when it comes (eventually) to potty training. Here, Arthur has surpassed himself.

Before today, he wasn’t interested in his potty. Apart from the one occasion he took it to bed with him.

But then he walked across the room, stood in front of his potty…and did a wee. Standing. Like an actual grown man. And then he took a bow.

Can’t wait to see how Frog’s going to copy that one.

The post The many benefits of an Arthur appeared first on Mother's Always Right.