Do or Die

Todays lovely guest is Kelsey Hansen,  the author of Polished Portrayl, a humor blog that portrays the thoughts and experiences of a worn out, sleep deprived, military wife and mother.   She finds the humor in everyday moments, despite having her husband, Rob, overseas in Afghanistan for his second tour of duty.  Her daughter Payton (two and a half) and her son Ryker (one and a half) are constant inspiration for stories of random ridiculousness, along with her American Staffordshire Terrior, Jewels, and Yorkshire Terrior, Abner.  Life within the Hansen home can only be described as a chaotic insane asylum that seconds as a veterinary psych ward.

We've finally reached the point of do or die with our daughter, Payton.  The time that I've been both anticipating and dreading.  A moment filled with hope for the future, and horror of the moment.  The potty years.

When we bought Payton her pink potty, six months ago, she was completely disappointed that we would buy her such a lame gift, when she's totally happy with her diapies (diapers).  What a waste of an opportunity that could have been filled with a stuffed animal, princess doll, or pretty much, anything else.  It was some kind of cruel joke, really.

Then came the potty books, dolls, movies, family enthusiasm, her Pappie pretending to poop on his toilet everytime they walked past the bathroom.  All this managed to induce, was the perception that everyone in Payton's life is completely off their rocker.  And I can't really argue that one.

One magical day, about three months ago, Payton came up to me and stated, "I pee on potty."

You have no idea the thrill I felt from these four little words, I was euphoric that she was even willing to TRY!  She sat on the potty, closed the door, I heard her pee, and she called, "All done Momma."

I walked in to catch her using toilet paper like a big girl, with the hugest, proudest grin spread across her face.

An hour later, "I pee Momma."

And off she went.  I was in heaven.  How easy was this?  The world was shining down on me, seeing my struggle with my husband overseas, and finally helping me out with something.  High five world!  And I'm not a high five kind of person, it makes me feel all kinds of cheesy. But, when a high five is deserved, it's deserved.  Who am I to argue with that?

A few hours later, "I pee Momma."

I'm doing cart wheels and shots of tequila in my head as I hold my daughter's hand, lift up my one year old son Ryker, and walk up the stairs to her potty.  "Ry too Momma."

"Ryker's not big enough to use the potty yet Payton, he's still a baby.  This pink potty is just for you, just for big girls!  It's so special."

Then came the look.  The one that I see far too often.  The mouth curls down, eyes narrow, hands clench and her body stiffens as Payton screams in rage, "NO POTTY!  NOOOOOO!"

She then proceeds to pick it up and throw it in our linen closet, slamming the door.  "NO POTTY MOMMA!"

To demonstrate her point, she pees. Sigh.

I wait a month.  Another.  Six months go by, and we're at the Disney Store together.  Rob's on his two week leave from Afghanistan, and is leaving again tonight with plans to come home in December.  He bought a Build a Bear for her, with his voice in a sound button, when he left last time, and we wanted to find her something special before he left for this trip too.  She picks out a package of 5 princess lip glosses in a little purse, but there are also Ariel panties, her favorite princess.  So we buy these too.

The next morning, Payton wakes up and asks, "Where Ariel go?"

Yes!  Interest in the formally dreaded panties.  There's a set of five, three purple, two white with purple accents.  She holds up the two white pairs, "These Ry's, Ry wear Ariel too."

Rob and I look at each other and shrug.  Why not?  We take Ryker's diapers off and put some Arial panties on our little boy.  As Rob watches his little man climb the stairs in his frilly, little panties, he says, "I can't believe I'm doing this to my son."

But Payton is happy to put hers on too, and keeps pointing to Ryker and exclaiming with enthusiasm, "Arial, Arial, Momma, there're the same!"

Things that are the same?  They're all kinds of exciting for Payton.

Ryker is toddling around, making his personal fashion statement, and proceeds to crouch down and pee and poop, making a huge puddle under his bum, and causing little poop nuggets to fall from his panties as we pick him up.  That might be enough pantie practice for him for a year or two.

But Payton seems undeterred, sitting on her potty, having a few accidents throughout the house, which are horrifying for her, but she's trying!  She peed in the potty two whole times yesterday, which is so awesome that she's even willing to accept it.  After a day, she's already decided that the potty sucks and she misses her diapies, but there's no way that we're turning back now.  It's a marathon of biological training, and we've only reached the first mile mark.  With Rob back overseas, it's going to be a ton of work, but I'm already so proud of her progress.

It's do or die.  Between all of the messes I have to clean up from Abner, I'm only going to be able to take so much before I lose my mind.  I figure she has about a one month learning window to reach success, or someone will have to die.  And odds are, it will be me that dies from the combination of frustration and exhaustion.  So let's get those pee pees in the potty and have some ice cream for doing SUCH big girl work.  I'm hoping that I might be able to make it through the summer.

As I write, Payton is singing one of her favorite songs, "Twinkle Twinkle"

"Up above the world so high,

Like a diapie in the sky."

It might take just a little more time to get her to forget about her beloved diapies.  I hope she doesn't really value them as much as a diamond, but nothing surprises me anymore.  Nothing.

www.polishedproductions.etsy.com

www.polishedportrayal.blogspot.com