Day 3 was somewhat of a wash. Jonathan and I decided to take Josiah to a Chick-fil-a grand opening, which entails setting up camp for 24 hours prior to the opening in order to get 52 free combo meal coupons. We set up our tent and Josiah had a little potty corner. Everything was going moderately well until I realized he needed to poop. I sat him on the toilet and he didn't comply. A few minutes later he pooped...on the corner of the beige sheeted air mattress and the adjacent tent floor right in front of the potty. I sat him on the potty while I attempted to clean up the mess. He was crying because he didn't like looking at the poop in front of his feet. After that I decided it was far too much drama to maintain and I resolved to just put him in diapers. Every few hours throughout the day I would take him with me to the potty, and he would pee on command. As we stood in line to go to the bathroom he would hear the toilets flush and loudly declare, "Bye bye, Pee-Pee!" every time. I could just giggle and shake my head. He kept his diaper dry most of the day, which was a wonderful surprise. I did feel like both of those accomplishments were great victories.
Days 4-6 I passed the baton to Jonathan while I went to work. He reported pretty good statistics, and even took Josiah on several bike rides during which he managed to stay dry. We didn't have any accidents today. However, when I took his diaper off after the morning nap he went and retrieved a new one for me, backed up into me, and spread his legs as if fully preparing himself for a new application. I informed him that wasn't the case. The rest of the day I noticed that the nudity trend has left him with a serious case of Jay-Bird syndrome. He would much rather be naked than clothed. However, he seemed to comply when I put some shorts on him while the phone repairman was here. I bought some Pull-Ups, but true to the potty method advice, he thinks it is just a diaper. In fact, they are structured like swim diapers, so he just points to them and talks about the "pool." Excellent. It seems I can just buy regular diapers until he is 100% trustworthy while we are out.
I am very proud of my little boy. He has been such a trooper and and really come a long way in just one week's time. He is still considered so young for a boy to be potty training. He has regressed a little with breastfeeding. I think it is his way of coping with the stress of learning to use the potty, as he has been more insistent on the opportunity to nurse more than just in the morning. I analyzed the situation, as I was about to embark on the weaning endeavor before the potty training idea came along. I decided I would rather have a potty trained breastfeeder than a weaned diaper wearer. So, weaning is on the back burner unless he initiates himself, which I don't anticipate. The child has an undying love for the "na-na." I talked extensively with the pediatrician about tactics to encourage the final weaning, and we set up a game plan. Of course, that was set aside with the new development. When I reflect on the idea of weaning my emotions are so bittersweet. I am ready for him to wean and ready to have full possession of my body before someone else comes along to strip me of all things good. However, when I think about nursing for the very last time, I get so emotional. I am not a crying kind of gal, but it makes me blubber. Literally. There is truly something so special about the bond breastfeeding creates. On a very pragmatic level, it is very difficult to let go of something you have done every day without fail for the last two years. In the same way it is part of his routine, it is also part of mine. However, that is not the loss I grieve. It is most certainly watching my son drop all connections to babyhood and fully cross the threshold into toddlerhood. It is knowing that I will never again have the opportunity to sit in a quiet room with him cuddled into my arms at my breast, quietly studying my expressions. It is knowing the finality of it all, processing how I have experienced once and for all the joys of Josiah as a baby. And what a true joy it has been.
Now I must go return him to bed for the 3rd time tonight. Life is too much fun, I guess, to sleep it away. Too bad!
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