Love is Blind

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  • Potty Training Myself

     Teaching a toddler, my toddler in particular,  to pee and poop on a toilet has always been something that I didn’t particularly look forward to.  You can call me lazy, awful, horrible and a shitty parent all you want (no pun intended) but I just never got super excited at the thought of potty training GiGi.  First of all, the word “training” instantly brings me thoughts of the Olympics, or animals who do tricks, both of which are quite cool but not exactly the image of my child on a potty seat.  The idea of my daughter learning to go to the bathroom outside of her pants isn’t first on the list, however screwed up that is.  So, the wording alone puts me off, never mind the actual possibility of my child giving me more fun messes to clean up in the future. (****And on a side note - if they call it "potty training" does that make me the coach?  If so, where are my whistle, jersey, and both head and arm sweatband?  Do we need a sponsor?)

     

    I want her to have the independence that comes along with going to the bathroom alone, really I do.  I also love entertaining the idea that my wallet will be fatter from spending less money on diapers, etc.  With anything that my babe does, it’s on her schedule and at her pace, this much I’ve learned.  Family and friends and lovely sites have talked about toddlers+bathrooms=challenge.  It was inevitable that being a first time mother I would try to pick up some tips on what might make sense for potty training bathroom Olympics protocol.  One week GiGi had this epiphany that peeing in her diaper is something far too exciting to keep to herself, and when she shares that news with me I change her diaper.  Voila!  Picking up on what she was layin’ down, I began the whole potty training thing with the deluxe clone of a big potty that comes in the delightful shade of baby blue and produces stickers when she flushes and music when she is both trying to go potty and when she actually goes.  Sensors, stickers, music, and a flip up toilet seat…what’s not to love right?  Right.   GiGi played with the potty constantly. Played as in the past tense of play.  I opted for a potty seat that fits on the “big girl potty” and removed the deluxe toddler potty because the only use we were getting out of that was a make shift ipod (or would that be ppod?) and a removable pee holder that my kid would suck on.  Don’t worry, it isn’t as gross as it sounds. If she had actually sat on the seat with a bare butt to pee instead of giving the seat a little ass-drive-by,  then I would have freaked out a little more.

     

    GiGi is the proud owner of a princess pink designed potty seat that I couldn’t care less about and she doesn’t understand at all (fyi: we have stricken the word PRINCESS from our vocabulary here.  Unless there is one shaking your hand at Disneyland or you’re referring to a Disney song sung by one).  She has a little step to help her off of the potty and a few other items to assist in potty time.  Being that I am doing this whole “training” thing and the last that this situation arose I was a kid myself and on the learning end of it – I don’t know jack about what I’m doing.  Peeing and pooping and loving GiGi are all natural things so I figure I’ll just wing it.

     

     

     

     

    (Potty Animal)

     

    I know that I have, thus far, created a potty monster.  She is getting awfully demanding in the bathroom although Im sure if she had better-than-terribly two- manners it would just seem ritualistic and normal.  Anytime she is set on the potty, she screams “water!” and “bookie! Fish!” which means, “Hey mom can you please fetch me a little cup by the toothbrushes and fill it with water and then grab my Dr. Seuss One fish two fish Braille book?  Thanks, you’re a dear.”   If the previously stated needs are not met, then I get to deal with potty boss and her wicked refusal to pee.  I try to shutdown her crankiness, and appease her wishes, since I am the one who created this standard of potty training.  When I originally started taking her to the bathroom, I brought her a book for double reasons.  1.) maybe she would sit longer with a book she loves, and, 2.) who doesn’t like something trashy to read on the toilet?  I’m sure most people don’t find Dr. Seuss trashy, and on the whole I don’t either, but how responsible is it to have a fish driving a car in the water?  And counting too?  Sounds like a sobriety check to me, don’t you think (coughcoughLindsayLohanoftheFishWorldcough)?  Im just saying its like a toddler version of In Touch magazine….ish.   

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  • Questions, Questions, Questions

     I wonder who will help her shop when she gets older.

     

    Who will be there when she wants to explore but decides the world is just too big?

     

    Will she get nervous or will she just fly on, untouched by that anxiety?

     

    Do you think she’s going to need me when she’s older?

     

    The questions don’t stop.  Ever.  I am no different than any other mother because I ask myself questions all day long about my child’s future.  The questions may differ from most, but the fact that I ask them doesn’t.   It’s been nine months since the initial news about GiGi arrived, but some days the shock rolls forward to the front of the line again and takes over my thoughts asking a myriad of questions in a heated panic.

     

    When GiGi was first diagnosed I cried over my own answers, or the lack in having them at times, to silly questions. On day one,  I wondered how she would ever know she was beautiful if she couldn’t see her reflection in the mirror.  It may seem shallow, but I was sad that she wouldn’t see what I saw in her face, her expressions and smiles.  I cried over the idea that she wouldn’t be able to paint and read the books I bought her.  I was frustrated and heartbroken when she wouldn’t look at my face or lock in my eyes to hers.   Now that time has passed, we are fine with our life and how things are going.  Every once in a while though, something comes up and I get heartbroken all over again, if only just for a moment or two. 

     

    It’s instinct.  Parental, human nature, loving instinct – to want to ask all the questions you can in advance for your child so that you can have the answers long before they’re needed.  Its parental nature to want to fix anything and everything you can so that your babe will have the best life possible.  Right?

     

    Today, GiGi’s medicine arrived.  It seems that when you have O.N.H. the Endocrine system is commonly affected.  My little babe has been tested and appears to have issues with her growth hormone, so we will be starting injections next week to aide in her healthy development.  I was naturally upset to hear the news when we found out four weeks ago, but I’m happy that it’s a treatable diagnosis.  Since finding out about her blindness, there were two more major hurdles to face.  This endocrine testing was one and the MRI testing, which thankfully came back wonderful and completely clear, was the other.  I was cocky after the MRI and assumed that she would beat this endocrine thing too, as if it was possible to actually beat.

     

    do you dream?  what's it like?  can you see anything in your dreams? 

     


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About the Blogger

Love is Blind

Megg Lasswell in Oakland.

This single mom moved home at age twenty-seven to raise her blind toddler, leaving city buildings behind and trying her best to embrace farm life outside Oakland. She is working on her first book in between indie-rocking out with her daughter GiGi and teaching her the simple things in life.

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